diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4284-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 196244 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4284-h/4284-h.htm | 16226 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4284.txt | 10949 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 4284.zip | bin | 0 -> 191304 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/wgaze10.txt | 11213 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/wgaze10.zip | bin | 0 -> 190838 bytes |
9 files changed, 38404 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4284-h.zip b/4284-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..426bafc --- /dev/null +++ b/4284-h.zip diff --git a/4284-h/4284-h.htm b/4284-h/4284-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bd44f16 --- /dev/null +++ b/4284-h/4284-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16226 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Window-Gazer, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + font-size: small ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.transnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Window-Gazer, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Window-Gazer + +Author: Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +Posting Date: July 23, 2009 [EBook #4284] +Release Date: July, 2003 +First Posted: December 30, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WINDOW-GAZER *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WINDOW-GAZER +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + So in ye matere of Life's goodlie showe<BR> + Some buy what doth them plese.<BR> + While others stand withoute and gaze thereinne—<BR> + Your eare, good folk, for these!<BR> + —OLD ENGLISH RHYME.<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE +<BR> +WINDOW-GAZER +</H1> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY +</H2> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> + AUTHOR OF "MIST OF MORNING," "UP THE HILL AND OVER,"<BR> + "THE SHINING SHIP," ETC.<BR> +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">I</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">II</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">III</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">IV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">V</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap06">VI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap07">VII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap08">VIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap09">IX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="10%"> +<A HREF="#chap10">X</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">XI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">XII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">XIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">XIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">XV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">XVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">XVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">XVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">XIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">XX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">XXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">XXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">XXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">XXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">XXV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">XXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">XXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">XXVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">XXIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">XXX</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">XXXI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">XXXII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">XXXIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">XXXIV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">XXXV</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap36">XXXVI</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap37">XXXVII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap38">XXXVIII</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap39">XXXIX</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE WINDOW-GAZER +</H2> + +<BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<P> +Professor Spence sat upon an upturned keg—and shivered. No one had +told him that there might be fog and he had not happened to think of it +for himself. Still, fog in a coast city at that time of the year was +not an unreasonable happening and the professor was a reasonable man. +It wasn't the fog he blamed so much as the swiftness of its arrival. +Fifteen minutes ago the world had been an ordinary world. He had walked +about in it freely, if somewhat irritably, following certain vague +directions of the hotel clerk as to the finding of Johnston's wharf. He +had found Johnston's wharf; extracted it neatly from a very wilderness +of wharves, a feat upon which Mr. Johnston, making boats in a shed at +the end of it, had complimented him highly. +</P> + +<P> +"There's terrible few as finds me just off," said Mr. Johnston. "Hours +it takes 'em sometimes, sometimes days." It was clear that he was +restrained from adding "weeks" only by a natural modesty. +</P> + +<P> +At the time, this emphasizing of the wharf's seclusion had seemed +extravagant, but now the professor wasn't so sure. For the wharf had +again mysteriously lost itself. And Mr. Johnston had lost himself, and +the city and the streets of it, and the sea and its ships were all +lost—there was nothing left anywhere save a keg (of nails) and +Professor Benis Hamilton Spence sitting upon it. Around him was nothing +but a living, pulsing whiteness, which pushed momentarily nearer. +</P> + +<P> +It was interesting. But it was really very cold. The professor, who had +suffered much from sciatica owing to an injury of the left leg, +remembered that he had been told by his medical man never to allow +himself to shiver; and here he was, shivering violently without so much +as asking his own leave. And the fog crept closer. He put out his hands +to push it back—and immediately his hands were lost too. "Really," +murmured the professor, "this is most interesting!" Nevertheless, he +reclaimed his hands and placed them firmly in his coat pockets. +</P> + +<P> +He began to wish that he had stayed with Mr. Johnston in the boat shed, +pending the arrival of the launch which, so certain letters in his +pocket informed him, would leave Johnston's wharf at 5 o'clock, or +there-abouts, Mondays and Fridays. Mr. Johnston had felt very uncertain +about this. "Though she does happen along off and on," he said +optimistically, "and she might come today. Not," he added with +commendable caution, "that I'd call old Doc. Farr's boat a 'launch' +myself." +</P> + +<P> +"What," asked Professor Spence, "would you call her yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know as I can just hit on a name," said Mr. Johnston. "Doesn't +come natural to me to be free with language." +</P> + +<P> +It had been pleasant enough on the wharf at first and certainly it had +been worth something to see the fog come in. Its incredible advance, +wave upon wave of massed and silent whiteness, had held him spellbound. +While he had thought it still far off, it was upon him—around him, +behind him, everywhere! +</P> + +<P> +But perhaps it would go as quickly as it had come. +</P> + +<P> +He had heard that this is sometimes a characteristic of fog. +Fortunately he had already selected a keg upon which to sit, so with a +patient fatalism, product of a brief but lurid career in Flemish +trenches, he resigned himself to wait. The keg was dry, that was +something, and if he spread the newspaper in his pocket over the most +sciatic part of the shrapneled leg he might escape with nothing more +than twinges. +</P> + +<P> +How beautiful it was—this salt shroud from the sea! How it eddied and +funneled and whorled, now massing thick like frosted glass, now +thinning to a web of tissue. Suddenly, while he watched, a lane broke +through. He saw clearly the piles at the wharf's end, a glimpse of dark +water, and, between him and it, a figure huddled in a cloak—a female +figure, also sitting upon an upturned keg. Then the magic mist closed +in again. +</P> + +<P> +"How the deuce did she get there?" the professor asked himself crossly. +"She wasn't there before the fog came." He remembered having noticed +that keg while choosing his own and there had been no woman sitting on +it then. "Anyway," he reflected, "I don't know her and I won't have to +speak to her." The thought warmed him so that he almost forgot to +shiver. From which you may gather that Professor Spence was a bachelor, +comparatively young; that he was of a retiring disposition and the +object of considerable unsolicited attention in his own home town. +</P> + +<P> +He arose cautiously from the keg of nails. It might be well to return +to the boatshed, even at the risk of falling into the Inlet. But he had +not proceeded very far before, suddenly, as he had hoped it would, the +mist began to lift. Swiftly, before the puff of a warmer breeze, it +eddied and thinned. Its soundless, impalpable pressure lessened. The +wharf, the sea, the city began to steal back, sly, expressionless, +pretending that they had been there all the time. Even Mr. Johnston +could be clearly seen coming down from the boatshed with a curious +figure beside him—a figure so odd and unfamiliar that he might have +been part of the unfamiliar fog itself. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you've certainly struck it lucky today," called the genial Mr. +Johnston. "This here is Doc. Farr's boy. He's going right back over +there now and he'll take you along—if you want to go." +</P> + +<P> +There was a disturbing cadence of doubt in the latter part of his +speech which affected the professor's always alert curiosity, as did +also the appearance of the "boy" reputed to belong to Dr. Farr. How old +he was no one could have guessed. The yellow parchment of his face was +ageless; ageless also the inscrutable, blank eyes. Only one thing was +certain—he had never been young. For the rest, he was utterly composed +and indifferent, and unmistakably Chinese. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope there is no mistake," said Professor Spence hesitatingly. "Dr. +Farr certainly informed me that this was the wharf at which his launch +usually—er—tied up. But—there could scarcely be two doctors of that +name, I suppose? It's somewhat uncommon." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's him you want," assured Mr. Johnston. "Only man of that name +hereabouts. Lives out across the Narrows somewheres. Used to live here +in Vancouver years ago but now he don't honor us much. Queer old skate! +They say he's got some good Indian things, though—if it's them you're +after?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor ignored the question but pondered the information. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you are right. It must be the same person," he said. "But he +certainly led me to expect—" +</P> + +<P> +A chuckle from the boat-builder interrupted him. "Ah, he'd do that, all +right," grinned Mr. Johnston. "They do say he has a special gift that +way." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, thank you very much anyway." The professor offered his hand +cordially. "And if we're going, we had better go." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be a tight fit in the launch," said Mr. Johnston. "Miss Farr's +down 'ere somewhere. I saw her pass." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Farr!" The professor's ungallant horror was all too patent. He +turned haunted eyes toward the second nail keg, now plainly visible and +unoccupied. +</P> + +<P> +"Missy in boat. She waitee. No likee!" said the Chinaman, speaking for +the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"But," began the professor, and then, seeing the appreciative grin upon +Mr. Johnston's speaking countenance, he continued blandly—"Very well, +let us not keep the lady waiting. Especially as she doesn't like it. +Take this bag, my man, it's light. I'll carry the other." +</P> + +<P> +With no words, and no apparent effort, the old man picked up both bags +and shuffled off. The professor followed. At the end of the wharf there +were steps and beneath the steps a small floating platform to which was +secured what the professor afterwards described as "a marine vehicle, +classification unknown." Someone, girl or woman, hidden in a loose, +green coat, was already seated there. A pair of dark eyes looked up +impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid you were not expecting me," said the professor. "I am +Hamilton Spence. Your father—" +</P> + +<P> +"You're getting your feet wet," said the person in the coat. "Please +jump in." +</P> + +<P> +The professor jumped. He hadn't jumped since the sciatica and he didn't +do it gracefully. But it landed him in the boat. The Chinaman was +already in his place. A rattle and a roar arose, the air turned +suddenly to gasoline and they were off. +</P> + +<P> +"Has it a name?" asked the professor as soon as he could make himself +heard. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor was not feeling amiable. "It might be easier to refer to +it in conversation if one knew its name," he remarked, "'Launch' seems +a trifle misleading." +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment's silence. Then, "I suppose 'launch' is what father +called it," said his companion. He could have sworn that there was cool +amusement in her tone. "I see your difficulty," she went on. "But, +fortunately, it has a name of its own. It is called the Tillicum.'" +</P> + +<P> +"As such I salute it!" said Spence, gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The other made no attempt to continue the conversation. She retired +into the fastness of the green cloak, leaving the professor to ponder +the situation. It seemed on the face of it an absurd situation enough, +yet there should certainly be nothing absurd in it. Spence felt a +somewhat bulky package of letters even now in the pocket of his coat. +These letters were real and sensible enough. They comprised his +correspondence with one Dr. Herbert Farr, Vancouver, B. C. As letters +they were quite charming. The earlier ones had dealt with the +professor's pet subject, primitive psychology. The later ones had been +more personal. Spence found himself remembering such phrases as "my +humble but picturesque home," "my Chinese servant, a factotum +extraordinary," "my young daughter who attends to all my simple wants" +and "my secretary on whose efficient aid I more and more depend—" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose there is a secretary?" he asked suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes," answered the green cloak, "I'm it." +</P> + +<P> +"And, 'a young daughter who attends'—" +</P> + +<P> +"—'to all my simple wants?' That's me, too." +</P> + +<P> +"But you can't be 'my Chinese servant, a factotum extraordinary?'" +</P> + +<P> +"No, you have already met Li Ho." +</P> + +<P> +"There?" queried the professor, gesturing weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Spence pulled himself together. "There must be a home, though," he +asserted firmly, "'Humble but picturesque'—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well," admitted the voice from the green cloak, "it is rather +picturesque. And it is certainly humble." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she laughed. It was a very young laugh. The professor felt +relieved. She was a girl, then, not a woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't father too' amusing?" she asked pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite too much so," agreed the professor. He was very cold. "I beg +your pardon," he added stiffly, remembering his manners. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't mind!" The girl assured him. "Father is a dreadful old +fraud. I have no illusions. But perhaps it isn't so bad after all. He +really is quite an authority on the West Coast Indians,—if that is +what you wish to consult him about." +</P> + +<P> +Professor Spence was in a quandary. But perfect frankness seemed +indicated. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't come to consult him about anything," he said slowly. "I am a +psychologist. I wish to do my own observing, at first hand. I came not +to question Dr. Farr, but to board with him." +</P> + +<P> +"BOARD WITH HIM!" +</P> + +<P> +In her heartfelt surprise the girl turned to him and he saw her face, +young, arresting, and excessively indignant. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," he said. "Do not excite yourself. I perceive the +impossibility. I can't have you attending to my wants, however simple. +Neither can I share the services of a secretary whose post, I gather, +is an honorary one. But I simply cannot go back to Mr. Johnston's grin: +so if you can put me up for the night—" +</P> + +<P> +She had turned away again and was silent for so long that Spence became +uneasy. But at last she spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"This is really too bad of father! He has never done anything quite as +absurd as this before. I don't quite see what he expected to get out of +it. He might know that you would not stay. He wouldn't want you to +stay. I can't understand—unless," her voice became crisp with sudden +enlightenment, "unless you were foolish enough to pay in advance! +Surely you did not do that?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor was observing his boots in an abstracted way. +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid my feet are very wet," he remarked. +</P> + +<P> +"They are. They are resting in at least an inch of water," she said +coldly. "But that isn't answering my question. Did you pay my father +anything in advance?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor fidgeted. +</P> + +<P> +"A small payment in advance is not very unusual," he offered. +"Especially if one's prospective host is anxious to add a few little +unaccustomed luxuries—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," she interrupted rudely. "I recognize the phrase!" Without +looking up he felt her wrathful gaze upon his face. "It means that +father has simply done you brown. Oh, well, it's your own fault. You're +old enough to know your way about. And the luxuries you will enjoy at +our place will certainly be unaccustomed ones. Didn't you even ask for +references?" +</P> + +<P> +Her tone irritated the professor unaccountably. +</P> + +<P> +"Are we nearly there?" he asked, disdaining to answer. "I am extremely +cold." +</P> + +<P> +"You will have a nice climb to warm you," she told him grimly, "all up +hill!" +</P> + +<P> +"'A verdant slope,'" quoted the professor sweetly, "'rising gently from +salt water toward snowclad peaks, which, far away,—'" They caught each +other's eyes and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is our landing," said the girl quite cheerfully. "And none too +soon! I suppose you haven't noticed it, but the 'Tillicum' is leaking +like a sieve!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<P> +Salt in the air and the breath of pine and cedar are excellent sleep +inducers. Professor Spence had not expected to sleep that night; yet he +did sleep. He awoke to find the sun high. A great beam of it lay across +the foot of his camp cot, bringing comforting warmth to the toes which +protruded from the shelter of abbreviated blankets. The professor +wiggled his toes cautiously. He was accustomed to doing this before +making more radical movements. They were a valuable index to the state +of the sciatic nerve. This morning they wiggled somewhat stiffly and +there were also various twinges. But considering the trying experiences +of yesterday it was surprising that they could wiggle at all. He lifted +himself slowly—and sank back with a relieved sigh. It would have been +embarrassing, he thought, had he not been able to get up. +</P> + +<P> +All men have their secret fears and Professor Spence's secret fear was +embodied in a story which his friend and medical adviser (otherwise +"Old Bones") had seen fit to cite as a horrible example. It concerned a +man who had sciatica and who didn't take proper care of him-self. One +day this man went for a walk and fell suddenly upon the pavement unable +to move or even to explain matters satisfactorily to a heartless +policeman who insisted that he was drunk. The doctor had laughed over +this story; doctors are notoriously inhuman. The professor had laughed +also, but the possible picture of him-self squirming helplessly before +a casually interested public had terrors which no enemies' shrapnel had +ever been able to inspire. +</P> + +<P> + Well, thank heaven it hadn't happened yet! The professor confided<BR> +his satisfaction to an inquisitive squirrel which swung, bright eyed, +from a branch which swept the window, and, sitting up, prepared to take +stock of the furnishings of his room. A grim smile signalled his +discovery that there were no furnishings to take stock of. Save for his +camp bed, an affair of stout canvas stretched between crossed legs, the +room was beautifully bare. Not a chair, not a wash-stand, not a table +cumbered it—unless a round, flat tree stump, which looked as if it +might have grown up through the floor, was intended for both washstand +and table. It had served the latter purpose at any rate as upon it +rested the candle-stick containing the solitary candle by which he had +got himself to bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Single room, without bath," murmured the professor. "Oh, if my Aunt +Caroline could see me now!" +</P> + +<P> +Oddly enough, something in the thought of Aunt Caroline seemed to have +a reconciling effect upon Aunt Caroline's nephew. He lay back upon his +one thin pillow and reviewed his position with surprising fortitude. +After all, Aunt Caroline couldn't see him—and that was something. +Besides, it had been an adventure. It was surprising how he had come to +look for adventures since that day, five years ago, when the grim +adventure of war had called him from the peace-filled beginnings of +what he had looked forward to as a life of scholarly leisure. He had +been thirty, then, and quite done with adventuring. Now he was +thirty-five and—well, he supposed the war had left him restless. +Presently he would settle down. He would begin his great book on the +"Psychology of Primitive Peoples." Everything would be as it had been +before. +</P> + +<P> +But in the meantime it insisted upon being somewhat different—hence +this feeling which was not all dissatisfaction with his present absurd +position. He was, he admitted it, a badly sold man. But did it matter? +What had he lost except money and self-esteem? The money did not matter +and he was sure that Aunt Caroline, at least, would say that he could +spare the self-esteem. Besides, he would recover it in time. His +opinion of himself as a man of perspicacity in business had recovered +from harder blows than this. There was that affair of the South +American mines, for instance,—but anybody may be mistaken about South +American mines. He had told Aunt Caroline this. "It was," he told Aunt +Caroline, "a financial accident. I do not blame myself. My father, as +you know, was a far-sighted man. These aptitudes run in families." Aunt +Caroline had said, "Humph!" +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless it was true that the elder Hamilton Spence, now deceased, +had been a far-sighted man. Benis had always cherished a warm +admiration for the commercial astuteness which he conceived himself to +have inherited. He would have been, he thought, exactly like his +father—if he had cared for the drudgery of business. So it was a habit +of his, when in a quandary, to consider what his parent would have done +and then to do likewise—an excellent rule if he had ever succeeded in +applying it properly. But there were always so many intruding details. +Take the present predicament, for instance. He could scarcely picture +his father in these precise circumstances. To do so would be to +presuppose actions on the part of that astute ancestor quite out of +keeping with his known character. Would Hamilton Spence, senior, have +crossed a continent at the word of one of whom he knew nothing, save +that he wrote an agreeable letter? Would he have engaged (and paid for +in advance) board and lodging at a place wholly supposititious? Would +he have neglected to ask for references? Hamilton Spence, junior, was +forced to admit that he would not. +</P> + +<P> +But those letters of old Farr had been so blamed plausible! +</P> + +<P> +Well, anyhow, he would have the pleasure of meeting and outfacing the +old rascal. This satisfaction he had expected the night before. But +upon their arrival at the "picturesque though humble" cottage (after a +climb at the memory of which his leg still shuddered), it was found +that Dr. Farr was not at home. +</P> + +<P> +"He has probably gone 'up trail'" Miss Farr had said casually, "and in +that case he won't be back until morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say up?" The professor's voice held incredulity. Whereupon his +hostess had most unkindly smiled: "You're not much of a walker, are +you?" was her untactful comment. +</P> + +<P> +"My leg—" He had actually begun to tell her about his leg! Luckily her +amused shrug had acted as a period. He felt very glad of this now. To +have admitted weakness would have been weak indeed. For the girl was so +splendidly strong! Only a child, of course, but so finely moulded, so +superbly strung—light and lithe. How she had swung up the trail, a +heavy packet in either hand, with scarcely a quickened breath to tell +of the effort! Her face?—he tried to recall her face but found it +provokingly elusive. It was a young face, but not youthful. The +distinction seemed strained and yet it was a real distinction. The eyes +were grey, he thought. The eyebrows very fine, dark and slanted +slightly, as if left that way by some unanswered question. The nose was +straight, delightful in profile. The mouth too firm for a face so +young, the chin too square—perhaps. But even as he catalogued the +features the face escaped him. He had a changing impression, only, of a +graceful contour, warm and white, dark careless eyes, and +hair—quantities of hair lying close and smooth in undulated waves—its +color like nothing so much as the brown of a crisping autumn leaf. He +remembered, though, that she was poorly dressed—and utterly +unconscious, or careless, of being so. And she had been amused, +undoubtedly amused, at his annoyance. A most unfeminine girl! And that +at least was fortunate—for he was very, very weary of everything +feminine! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<P> +Yawningly, the professor reached for his watch. +</P> + +<P> +It had run down. +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently they do not wake guests for breakfast," he mused. "Perhaps," +with rising dismay, "there isn't any breakfast to wake them for!" +</P> + +<P> +He felt suddenly ravenous and hurried into his clothes. It is really +wonderful how all kinds of problems give place to the need for a wash +and breakfast. Somewhere outside he could hear water running, so with a +towel over his arm and a piece of soap in his pocket he started out to +find it. His room, as he had noted the night before, was one of two +small rooms under the eaves. There was a small, dark landing between +them and a steep, ladderlike stair led directly down into the +living-room. There was no one there; neither was there anyone in the +small kitchen at the back. Benis Spence decided that this second room +was a kitchen because it contained a cooking stove. Otherwise he would +not have recognized it, Aunt Caroline's idea of a kitchen being quite +otherwise. Someone had been having breakfast on a corner of the table +and a fire crackled in the stove. Window and door were open, and leafy, +ferny odors mingled with the smell of burning cedar. The combined scent +was very pleasant, but the professor could have wished that the bouquet +of coffee and fried bacon had been included. He was quite painfully +hungry. +</P> + +<P> +Through the open door the voice of falling water still called to him +but of other and more human voices there were none. Well, he could at +least wash. With a shrug he turned away from the half cleared table +and, in the doorway, almost ran into the arms of a little, old man in a +frock coat and a large umbrella. There were other items of attire, but +they did not seem to matter. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear sir," said the little, old man, in a gentle, gurgling voice. +"Let me make you welcome—very, very welcome!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," said the professor. +</P> + +<P> +There were other things that he might have said, but they did not seem +to suggest themselves. All the smooth and biting sentences which his +mind had held in readiness for this moment faded and died before the +stunning knowledge of their own inadequacy. Surprise, pure and simple, +stamped them down. +</P> + +<P> +"Unpardonable, my not being at home to receive you," went on this +amazing old gentleman. "But the exact time of your coming was somewhat +indefinite. Still, I am displeased with myself, much displeased. You +slept well, I trust?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor was understood to say that he had slept well. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Farr sighed. "Youth!" he murmured, waving his umbrella. "Oh, youth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," said the professor. There was a dryness in his tone not +calculated to encourage rhapsody. The old gentleman's gurgle changed to +a note of practical helpfulness. +</P> + +<P> +"You wish to bathe, I see. I will not detain you. Our sylvan bathroom +you will find just down the trail and behind those alders. Pray take +your time. You will be quite undisturbed." +</P> + +<P> +With another dry "Thank you," the professor passed on. He was limping +slightly, otherwise he would have passed on much faster. His instinct +was to seek cover before giving vent to the emotion which consumed him. +</P> + +<P> +Behind the alders, and taking the precaution of stuffing his mouth with +a towel, he could release this rising gust of almost hysterical +laughter. +</P> + +<P> +That was Dr. Herbert Farr! The fulfilled vision of the learned scholar +he had come so far to see capped with nicety the climax of this absurd +adventure. What an utter fool, what an unbelievable idiot he had made +of himself! For the moment he saw clear and all normal reactions proved +inadequate. There was left only laughter. +</P> + +<P> +When this was over he felt better. Withdrawing the towel and wiping the +tears of strangled mirth from his eyes he looked around him. The sylvan +bathroom was indeed a charming place. Great rocks, all smooth and brown +with velvet moss, curved gently down to form a basin into which fell +the water from the tiny stream whose musical flowing had called to him +through his window. Around, and somewhat back beneath tall sentinel +trees, crept the bushes and bracken of the mountain; but, above, the +foliage opened and the sun shone in, turning the brown-green water of +the pool to gold. With a sigh of pure delight the laughter-weary +professor stepped into its cool brightness—and with a gasp of +something very different, stepped quickly out again. But, quick as he +was, the liquid ice of that green-gold pool was quicker. It ran through +his tortured nerve like mounting fire—"Oh—oh—damn!" said the +professor heartily. +</P> + +<P> +The sweat stood out on his forehead before he had rubbed and warmed the +outraged limb into some semblance of quietude again. The pool seemed no +longer lovely. Very gingerly he completed such ablutions as were +strictly necessary and then, very cold, very stiff and very, very empty +he turned back toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +This time, instead of passing through the small vegetable garden behind +the kitchen, he skirted the clearing, coming out into the wide, open +space in front of the cottage. On one side of him, and behind, spread +the mountain woods but before him and to the right the larger trees +were down. There was a vista—for the first time since he had sat upon +a keg in the fog he forgot him-self and his foolishness, his hunger, +his aching nerves, his smarting pride, everything! The beauty before +him filled his heart and mind, leaving not a cranny anywhere for lesser +things. Blue sea, blue sky, blue mountains, blue smoke that rose in +misty spirals as from a thousand fairy fires and, nearer, the +sun-warmed, dew-drenched green—green of the earth, green of the trees, +green of the graceful, sweeping curves of wooded point and bay. Far +away, on peaks half hidden, snow still lay—a whiteness so ethereal +that the gazer caught his breath. +</P> + +<P> +And with it all there was the scent of something—something so fresh, +so penetrating, so infinitely sweet—what could it be? +</P> + +<P> +"Ambrosia!" said Benis Spence, unconscious that he spoke aloud. +</P> + +<P> +"Balm of Gilead," said a practical voice beside him. "It smells like +that in the bud, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it?" The professor's tone was dreamy. "Honey and wine—that's +what it's like—honey and wine in the wilderness! You didn't tell me it +would be like this," he added, turning abruptly to his companion of the +night before. +</P> + +<P> +"How could I tell what it would be like—to you?" asked the girl. "It's +different for everyone. I've known people stand here and think of +nothing but their breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +At the word "breakfast" (which had temporarily slipped from his +vocabulary) the famished professor wheeled so quickly that his knee +twisted. Miss Farr smiled, her cool and too-understanding smile. +</P> + +<P> +"There's something to eat," she said. "Come in." +</P> + +<P> +She did not wait for him but walked off quickly. The professor followed +more slowly. The path, even the front path, was rough (he had noticed +that last night); but the cottage, seen now with the glamour of its +outlook still in his eyes, seemed not quite so impossible as he had +thought. The grace of early spring lay upon it and all around. True, it +was small and unpainted and in bad repair, but its smallness and its +brownness seemed not out of keeping with the mountain-side. Its narrow +veranda was railed by unbarked branches from the cedars. Its walls were +rough and weather-beaten, its few windows, broad and low. The door was +open and led directly into the living room whence his hostess had +preceded him. +</P> + +<P> +The marvellous scent of the morning was everywhere. The room, as he +went in, seemed full of it. Not such a bad room, either, not nearly so +comfortless as he had thought last night. There was a fireplace, for +instance, a real fireplace of cobble-stones, for use, not ornament; a +long table stood in the middle of the room, an old fashioned sofa +sprawled beneath one of the windows. There was a dresser at one end +with open shelves for china and, at the other, a book-case, also open, +filled with old and miscellaneous books.... +</P> + +<P> +And, best and most encouraging of all, there was breakfast on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"I told Li Ho to give you eggs," said Miss Farr. "It is the one thing +we can be sure of having fresh. Do you like eggs?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor liked eggs. He had never liked eggs so well before, +except once in Flanders—he looked up to thank his hostess, but she had +not waited. Nevertheless the breakfast was very good. Not until he had +finished the last crumb of it did he notice that the comfort of the +place was more apparent than real. The table tipped whenever you +touched it. The chair upon which he sat had lost an original leg and +didn't take kindly to its substitute. The china was thick and chipped. +The walls were unfinished and draughty, the ceiling obviously leaked. +There had been some effort to keep the place livable, for the faded +curtains were at least clean and the floor swept—but the blight of +decay and poverty lay hopelessly upon it all. +</P> + +<P> +And what was a young girl—a girl with level eyes and lifted +chin—doing in this galley? ... Undoubtedly the less he bothered +himself about that question the better. This young person was probably +just as she wished to appear, careless and content. And in any case it +was none of his business. +</P> + +<P> +The sensible thing for him to do was to pack his bag and turn his +back—the absurd old man with the umbrella ... pshaw! ... He +wouldn't go home, of course. Aunt Caroline would say "I told you so" ... +no, she wouldn't say it—she would look it, which was worse ... +he had come away for a rest cure and a rest cure he intended to have +... with a groan he thought of the pictures he had formed of this +place, the comfortable seclusion, the congenial old scholar, the +capable secretary, the—he looked up to find that Miss Farr had +returned and was regarding him with a cool and pleasantly aloof +consideration. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you wondering how soon you may decently leave?" she inquired. "We +are not at all formal here. And, of course—" her shrug and gesture +disposed of all other matters at issue. "Yours are the only feelings +that need to be considered. I should like to know, though," she +continued with some warmth of interest, "if you really came just to +observe Indians. Father might think of a variety of attractions. +Health?—any-thing from gout to tuberculosis. Fish?—father can talk +about fish until you actually see them leaping. Shooting?—according to +father, all the animals of the ark abound in these mountains. +Curios?—father has an Indian mound somewhere which he always keeps +well stocked." +</P> + +<P> +Professor Spence smiled. "So many activities," he said, "should bring +better results." +</P> + +<P> +"They are too well known. Most people make some inquiry." The faint +emphasis on the "most" made the professor feel uncomfortable. Was it +possible that this young girl considered him, Benis Spence, something +of a fool? He dismissed the idea as unlikely. +</P> + +<P> +"Inquiry in my case would have meant delay," he answered frankly, "and +I was in a hurry. I wanted to get away from—I wanted to get away for +rest and study in a congenial environment. Still, I will admit that I +might not have inquired in any case. I am accustomed to trust to my +instinct. My father was a very far-sighted man—what are you laughing +at?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. Only it sounded so much like 'nevertheless, my grandsire drew +a long bow at the battle of Hastings'—don't you remember, in +'Ivanhoe?'" +</P> + +<P> +The professor sighed. "I have forgotten 'Ivanhoe,'" he said, "which +means, I suppose, that I have forgotten youth. Sometimes its ghost +walks, though. I think it was that which kept me so restless at home. I +thought that if I could get away—You see, before the war, I was +gathering material for a book on primitive psychology and when I came +back I found some of the keenness gone." He smiled grimly. "I came back +inclined to think that all psychology is primitive. But I wanted to get +to work again. I had never studied the West Coast Indians and your +father's letters led me to believe that—er—" +</P> + +<P> +It was not at all polite of her to laugh, but he had to admit that her +laughter was very pleasant and young. +</P> + +<P> +"It is funny, you know," she murmured apologetically. "For I am sure +you pictured father as a kind of white patriarch, surrounded by his +primitive children (father is certain to have called the Indians his +'children'!). Unfortunately, the Indians detest father. They're half +afraid of him, too. I don't know why. Years ago, when we lived up +coast—" she paused, plainly annoyed at her own loquacity, "we knew +plenty of Indians then," she finished shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"And are there no Indians here at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is an Indian reservation at North Vancouver. That is the +nearest. I do not think they are just what you are looking for. But +both in Vancouver and Victoria you can get in touch with men who can +direct you. Your journey need not be entirely wasted." +</P> + +<P> +"But Dr. Farr himself—Is he not something of an authority?" +</P> + +<P> +"Y-es. I suppose he is." +</P> + +<P> +"What information the letters contained seemed to be the real thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the letters were all right. I wrote them." +</P> + +<P> +"You!" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I tell you I was the secretary? My department is the +'information bureau.' I do not see the actual letters. There are always +personal bits which father puts in himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Bits regarding boarding accommodation, etc.?" +</P> + +<P> +She did not answer his smile, and her eyes grew hard as she nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Usually I can keep things from going that far. I can't quite see how +it happened so suddenly in your case." +</P> + +<P> +"I happen to be a sudden person." +</P> + +<P> +"Evidently. Father was quite dumbfounded when he knew you had actually +arrived. He certainly expected an interval during which he could invent +good and sufficient reasons for putting you off." +</P> + +<P> +"Such as?" +</P> + +<P> +"Such as smallpox. An outbreak of smallpox among the Indians is quite a +favorite with father." +</P> + +<P> +"The old—I beg your pardon!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't bother. You are certainly entitled to an expression of your +feelings. It may be the only satisfaction, you will get. But aren't we +getting away from the question?" +</P> + +<P> +"Question?" +</P> + +<P> +"When do you wish Li Ho to take you back to Vancouver?" +</P> + +<P> +Professor Spence opened his lips to say that any time would suit. It +was the obvious answer, the only sensible answer, the answer which he +fully intended to make. But he did not make it. +</P> + +<P> +"Must I really go?" he asked. He was, so he had said himself, a sudden +person. +</P> + +<P> +His hostess met his deprecating gaze with pure surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't possibly want to stay?" +</P> + +<P> +"I quite possibly can. I like it here. And I'm horribly tired." +</P> + +<P> +The hostility which had begun to gather in her eyes lightened a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Tired? I noticed that you limped this morning. Is there anything the +matter with you?" +</P> + +<P> +It was certainly an ungracious way of putting it. And her eyes, while +not exactly hostile, were ungracious, too. They would make anyone with +a spark of pride want to go away at once. The professor told himself +this. Besides, his only possible reason for wishing to stay had been +some unformed idea of being helpful to the girl herself—ungrateful +minx! +</P> + +<P> +"If there is anything really wrong—" the cold incredulity of her tone +was the last straw. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing wrong at all!" said Professor Spence. He arose briskly. Alas! +He had forgotten his sciatic nerve. He had forgotten, too, the +crampiness of its temper since that glacial bath, and, most completely +of all, had he forgotten the fate of the +man-who-didn't-take-care-of-himself. Therefore it was with something of +surprise that he found himself crumpled up upon the floor. Only when he +tried to rise again and felt the sweat upon his forehead did he +remember the doctor's story.... Spence swore under his breath and +attempted to pull himself up by the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment!" +</P> + +<P> +The cold voice held authority—the authority he had come to respect in +hospital—and he waited, setting his teeth. Next moment he set them +still harder, for Li Ho and the girl picked him up without ceremony and +laid him, whitefaced, upon the sprawling sofa. +</P> + +<P> +"Why didn't you say you had sciatica?" asked Miss Farr, belligerently. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed unnecessary to answer. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it is sciatica," she went on, "because I've seen it before. And +if you had no more sense than to bathe in that pool you deserve all +you've got." +</P> + +<P> +"It looked all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—looked! It's melted ice—simply." +</P> + +<P> +"So I realized, afterwards." +</P> + +<P> +"You seem to do most things afterwards. What caused it in the first +place, cold?" +</P> + +<P> +"The sciatica? No—an injury." +</P> + +<P> +There was a slight pause. +</P> + +<P> +"Was it—in the war?" The new note in her voice did not escape Spence. +He lied promptly—too promptly. Desire Farr was an observant young +person, quite capable of drawing conclusions. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to be sympathetic," she said. "That," with sudden +illumination, "is probably what you ran away from. But you'd better be +truthfull Was it a bullet?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shrapnel." +</P> + +<P> +"And the treatment?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rest, and the tablets in my bag." +</P> + +<P> +"Right—I'll get them." +</P> + +<P> +It was quite like old hospital times. The sofa was hard and the pillows +knobby. But he had lain upon worse. Li Ho was not more unhandy than +many an orderly. And the tablets, quickly and neatly administered by +Miss Farr, brought something of relief. +</P> + +<P> +Not until she saw the strain within his eyes relax did his +self-appointed nurse pass sentence. +</P> + +<P> +"You certainly can't move until you are better," she said. "You'll have +to stay. It can't be helped but—father will have a fit." +</P> + +<P> +"A fit?" murmured Spence. Privately he thought that a fit might do the +old gentleman good. +</P> + +<P> +"He hates having anyone here," she went on thoughtfully. "It upsets +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it? But why? I can understand it upsetting you. But he—he +doesn't do the work, does he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly," the girl smiled. "But—oh well, I don't believe in +explanations. You'll see things for your-self, perhaps. And now I'll +get you a book. I won't warn you not to move for I know you can't." +</P> + +<P> +With a glance which, true to her promise, was not overburdened with +sympathy, his strangely acquired hostess went out and closed the door. +</P> + +<P> +He tried to read the book she had handed him ("Green Mansions"—ho-r +had it wandered out here?) but his mind could not detach itself. It +insisted upon listening for sounds outside. And presently a sound +came—the high, thin sound of a voice shaking with weakness or rage. +Then the cool tones of his absent nurse, then the voice +again—certainly a most unpleasant voice—and the crashing sound of +something being violently thrown to the ground and stamped upon. +Through the closed door, the professor seemed to see a vision of an +absurd old man with pale eyes, who shrieked and stamped upon an +umbrella. +</P> + +<P> +"That," said Hamilton Spence, with resignation, "that must be father +having a fit!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<P> +Letter from Professor Hamilton Spence to his friend, John Rogers, M.D. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR Bones: Chortle if you want to—your worst prognostications have +come true. The unexpectedness of the sciatic nerve, as set forth in +your parting discourse, has amply proved itself. The dashed thing is +all that you said of it—and more. It did not even permit me to +collapse gracefully—or to choose my public. Your other man had a +policeman, hadn't he? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Here I am, stranded upon a sofa from which I cannot get up and detained +indefinitely upon a mountain from which I cannot get down. My nurse (I +have a nurse) refuses to admit the mountain. She insists upon referring +to this dizzy height as "just above sea-level" and declares that the +precipitous ascent thereto is "a slight grade." Otherwise she is quite +sane. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But sanity is more than I feel justified in claiming for anyone else in +this household. There is Li Ho, for instance. Well, I'm not certain +about Li Ho. He may be Chinese-sane. My nurse says he is. But I have no +doubts at all about my host. He is so queer that I sometimes wonder if +he is not a figment. Perhaps I imagine him. If so, my imagination is +going strong. What I seem to see is a little old man in a frock coat so +long that his legs (like those of the Queen of Spain) are negligible. +He has a putty colored face (so blurred that I keep expecting him to +rub it out altogether), white hair, pale blue eyes—and an umbrella. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yesterday, attempting to establish cordial relations, I asked him why +the umbrella. He had a fit right on the spot? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Let me explain about the fits. When his daughter just said, "Father +will have a fit," I thought she spoke in a Pickwickian sense, meaning, +"Father will experience annoyance." But when I heard him having it, I +realized that she had probably been quite literal. When father has a +fit he bangs his umbrella to the floor and jumps on it. Also he tears +his hair. I have seen the pieces. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I said to my nurse: "The mention of his umbrella seems to agitate your +father." She turned quite pale. "It does," she said. "I hope you +haven't mentioned it." I said that I had merely asked for information. +"And did you get it?" asked she. I said that I had—since it was +apparent that one has to carry an umbrella if one wishes to have it +handy to jump upon. She didn't laugh at all, and looked so withdrawn +that it was quite plain I need expect no elucidation from her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I had to dismiss the subject altogether. But, later on, Li Ho (who +appears to partially approve of me) gave a curious side light on the +matter. At night as he was tucking me up safely (the sofa is slippery), +he said, "Honorable Boss got hole in head-top. Sun velly bad. Umblella +keep him off." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"But he carries it at night, too," I objected. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Li Ho wagged his parchment head. "Keep moon off all same. Moon muchy +more bad. Full moon find urn hole. Make Honorable Boss much klasy." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Remarkably lucid explanation—don't you think so? The "hole in head +top" is evidently Li Ho's picturesque figure for "mental vacuum." +Therefore I gather that our yellow brother suspects his honorable boss +of being weak-headed, a condition aggravated by the direct rays of the +sun and especially by the full moon. He may be right—though the old +man seems harmless enough. "Childlike and bland" describes him usually. +Though there are times when he looks at me with those pale eyes—and I +wish that I were not quite so helpless! He dislikes me. But I have +known quite sane people do that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I am writing nonsense. One has to, with sciatica. I hope this +confounded leg lets me get some sleep tonight. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yours, +<BR> +B. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +P.S.: Not exactly an ideal home for a young girl—is it? +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<P> +It had rained all night. It had rained all yesterday. It had rained all +the day before. It was raining still. Apparently it could go on raining +indefinitely. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Farr said not. She said that it would be certain to clear up in a +day or two. "And then," she said, "you will forget that it ever rained." +</P> + +<P> +Professor Spence doubted it. He had a good memory. +</P> + +<P> +"You look much better this morning," his nurse went on. "Have you tried +to move your leg yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am thinking of trying it." +</P> + +<P> +This was not exactly a fib on the part of the professor because he was +thinking of it. But it did not include the whole truth, because he had +already tried it, tried it very successfully only a few moments before. +First he had made sure that he was alone in the room and then he had +proceeded with the trial. Very cautiously he had drawn his lame leg up, +and tenderly stretched it out. He had turned over and back again. He +had wiggled his toes to see how many of them were present—only the +littlest toe was still numb. He had realized that he was much better. +If the improvement kept on, he knew that in a day or so he would be +able to walk with the aid of a cane. And he also knew that, with his +walking, his status as an invalid guest would vanish. Luckily, no one +but himself could say when the walking stage was reached—hence the +strict privacy of his experiments. +</P> + +<P> +"Father thinks that you should be able to walk in about three days," +said Miss Farr cheerfully. +</P> + +<P> +Spence said he hoped that Dr. Farr was right. But the rain, he feared, +might keep him back a bit, "I am really sorry," he added, "that my +presence is so distasteful to the doctor. I have been here almost two +weeks and I have seen so little of him that I'm afraid I am keeping him +out of his own house." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you are not doing that," the girl's reassurance was cordial +enough, "Father is having an outside spell just now. He quite often +does. Sometimes for weeks together he spends most of his time out of +doors. Then, quite suddenly, he will settle down and be more +like—other people." +</P> + +<P> +It was her way, the professor noticed, to state facts, not to explain +them. +</P> + +<P> +"Then he has what I call an 'inside spell,'" she went on. "That is when +he does most of his writing. He does some quite good things, you know. +And a few of them get published." +</P> + +<P> +"Scientific articles?" asked Spence. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—articles. You might not call them scientific. Science is very +exact, isn't it? Father would rather be interesting than exact any day." +</P> + +<P> +Her hearer found no difficulty in believing this. +</P> + +<P> +"His folk-lore stories are the best—and the least exact," continued +she, heedless of the shock inflicted upon the professorial mind. "He +knows exactly the kind of things Indians tell, and tells it very much +better." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean he—he fakes it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—he calls it 'editing.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But, my dear girl, you can't edit folk-lore!" +</P> + +<P> +"Father can." +</P> + +<P> +"But—but it isn't done! Such material loses all value if not +authentic." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was indifferent. So indifferent, in the face of a matter +of such moment, that Hamilton Spence writhed upon his couch. Here at +least there was room for genuine missionary work. He cleared his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"I will tell you just how much it matters," he began firmly. But the +fates were not with him, neither was his audience. Attracted by some +movement which he had missed she, the audience, had slipped to the +door, and was opening it cautiously. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" asked the baffled lecturer crossly. +</P> + +<P> +"S-ssh! I think it's Sami." +</P> + +<P> +"A tame bear?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Wait. I'll prop you up so you can see him. Look, behind the +veranda post." +</P> + +<P> +The professor looked and forgot about the value of authenticity; for +from behind the veranda post a most curious face was peeping—a round, +solemn baby face of cafe au lait with squat, wide nose and flat-set +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"A Jap?" exclaimed Spence in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"No. He's Indian. Some of the babies are so Japaneesy that it's hard to +tell the difference. Father says it's a strain of the same blood. But +they are not all as pretty as Sami. Isn't he a duck?" +</P> + +<P> +"He is at home in the rain, anyway. Why doesn't he come in?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's afraid of you." +</P> + +<P> +"That's unusual—until one has seen me." +</P> + +<P> +"Sami doesn't need to see a stranger." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's primitive enough, surely! Let's call him in." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to, but Sami won't come for calling." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, won't he? Leave the door open and watch him." +</P> + +<P> +As absorbed now as the girl herself, the professor put his finger to +his lips and whistled—a low, clear whistle, rather like the calling of +a meditative bird. Several times he whistled so, on different notes; +and then, to her surprise, the watching girl saw the little wild thing +outside stir in answer to the call. Sami came out from behind the post +and stood listening, for all the world like an inquiring squirrel. The +whistle sounded again, a plaintive, seeking sound, infinitely alluring. +It seemed to draw the heart like a living thing. Slowly at first and +then with the swift, gliding motion of the woods, the wide-eyed +youngster approached the open door and stood there waiting, poised and +ready for advance or flight. Again the whistle came, and to it came +Sami, straight as a bird to its calling mate. +</P> + +<P> +"Tamed!" said the professor softly. "See, he is not a bit afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"How on earth did you do it?" asked Miss Farr when the shy, brown baby +had been duly welcomed. The whistler was visibly vain. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's quite simple. I merely talked to him in his own language." +</P> + +<P> +"I see that. But where did you learn the language?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, a fellow taught me that—man I met at Ypres. He could have +whistled back the dodo, I think. He knew all kinds of calls—said all +the wild things answered to them." +</P> + +<P> +"Was he a great naturalist?" +</P> + +<P> +The cheerful vanity faded from Spence's face, leaving it sombre. +</P> + +<P> +"He—would have been," he said briefly. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Farr asked no more questions. It was a restful way she had. And +perhaps because she did not ask, the professor felt an unaccustomed +impulse. "He was a wonderful chap," he volunteered. "There are few like +him in a generation. It seemed—rather a waste." +</P> + +<P> +The girl nodded. "Used or wasted—it's as it happens," she said. "There +is no plan." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a heathen sentiment!" The professor recovered his cheerfulness. +"A sentiment not at all suited for the contemplation of extreme youth." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not extremely young." +</P> + +<P> +"You? I was referring to our brown brother. He is becoming uneasy +again. What's the matter with him?" +</P> + +<P> +Whatever was the matter, it reached, at that moment, an acute stage and +Sami disappeared through the door into the kitchen. Perhaps his ears +were sharper than theirs and his eyes keener. He may have seen a large +umbrella coming across the clearing. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Farr frowned. "Sami is afraid of father," she explained briefly. +The door opened as she added, "I wonder why?" +</P> + +<P> +"A caprice of childhood, my daughter," said the old doctor mildly. "Who +indeed can account for the vagaries of the young?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are usually quite easy to account for," replied his daughter +coldly. "You must have frightened the child some time." +</P> + +<P> +"Tut, tut, my dear. How could an old fogey like myself frighten anyone?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. But I should like to." +</P> + +<P> +Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment. And again the +captive on the sofa found himself disliking intensely the glance of the +old man's pale blue eyes. He was glad to see that they fell before the +grey eyes of the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well!" murmured Dr. Farr vaguely, looking away. "It doesn't +matter. It doesn't matter. Tut, tut, a trifle!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think so," said she. And abruptly she went out after the child. +</P> + +<P> +"Fanciful, very fanciful," murmured the old man, looking after her. +"And stubborn, very stubborn. A bad fault in one so young. But," +beaming benevolently upon his guest, "we must not trouble you with our +small domestic discords. You are much better, I see, much better. That +is good." +</P> + +<P> +"Getting along very nicely, thanks," said Spence. "I was able to change +position this morning without assistance." +</P> + +<P> +"Only that?" The doctor's disappointment was patent. "Come, we should +progress better than that. If you will allow me to prescribe—" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you—no. I feel quite satisfied with the treatment prescribed by +old Bones—I mean by my friend, Dr. Rogers. He understands the case +thoroughly. One must be patient." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so, quite so." The curiously blurred face of the doctor seemed +for a moment to take on sharper lines. Spence had observed it do this +before under stress of feeling. But as the exact feeling which caused +the change was usually obscure, it seemed safest to ignore it +altogether. He was growing quite expert at ignoring things. For, quite +contrary to the usual trend of his character, he was reacting to the +urge of a growing desire to stay where he wasn't wanted. He didn't +reason about it. He did not even admit it. But it moved in his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not fretting at all about being tied up here," he went on +cheerfully. "I find the air quite stimulating. I believe I could work +here. In fact, I have some notes with me which I may elaborate. I fancy +that, as you said in your letters, Miss Farr will prove a most capable +secretary. I am going to ask her to help me." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you indeed?" The doctor's tone was polite but absent. +</P> + +<P> +"You do not object, I hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"Object—why should I object? But Desire is busy, very busy. I doubt if +her duties will spare her. I doubt it very much." +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally, I should wish to offer her ample remuneration." +</P> + +<P> +Again the loose lines of the strange old face seemed to sharpen. There +was a growing eagerness in the pale eyes ... but it died. +</P> + +<P> +"Even in that case," said Dr. Farr regretfully, "I fear it will be +impossible." +</P> + +<P> +Spence pressed this particular point no further. He had found out what +he wanted to know, namely, that his host's desire to see the last of +him was stronger even than his desire for money. His own desire to see +more of his host strengthened in proportion. +</P> + +<P> +"Supposing we leave it to Miss Farr herself," he suggested smoothly. +"Since you have personally no objection. If she is unwilling to oblige +me, of course—" +</P> + +<P> +"I will speak to her," promised the doctor. +</P> + +<P> +Spence smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"What surprises me, doctor," he went on, pushing a little further, "is +how you have managed to keep so very intelligent a secretary in so +restricted an environment. The stronger one's wings, the stronger the +temptation to use them." +</P> + +<P> +He had expected to strike fire with this, but the pale eyes looked +placidly past him. +</P> + +<P> +"Desire has left me, at times, but—she has always come back." The old +man's voice was very gentle, almost caressing, and should certainly +have provided no reason for the chill that crept up his hearer's spine. +</P> + +<P> +"She has never found work suited to her, perhaps," suggested Spence. +"If you will allow me,—" +</P> + +<P> +"You are very kind," the velvet was off the doctor's voice now. He rose +with a certain travesty of dignity. "But I may say that I desire—that +I will tolerate—no interference. My daughter's future shall be her +father's care." +</P> + +<P> +Spence laughed. It was an insulting laugh, and he knew it. But the +contrast between the grandiloquent words and the ridiculous figure +which uttered them was too much for him. Besides, though the most +courteous of men, he deliberately wished to be insulting. He couldn't +help it. There rose up in him, suddenly, a wild and unreasoning anger +that mere paternity could place anyone (and especially a young girl +with cool, grey eyes) in the power of such a caricature of manhood. +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" said Spence. There was everything in the word that tone could +utter of challenge and derision. He raised himself upon his elbow. The +doctor, who had been closely contemplating his umbrella, looked up +slowly. The eyes of the two men met.... Spence had never seen eyes +like that ... they dazzled him like sudden sunlight on a blade of +steel ... they clung to his mind and bewildered it ... he forgot +the question at issue ... he forgot— +</P> + +<P> +Just then Li Ho opened the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"Get 'um lunch now," said Li Ho, in his toneless drawl. "Like 'um egg +flied? Like 'um boiled?" +</P> + +<P> +Spence sank back upon his pillow. +</P> + +<P> +"Like um any old way!" he said. His voice sounded a little breathless. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor, once again absorbed in the contemplation of his umbrella, +went out. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<P> +Luncheon, for which Li Ho had provided eggs both boiled and fried, was +eaten alone. His hostess did not honor him with her company, nor did +her father return. Li Ho was attentive but silent And outside the rain +still rained. +</P> + +<P> +Professor Spence lay and counted the drops as they fell from a knot +hole in the veranda roof—one small drop—two medium-sized drops—one +big drop—as if some unseen djinn were measuring them out in ruthless +monotony. He counted the drops until his brain felt soggy and he began +to speculate upon what Aunt Caroline would think of fried eggs for +luncheon. He wondered why there were no special dishes for special +meals in Li Ho's domestic calendar; why all things, to Li Ho, were good +(or bad) at all times? Would he give them porridge and bacon for +dinner? Spence decided that he didn't mind. He was ready to like +anything which was strikingly different from Aunt Caroline.... +</P> + +<P> +One small drop—two medium-sized drops—one big drop.... He wondered +when he would know his young nurse well enough to call her by her first +name? (Prefixed by "miss," perhaps.) "Desire"—it was a rather charming +name. How old would she be, he wondered; twenty? There were times when +she looked even younger than twenty. But he had to confess that she +never acted like it. At least she did not act as he had believed girls +of twenty are accustomed to act. Very differently indeed.... One +small drop—two medium-sized—oh, bother the drops! Where was she, +anyway? Did she intend to stay out all afternoon? Was that the way she +treated an invalid? ... He couldn't see why people go out in the +rain, anyway. People are apt to take their deaths of cold. People may +get pneumonia. It would serve people right—almost.... One drop—oh, +confound the drops! +</P> + +<P> +The professor tried to read. The book he opened had been a famous +novel, a best-seller, some five years ago. It had been thought +"advanced." Advanced!—but now how inconceivably flat and stale! How on +earth had anyone ever praised it, called it "epoch-marking," bought it +by the thousand thousand? Why, the thing was dead—a dead book, than +which there is nothing deader. This reflection gave him something to +think of for a while. Instead of counting drops he amused himself by +strolling back through the years, a critical stretcher-bearer, picking +up literary corpses by the wayside. They were thickly strewn. He was +appalled to find how faintly beat the pulse of life even in the living. +Would not another generation see the burial of them all? Was there no +new Immortal anywhere? +</P> + +<P> +"When I write a novel," thought the professor solemnly, "which, please +God, I shall never do, I will write about people and not about things. +Things change always; people never." It was a wise conclusion but it +did not help the afternoon to pass. +</P> + +<P> +Desire, that is to say Miss Farr, had passed the window twice already. +He might have called her. But he hadn't. If people forget one's very +existence it is not prideful to call them. And the Spences are a +prideful race. Desire (he decided it didn't matter if he called her +Desire to himself, she was such a child) was wearing—an old tweed coat +and was carrying wood. She wore no hat and her hair was glossy with +rain.... People take such silly risks—And where was Li Ho? Why +wasn't he carrying the wood? Not that the wood seemed to bother Desire +in the least. +</P> + +<P> +The captive on the sofa sighed. It was no use trying to hide from +himself his longing to be out there with her in that heavenly +Spring-pierced air, revelling in its bloomy wetness; strong and fit in +muscle and nerve, carrying wood, getting his head soaked, doing all the +foolish things which youth does with impunity and careless joy. The new +restlessness, which he had come so far to quiet, broke over him in +miserable, taunting waves. +</P> + +<P> +Why was he here on the sofa instead of out there in the rain? The war? +But he was too inherently honest to blame the war. It was, perhaps, +responsible for the present state of his sciatic nerve but not for the +selling of his birthright of sturdy youth. The causes of that lay far +behind the war. Had he not refused himself to youth when youth had +called? Had he not shut himself behind study doors while Spring crept +in at the window? The war had come and dragged him out. Across his +quiet, ordered path its red trail had stretched and to go forward it +had been necessary to go through. The Spences always went through. But +Nature, every inch a woman, had made him pay for scorning her. She had +killed no fatted calf for her prodigal. +</P> + +<P> +So here he was, at thirty-five, envying a girl who could carry wood +without weariness. The envy had become acute irritation by the time the +wood was stacked and the wood-carrier brought her shining hair and +rain-tinted cheeks into the living-room. +</P> + +<P> +"Leg bad again?" asked Desire casually. +</P> + +<P> +"No—temper." +</P> + +<P> +"It's time for tea. I'll see about it." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll take your wet things off first. You must be wet through. Do you +want to come down with pneumonia?" +</P> + +<P> + The girl's eyebrows lifted. "That's silly," she said. And indeed<BR> +the remark was absurd enough addressed to one on whom the wonder and +mystery of budding life rested so visibly. "I'm not wet at all," she +went on. "Only my coat." She slipped out of the old tweed ulster, +scattering bright drops about the room. "And my hair," she added as if +by an afterthought. "I'll dry it presently. But I don't wonder you're +cross. The fire is almost out. We'll have something to eat when the +kettle boils. Father's gone up trail. He probably won't be back." For +an instant she stood with a considering air as if intending to add +something. Then turned and went into the kitchen without doing it. She +came back with a handful of pine-knots with which she deftly mended the +fire. +</P> + +<P> +The professor moved restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be around soon now," he said, "and then you shan't do that." +</P> + +<P> +"Shan't do what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Carry wood." +</P> + +<P> +"That's funny." Desire placed a crackling pine-knot on the apex of her +pyramid and sat back on her heels to watch it blaze. Her tone was +ruminative. "There's no real sense in that, you know. Why shouldn't I +carry wood when I am perfectly able to do it? Your objection is purely +an acquired one—a manifestation of the herd instinct." +</P> + +<P> +There was a slight pause. Professor Spence was wondering if he had +really heard this. +</P> + +<P> +"W—what was that you said?" he asked cautiously. +</P> + +<P> +Desire laughed. He had observed with wonder, amounting almost to awe, +that she never giggled. +</P> + +<P> +"Score one for me!" She turned grey, mirthful eyes on his. "Amn't I +learned? I read it in an article in an old Sociological Review—a copy +left here by a man whom father—well, we needn't bother about that part +of it. But the article was wonderful. I can't remember who wrote it." +</P> + +<P> +"Trotter, perhaps,—yes, it would be Trotter," murmured the professor. +</P> + +<P> +Desire swung round upon her heels, regarding him a trifle wistfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to know all that you know," she said. "All the strange +things inside our minds." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you? But if you knew what I know you would only know that you +knew nothing at all." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, it's all very well to say that," shrewdly, "but you don't mean +it. Besides, even if you don't know anything, you have glimpses of all +sorts of wonderful things which might be known. You can go on, and it's +the going on that matters." +</P> + +<P> +"But I can't carry wood." +</P> + +<P> +A little smile curled the corners of Desire's lips. He did not see it +because she had turned to the fire again and, with that deliberate +unself-consciousness which characterized her, was proceeding to unpin +and dry her hair. Spence had not seen it undone before and was +astonished at its length and lustre. The girl shook it as a young colt +shakes its mane, spreading it out to the blaze upon her hands. +</P> + +<P> +"I know what you mean, though," admitted Spence, "there is nothing like +the fascination of the unknown. It very nearly did for me." +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked up long enough to allow her slanting brows to ask their +eternal question. +</P> + +<P> +"Too much inside, not enough outside," he answered. "I ought to have +made myself a man first and a student afterward. Then I might have been +out in the rain you." +</P> + +<P> + She considered this, as she considered most things, gravely. Then<BR> +met it in her downright way. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing very wrong with you, is there? Nothing but what can be +put right." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, you can begin again. And begin properly." +</P> + +<P> +"I am thirty-five." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case you have no time to waste." +</P> + +<P> +It was a thoroughly sensible remark. But somehow the professor did not +like it. After all, thirty-five is not so terribly old. He decided to +change the subject. But there was no immediate hurry. It was pleasant +to lie there in the firelight watching this enigma of girl-hood dry her +hair. Perhaps she would notice his silence and ask him what he was +thinking about. +</P> + +<P> +"You really ought to offer me a penny for my thoughts," he observed +plaintively. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, were you thinking? So was I." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give you a penny for yours!" +</P> + +<P> +Desire shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"No? Then I'll give you mine for nothing. I was thinking what a pity it +is that you are only an amateur nurse." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate nursing." +</P> + +<P> +"How unwomanly! Lots of women hate it—but few admit it. However, it +wasn't a nurse's duties I was thinking of, but a patient's privileges. +You see, if you were a professional nurse I could call you 'Nurse +Desire.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that you want to call me by my first name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Since you put it more bluntly than I should dare to,—yes. It is a +charming name. But perhaps—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you may use it if you like," said the owner of the name +indifferently. "It sounds more natural. I am not accustomed to 'Miss +Fair.'" +</P> + +<P> +This ought to have been satisfactory. But it wasn't. And after he had +led up to it so tactfully, too! Not for the first time did it occur to +our psychologist that tact was wasted upon this downright young person. +He decided not to be tactful any longer. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm getting well so rapidly," he said, "that I shall have to admit it +soon." +</P> + +<P> +The girl nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you glad?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I am glad." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall walk with a cane almost in no time. And when I can walk, I +shall have to go away." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." There was no hesitation in her prompt agreement. Neither did she +add any polite regrets. The professor felt unduly irritated. He had +never become used to her ungirlish taciturnity. It always excited him. +The women he had known, especially the younger women, had all been +chatterers. They had talked and he had not listened. This girl said +little and her silences seemed to clamour in his ears. Well, she would +have to answer this time. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want me to go?" he asked plainly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want you to go." Her tone was thoughtful. "But I know you +can't stay. One has to accept things." +</P> + +<P> +"One doesn't. One can make things happen." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"By willing." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you honestly believe that?" He was astonished at the depth of +mockery in her tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly do believe it. I'll prove it if you like." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"By staying." +</P> + +<P> +Again she was silent. +</P> + +<P> +He went on eagerly. "Why shouldn't I stay—for a time at least? I have +plenty of work to go on with. Indeed it was with the definite intention +of doing this work that I came. If you want me, I'll stay right enough. +The bargain that was made with your father was a straight, fair +business arrangement. I have no scruples about requiring him to carry +out his part of it The trouble was that it seemed as if insistence +would be unfair to you. But if you and I can arrange that—if you will +agree to let me do what I can to help, chores, you know, carrying wood +and so on, then I should not need to feel myself a burden." +</P> + +<P> +"You have not been a burden." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. You have been extraordinarily kind. As for the rest of it—I +mentioned the matter to Dr. Farr this morning." +</P> + +<P> +She was interested now. He could see her eyes, intent, through the +falling shadow of her hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I reminded him that he had offered me the services of a secretary and +explained that I was ready to avail myself of his offer." +</P> + +<P> +"And what did he say to that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—er—we agreed to leave the decision to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Was that all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Practically all." +</P> + +<P> +"Practically, but not quite. You quarreled, didn't you? Frankly, I do +not understand father's attitude but I know what his attitude is. He +does not want you here. Neither you nor anyone else. The secretarial +work you offer would be—I can't tell you exactly what it would be to +me. It would teach me something—and I am so hungry to know! But he +will find some way to make it impossible. You will have to go." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! He cannot go back on his agreement." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean he has accepted money? That," bitterly, "means nothing to +him." +</P> + +<P> +"Nevertheless it gives me ground to stand on. And you, too. You have +done secretarial work before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I have certain qualifications. At intervals I have tried to make +myself independent. Several times I have secured office positions in +Vancouver. But father has always made the holding of them impossible." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"I would rather not go into it." There was weary disgust in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"But what reason does he give?" +</P> + +<P> +"That his daughter's place is in her father's house—funny, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You do not think that affection has anything to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not even remotely. Whatever his reason may be for keeping me with him, +it is not that. Affection is something of which one knows by instinct, +don't you think? Even Li Ho—I know instinctively that Li Ho is fond of +me. I am absolutely certain that my father is not." +</P> + +<P> +"It is no life for a young girl." +</P> + +<P> +"It has been my life." +</P> + +<P> +The professor felt uncomfortable. There was that in her tone which +forbade all comment. She had given him this tiny glimpse and quite +evidently intended to give no more. But Spence, upon occasion, could be +a persistent man. +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Desire," he said gravely, "do you absolutely decline my +friendship?" If she wanted directness, she was getting it now. +</P> + +<P> +"How can I do otherwise?" Her face was turned from him and her low +voice was muffled by her hair. But for the first time she had cast away +her guard of light indifference. "Friendship is impossible for me. I +thought you would see—and go away. Nothing that you can do would be +any real help. I have tried before to free myself. But I could not. +Nor, in the little flights of freedom which I had, did I find anything +that I wanted. I am as well here as anywhere. Unless—" +</P> + +<P> +She was silent, looking into the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless I were really free," she added softly. +</P> + +<P> +He could not see her face. But she looked very young sitting there with +her unbound hair and hands clasped childishly about her knees. +</P> + +<P> +"You have wondered about me—in a psychological way—ever since you +came." She went on, her voice taking on a harsher note. "You have been +trying to 'place' me. Well, since you are curious I will tell you what +I am. When I was younger and we lived in towns I used to wander off by +myself down the main streets to gaze in the windows. I never went into +any of the stores. The things I wanted were inside and for sale—but I +could not buy them. I was just a window-gazer. That's what I am still. +Life is for sale somewhere. But I cannot buy it." +</P> + +<P> +The throb of her voice was like the beating of caged wings through the +quiet room. +</P> + +<P> +"But—" began Spence, and then he paused. It wasn't at all easy to know +what to say. "You are mistaken," he went on finally. "Life isn't for +sale anywhere. Life is inside, not outside. And no one ever really +wants the things they see in other people's windows." +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said Desire coldly. +</P> + +<P> +She was certainty very young! Spence felt suddenly indulgent. +</P> + +<P> +"What, then—for instance?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +The girl shook back her hair and arose. +</P> + +<P> +"Freedom, money, leisure, books, travel, people!" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were going to leave out people altogether," said Spence, +whimsically. "But otherwise your wants are fairly comprehensive. You +have neglected only two important things—health and love." +</P> + +<P> +"I have health—and I don't want love." +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet—of course—" began the professor, still fatherly indulgent. +But she turned on him with a white face. +</P> + +<P> +"Never!" she said. "That one thing I envy no one. You are wondering why +I have never considered marriage as a possible way out? Well, it isn't +a possible way—for me. Marriage is a hideous thing—hideous!" +</P> + +<P> +She wasn't young now, that was certain. It was no child who stood there +with a face of sick distaste. The professor's mood of indulgent +maturity melted into dismay before the half-seen horror in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +But the moment of revelation passed as quickly as it had come. The +girl's face settled again into its grave placidity. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get the tea," she said. "The kettle will be boiling dry." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<P> +In the form of a letter from Professor Spence to his friend, Dr. John +Rogers. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +No letter yet from you, Bones; Bainbridge must be having the measles. +Or perhaps I am not allowing for the fact that it takes almost a +fortnight to go and come across this little bit of Empire. Also Li Ho +hasn't been across the Inlet for a week. He says "Tillicum too muchy +hole. Li Ho long time patch um." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +On still days, I can hear him doing it. Perhaps my hostess is right and +we are not so far away from the beach as I fancied on the night of my +arrival. I'll test this detail, and many others, soon. For today I am +sitting up. I'm sure I could walk a little, if I were to try. But I am +not in a hurry. Hurry is a vice of youth. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +And I am actually getting some work done. Bones, old thing, I have made +a discovery for the lack of which many famous men have died too soon. I +have discovered the perfect secretary! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +These blank lines represent all the things which I might say but which, +with great moral effort, I suppress. I know what a frightful bore is +the man who insists upon talking about a new discovery. Therefore I +shall not indulge my natural inclination to tell you just how perfect +this secretary is. I shall merely note that she is quick, accurate, +silent, interested, appreciative, intelligent to a remarkable +degree—Good Heavens! I'm doing it! I blush now when I remember that I +engaged Miss Farr's services in the first place from motives of +philanthropy. Is it possible that I was ever fatuous enough to believe +that I was the party who conferred the benefit? If so, I very soon +discovered my mistake. In justice to myself I must state that I saw at +once what a treasure I had come upon. You remember what a quick, sure +judgment my father had? Somehow I seem to be getting more like him all +the time. The moment any proposition takes on a purely business aspect, +I become, as it were, pure intellect. I see the exact value, business +value, of the thing. Aunt Caroline never agrees with me in this. She +insists upon referring to that oil property at Green Lake and that +little matter of South American Mines. But those mistakes were trifles. +Any man might have made them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +In this case, where I am right on the spot, there can be no possibility +of a mistake. I see with my own eyes. Miss Farr is a dream of +secretarial efficiency. She combines, with ease, those widely differing +qualities which are so difficult to come by in a single individual. It +is inspiring to work with her. I find that her co-operation actually +stimulates creative thought. My notes are expanding at a most +satisfactory rate. My introductory chapter already assumes form. +And—by Jove! I seem to be doing it again. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But one simply does not make these discoveries every day. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The other aspects of the situation here, the non-business aspects, are +not so satisfactory. The menage is certainly peculiar. I had what +amounted to a bloodless duel with mine host the other day. Perhaps I +was not as tactful as I might have been. But he is an irritating +person. One of those people who seem to file your nerves. In fact there +is something almost upsetting' about that mild old scoundrel. He gives +me what the Scots call a "scunner." (You have to hear a true Scot +pronounce it before you get its inner meaning.) And when, that day, he +began talking about his daughter's future being her father's care, I +said—I forget exactly what I said but he seemed to get the idea all +right. It annoyed him. We were both annoyed. He did not put his +feelings into words. He put them into his eyes instead. And horrid, +nasty feelings they were. Quite murderous. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The duel was interrupted by Li Ho. Li Ho never listens but he always +hears. Seems to have some quieting influence over his "honorable Boss," +too. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But I wish you could have seen the old fellow's eyes, Bones. I think +they might have told some tale to a medical mind. Normally, his eyes +are blurry like the rest of his fatherly face. And their color, I +think, is blue. But just then they looked like no eyes I have ever +seen. A cold light on burnished steel is the only simile I can think +of—perfect hardness, perfect coldness, lustre without depth! The +description is poor, but you may get the idea better if I describe the +effect of the look rather than the look itself. The warm spot in my +heart froze. And it takes something fairly eerie to freeze the heart at +its core. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +From this, as a budding psychologist, I draw a conclusion—there was +something abnormal, something not quite human in that flashing look. +The conclusion seems somewhat strained now. But at the time I was +undoubtedly glad to see Li Ho. Li Ho may be a Chink, but he is human. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +You may gather that our "battle of the Glances" did not smooth my +pillow here. If the old chap didn't want me to stay before, he is even +less anxious for my company now. But I am going to stay. Aunt Caroline +would call this stubbornness. But of course it isn't. It is merely a +certain strength of character and a business determination to carry out +a business bargain. Dr. Farr allowed me to engage board here and to pay +for it. I am under no obligation to take cognizance of his deeper +feelings. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The only feelings which concern me in this matter are the feelings of +his daughter. If my staying were to prove a burden for her I could not, +of course, stay. But I see many ways in which I may be helpful, and I +know that she needs and wants the secretarial work which I have given +her. Usually she holds her head high and one isn't even allowed to +guess. But one does guess. Her meagre ration of life is plain beyond +all artifice of pride. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +John, she interests me intensely. She is a strange child. She is a +strange woman. For both child and woman she seems to be, in fascinating +combination. But, lest you should mistake me, good old bone-head, let +me make it plain that there is absolutely no danger of my falling in +love with her. My interest is not that kind of interest. I am far too +hard headed to be susceptible. I can appreciate the tragedy of a +charming girl placed in such unsavory environment, and feel impelled to +seek some way of escape for her without being for one moment disturbed +by that unreasoning madness called love. Every student of psychology +understands the nature and the danger of loving. 'Every sensible +student profits by what he understands. You and I have had this out +before and you know my unalterable determination never to allow myself +to become the slave of those primitive and passing instincts. Nature, +the old hussy, is welcome to the use of man as a tool for her own +purposes. But there are enough tools without me. The race will not +perish because I intend to remain my own man. But I shall have to +evolve some way of helping Miss Farr. She cannot be left here under +these conditions. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I am writing to Aunt Caroline, briefly, that I am immersed in study and +that my return is indefinite. Don't, for heaven's sake, let her suspect +that I have employed Miss Farr as secretary. You know Aunt Caroline's +failing. Do be discreet! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yours, +<BR> +B. H. S. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +P.S.: Any arrangement I may find it necessary to propose in Miss Farr's +case will be based on business, not sentiment. B. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<P> +Desire was seated upon a moss-covered rock, hugging her knees and +gazing out to sea. It was her favorite attitude and, according to +Professor Spence, a very dangerous one, especially in connection with a +moss-covered rock. He would have liked to point out this obvious fact +but that would have been fussy—and fussy the professor was firmly +determined not to be. Aunt Caroline was fussy. The best he could do was +to select another rock, not so slippery, and to provide an object +lesson as to the proper way of sitting upon it. Unfortunately, Desire +was not looking. They had come a little way "up trail"—at least Desire +had said it was a little way, and her companion was too proud of his +recovered powers of locomotion to express unkind doubt of the +adjective. There had been no rainy days for a week. The air was +sun-soaked, and salt-soaked, and somewhere there was a wind. But not +here. Here some high rock angle shut it out and left them to the drowsy +calm of wakening Summer. Below them lay the blue-green gulf, +white-flecked and gently heaving; above them bent a sky which only +Italy could rival—and if Miss Farr with her hands clasped round her +knees were to move ever so little, either way, there was nothing to +prevent her from falling off the face of the mountain. The professor +tried not to let this reflection spoil his enjoyment of the view. He +reminded him-self that she was probably much safer than she looked. And +he remembered Aunt Caroline. Still— +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think you might sit a little farther back?" he suggested +carelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't talk to the back of your head." +</P> + +<P> +"Talk!" dreamily, "do you really have to talk?" +</P> + +<P> +Naturally the professor was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"That's rude, I suppose," said Desire, suddenly swinging round (a feat +which brought Spence's heart into his mouth). "I don't seem to acquire +the social graces very rapidly, do I?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," the professor's tone was somewhat stiff, "that we came up +here for the express purpose of talking." +</P> + +<P> +"Y-es. You did express some such purpose. But—must we? It won't do any +good, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. And it will do good. One can't get anywhere without +proper discussion." +</P> + +<P> +The girl sighed. "Very well—let's discuss. You begin." +</P> + +<P> +"My month," said Spence firmly, "is almost up. I shall have to move +along on Friday." +</P> + +<P> +"On Friday?" If he had intended to startle her, he had certainly +succeeded. "Was—was the arrangement only for a month?" she asked in a +lowered voice. +</P> + +<P> +"The arrangement was to continue for as long as I wished. But only one +month's payment was made in advance. With Friday, Dr. Farr's obligation +toward me ends. He is not likely to extend it." +</P> + +<P> +She sat so still that he forgot how slippery the moss was and thought +only of the growing shadow on her face. +</P> + +<P> +"But, the work!" she murmured. "We are only just beginning. I wish—oh, +I shall miss it dreadfully." +</P> + +<P> +"'It,'" said Spence, "is not a personal pronoun." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall miss you, too, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, be careful not to overemphasize it." +</P> + +<P> +Her grey eyes looked frankly and straightly into his. Their clear +depths held a rueful smile. "You are conceited enough already," she +said, "but if it will make you feel any better, I don't mind admitting +that I shall miss you far, far more than you deserve." +</P> + +<P> +"Spoken like a lady!" said Spence warmly. "And now let us consider my +side of it. After the month that I have spent here—do you really think +that I intend to go away—like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is only one way of going, isn't there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. There are various ways. Ways which are quite, quite +different." +</P> + +<P> +"You have thought of some other—some quite different way?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But I daren't tell it to you while you sit on that slippery rock. +It is a somewhat startling way and you might—er—manifest emotion. I +should prefer to have you manifest it in a less dangerous place." +</P> + +<P> +Desire's very young laugh rippled out. "Fussy!" she said. But +nevertheless she climbed down and sat demurely upon stones in the +hollow. There was an unfamiliar light in her waiting eyes, the light of +interest and of hope. +</P> + +<P> +Spence, rather to his consternation, realized that it was up to him to +justify that hope. And he wasn't at all sure ... however, he had to +go through with it, ... There was a fighting chance, anyway. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's think about the work for a moment," he began nervously. "That +work, my book, you know, is simply going all to pot if you can't keep +on with it. You can see yourself what it means to have a competent +secretary. And you like the work. You've just admitted that you like +it." +</P> + +<P> +He saw the light begin to fade from her eyes. She shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"If you are going to suggest that I go with you as your secretary," she +said with her old bluntness, "it is useless. I have tried that way out. +I won't try it again." Her lips grew stern and her eyes dark with some +too bitter memory. +</P> + +<P> +"I honestly don't see what Dr. Farr could do," said Spence tentatively. +</P> + +<P> +"You would," said Dr. Farr's daughter with decision. +</P> + +<P> +"And anyway," proceeding hastily, "that wasn't what I was thinking of. +I knew that you would refuse to go as my secretary. I ask you to go as +my wife." +</P> + +<P> +Desire rose. +</P> + +<P> +"Is this where I am expected to manifest emotion?" she asked dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. And you're doing it! I knew you would. Women are utterly +unreasoning. You won't even listen to what I have to say." +</P> + +<P> +The girl moved slowly away. +</P> + +<P> +"And I can't get up without help," he added querulously. +</P> + +<P> +Desire stopped. "You can," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't. Not after that dreadful climb." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I shall wait until you are ready. But we do not need to continue +this conversation." +</P> + +<P> +The professor sighed. "This," he said, "is what comes of taking a woman +at her word." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I might have known," he went on guilefully, "that you didn't really +mean it. No young girl would." +</P> + +<P> +"Mean what?" +</P> + +<P> +"That you had no room in your scheme of things for ordinary marriage. +Of course you were talking nonsense. I beg your pardon." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you kindly explain what you mean!" +</P> + +<P> +"I will if you will sit down so that I may talk to you on my own level. +You see, your determination not to marry struck me very much at the +time because it voiced my own—er—determination also. I said to +myself, 'Here are two people sufficiently original to wish to escape +the common lot.' I thought about it a great deal. And then an idea +came. It was, I admit, the inspiration of a moment. But it grew. It +certainly grew." +</P> + +<P> +Desire sat down again and folded her hands over her knees. +</P> + +<P> +"I will listen." +</P> + +<P> +"It is very simple," he hastened to explain. "Simplicity is, I think, +the keynote of all true inspiration. An idea comes, and we are filled +with amazement that we have so long ignored the obvious. Take our case. +Here are we two, strongly of one mind and wanting the same thing. A +perfectly feasible way of getting that thing occurs to me. Yet when I +suggest this way you jump up and rush away." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't rushed yet." +</P> + +<P> +"No. But you were going to. And all because you cannot be logical. No +woman can." +</P> + +<P> +His listener brushed this away with a gesture of impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"I can prove it," went on the wily one. "You object to marriage, yet +you covet the freedom marriage gives. Now what is the logical result of +that? The logical result is fear—fear that some day you may want +freedom so badly that you will marry in order to get it." +</P> + +<P> +"It is not—I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you would not admit it. But it is true all the same. The other +night when you said 'marriage is hideous,' I saw fear in your eyes. +There is fear in your eyes now." +</P> + +<P> +The girl dropped her eyes and raised them again instantly. Her slanting +eyebrows frowned. +</P> + +<P> +"Nevertheless," she said, "I shall not marry." +</P> + +<P> +"But you will, as an honest person, admit the other part of the +proposition—that you want something at least of what marriage can +give?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well then—that states your case. Now let me state mine. I, too, have +an insuperable objection to marriage. My—er—disinclination is +probably more soundly based than yours, since it is built upon a wider +view of life. But I, too, want certain things which marriage might +bring. I want a home. Not too homey a home, in the strictly domestic +sense (Aunt Caroline is strictly domestic) but a—a congenial home. I +want the advice and help of a clever woman together with the sense of +permanence and security which, in our imperfect state of civilization, +is made possible only by marriage. And I, too, have my secret fear. I +am afraid that some day I may be driven—in short, I am afraid of Aunt +Caroline." +</P> + +<P> +Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. +</P> + +<P> +"A man—afraid of his aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," gloomily, "it is men who are afraid of aunts. It is not at all +funny," he added as her eyes relaxed, "if you knew Aunt Caroline you +wouldn't think so. She is determined to have me married and she has a +long life of successful effort behind her. One failure is nothing to an +aunt. She is always quite certain that the next venture will turn out +well. And it usually does. In brief, I am thirty-five and I go in +terror of the unknown. If I do not marry soon to please myself, I shall +end by marrying to please someone else. Do you follow me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Make it plainer," ordered Desire soberly. "Make it absolutely plain." +</P> + +<P> +"I will. My proposition is, in its truest and strictest sense, a +marriage of convenience. Marriage, it appears, can give us both what we +want, a formal ceremony will legalize your position as my secretary and +free you entirely from the interference of your father. It will permit +you to accept freely my protection and everything else which I have. +Your way will be open to the things you spoke of the other night, +freedom, leisure, money, travel, books. The only thing we are shutting +out is the thing you say you have no use for—love. But perhaps you did +not mean—" +</P> + +<P> +"I did." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, logically, my proposal is sound." +</P> + +<P> +"Am I to take all these things, and give nothing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. You give me the things I want most, freedom, security, the +grace of companionship, and collaboration in my work, so long as your +interest in it continues. I will be a safely married man and you—you +will be a window-gazer no longer. There is only one point"—the +speaker's gaze turned from her and wandered out to sea—"I can be sure +of what I can bring into your life," his voice was almost stern, "but I +warn you to be very sure of what you will be shutting out." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Children," said Spence crisply. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not care for children." +</P> + +<P> +The professor's soberness vanished. "Oh—what a whopper!" he exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean, I do not want children of my own." +</P> + +<P> +"But supposing you were to develop a desire for them later on?" +</P> + +<P> +She nodded thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I might," she acknowledged. "But in my case it would be merely the +outcropping of a feminine instinct, easily suppressed. I am not at all +afraid of it. Look at all the women who are perfectly happy without +children." +</P> + +<P> +"Hum!" said the professor. "I am looking at them. But I find them +unconvincing. There are a few, however, of whom what you say is true. +You may be one of them. How about Sami?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sami? Oh, Sami is different. He is more like a mountain imp than a +child. I don't think Sami would seem real anywhere but here. If anyone +were to try to transplant him he might vanish altogether. Poor little +chap—how terribly he would miss me!" finished Desire artlessly. +</P> + +<P> +She had accepted the possibility, then! Spence's heart gave a leap and +was promptly reproved for leaping. This was not, he reminded himself, +an affair of the heart at all. It was a coldly-thought-out, hard-headed +business proposition. Such a proposition as his father's son might +fittingly conceive. The thing to do now was to stride on briskly and +avoid sentiment. +</P> + +<P> +"Then as we seem to agree upon the essentials," he said, "there remains +only one concrete difficulty, your father. He would object to marriage +as to other things, I suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but we should have to ignore that." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't mind?" somewhat doubtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I have always known that a break would come some day. It isn't as +if he really cared. Or as if I cared. I don't. If I should decide that +there is an honest chance for freedom, a chance which I can take and +keep my self-respect, I am conscious of no duty that need restrain me." +</P> + +<P> +Spence said nothing, and after a moment she went on. +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I pretend—as he pretends? I loath it! Day after day, even +when there is no one to see, he keeps up that horrible semblance of +affection. And all the time he hates me. I see it in his eyes. And once +or twice—" She hesitated and then went rapidly on without finishing +her sentence. "There is some reason why it is to his advantage to keep +me with him. But it imposes no obligation upon me. I do not even know +what it is." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps Li Ho may know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho does know. Li Ho knows everything. But when I asked him he said, +'Honorable boss much lonely—heap scared of devil maybe.' Li Ho always +refers to devils when he doesn't wish to tell anything." +</P> + +<P> +"I've noticed that. He's a queer devil himself. Would he stay on, do +you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. And that's odd, too. In some way Li Ho is father's man. It's as +if he owned him. There must be a story which explains it. But no one +will ever hear it. Li Ho keeps his secrets." +</P> + +<P> +Spence nodded. "Yes. Li Ho and his kind are the product of forces we +only guess at. I asked a man who had spent twenty years in China if he +had learned to understand the Oriental mind. He said he had learned +more than that, he had learned that the Oriental mind is beyond +understanding. But—aren't we getting away from our subject? Let's +begin all over again. Miss Farr, I have the honor to ask your hand in +marriage." +</P> + +<P> +She was silent for so long a time that the professor had opportunity to +think of many things. And, as he thought, his heart went down—and +down. She would refuse. He knew it. The clean edge of her mind would +cut through all his tangle of words right to the core of the real +issue, And the core of the real issue was not as sound as it would need +to be to satisfy her demands. For in that core still lay a possibility, +the possibility of love. He had not eliminated love. Many a man has +loved after thirty-five. Many a girl who has sworn—but no, she would +not admit this possibility in her own case. It was only in his case +that she would recognize it. She would see the weak spot there.... She +would refuse. He could feel refusal gathering in her heart. And his own +heart beat hotly in his throat. For if this failed, what other way was +left? Yet to go and leave her here, alone in that rotting cottage on +the hill.... the prey of any ghastly fate.... no, it couldn't be done. +He must convince her. He must. +</P> + +<P> +"My friend," said Desire (he loved her odd, old-fashioned way of +calling him "my friend"), "I admit that you have tempted me. But—I +can't. It wouldn't be fair. It is easy to feel sure for one's self but +it's another thing to be sure for others. A marriage of that kind would +not satisfy you. You say your outlook is wider than mine and of course +it is. But I have seen more than you think. Even men who are +tremendously interested in their work, like you, want—other things. +They want what they call love, even if to them it always sinks to +second place, if indeed it means nothing more than distraction. And +love would mean more than that to you. I have an instinct which tells +me that, in your case, love will come. You must be free to take it." +</P> + +<P> +It was final. He felt its finality, and more than ever he swore that it +should not be so. There must be an argument somewhere—wait! +</P> + +<P> +"Supposing," said Spence haltingly, "Supposing.... supposing I am not +free now? Supposing love has come—and gone?" +</P> + +<P> +He was not a good liar. But his very ineptitude helped him here. It +tangled the words on his tongue, it brought a convincing dew upon his +forehead. "I'd rather not talk about it," he finished. "But you see +what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I hadn't thought of that. It might make a difference. I should +want to be very sure. If there were any chance—" +</P> + +<P> +"There is no chance. Positively none. That experience, which you say +you feel was a necessary experience in my case, is over and done with. +It cannot recur. I am not the man to—to—" he was really unable to go +on. But she finished it for him. +</P> + +<P> +"To love twice," said Desire, looking out over the sea. "Yes I can +understand that—what did you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think I may be able to walk now," said the professor. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<P> +With the recovery of a leg sufficiently workable in the matter of +climbing stairs, Dr. Farr's boarder had resigned the family couch in +the sitting-room and had retired to his spartan chamber under the +eaves. From its open window that night he watched the moon. Let nothing +happen to the universe in the meantime, and there would be a full moon +on Friday night. The professor hoped that nothing would happen. +</P> + +<P> +She had not exactly said "Yes" yet. He must not forget that. But it +could do no harm to feel reasonably sure that she was going to. He did +not conceal from himself that he had brought things off remarkably +well. That last argument of his had been a masterpiece of strategy. +There were other, shorter, words which might have described it. But +they were not such pleasant words. And when a thing is necessary it is +just as well to be pleasant about it. No harm had been done. Quite the +opposite. Desire's one valid objection had been neatly and effectually +disposed of. And now the matter could be dropped. It would be +forgotten.... What did it amount to in any case? Other men lied +every day saying they had never loved. He had lied only once in saying +that he had.... At the same time it might be very embarrassing to.... +yes, certainly, the matter must be dropped! +</P> + +<P> +They would, he supposed, find it necessary to elope.... No sense in +looking for trouble! The old gentleman had been odder than ever the +last day or so. He had ceased even to pretend that his guest's presence +was anything but an annoyance. He had refused utterly to enter into any +connected conversation and had been restless and erratic to a degree. +"Too muchy moon-devil," according to Li Ho. That very afternoon he had +met them coming down from their talk upon the rocks and the ironic +courtesy of his greeting had been little less than baleful. At supper +he had remarked sentimentally upon the flight of time, referring to the +nearness of Friday in a way eminently calculated to speed the parting +guest. +</P> + +<P> +Friday, at latest, then? If they were to go they would go on +Friday.—Friday and the full moon. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime he felt no desire for sleep. The moon, perhaps? +Certainly there is nothing in the mere business-like prospect of +engaging a permanent secretary to cause insomnia. The professor +supposed it was simply his state of health in general. It might be a +good idea to drop a line to his medical man. He had promised to report +symptoms. Besides, it was only fair to prepare John. The candle was +burnt out, but the moon would do—pad on knee, he began to write.... +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Beloved Bones—I am writing in the hope that the thought of you may +cause cerebral exhaustion. I find the moon too stimulating. Otherwise I +rejoice to report myself recovered. I can walk. I can climb hills. I +can un-climb hills, which is much worse, and I eat so much that I'm +ashamed to look my board money in the face. You might gently prepare +Aunt Caroline by some mention of an improved appetite. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I had a letter from Aunt Caroline yesterday. That is to say, three +letters. When you included (by request) "positively no letter writing" +in my holiday menu, you did not make it plain who it was that was +positively not to write. So, although she tells me sadly that she +expects no answers, Aunt Caroline positively does. I may say at once +that I know all the news. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +On the other hand, there is some news which Aunt Caroline does not +know. Owing to your embargo on letters, I have not been able to inform +my Aunt of the progress of my book, nor of my discovery of the perfect +secretary. I have not, in short, been able to tell her anything. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +So you will have to do it for me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But first, as man to man, I want to ask you a question. Having found, +by an extraordinary turn of luck, the perfect secretary, would you +consider me sane if I let her go? Of course you would not. I asked +myself the same question yesterday and received the same answer. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +So I have asked her to marry me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I put it that way because I know you like to have things broken to you. +And now, having heard all your objections (oh, yes, I can hear them. +Distance is only an idea) I shall proceed to answer them.— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +No. It is not unwise to marry a young girl whom I scarcely know. Why +man! That is part of the game. Think of the boredom of having to live +with some one you know? Someone in whose house of life you need expect +no odd corners, no unlooked for turnings, no steps up, or down, no +windows with a view? Only a madman would face such monotony. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +No. It is not unfair to the other party. The other party has a mind and +is quite capable of making it up. She will not marry me unless she +jolly well wants to. Far more than most people, I think, she has the +gift of decision. Neither is it as if what I have to offer her were not +bona fide. Take me on my merits and I'm not a bad chap. My life may +have been tame but it has been clean. (Only don't tell Aunt Caroline). +I have a sufficiency of money. What I promise, I shall perform. And as +for ancestors—Well, I refer everyone to Aunt Caroline for ancestors. +If Miss Desire marries me she will receive all that is in the bond and +any little frills which I may be able to slip in. (There will not be +many frills, though, for my lady is proud.) +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yes. Aunt Caroline will make a fuss. I trust you will bear up under it +for my sake. I think it will be well for her to learn of my marriage +sufficiently long before our return to insure resignation, at least, +upon our arrival. After the storm the calm, and although, with my dear +Aunt, the calm is almost the more devastating, I trust you will acquit +yourself with fortitude. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +And now we come to the only valid objection, which you have, +strong-mindedly, left until the last—my prospective father-in-law! He +is a very objectionable old party, and I do not mind your saying so. +But one simply can't have everything. And Bainbridge is a long way from +Vancouver. Also, as a husband I can take precedence, and, by George, +I'll do it! So you see your objection is really an extra inducement. It +is only by marrying the daughter of Dr. Farr that I can protect Dr. +Farr's daughter. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Are you satisfied now? I don't know whether I mentioned it, but she +hasn't actually said "yes" yet. She had certain objections, or rather a +certain objection which I found it necessary to meet in a—a somewhat +regrettable manner. I was compelled to adopt strategy. She thought our +proposed contract (we do things in a business manner) might not be +quite fair to me. She was ready to admit that I was getting a good +thing in secretaries but she feared that, later on, I might wish to +make a change. I had to meet this scruple somehow and I seemed to know +by instinct that she would not believe me if I expounded those theories +of love and marriage which you know I so strongly hold. Pure reason +would not appeal to her. So I had to fall back upon sentiment. Instead +of saying, "I shall never love. It is impossible," I said, "I have +loved. It is over." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Sound tactics, don't you think? ... Well I don't care what you think! +I have to get this girl safely placed somehow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +We shall have to elope probably. Fancy, an elopement at thirty-five! +The father seems to consider her continued presence here as vital to +his interest, though why, neither of us can understand. Well, I'm not +exactly afraid of the old chap but it will certainly be easier for her +if there are no wild farewells. Therefore we shall probably fold our +tent like the Arabs and steal away as silently as the "Tillicum" will +allow. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Li Ho will have to be told. He will know anyway, so we may as well tell +him. It appears that whatever may be the reasons for keeping a young +girl buried here, they do not extend to Li Ho. It will not be the first +time that his Chinese inscrutability has assisted at a (temporary) +departure. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I shall let Aunt Caroline know as soon as the act is irrevocable and +shall inform you at the same time so that you may not be unprepared. +You realize, I suppose, that you will be accused of being accessory? +Didn't you tell me that a trip would do me good? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +We shall not come home for a few weeks. My secretary has spoken of an +old Indian whom she knows, a perfect mine of simon-pure folk-lore. He +lives some-where up the coast, about a day's journey, I think. We may +visit him. With her to interpret for me, I may get some very valuable +notes. I may add that we are both very keen on notes. When we have done +what can be done out here, we shall come home. The fall and winter we +shall spend upon the book. My secretary will insist upon attending to +business first. And then—well, then she wants to go shopping. So we +shall have to go where the good shops are. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +What does she wish to buy? Oh, not much—just life, the assorted kind. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +B. H. S. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<P> +It was the day before Friday. Friday, so very near, seemed already +palpably present in the surcharged air of the cottage. No one mentioned +it, but that made its nearness more potent. At his usual hour for +dictation, Professor Spence had come out upon the narrow veranda. But, +although his secretary was there, pencil in hand, he had not dictated. +Instead he had sat contemplating Friday so long that his secretary +tapped her foot in impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you really lazy?" she asked, "Or are you just pretending to be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am really lazy. All truly gifted people are. You know what Wilde +says, 'Real industry is simply the refuge of people who have nothing to +do.'" +</P> + +<P> +The prompt, "Who is Wilde?" of the secretary did not disconcert him. He +had discovered that her ignorance was as unusual as her knowledge. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is Wilde? Oh, just a little bit of English literature. Christian +name of Oscar. You'll come across him when you go shopping." +</P> + +<P> +A faint pucker appeared between the secretary's eye-brows. +</P> + +<P> +"You are coming shopping, aren't you?" asked Spence, faintly stressing +the verb. +</P> + +<P> +"I—want to." +</P> + +<P> +"That's settled then." +</P> + +<P> +The pucker grew more pronounced. The secretary resigned all hope of +dictation and laid down her pencil. +</P> + +<P> +"Tomorrow," reminded Spence gently, "is Friday." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know. And if I go, do I—we—go tomorrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"It would be advisable." +</P> + +<P> +"The time doesn't matter," mused Desire. "But—do you mind if I speak +quite plainly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. You have hardened me to plain speaking." +</P> + +<P> +"I have been thinking over what you told me. It does make a difference. +I see that I need not be afraid of—of what I was afraid of. It's as +if—as if we had both had the measles." +</P> + +<P> +"You can take—" began Spence, but stopped him-self. It would never do +to remind her that one may take the measles twice. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you won't believe it, not for a long time anyway," she went +on in the tone of an indulgent grand-mother, "but love is only an +episode. You are fortunate to be well over it." +</P> + +<P> +Spence sighed. He hadn't intended to sigh. It just happened. +Fortunately it was the correct thing. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to distress you," kindly, "but we were rather vague the +other night. I understood the main fact, but that is about all. You +didn't tell me what happened after." +</P> + +<P> +The professor's chair, which had been tilted negligently back, came +down with a thud. +</P> + +<P> +"After?" he murmured meekly. "After—?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean," prompted Desire gently, "did she marry the other man?" +</P> + +<P> +"The other man? I—I don't know." The professor was willing to be +truthful while he could. But instantly he saw that it wouldn't do. +</P> + +<P> +"You—don't—know?" If ever incredulity breathed in any voice it +breathed in hers. It gave our weak-kneed liar the brace that he needed. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said sadly, "they were to have been married—I have never +heard." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh! Then, of course, she did not live in your home town." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't she?" asked Spence, momentarily off guard. "Oh, I see what you +mean—no, naturally not." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that perhaps you might have been boy and girl together," +dreamily. "It so often happens." +</P> + +<P> +"It does," said Spence. "But it didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"And is there no one—no friend, from whom you could naturally inquire? +You feel you wouldn't care to ask anyone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask? Good heavens, no—certainly not!" +</P> + +<P> +"Men are queer," said Desire naively. "A woman would just simply have +to ask." +</P> + +<P> +"She would." +</P> + +<P> +"You think me inquisitive?" Her quick brain had not missed the dry +implication of his tone. "But you see I had to know something. It's all +right, I'm sure. But it would have been so much—more comfortable if +she were quite married." +</P> + +<P> +(Oh course it would—why in thunder hadn't he thought of that? The +professor was much annoyed with himself.) +</P> + +<P> +"She is probably quite, utterly married long ago," he said gloomily. +"What possible difference can it make?" +</P> + +<P> +"None. Don't look so bitter! Perhaps I should not have asked questions. +I won't ask any more—except one. Would you mind very much telling me +her name?" +</P> + +<P> +Her name! +</P> + +<P> +The harassed man looked wildly around. But there was no escape. Not +even Sami was in sight. Only a jeering crow flapped black wings and +laughed discordantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Just her first name, you know," added Desire reasonably. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes—certainly. No, of course I don't mind. I am quite willing to +tell you her name. But—do you mean her real name or—or—the name she +was usually called?" The professor was sparring wildly for time. +</P> + +<P> +"Wasn't she called by her real name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—er—not always." +</P> + +<P> +Desire's eyebrows became very slanting. "Any name will do," she said +coldly. +</P> + +<P> +The professor gathered himself together. "Her name," he said +triumphantly, "Was—is Mary." +</P> + +<P> +He had done well for himself this time! His questioner was plainly +satisfied with the name Mary. Perhaps lying gets easier as you go on. +He hoped so. +</P> + +<P> +"My mother's name was Mary," said Desire. "It is a lovely name." +</P> + +<P> +Spence felt very proud of himself. Not only had he produced a lovely +name in the space of three seconds and a half, but he had also provided +a not-to-be-missed opportunity of changing the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you do not remember your mother," he said tentatively. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, I do, although I was quite small when she died. Father says I +fancy some of the things I remember. Perhaps I do. I always dream very +vividly. And fact and dream are easily confused in a child's mind. My +most distinct memories are detached, like pictures, without any before +or after to explain them. There is one, for instance, about waking up +in the woods at night, wrapped in my mother's shawl and seeing her +face, all frightened and white, with the moon, like a great, silver +eye, shining through the trees. But I can't imagine why my mother would +be hiding in the woods at night." +</P> + +<P> +"Why hiding?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is a sense of hiding that comes with the memory—without +anything to account for it But, although I do not remember connected +incidents very well, I remember her—the feeling of having her with me. +And the terrible emptiness afterwards. If she had gone quite away, all +at once, I couldn't have borne it." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that she had a long illness?" asked Spence, greatly +interested. +</P> + +<P> +"No. She died suddenly. It was just—you will call it silly +imagination—" she broke off uncertainly. +</P> + +<P> +"I might call it imagination without the adjective." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But it wasn't. It was real. The sense, I mean, that she hadn't +gone away. Nothing that wasn't real would have been of the slightest +use." +</P> + +<P> +"It all depends on how we define reality. What seems real at one time +may seem unreal at another." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"That is just what has happened. I am not sure, now. The sense of +nearness left me as I grew up. But at that time, I lived by it. Do you +find the idea absurd?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why should I? Our knowledge of our own consciousness is the absurdity. +All we know is that our normal waking consciousness is only one special +type. Around it lie potential forms of consciousness entirely +different, and quite as real. Sometimes we, or it, or they, break +through. I am paraphrasing James. Do you know James?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have read 'Daisy Miller.'" +</P> + +<P> +"This James was the Daisy Miller man's brother." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he believe in the possibility of the dead helping the living?" +</P> + +<P> +"He believed in all kinds of possibilities. But I don't think he +considered that possibility proven." +</P> + +<P> +"It couldn't be proved, could it?" asked Desire thoughtfully. +"Experiences like that are so intensely individual. One cannot pass +them on." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you describe yours at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly. It was just a feeling of Presence. A sense of her being there. +It came at all sorts of times and in all sorts of places. We lived in +Vancouver when mother died. It was a much smaller town then, not like +the city you have seen. But after her death we moved about a great +deal, never staying very long anywhere, until we came here. There +were—experiences." Her eyes hardened. "But, as long as I had that +sense I am speaking of, I was safe. I used to have long crying fits in +the dark, a kind of blind terror of everything. And after one of them +it nearly always came. I never questioned it. Never once did I ask +myself, 'Is it mother?'. I just knew that it was. There seemed nothing +unusual about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Was there no one, no woman, to take care of you?" +</P> + +<P> +"There were—women." Desire's lips tightened into a thin red line. "We +did not travel alone. Once I remember terrifying a—a friend of +father's who was 'looking after' me. She heard me crying in my little, +dark room one night, and as soon as she could slip away, came in. She +was a kindly sort. But when she got there I was quite content and +happy—which surprised her much more than the crying had done. She +asked me what had 'shut me up,' and I said 'My mother is here—go +away.' She turned quite pasty-white and the candle shook so that the +hot grease fell upon my hands." +</P> + +<P> +"What a life for a child!" exclaimed Spence in sudden rage. "Desire +dear, you must come with me! I couldn't—couldn't leave you here. +I—oh, dash it! I mean, it's so evident, isn't it, that we need each +other?" +</P> + +<P> +"You really and truly need me?" doubtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Really and truly." +</P> + +<P> +"But if I come, you ought to know something of the life I have lived. +You must realize that I am not an innocent young girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you?" The professor found it difficult to say this with the +proper inflection. It did not sound as business-like as he could have +wished. But she was too much absorbed to notice. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I've seen things which young girls do not see. I have heard things +which are never whispered before them. No one cared particularly what I +saw or heard. When I was smaller there was always someone—some +'housekeeper.' They were all kinds. None of them ever stayed long. +Looking back, it seems as if they passed like lurid shadows. Only one +of them seemed a real person. The others were husks. Her name was Lily. +She was very stout, her face was red and her voice loud. But there was +something real about Lily. And she was fond of children. She liked me. +She went out of her lazy way to teach me wisdom—oh, yes, it was +wisdom," in answer to Spence's horrified exclamation, "hard, sordid +wisdom, the only wisdom which would have helped me through the back +alleys of those days. I am unspeakably grateful to Lily. She spared me +much, and once she saved me—I can't tell you about that," she finished +simply. +</P> + +<P> +Spence bit his lip on a word to which the expression of his face gave +force and meaning. But Desire was not looking at him. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you see why I am different from other girls?" She asked gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The professor restrained himself. "I see that you are different," he +said. "I don't care why. But I'm glad that you have told me what you +have. It explains something that has bothered me—" he paused seeking +words. But she caught up his thought with lightning intuition. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean it explains why marriage isn't beautiful to me, like it may +be to a sheltered girl? Yes. I wanted you to see that. It may be holy, +but it isn't holy to me. I want to live my life apart from all that. To +me it is smirched and sodden and hateful. And now, do you still wish me +to come and be your secretary?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now more than ever," said Spence. It was only the sealing of a +business transaction. But greatly to his annoyance he could not +entirely control a certain warmth and eagerness. +</P> + +<P> +Desire held out a frank hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I will marry you when you are ready," she said. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<P> +Being a delayed letter from Dr. John Rogers to his friend and patient, +Benis Hamilton Spence. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR Idiot: I knew you would get it—and you got it. Perhaps after this +you will learn to treat your sciatic nerve with proper respect. But +there is a worse complaint than sciatica. It lasts longer. Certain +symptoms of it are indicated in the things which your letter leaves +unsaid. Beans, old thing, you alarm me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Now here is a sporting offer. If you'll drop it and come home at once +I'll promise never to tell Aunt Caroline. Come the moment you can put +foot to the ground. And, until then, I recommend strict seclusion and +no nursing. Nursing might well be fatal. Stick to Li Ho. He is your +only chance. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Your Aunt Caroline sends her love. (I told her I was writing you +directions for further treatment). She feels the deprivation of your +letters keenly. She can't see why the writing of a nice, chatty letter +to one's only living Aunt should prove an undue drain upon nervous +energy. Life has taught her not to expect consideration from relatives, +but it does seem hard that her only sister's boy should treat her as if +she were the scarlet fever. To allow himself to be ordered away from +home for a rest cure was certainly less than courteous. To anyone not +understanding the situation it would almost imply that his home was not +restful. And after all the trouble she had taken even to the extent of +strained relations with those Macfarland people who own a rooster. If +the slight had been aimed entirely at herself she could have taken it +silently, but when it included the three or four charming girls whom +she had asked to visit (one at a time) for the purpose of providing +pleasant company, she felt obliged to protest. Although protest, she +knew, was useless. All this, however, she could have borne. The thing +that she could scarcely forgive was the slight offered to his native +town by a departure three days before the set date, thereby turning his +"going away" tea into a "gone away"—an action considered by all +(invited) Bainbridge as a personal insult. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Pause here for breath. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +To continue. Your Aunt Caroline does not believe in rest cures anyway. +She thinks poultices are much more effective. It stands to reason that +if a thing is in, it ought to come out. Rest cures are just laziness. +But, thank goodness, she never expected anything from the Spence family +but laziness. And she had told her sister so before she married into +it.... +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Allow an hour here for ancestral history with appropriate comment and +another hour for a brief review of your own conduct from youth up and +we come within measurable distance of a few words by me. I took up the +point of the four or five nice girls who had been invited to visit. I +put the whole thing down to shock and pointed out that patience is +required. A return to physical normality, I said, would doubtless bring +with it a reviving interest in the sex. It was indeed very fortunate, I +told her, that you were, at present, indifferent. Any question of +selecting a life partner in your present nervous state would be most +dangerous. Your power of judgment, I pointed out, was temporarily +jarred and out of gear. You might marry anybody. The only safe, the +only humane way, was to give you time to recover yourself. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Power of judgment!" said Aunt Caroline. "Do you mean to tell me that +my sister's son is in danger of becoming an idiot?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I said not exactly an idiot. Yet your strong disinclination toward +marriage could certainly be traced to a shocked condition of the +nerves. Certain fixed ideas— +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Fixed ideas!" said your Aunt. She has a particularly annoying habit of +repeating one's words. "Benis has always had fixed ideas—though when +he was young," she added with satisfaction, "I knew how to unfix them. +If this absurd rest cure can do anything to cure chronic stubbornness, +I've nothing to say. Why, even his father was easier to manage." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Benis," I said, "considers himself very like his father." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Does he?" retorted your dear Aunt with withering scorn. "He is just as +much like his father as a lemon is like a lobster." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +This ended our conversation. But the effect of it is still with me. +Last night I dreamed of lemons and today I prescribed lobster for a man +with acute dyspepsia. I tell you what, you old shirker, it's up to you +to come home and bear your own Aunt. I'm through. Bones. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +P.S. The office nurse has been changed since you left. I have now Miss +Watkins, returned from overseas. I think you knew her—name of Mary? +Very good looking—almost her only fault. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +P.P.S. What you say about your pleasant old gentle-man with the +umbrella sounds very much like masked epilepsy. Ought to be under +treatment. I should say dangerous. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +S.O.S. Aunt Caroline has just 'phoned to know whether all +letter-writing is barred or if not, wouldn't it be helpful if you were +to drop a line to a few of your young-friends? For herself she expects +nothing, but she does think, etc., etc., etc.! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Come back! B. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<P> +Comprising a lengthy letter from, Benis Spence to John Rogers, M.D. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +DEAR and Venerable Bones: Your fatherly letter came too late. What was +going to happen has happened. But I will be honest and admit that its +earlier arrival would have made no difference. Calm yourself with the +thought that our fates are written upon our foreheads. I have been able +to read mine for some little time now. For there are some things which +are impossible and leaving Desire here was one of them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I call her "Desire" to you because it is what you will be calling her +soon. Strange, how that small fact seems to place her' Fancy my +marrying someone whom you would naturally call "Mrs. Spence"? There are +such people. All Aunt Caroline's young friends are like that. You would +say, "I have looked forward to meeting you, Mrs. Spence," and she would +giggle and say, "Oh, Dr. Rogers, I have heard my husband speak of you +so often!" But Desire will say, "So this is John." And then she will +look at you with that detached yet interested look and you will find +yourself saying "Desire" before you think of it. You see, she belongs. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But before I bring you up to date with regard to recent events, I had +better tell you a few facts about my more remote past. I refer to Mary. +I have already told you that I found a past necessary. At that time I +hoped that something fairly abstract would do. But Desire does not like +abstractions. She likes to "know where she is." So I had to tell her +about Mary. I'll tell you, too, before I forget details and for +heaven's sake get them right! You never can tell when your knowledge +may be needed. In the first place there is the name. I'm rather proud +of that. I had to choose it at a moment's notice and I did not +hesitate. Desire herself says it is a lovely name. And so safe—amn't I +right in the impression that every second girl in Bainbridge and +elsewhere is called Mary? Mary, my Mary, might be anybody. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Here, then, are the main facts. I have had (pre-war) a serious +attachment. It was an affection tragically misplaced. She did not love +me. She loved another. She may, or may not, have married him. (It would +have been better to have had the marriage certain, but I didn't see it +in time.) I will never care for another woman. Her name was Mary. +Please tabulate this romance where you can put your hand on it. I may +need your help at any time. As a doctor your aid would be invaluable +should it become necessary for Mary to decease. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +And now to leave romance for reality. Your long and lucid discourse on +masked epilepsy was most helpful. It was almost as informing as Li Ho's +diagnosis of "moon-devil." Both have the merit of leaving the inquirer +with an open mind. However—let's get on. If you have had my later +letters you will know that circumstances indicated an elopement. But +the more I thought of eloping, the more I disliked the idea. My father +was not a man who would have eloped. And, in spite of Aunt Caroline's +lobsters and lemons, I am very like my father. "That I have stolen away +this old man's daughter—" Somehow it seemed very Othelloish. I decided +to simply tell Dr. Farr, calmly and reasonably, that Desire and I had +decided to marry. I did tell him. I was calm and reasonable. But he +wasn't. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +There is a bit of sound tactics which says, "Never let the enemy +surprise you." But how is one to keep him from doing it if he insists? +The surer you are that the enemy is going to do a certain thing, the +more surprised you are when he doesn't. Now I felt sure that when Dr. +Farr heard the news he would have a fit. I expected him to use language +and even his umbrella. But nothing of this kind happened. He simply sat +there like a slightly faded and vague old gentleman and said +"So?"—just like that. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I assured him, as delicately as possible that it was so. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Then, without warning, he began to weep. John, it was horrible! I can't +describe it. You would have to see his blurred old face and depthless +eyes before you could understand. Tears are healthy, normal things. +They were never meant for faces like his. I must have said something, +in a kind of horror, for he got up suddenly and trotted off into the +woods, without as much as a whisper. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +It looked like an easy victory. But I knew it wasn't. I admit that I +felt rather sorry we had not eloped. Li Ho made me still sorrier. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Not much good, you make honorable Boss cly," said Li Ho. "Gettie mad +heap better." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I felt that, as usual, Li Ho was right. And, just here, let me +interpose that I am quite sure Li Ho can speak perfectly good English +if he wishes. He certainly understands it. I have tried to puzzle him +often by measured and academic speech and never yet has he missed the +faintest shade of meaning. So I did not waste time with Pigeon English. +I told him the facts briefly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Me no likee," said Li Ho. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You don't have to," said I. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Li Ho explained that it was not the contemplated marriage which +received his disapproval but the circumstances surrounding it. "Me +muchy glad Missy get mallied," said he. "Ladies so do, velly nice! When +you depart to go?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Tomorrow," I said. Since we had given up the elopement it seemed more +dignified to wait and depart by daylight. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Li Ho shook his head. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You no wait tomolla," said he, "You go tonight. You go click." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"We can't go too quickly to suit me," I said. "It is for Miss Desire to +decide." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Me tell Missy," he said and hurried away. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Somehow, Li Ho always knows where to find Desire. She vanishes from my +ken often, but never from his. He must have found her quickly this time +for she came at once. She looked troubled. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Li Ho says we had better go tonight," she said. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Can you be ready?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Yes. It isn't that. It's just that it would seem more—more sensible +by daylight. But Li Ho says you have told father, and that father +was—upset. He said something about tonight being the full moon. But I +can't see why that should matter. Do you?" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Only that it will be easy to cross the Inlet." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"It can't be that. Li Ho can take the Tillicum' over on the darkest +night. It has something to do with father. He seems to think that the +full moon affects him. And it's true that he often goes off on the +mountain about that time. But I can't see why that should hurry us." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I did not see it either. And yet I felt that I should like to hurry. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"We certainly will not go unless you wish," I began. But Li Ho +interrupted me in his colorless way. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Alice same go this eveling," he said blandly. "No take 'Tillicum' +tomolla. Velly busy tomolla. Velly busy next day. Velly busy all week." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Look here," I said, "you'll do exactly what your mistress tells you." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +His celestial impudence was making me hot. But Desire stopped me. "It's +no use," she explained. "I have really no authority. And he means what +he says. We must go tonight or wait indefinitely." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I was eager to be gone. But it went against the grain to be hustled off +by a Chinaman. Perhaps my face showed as much, for Desire went on. "You +needn't feel like that about it. He doesn't intend to be impudent. He +probably thinks he has a very real reason for getting us away. And Li +Ho's reasons are liable to be good ones. We had better go." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The rest of the day was uneventful, save for the incident of Sami. I +think I told you about Sami, didn't I? A kind of brown familiar who +follows Desire about. He is a baby Indian as much a part of the +mountain as the leaping squirrels and not nearly so tame. He is the one +thing here that I think Desire is sorry to leave. And for this reason I +hoped he wouldn't appear before we were gone. I had done all my +packing—easy enough since I had scarcely unpacked—and I could hear +Desire moving about doing hers. The place seemed particularly peaceful. +I could, have felt almost sorry to leave my cool, bare room with its +tree-stump for a table and all the forest just outside. But as I sat +there by the window there came upon me, for the second time that day, a +mounting hurry to be gone. There was nothing to account for it, but I +distinctly felt an inward "Hurry! Hurry!" So propelling was it that +only the knowledge that the "Tillicum" would not float until high tide +kept me from finding Desire and begging her to come away at once. I did +go so far as to wander restlessly down into the garden where she had +gone to feed the chickens. Perhaps I would have gone farther and +mentioned my misgivings but just then Sami came and I forgot all about +them. I don't believe I have ever seen any child so frightened as that +little Indian! He simply fell through the bushes behind the chicken +house and shot, like a small, brown catapult, into Desire's arms. His +round face was actually grey with fear. And he huddled in her big apron +shivering, for all the world like some terrified animal. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Naturally the first thing to do was to get the thing that had +frightened him. An axe seemed a likely weapon, so, picking it up, I +slid into the bushes at the point where Sami had come out of them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Perfect serenity was there! The afternoon light lay golden on the moss +above the fallen trees. No hidden scurrying in the underbrush told of +wild, wood things hastening to safety from some half-sensed danger. No +broken branches or trampled earth told of any past or present struggle. +There was no trace of any fearsome creature having passed along that +peaceful trail. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I searched thoroughly and found nothing. On my way back to the clearing +I met Li Ho. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +'"Find anything, Li Ho?" I asked eagerly. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The Celestial grinned. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Find honorable self," said he. "Missy she send. Missy heap scared +along of you." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Nonsense!" I said. "I can take care of myself. Even if it had been a +bear, I had an axe." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Bear!" said Li Ho. And then he laughed. Did you ever hear a Chinaman +laugh? I never had. Not this Chinaman anyway. It was so startling that +I forgot what I was saying. Next moment I could have sworn that he had +not laughed at all. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +We found Sami, much comforted, sitting upon Desire's lap, a thing he +could seldom be induced to do. At our entrance he began to shiver again +but soon quieted. Desire had tried questioning but it was of no use. He +either couldn't, or wouldn't, say anything about what had frightened +him. Desire was inclined to think that he did not know. But I was not +so sure. It's a fairly well established fact that children simply can't +speak of certain terrors. And the more frightened they are the more +powerful is the inhibition. In any case it was useless to question Sami +so we fed him instead and presently he went to sleep. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I suppose we all forgot him. I know I did. One doesn't elope every day. +And it was never Sami's way to insist upon his presence as ordinary +children do. Li Ho departed to tinker with the "Tillicum" and +afterwards returned to give us a late supper. Desire kept out of my +way. One might almost have thought that she was shy—if so, a most +perplexing development. For why should she feel shy? It wasn't as if we +had not put the whole affair on a perfectly business basis. Perhaps +there is some elemental magic in names, so that, to a woman, the very +word "marriage" has power to provoke certain nervous reactions? +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +However that may be, even Desire forgot Sami. We left the house just as +the clearing began to grow brighter with light from the still hidden +moon, and we were halfway down to the boat landing before anyone +thought of him. Oddly enough it was I who remembered. "Sami!" I +exclaimed, with a little throb of nameless fear. "We have forgotten +Sami." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Desire, I thought, looked surprised and somewhat vexed at her +oversight. But displayed no trace of the consternation which had +suddenly fallen on me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"He is all right," she said. "He will sleep till morning unless his +mother comes for him." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Where you leave um?" asked Li Ho briefly. He had already set down the +bag he was carrying. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"In my own bed." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Me go get!" said Li Ho. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But I had not waited. I had started to "go get" myself. The sense of +breathless hurry was on me again. I did not pause to argue that the +child was perfectly safe. I forgot that I had ever been lame. Perhaps +that sciatic nerve is only mortal mind anyway. When I came out into the +clearing the cottage was turning silver in the first rays of the full +moon. Very peaceful and secure it looked. And yet I hurried! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I made no noise. To myself I explained this by a desire not to waken +the youngster. No use frightening him. I stole, as quietly as one of +his own ancestors, to the foot of the stairs. The door of Desire's room +was open. I could see a moonlit bar across the dark landing.... +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I think I went straight up that stair. I hope so. You know that one of +my worst nervous troubles has been a dread that I might fail in some +emergency? I dread a sort of nerve paralysis.... But I got up the +stair. The fear that seemed to push me back wasn't personal, or +physical—one might call it psychic fear, only that the word explains +nothing.... I looked in at the open door. There seemed to be nothing +there but the moonlight. The room must have been almost as bare as my +own. But over on the far side, beyond the zone of the window, was the +dim whiteness of a bed. I could see nothing clearly—but the Fear was +there. I dragged, actually dragged, my feet across the floor—my sight +growing clearer, until at last—I saw! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I think I shouted, but it was so like a nightmare that I may not have +made a sound.... The dragging weight must have left my feet as I +sprang forward ... but it is all confused! And the whole thing lasted +only a minute. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +In that minute I had seen what I would have sworn was not human. Even +while I knew It for the little old man with the umbrella, I had no +sense of its humanness. Something bent above the bed—the old man's +face was there, the thin figure, the white hair, and yet it seemed the +wildest absurdity to call the Fury who wore them by any human name. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The eyes looked at me—eyes without depth or meaning—eyes like bits of +blue steel reflecting the light of Tophet—, incarnate evil, blazing, +peering ... I caught a glimpse of long, thin hands, like claws, +around the folded umbrella, a flash of something bright at the ferrule +... and then the picture dissolved like an image passing from a dimly +lighted screen. Before I could skirt the bed, whatever had been upon +the other side of it had melted into the darkness beyond the moon. I +bent over the bed. Sami was there—Sami, rolled shapelessly in the +concealing bedclothes, his round face hidden in the pillow, his black +hair just a blot of darkness on the white.... It might have been +Desire lying there! ... +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I found the door through which the Thing had slipped. But it was +useless to try to follow. There was no one in the house nor in the +moonlit clearing. And Desire and Li Ho were waiting on the trail. I +picked up the still sleeping child and blundered down to them. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +It seemed incredible to hear Desire's laugh. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Good gracious!" she said. "You're carrying him upside down." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +She had had no hint of danger. But with Li Ho it was different. He fell +back beside me when Desire had relieved me of the child. I could feel +his inscrutable eyes upon my face. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You see um," said Li Ho. It was an assertion, not a question. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I nodded. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"No be scare," muttered he. "Missy all safe. Everything all safe now. +Li Ho go catch um. Li Ho catch um good. All light—tomolla." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You mean you can manage him and he'll be all right tomorrow?" I said. +"But—what is it!" +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +The Celestial shrugged. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Muchy devil maybe. Muchy moon-devil, plaps. Velly bad." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"There's a knife in that umbrella, Li Ho." +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +But though his eyes looked blandly into mine, I couldn't tell whether +this was news to Li Ho or not.... +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Well, that's the story. I've written it down while it's fresh, sparing +comment. Desire sang as we crossed the Inlet; little, low snatches of +song with a hint of freedom in them. She had made her choice and it is +never her way to look back. The old "Tillicum" rattled and chugged and +the damp crept in around our feet. But the water was a path of gold and +the sky a bowl of silver—and as an example of present day elopements +it had certainly been fairly exciting. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Yours, Benis. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<P> +Desire Spence bent earnestly over the writing pad which lay open upon +her knee. +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Benis Hamilton Spence," she wrote. And then: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. B. Hamilton Spence." +</P> + +<P> +And then: +</P> + +<P> +"Mrs. Benis H. Spence." +</P> + +<P> +Over this last she sucked her pencil thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"One more!" prompted her husband encouragingly. "Don't decide before +you inspect our full line of goods." +</P> + +<P> +"Initials, only, lack character," objected Desire. "There is nothing +distinctive about 'Mrs. B. H. Spence'. It doesn't balance well, either. +I think I'll decide upon the 'Benis H.' I like it—although I have +never heard of 'Benis' as a name before." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not supposed to have heard of it," explained its owner +complacently. "It is a very exclusive name, a family name. My mother's +paternal grandmother was a Benis." +</P> + +<P> +Desire was not attending. "Your nickname, too, is odd," she mused. "How +on earth could anyone make 'Beans' out of 'Benis Hamilton?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Very easily—but how did you know that anyone had?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, from a touching inscription on one of your books, 'To Beans—from +Bones.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—there's a whole history in that. It happened by a well defined +process of evolution. When I went to school I had to have a name. A +school boy's proper name is no good to him. Proper names are simply not +done. But the christening party found my combination rather a handful. +No one could do anything with Benis and the obvious shortening of +Hamilton was considered too Biblical. 'Ham', however, suggested +'Piggy'. This might have done had there not already existed a 'Piggy' +with a prior right. 'Piggy' suggested 'Pork', but 'Pork' isn't a name. +'Pork' suggested 'Beans'. And once more behold the survival of the +fittest." +</P> + +<P> +Desire laughed. +</P> + +<P> +The professor listened to her laugh with a strained expression which +relaxed when no words followed it. +</P> + +<P> +"I was afraid," he admitted penitently, "that you might want to know +why 'Pork' is not as much a name as 'Beans'." +</P> + +<P> +"But—it isn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so. Only you are the first member of your delightful sex who has +ever perceived it. You are a perceptive person, Mrs. Spence." +</P> + +<P> +It was the fourth day of their Business Honeymoon. Four days ago they +had landed from the cheerful little coast steamer whose chattering load +of summer campers they had left behind on the route. For four +sun-bright days and dew-sweet nights they had found themselves sole +possessors of a bay so lovely that it seemed to have emerged bodily +from a green and opal dream. +</P> + +<P> +"'Friendly Bay,' they calls it," a genial deckhand told them, grinning. +"But you folks will be the only friends anywheres about. There's a sort +of farm across the point, though, and maybe you could hit the trail by +climbing, if you get too fed up with the scenery." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, we shan't want any company," said the new Mrs. Spence +innocently—a remark so disappointing in its unembarrassed frankness +that the deck-hand lost interest and decided that they were "just +relations" after all. +</P> + +<P> +They had carried their camp with them, and, from where they now sat, +they could see its canvas gleaming ivory white against its background +of green. Desire's eyes, as she raised them from her name-building, +lingered upon it proudly. It was such a wonderful camp!—her first +experience of what money, unconsidered save as a purchasing agent, can +do. Even her personal outfit was something of a revelation. How +deliciously keen and new was this consciousness of clothes—the smart +high-laced boots, the soft, sand-colored coat and skirt, the knickers +which felt so easy and so trim, the cool, silk shirt with its wide +collar, the dainty, intimate things beneath! She would have been less +than woman, had the possession of these things failed to meet some +need,—some instinct, deep within, which her old, bare life had daily +mortified. +</P> + +<P> +And it had all been so easy, so natural! How could she ever have +hesitated to make the change? Even her pride was left to her, intact. +He, her friend, had given and she had taken, but in this there had been +no spoiling sense of obligation, for, presently, she too was to give +and to give unstintedly: new strength and skill seemed already tingling +in her firm, quick hands; new vigor and inspiration stirred in her +eager brain—and both hands and brain were to be her share of +giving—her partnership offering in this pact of theirs. She was eager, +eager to begin. +</P> + +<P> +But already they had been four days in camp without a beginning. So far +they had not even looked for the trail which was to lead them to the +cabin of Hawk-Eye Charlie whose store of Indian lore had been the +reason for their upcoast journey. This delay of the expeditionary party +was due to no fault of its secretary. During the past four days she had +proposed the search for the trail four times, one proposal per day. And +each day the chief expeditioner had voted a postponement. The chief +expeditioner was lazy. At least that was the excuse he made. And +Desire, who was not lazy, might have fretted at the inaction had she +believed him. But she knew it was not laziness which had drawn certain +new lines about the expeditioner's mouth and deepened the old ones on +his forehead. It was not laziness which lay behind the strained look in +his eyes and the sudden return of his almost vanished limp. These +things are not symptoms of indolence. They are symptoms of nerves. And +Desire knew something of nerves. What she did not know, in the present +case, was their exciting cause. Neither could she understand this new +reticence on the part of their victim nor his reluctance to admit the +obvious. She puzzled much about these problems while the lazy one +rested in the sun and the quiet, golden days wrought the magic of their +cure. +</P> + +<P> +And Spence, mere man that he was, fancied that she noticed nothing. The +pleasant illusion hastened his recovery. It tended to restore a +complacency, rudely disturbed by an enforced realization of his own +back-sliding. He had been quite furious upon discovering that the +"little episode" of the moonlit cottage had filched from him all his +new won strength and nervous stamina, leaving him sleepless and +unstrung, ready to jump at the rattling of a stone. More and more, +there grew in him a fierce disdain of weakness and a cold determination +to beat Nature at her own game. Let him once again be "fit" and wily +indeed would be the trick which would steal his fitness from him. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, laziness was as good a camouflage as anything and lying on +the grass while Desire chose her name was pleasant in the extreme. +</P> + +<P> +"Names," murmured the lazy one dreamily, "are things. When a thing is +'named true' its name and itself become inseparable and identical. That +is why all magic is wrought by names. It becomes simply a matter of +knowing the right ones." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that a very new idea, or a very old one?" +</P> + +<P> +"All ideas are ageless, so it must be both." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder how they named things in the very, very first?" mused Desire. +"Did they just sit in the sun, as we are sitting, and think and think, +until suddenly—they knew?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very likely. There is a legend that, in the beginning, everything was +named true—fire, water, earth, air—so that the souls of everything +knew their names and were ruled by those who could speak them. But, as +the race grew less simple and more corrupt, the true names were +obscured and then lost altogether. Only once or twice in all the ages +has come some master who has known their secret—such, perhaps, as He +who could speak peace to the wind and walk upon the sea and change the +water into wine." +</P> + +<P> +Desire nodded. "Yes," she said. "It feels like that—as if one had +forgotten. Sometimes when I have been in the woods alone or drifting +far out on the water, where there was no sound but its own voice, it +has seemed as if I had only to think—hard—hard—in order to remember! +Only one never does." +</P> + +<P> +"But one may—there is always the chance. I fancied I was near it +once—in a shell hole. The stars were big and close and the earth +seemed light and ready to float away. I almost had it then—my lips +were just moving upon some mighty word—but someone came. They found me +and carried me in ... I say, the sun is climbing up, let's follow it." +</P> + +<P> +Hand in hand they followed the line of the sinking sun up the slippery +slope. They both knew where they were going, for every evening of their +stay they had wandered there to sit awhile in the little deserted +Indian burying-ground which lay, white fenced and peaceful, facing the +flaming west. When they had found it first it had seemed to give the +last touch of beauty to that beautiful place. +</P> + +<P> +"It is so different," said Desire, searching carefully, as was her way, +for the proper word. "It is so—so beautifully dead. It ought to be +like that," she went on thoughtfully. "I never realized before why our +cemeteries are so sad—it is because we will not let them really +die—we dress them up with flowers—a kind of ghastly life in death. +But this—" +</P> + +<P> +They looked around them at the little white-fenced spot with its great +centre cross, grey and weather-beaten, and all its smaller crosses +clustering round. There was warmth here, the warmth of sun upon a +western slope. There was life, too, the natural life of grass and vine, +the cheerful noise of birds and squirrels and bees. And, for color, +there were harmonies in all the browns and greens and yellows of the +rocky soil. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us sit here. They won't mind. They are all sleeping so happily," +Desire had declared. "And the crosses make it seem like one large +family—see how that wild rose vine has spread itself over a whole +group of graves! It is so friendly." +</P> + +<P> +Spence had fallen in with her humor, and had come indeed to love this +place where even the sun paused lingeringly before the mountains +swallowed it up. +</P> + +<P> +This afternoon he flung himself down beside their favorite rose-vine +with the comfortable sense of well-being which comes with returning +health. Even more than Desire, he wondered that he had ever hesitated +before an arrangement so eminently satisfying. If ever events had +justified an impulse, his impulse, he felt, had been justified. He +stole a glance at Desire as she sat in pleasant silence gazing into the +sunset. She was happier already, and younger. Something of that hard +maturity was fading from her eyes—the tiny dented corners of her lips +were softer.... Oh, undoubtedly he had done the right thing! And +everything had run so smoothly. There had been no trouble. No unlocked +for Nemesis had dogged his steps even in the matter of that small +strategy concerning his unhappy past. He had been unduly worried about +that, owing probably to early copy-book aphorisms. Honesty is the best +policy. Yes, but—nothing had happened. Mary, bless her, was already +only a memory. She had played her part and slipped back into the void +from whence she came. He could forget her very name with impunity. A +faint smile testified to a conscience lulled to warm security. +</P> + +<P> +But security is a dangerous thing. It tempts the fates. Even while our +strategist smiled, the girl who sat so silently beside him was +wondering about that smile—and other things. He was much better, she +reflected, if he could find his passing thoughts amusing. Amusement at +one's own fancies is a healthy sign. And today she had noticed, also, +that his laziness was almost natural. Perhaps it might be safe now to +say what she had made up her mind should be said. But not too abruptly. +When next she spoke it was merely to continue their previous discussion. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think people may have 'true' names, too?" she asked presently. +"Just ordinary people, like you and me?" +</P> + +<P> +Spence nodded. "Always noting," he added, "that you and I are not +ordinary people." +</P> + +<P> +"Then if anyone knew another's true name, and used it, the other could +not help responding?" +</P> + +<P> +"Um-m. I suppose not." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps that is what love is," said Desire. +</P> + +<P> +Even then no presentiment of coming trouble stirred beneath Spence's +dangerous serenity. Perhaps it was because the air had made him +comfortably drowsy. He merely nodded, deftly swallowing a yawn. Desire +went on: +</P> + +<P> +"Then love is only complete understanding?" +</P> + +<P> +"Always thought it might be some trifle like that," murmured the drowsy +one. "But don't ask me. How should I know? That is," rousing hastily, +"I do know, of course. And it is. There's a squirrel eating your hat." +</P> + +<P> +Desire changed the position of the hat. But the subject remained and +she resumed it dreamily. +</P> + +<P> +"Then in order that it might be quite complete, the understanding would +have to be mutual. If only one loved, there would always be a lack." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a doubt of it!" said Spence firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then—don't you see?" +</P> + +<P> +"See? See what? That squirrel's eating your hat again." +</P> + +<P> +"Go away!" said Desire to the squirrel. And, when it had gone, "Don't +you see?" she repeatedly gravely. +</P> + +<P> +The professor always loved her gravity. And he had not seen. He was, in +fact, almost asleep. "You tell me," he said, rushing upon destruction. +</P> + +<P> +Then Desire said what she had made up her mind to say. He never knew +exactly what it was because before she actually said the word "Mary," +he was too sleepy, and afterwards he was too dazed. +</P> + +<P> +Mary! The word went through him like an electric shock. It tingled to +his criminal toes. It whirled through his cringing brain like a +pinwheel suddenly lighted. It exploded like a bomb in the recesses of +his false content. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was talking about Mary! Talking about her in that frank and +unembarrassed way which he had always admired. But good heavens! didn't +she realize that Mary was dead and buried? No. She evidently did not. +Far from it. When he was able to listen intelligently once more, Desire +was saying: +</P> + +<P> +"... and, to a man like you, philosophy should be such a help. I feel +you will be far, far less unhappy if you do not shut yourself up with +your memories. Do you suppose I have not noticed how nervous and worn +out you have been since the night we came away? Why have you tried to +hide it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes you have. Please, please don't quibble. And hidden things are so +dangerous. It isn't as if I would not understand. You ought to give me +credit for a little knowledge of human nature. I knew perfectly well +that when you married me—you would think of Mary. You could hardly +help it." +</P> + +<P> +The professor sat up. He was not at all sleepy now. Mary had "murdered +sleep." But he was still dazed. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment." He raised a restraining hand. "Let me get this right. +You say you have noticed a certain lack of energy in my manner of late?" +</P> + +<P> +"Anyone must have noticed it." +</P> + +<P> +"But I explained it, didn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" The slight smile on Desire's lips was sufficient comment on the +explanation. The professor began to feel injured. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I gather, further, that you do not accept the explanation?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be cross! How could I? I have eyes. And my point is simply that +there is no need for any concealment between us. You promised that we +should be friends. Friends help friends when they are in trouble." +</P> + +<P> +The professor rumpled his hair The pinwheel in his brain was slowing +down. Already the marvelous something which accepts and adjusts the +unexpected was hard at work restoring order. Mary was not dead. He had +to reckon with Mary. Very well, let Mary look to her-self. Let her +beware how she harassed a desperate man! Let her—but he was not pushed +to extremes yet. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," he said slowly, "that we had tacitly agreed not to reopen +this subject." +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"And I still think that it would be better, much better to ignore it +altogether." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but it wouldn't," said Desire. "See how dreadfully dumpy you have +been since Friday." +</P> + +<P> +"I have not been dumpy. But supposing I have, there may be other +reasons. What if I can honorably assure you that I have not been +thinking of the past at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then I should want to know what you have been thinking of." +</P> + +<P> +"But supposing I were to go further and say that my thoughts are my own +property?" +</P> + +<P> +"That would be horridly rude, don't you think? And you are not at all a +rude person. If you'll risk it, I will." +</P> + +<P> +Her smile was insufferably secure. +</P> + +<P> +"You are willing to risk a great deal," snapped Spence. "But if it's +truth you want—" +</P> + +<P> +He almost confessed then. The temptation to slay Mary with a few well +chosen words almost overpowered him. But he looked at the expectant +face beside him and faltered. Mary would not die alone. With her would +die this newborn comradeship. And Desire's smile, though insufferable, +was sweet. How would it feel to see that bright look change and pale to +cold dislike? Already in imagination he shivered under the frozen anger +of that frank glance. +</P> + +<P> +He could not risk it! +</P> + +<P> +Should he then, ignoring Mary, ascribe his symptoms to their true +cause? By dragging out the horror of that moonlit night, he could +account for any vagary of nerves. But that way of escape was equally +impossible. He could not let that shadow fall across her path of +new-found freedom. Nor would he, in any case, gain much by such +postponement. The wretched professor began to realize that the devil is +indeed the father of lies and that he who sups with him needs a long +spoon. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile, Desire was waiting. +</P> + +<P> +He felt that he would like to shake her—sitting there with untroubled +air and face like an inquiring sphinx—to shake her and kiss her and +tell her that there wasn't any Mary and—he brought himself up with a +start. What nonsense was this! +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," he said irritably, "you are all wrong. You really are. +It's perfectly true I've been feeling groggy. But there doesn't have to +be a reason for that, unfortunately. Old Bones warned me that I might +expect all kinds of come-backs. But I'm almost right again now. Another +day or two of this heavenly place and I shan't know that I have a +nerve." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," critically. "You are better. I should say that the worst was +over." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure it is. Supposing we leave it at that." +</P> + +<P> +Desire smiled her shadowy smile. "Very well. But I wanted you to know +that I understand. It's so silly to go on pretending not to see, when +one does see. And it's only natural that things should seem more +poignant for a time. Only you will recover much more quickly if you +adopt a sensible attitude. I do not say, 'do not think of Mary,' I say +'think of her openly.'" +</P> + +<P> +"How," said Spence, "does one think openly?" +</P> + +<P> +"One talks." +</P> + +<P> +"You wish me to talk of Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"It will be so good for you!" warmly. +</P> + +<P> +They looked for a moment into each other's eyes. And Spence was +conscious of a second shock. Was there, was there the faintest glint of +something which was not all sympathy in those grey depths of hers? +Before his conscious mind had even formulated the question, his other +mind had asked and answered it, and, with the lightning speed of the +subconscious, had acted. The professor became aware of a complete +change of outlook. His remorse and timidity left him. His brain worked +clearly. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said the professor. +</P> + +<P> +The worm had turned! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<P> +Mornings are beautiful all over the earth but Nature keeps a special +kind of morning for early summer use at Friendly Bay. In sudden +clearness, in chill sweetness, in almost awful purity there is no other +morning like it. It wrings the human soul quite clear of everything +save wonder at its loveliness. +</P> + +<P> +Desire never bathed until the sun was up, not because she feared the +dawn-cold water but because she would not stir the unbroken beauty of +its opal tide. With the first rays of the sun, the spell would break, +the waves would dance again, the gulls would soar and dip, the crabs +would scuttle across the shining sand, the round wet head of a friendly +seal would pop up here and there to say good-morning. Then, Desire +would swim—far out—so far that Spence, watching her, would feel his +heart contract. He could not follow her—yet. But he never begged her +not to take the risk, if risk there were. Why should she lose one happy +thrill in her own joyous strength because he feared? Better that she +should never come back from these long, glorious swims than that he +should have held her from them by so much as a gesture. +</P> + +<P> +And she always did come back, glowing, dripping, laughing, her head as +sleek as a young seal's, salt upon her lips and on her wave-whipped +cheek. Spence, whose swims were shorter and more sedate, would usually +have breakfast ready. +</P> + +<P> +But upon this particular morning Desire loitered. Though the smell of +bacon was in the air, she sat pensively in the shallows of an outgoing +tide and flung shells at the crabs. She would have told you that she +was thinking. But had she used the word "feeling" she would have been +nearer the truth. And the thing which she obscurely felt was that +something had mysteriously altered for the worse in a world which, of +late, had shown remarkable promise. It was a small thing. She hardly +knew what it was. Merely a sense of dissonance somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever it was, it had not been there yesterday. Yesterday morning she +had felt no desire to sit in the shallows and throw shells at crabs. +Yesterday morning her mind had been full of that happy inconsequence +which feels no need of thought. Today was different. Mentally she shook +herself with some irritation. "What is the matter with you?" she asked. +But the self she addressed seemed oddly reluctant. "Come now," said +Desire, hitting an especially big crab, "out with it! There's no use +pretending that you don't know." Thus adjured, the self offered one +single and sulky word. The word was "Mary." "Oh, nonsense!" said Desire +hastily. +</P> + +<P> +But there it was. She had forced the answer and had to make the best of +it. Her memory trailed back. Once started, it had small difficulty in +tracking her dissatisfaction to its real beginning. Everything, it +reminded her, had been perfect until she and Benis had sat upon the +hill in the sunset and talked about Mary. Something had happened then. +Like a certain ancestress she had coveted the fruit of knowledge and +knowledge had been given her. Not at once—Benis had at first been +distinctly reluctant—but by gentle persistence she had won through his +cool reserve. Abruptly and without visible reason, his attitude had +changed. He had said in that drawling voice of his, "You wish me to +talk about Mary?" And then, suddenly, he had talked. +</P> + +<P> +He had told her several things. The color of Mary's hair, for instance. +Her hair was yellow. Benis had been insistent in pointing out that when +he said "yellow" he did not mean goldish or bronze, or fawn-colored or +tow-colored or Titian, but just yellow. "Do you see that patch of sky +over there where the mountain dips?" he had said. "Mary's hair was +yellow, like that." +</P> + +<P> +That patch of sky, as Desire remembered it, was very beautiful. Quite +too beautiful to be compared to any-one's hair. No doubt it was only in +Benis's imagination that Mary's hair was anything like it. +</P> + +<P> +But nevertheless it was there that the world had gone wrong. It was +while Benis had sat gazing into that patch of amber sky that Desire, +gazing too, had, for the first time, realized the Other. Up until then, +Mary had been an abstraction—thenceforth she was a personality. That +made all the difference. Desire, throwing shells at crabs, admitted +that, for her, there had been no Mary until she had heard that her hair +was yellow. +</P> + +<P> +It was ridiculous but it was true. Mary without hair had been a gentle +and retiring shade. A phantom in whom it had been possible to take an +academic interest. But no shade has a right to hair like an amber +sunset. Desire threw a shell viciously. Very little more, she felt, and +she would positively dislike Mary! +</P> + +<P> +She jumped up and stamped in the shallow water. The crabs, big and +little, scuttled away. +</P> + +<P> +"Hurr-ee!" called the professor waving a frying-pan. +</P> + +<P> +"Com-ing!" Desire's voice rose gaily. For the present, her small +dissatisfaction vanished with the crabs. +</P> + +<P> +"This coffee has been made ten minutes," grumbled the +getter-of-breakfast with a properly martyred air. "Whatever were you +doing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thinking." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't done. Not before breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +"I was thinking," fibbed Desire, "that I have never been so spoiled in +my life and that it can't go on. My domestic conscience is beginning to +murmur. As soon as we are at home, you will be expected to stay in bed +until you smell the coffee coming up the stairs." +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt Caroline," said the professor, "does not believe in coffee for +breakfast, except on Sunday." +</P> + +<P> +"I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh? Oh—I see. Well, I'll put my money on you. Only I hope you aren't +really set on making it yourself. Because the cook would leave.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Good gracious! Do we have a cook?" +</P> + +<P> +"We do. At least, we did. Also a maid. But maids, I understand, are +greatly diminished. There appear to have been tragedies in Bainbridge. +Have you eaten sufficient bacon to listen calmly to an extract from +Aunt Caroline's last? Sit tight, then— +</P> + +<P> +"'As to what the world is coming to in the matter of domestic +service,'" writes Aunt Caroline, "I do not know. I do not wish to worry +you, Benis, but as you will be marrying some day, in spite of that +silly doctor of yours who insists that it's not to be thought of, you +may as well be conversant with the situation. To put it briefly—I have +been without competent help for two weeks. You know, dear boy, that I +am easily satisfied. I expect very little from anyone. But I think that +I am entitled to prompt and willing service. That, at the very least! +Yet I must tell you that Mabel, my cook, has left me most ungratefully +after only three months' notice! She is to be married to Bob Summers, +the plumber. (Lieutenant Robert Summers, since the war, if you please!) +Well, she can never say I did not warn her. I did not mince matters. I +told her exactly what married life is, and why I have never tried it. +But the foolish girl is beyond advice. I have had two cooks since +Mabel, but one insisted upon whistling in the kitchen and the other +served omelette made with one egg. My wants are trifling, as you know, +but one cannot abrogate all personal dignity—' +</P> + +<P> +"Do you get the subtle connection between the one egg and Aunt +Caroline's personal dignity?" asked Spence with anxiety. "Because if +you don't, I'll never be able to ask you to live in Bainbridge. I may +as well confess now that it was only my serene confidence in your sense +of humor which permitted me to marry you at all. I should never have +dared to offer Aunt Caroline as an 'in-law' to anyone who couldn't see +a joke." +</P> + +<P> +"You are very fond of her all the same," said Desire shrewdly. "And +though she expects very little from anyone, she evidently adores you. +She can't be all funny. There must be an Aunt Caroline, deep down, that +is not funny at all. I think I'm rather afraid of her. Only you have so +often said that she wished you to get married—" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, my dear. What I said was, 'Aunt Caroline wished to get me +married.' The position of the infinitive is the important thing. Aunt +Caroline never intended me to do it all by myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh. Then, in that case, she may resent your having done it." +</P> + +<P> +"Resent," cheerfully, "is a feeble word. It doesn't express Aunt +Caroline at all." +</P> + +<P> +"You take it calmly." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see I've got you to fight for me now." +</P> + +<P> +They looked at each other over the empty coffee cups and laughed. +</P> + +<P> +It is easy to laugh on a fine morning. But if they had known where Aunt +Caroline was at that moment—how-ever, they didn't. +</P> + +<P> +"Once," said Spence "my Aunt read a book upon Eugenics. I don't know +how it happened. It was one of those inexplicable events for which no +one can account. It made a deep impression. She has studied me ever +since with a view to scientific matrimony. Alas, my poor relative!" +</P> + +<P> +"I once read a book upon Eugenics, too," said Desire with a reminiscent +smile. "It seemed sensible. Of course I was not personally interested +and that always makes a difference. One thing occurred to me, +though—it didn't seem to give Nature credit for much judgment." +</P> + +<P> +Benis chuckled. "No, it wouldn't. Terrible old blunderer, Nature! +Always working for the average. Never seems to have heard the word +'specialize.' We've got her there." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you think—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no," hastily, "I don't. I observe results with interest, that is +all." +</P> + +<P> +Desire began to collect the breakfast dishes. "That was where the book +seemed weak," she said thoughtfully. "It hadn't much to say about +results. It dealt mostly with consequences. They," she added after a +pause, "were rather frightening." +</P> + +<P> +The professor glanced at her sharply. Had she been worrying over this? +Had she connected it with that dreadful old man whom she called father? +But her face was quite untroubled as she went on. +</P> + +<P> +"I think they've missed something, though," she said. "There must be +something more than the things they tabulate. Some subtle force of life +which isn't physical at all. Something that uses physical things as +tools. If its tools are fine, it will do finer work, but if its tools +are blunt it will work with them anyway. And it gets things done." +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove!" said Spence. This was one of Desire's "windows with a view." +He was always stumbling upon them. But he knew she was shy of comment. +"We'll tell Aunt Caroline that," he murmured hopefully. "It may +distract her mind." ... +</P> + +<P> +That day they found and followed the trail to the shack of Hawk-Eye +Charlie. It proved to be neither long nor arduous. The professor +managed it with ease. But he would have been quite unable to manage the +hawk-eyed one without the expert aid of his secretary. To his +unaccustomed mind their quarry was almost witless and exceedingly +dirty. But Desire knew her Indian. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't what he is, but what he knows," she explained. "And he has a +retiring nature." +</P> + +<P> +So very retiring was it that only fair words, aided by tactful displays +of tea and tobacco, could penetrate its reservations. Desire was quite +unhurried. But presently she began to extract bits of carefully hidden +knowledge. It had to be slow work, for, witless as he of the hawk-eye +seemed, he was well aware of the value (in tobacco) of a wise +conservation. He who babbles all he knows upon first asking is a fool. +But he who withholds beyond patience is a fool also. Was it not so? +Desire agreed that a middle course is undoubtedly the path of wisdom. +She added, carelessly, that the white-man-who-wished-stories was in no +hurry. Neither had he come seeking much for little. Payment would be +made strictly on account of value received. The tea was good. And the +tobacco exceptionally strong, as anyone could tell from a distance. Why +then should the hawk-eyed one delay his own felicity? +</P> + +<P> +This hastened matters considerably and the secretary's note-book was +soon busy. Spence felt his oldtime keenness revive. And Desire was +happy for was not this her work at last? It was a profitable day. +Should anyone care to know its results, and the results of others like +it, they may look up chapter six, section two, of Spence's Primitive +Psychology, unabridged edition. Here they will find that the fables of +Hawk-Eye Charlie, properly classified and commented upon, have added +considerably to our knowledge of a fascinating subject. But far be it +from us to steal the professor's thunder. We are not writing a book +upon primitive psychology. We are interested only in the sigh of +pleasurable satisfaction with which the professor's secretary closed +her fat note-book and called it a day. +</P> + +<P> +From that point our interest leads us back to camp along the trail +through the warm June woods with the late sunlight hanging like golden +gauze behind the fretted screens of green. We are interested in sunsets +and in basket suppers eaten in the dim coolness of a miniature canyon +through which rushed and tumbled an icy stream from, the snow peaks far +above. We are interested in a breathless race with a chattering +squirrel during which Desire's hair came down—a bit of glorious autumn +in the deep green wood—and the tying of it up again (a lengthy +process) by the professor with cleverly plaited stems of tender +bracken. All these trifles interest us because, to those two who knew +them, they remained fresh and living memories when the note-book and +its contents were buried in the dust of yesterday. +</P> + +<P> +It was twilight when they came out of the wood. The sun had gone and +taken its golden trappings with it. A clear, still light was everywhere +and, in the brilliant green of the far sky, a pale star shone. They +watched it brighten as the green grew dark. A wonderful purple blueness +spread upon the distant hills. +</P> + +<P> +Desire sighed happily. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the end of the first day of real work," she said. "The end and +the beginning." +</P> + +<P> +Her companion, usually like wax to her moods, made no answer. He did +not seem to hear. His gaze seemed drowned in that wonderful blue. +Desire, who had been unaccountably content, felt suddenly lonely and +disturbed. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" she asked. Her voice had fallen from its glad note. She +put out her hand, touching his coat sleeve timidly. It was the first +time she had ever touched him save in service. But if her touch brought +a thrill there was no> sign of it. Her voice dropped still lower, "What +are you thinking of?" she almost whispered. +</P> + +<P> +The professor did not answer. Instead he turned to her with a sad +smile. (Very well done, too!) +</P> + +<P> +Desire dropped her hand with a sharp exclamation. "Oh," she said, "I +forgot! You were thinking—" +</P> + +<P> +The professor's smile smote her. +</P> + +<P> +"Her eyes were blue like that!" he said. +</P> + +<P> +Desire tripped over a fallen branch. And, when she recovered herself, +"Purple, do you mean?" she asked. "I have always thought purple eyes +were a myth." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you are making fun," said the professor after a reproachful pause. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you mean—making fun?" +</P> + +<P> +"'I never saw a purple cow,'" quoted he patiently. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I wasn't!" cried Desire in distress. +</P> + +<P> +Spence begged her pardon. But he did it abstractedly. His eyes were +still upon the sky. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll fall over that root," prophesied she grimly. "Do look where you +are going!" +</P> + +<P> +The professor returned to earth with difficulty. "Sorry!" he murmured. +"I doubt if I should allow these moods to bother you. But you told me +it might do me good to talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Not all the time!" said Desire a trifle tartly. +</P> + +<P> +He looked surprised. "But—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm so hungry!" said Desire. "Do let's hurry." +</P> + +<P> +She hastened ahead down the slope towards the camp. The tents lay in +the shadow now but, as they neared them, a flickering light shot up as +if in welcome. Desire paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Someone lighting a fire!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Who can it be?" +</P> + +<P> +Against the glow of the new-lit blaze a tall figure lifted itself and a +clear whistle cut the silence of the Bay. +</P> + +<P> +Spence's graceful melancholy dropped from him like a forgotten cloak. +</P> + +<P> +"Bones!" he gasped in an agitated whisper. "Oh, my prophetic soul, my +doctor!" +</P> + +<P> +Another figure rose against the glow—a wider figure who called shrilly +through a cupped hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Ben—is!" +</P> + +<P> +"My Aunt!" said the professor. +</P> + +<P> +He sat down suddenly behind a boulder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<P> +To understand Aunt Caroline's arrival at Friendly Bay we should have to +understand Aunt Caroline, and that, as Euclid says, is absurd. +Therefore we shall have to take the arrival for granted. The only light +which she herself ever shed upon the matter was a statement that she +"had a feeling." And feelings, to Aunt Caroline, were the only reliable +things in a strictly unreliable world. To follow a feeling across a +continent was a trifle to a determined character such as hers. To +insist upon Dr. Rogers following it, too, was a matter of course. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall need an escort," said Aunt Caroline to that astonished +physician, "and you will do very nicely. If Benis is off his head, as +you suggest, it is my plain duty to look into the matter and your plain +duty, as his medical adviser, to accompany me. I am a woman who demands +little from her fellow creatures, knowing perfectly well that she won't +get it, but I naturally refuse to undertake the undivided +responsibility of a deranged nephew galavanting, by your own orders, +Doctor, at the ends of the earth." +</P> + +<P> +"I did not say he was deranged," began the doctor helplessly, "and you +said you didn't believe me anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't quote me to excuse yourself." Aunt Caroline sailed serenely on. +"At least preserve the courage of your convictions. There is certainly +something the matter with Benis. He has answered none of my letters. He +has completely ignored my lettergrams. To my telegram of Thursday +telling him that I had been compelled to discharge my third cook since +Mabel for wiping dishes on a hand towel, he replied only by silence. +And the telegraph people say that the message was never delivered owing +to lack of address. Easy as I am to satisfy, things like this cannot be +allowed to continue. My nephew must be found." +</P> + +<P> +"But we don't know where to look for him," objected her victim weakly. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline easily rose superior to this. +</P> + +<P> +"We have a map, I hope? And Vancouver, heathenish name! must be marked +on it somewhere. If not, the railroad people can tell us." +</P> + +<P> +"But he is not in Vancouver." +</P> + +<P> +"There—or thereabouts. When we get there we can ask the policeman, +or," with a grim twinkle, "we can enquire at the asylums. You forget +that my nephew is a celebrated man even if he is a fool." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor gave in. He hadn't had a chance from the beginning, for Aunt +Caroline could answer objections far faster than he could make them. +They arrived at the terminus just four days after the expeditionary +party had left for Friendly Bay. +</P> + +<P> +If Aunt Caroline were surprised at finding more than one policeman in +Vancouver, she did not admit it. Neither did the general atmosphere of +ignorance as to Benis daunt her in the least. She adhered firmly to her +campaign of question asking and found it fully justified when inquiry +at the post-office revealed that all letters for Professor Benis H. +Spence were to be delivered to the care of the Union Steamship Company. +From the Union Steamship Company to the professor's place of refuge was +an easy step. But Dr. Rogers, to whom this last inquiry had been +intrusted, returned to the hotel with a careful jauntiness of manner +which ill accorded with a disturbed mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we've found him," he announced cheerfully. "And now, if we are +wise, I think we'll leave him alone. He is camping up the coast at a +place called Friendly Bay—no hotels, no accommodation for ladies—he +is evidently perfectly well and attending to business. You know he came +out here partly to get material for his book? Well, that's what he's +doing. Must be, because there are only Indians up there." +</P> + +<P> +"Indians? What do you mean—Indians? Wild ones?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fairly wild." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline snorted. She is one of the few ladies left who possess +this Victorian, accomplishment. "And you advise my leaving my sister's +child in his present precarious state of mind alone among fairly wild +Indians?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—er—that's just it, you see. He isn't alone—not exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean—not exactly?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that his—er—secretary is with him. He has to have a secretary +on account of never being sure whether receive is 'ie' or 'ei.' They +are quite all right, though. The captain of the boat says so. And +naturally on a trip of that kind, research you know, a man doesn't like +to be interrupted." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline arose. "When does the next boat leave?" She asked calmly. +</P> + +<P> +"But—dash it all! We're not invited. We can't butt in. I—I won't go." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline, admirable woman, knew when she was defeated. She had a +formula for it, a formula which seldom failed to turn defeat into +victory. When all else failed, Aunt Caroline collapsed. She collapsed +now. She had borne a great deal, she had not complained, but to be told +that her presence would be a "butting in" upon the only living child of +her only dead sister was more than even her fortitude could endure! No, +she wouldn't take a glass of water, water would choke her. No, she +wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't lower her voice. What did hotel +people matter to her? What did anything matter? She had come to the +end. Accustomed to ingratitude as she was, hardened to injustice and +desertion, there were still limits— +</P> + +<P> +There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that she +had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged passage at once, +for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a few days +earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence. +</P> + +<P> +It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils of +tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels—but Aunt Caroline, impervious +to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," she said to her now subdued escort, "that we shall have to +pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to take +him back east with us." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with his +throat. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the damp air," said Aunt Caroline. "Have a troche. If Benis +really needs a secretary I think I can arrange to get one for him. Do +you remember Mary Davis? Her mother was an Ashton—a very good family. +But unfortunate. The girls have had to look out for themselves rather. +Mary took a course. She could be a secretary, I'm sure. Benis could +always correct things afterward. And she is not too young. Just about +the right age, I should think. They used to know each other. But you +know what Benis is. He simply doesn't—your cold is quite distressing, +Doctor. Do take a troche." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor took one. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course Benis may object to a lady secretary—" +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove," said Rogers as if struck with a brilliant idea. "Perhaps his +secretary is a lady!" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you mean—a lady! Don't be absurd, Doctor. You said yourself +there was no proper hotel. Benis is discreet. I'll say that for him." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's brilliance deserted him. He twiddled his thumbs. But +although Aunt Caroline's repudiation of his suggestion had been +unhesitating there was a gleam of new uneasiness in her eye. She said +no more. It was indeed quite half an hour before she remarked +explosively. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless it were an Indian!" +</P> + +<P> +Her companion turned from the scenery in pained surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"An Indian what?" he asked blankly. +</P> + +<P> +"An Indian secretary—a female one." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense. Indians aren't secretaries." +</P> + +<P> +But Aunt Caroline had "had a feeling." "It was your-self who suggested +that she might be a girl," she declared stubbornly, "and if she is a +girl, she must be an Indian. Indians are different—look at Pullman +porters." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Even I don't mind a Pullman porter," finished Aunt Caroline grandly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's very nice," the doctor struggled to adjust him-self. "But +Pullman porters are not Indians, and even if they were I can't quite +see how it affects Benis and his lady secretary." +</P> + +<P> +"The principle," said Aunt Caroline, "is the same." +</P> + +<P> +Rogers wondered if his brain were going. At any rate he felt that he +needed a smoke. Aunt Caroline did not like smoke, so comparative +privacy was assured. Also, a good smoke might show him a way out of his +difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +It didn't. At the end of the second cigar the cold fact, imparted by +the clerk in the steamship office, that Professor Spence and wife had +preceded them upon this very boat, was still a cold fact and nothing +more. The long letter from the bridegroom which would have made things +plain had passed him on his trip across the continent and was even now +lying, with other unopened mail, in his Bainbridge office. +</P> + +<P> +If Benis were married, then the bride could be no other than the +nurse-secretary he had written about in that one inconsequent letter to +which he, Rogers, had replied with unmistakable warning. But the thing +seemed scarcely credible. If it were a fact, then it might very easily +be a tragedy also. Marriage in such haste and under such circumstances +could scarcely be other than a mistake, and considering the quality of +Benis Spence, a most serious one. +</P> + +<P> +John Rogers was very fond of his eccentric friend and the threatened +disaster loomed almost personal. He felt himself to blame too, for the +advice which had thrown Spence directly from the frying-pan of Aunt +Caroline into the fire of a sterner fate. Add to all this a keen +feeling of unwarranted intrusion and we have some idea of the state of +mind with which Dr. John Rogers saw the white tents of the campers as +the steamer put in at Friendly Bay. +</P> + +<P> +"There are two tents," said Aunt Caroline lowering her lorgnette. "I +shall be quite comfortable." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor did not smile. His sense of humor was suffering from +temporary exhaustion and his strongest consciousness was a feeling of +relief that neither Benis nor anyone else appeared to notice their +arrival. Even the unique spectacle of a middle-aged lady in +elastic-sided boots proceeding on tiptoe, and with all the tactics of a +scouting party, toward the evidently deserted tents provoked no +demonstration from anyone. +</P> + +<P> +"They're not here!" called the scouting party in a carrying whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"Obviously not." The doctor wiped his heated fore-head. "Probably +they've gone for the night. Then you'll have to marry me to save my +reputation." +</P> + +<P> +"Jokes upon serious subjects are in very bad taste, young man," said +Aunt Caroline. But her rebuke was half-hearted. She looked uneasy. +"John," she added with sudden suspicion, "you don't suppose they could +have known we were coming?" +</P> + +<P> +"How could they possibly?" +</P> + +<P> +"If she is an Indian, they might. I've heard of such things. I—oh, +John! Look!" +</P> + +<P> +"Snake?" asked John callously. Nevertheless he followed Aunt Caroline's +horrified gaze and saw, with a thrill of more normal interest, a pair +of dainty moccasins whose beaded toes protruded from the flap of one of +the tents. +</P> + +<P> +"Indian!" gasped Aunt Caroline. "Oh John!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it!" Our much tried physician spoke with salutary +shortness. "They may be Indian-made but that's all. I'll eat my hat if +it's an Indian who has worn them. Did you ever see an Indian with a +foot like that?" +</P> + +<P> +Indignation enabled Aunt Caroline to disclaim acquaintance with any +Indian feet whatever. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a white girl's moccasin," he assured her. "Lots of girls wear +them in camp. Or," hastily, "it may be a curiosity. Benis may be making +a collection." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline snorted. Her gaze was fixed with almost piteous intensity +upon the tent. +</P> + +<P> +"D'you think I might go in?" she faltered. +</P> + +<P> +"You might" said John carefully. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"How dreadful to have traditions!" she murmured. "There's no real +reason why I shouldn't go in. And," with grim honesty, "if you weren't +here watching I believe I'd do it. Anyway we may have to, if they don't +come soon. I can't sit on this grass. I'm sure it's damp." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get you a chair from Benis's tent," offered John unkindly. "There +are no traditions to forbid that, are there?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. And, John—you might look around a little? Just to make sure." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor nodded. He had every intention of looking around. He felt, +in fact, entitled to any knowledge which his closest observation might +bring him. But the tent was almost empty. That at least proved that the +tent belonged to Spence. He was a man with an actual talent for +bareness and spareness in his sleeping quarters. Even his room at +school had possessed that man-made neatness which one associates with +sailor's cabins and the cells of monks. The camp-bed was trimly made, a +dressing-gown lay across a canvas chair, a shaving mug hung from the +centre pole—there was not so much as a hairpin anywhere. +</P> + +<P> +John crossed thoughtfully to the folding stand which stood with its +portable reading lamp beside the bed. There was one unusual thing +there, a photograph. Benis, as his friend knew, was an expert amateur +photographer—but he never perched his photographs upon stands. This +one must be an exception, and exceptions are illuminating. +</P> + +<P> +It was still quite light inside the tent and the doctor could see the +picture clearly. It was an extraordinarily good one, quite in the +professor's happiest style. Composition, lighting, timing, all were +perfect. But it is doubtful if John Rogers noticed any of these +excellencies. He was absorbed at once and utterly in the personality of +the person photographed. This was a girl, bending over a still pool. +The pose was one of perfectly arrested grace and the face which was +lifted, as if at the approach of someone, looked directly out of the +picture and into Roger's eyes. It was the most living picture he had +ever seen. The lips were parted as if for speech, there was a smile +behind the widely opened eyes. And both face and form were beautiful. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor straightened up with a sharply drawn breath. It seemed that +something had happened. For one flashing instant some inner knowledge +had linked him with his own unlived experience. It was gone as soon as +it came. He did not even realize it, save as a sense of strangeness. +Yet, as a chemist lifts a vial and drops the one drop which changes all +within his crucible, so some magic philtre tinged John Roger's cup of +life in that one stolen look. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you found anything?" Aunt Caroline's voice came impatiently. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing." +</P> + +<P> +But to himself he added "everything" for indeed the mystery of Benis +seemed a mystery no longer. The photograph made everything clear. And +yet not so clear, either. The doctor looked around at the ship-shape +bachelorness of the tent, at the neat pile of newly typed manuscript +upon the bed, and felt bewildered. Even the eccentricity of Benis, in +its most extravagant mode, seemed inadequate as a covering explanation. +</P> + +<P> +Giving himself a mental shake, the intruder picked up the largest chair +and rejoined Aunt Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Benis right enough," he announced. "He is probably off +interviewing Indians. I had better light a fire. It may break the news." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<P> +We left the professor somewhat abruptly in the midst of a cryptic +ejaculation of "My Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"How can it be your Aunt?" asked Desire reasonably. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know how. But, owing to some mysterious combination of the +forces of nature, it is my Aunt. No one else could wear that hat." +</P> + +<P> +"Then hadn't we better go to meet her? You can't sit here all night." +</P> + +<P> +"I know I can't. It's too near. We didn't see her soon enough!" +</P> + +<P> +"Cowardly custard!" said Desire, stamping her foot. +</P> + +<P> +The professor's mild eyes blinked at her in surprise. "Good!" he said +with satisfaction. "That is the first remark suitable to your extreme +youth that I've ever heard you make. But the sentiment it implies is +all wrong. Physical courage, as such, is mere waste when opposed to my +Aunt. What is wanted is technique. Technique requires thought. Thought +requires leisure. That is why I am sitting here behind a boulder—what +is she doing now?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire investigated. +</P> + +<P> +"She is walking up and down." +</P> + +<P> +"A bad sign. It doesn't leave us much time. The most difficult point is +the introduction. Now, in an introduction, what counts for most? +Ancestors, of course. My dear, have you any ancestors?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not one." +</P> + +<P> +"I was afraid of that. In fact I had intended to provide a few. But I +never dreamed they would be needed so soon. What is she doing now?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has stopped walking. She has turned. She is coming this way." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we must take our chance." The professor rose briskly. "Never +allow the enemy to attack. Come on. But keep behind me while I draw her +fire." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline advanced in full formation. +</P> + +<P> +"Benis. Ben—nis!" she called piercingly. "He can't be very far away," +she declared over her shoulder. "I have a feeling—Benis!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who calls so loud?" quoted the professor innocently, appearing with +startling suddenness from behind the boulder. "Why!" in amazed +recognition. "It is Aunt Caroline!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is." Aunt Caroline corroborated grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a surprise," exclaimed the professor. As we have noted before, +he liked to be truthful when possible. "How'd'do, Aunt! However did you +get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"How I came," replied Aunt Caroline, "is not material. The fact that I +am here is sufficient." +</P> + +<P> +"Quite," said Benis. "But," he added in a puzzled tone, "you are not +alone. Surely, my dear Aunt, I see——" +</P> + +<P> +"You see Dr. Rogers who has kindly accompanied me." +</P> + +<P> +"John Rogers here? With you?" In rising amazement. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a detail." Aunt Caroline's voice was somewhat tart. "I could +scarcely travel unaccompanied." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely not. But really—was there no lady friend—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be absurd, Benis!" But she was obscurely conscious of a check. +Against the disturbed surprise of her nephew's attitude her sharpened +weapons had already turned an edge. Only one person can talk at a time, +and, to her intense indignation, she found herself displaced as the +attacking party. Also the behavior of her auxiliary force was +distinctly apologetic. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Benis!" said Rogers, coming up late and reluctant. "Sorry to +have dropped in on you like this. But your Aunt thought—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say a word, my dear fellow! No apology is necessary. I am quite +sure she did. But it might be a good idea for you to do a little +thinking yourself occasionally. Aunt is so rash. How were you to know +that you would find us at home? Rather a risk, what? Luckily, Aunt," +turning to that speechless relative with reassurance, "it is quite all +right. My wife will be delighted—Desire, my dear, permit me—Aunt, you +will be glad, I'm sure—this is Desire. Desire, this is your new Aunt." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you do?" said Desire. "I have never had an Aunt before." +</P> + +<P> +It was the one thing which she should have said. Had she known Aunt +Caroline for years she could not have done better. But, unfortunately, +that admirable lady did not hear it. She had heard nothing since the +shattering blow of the word "wife." +</P> + +<P> +"John," she said hoarsely. "Take me away. Take me away at once!" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said John, "Only it's frightfully damp in the woods. And +there may be bears." +</P> + +<P> +"Bears or not. I can't stay here." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but you must," Desire came forward with innocent hospitality. "You +can sleep on my cot and I'll curl up in a blanket. I am quite used to +sleeping out." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline closed her eyes. It was true then. Benis Spence had +married a squaw! Blindly she groped for the supporting hand of the +doctor. "John," she moaned, "did you hear that? Sleeping out—oh how +could he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very easily, I should think." Under the slight handicap of assisting +the drooping lady to her chair, John Rogers looked back at Desire, +standing now within the radius of the camp fire's light—and once again +he felt the strangeness as of some half-glimpsed prophecy. "She is +wonderful," he added. "Look!" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline looked, shuddered, and collapsed again upon a whispered +"Indian!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense!" Rogers almost shook her. And yet, considering the +suggestive force of the poor lady's preconceived ideas, the mistake was +not unpardonable. In those surroundings, against that flickering light, +standing, straight and silent in her short skirt and moccasins, her +leaf-brown hair tied with bracken and turned to midnight black by the +shadows, her grey eyes mysterious under their dark lashes, and her lips +unsmiling, Desire might well have been some beauty of that vanishing +race. A princess, perhaps, waiting with grave courtesy for the welcome +due her from her husband's people. +</P> + +<P> +"And not a bit ashamed of it," murmured Aunt Caroline in what she +fondly hoped was a whisper. "Utterly callous! Benis," in a wavering +voice, "I had a feeling—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" interrupted Benis, producing a notebook and pencil. "Let us be +exact, Aunt. Just when did you notice the feeling first?" +</P> + +<P> +"What difference does that make?" Aunt Caroline's voice was perceptibly +stronger. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," eagerly, "don't you see? If you had the feeling at the time +(allowing for difference by the sun) it is a case of actual +clairvoyance. If the feeling was experienced previous to the fact then +it is a case of premonition only, and, if after, the whole thing can be +explained as mere telepathy." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Aunt Caroline. But she said it thoughtfully. Her voice was +normal. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful thing—this psychic sense," went on her nephew. "Fancy +you're knowing all about it even before you got my letter!" +</P> + +<P> +"Did you send a letter?" asked Aunt Caroline after a pause. "Why Aunt! +Of course. Two of them. Before and after. But I might have known you +would hardly need them. If you had only arrived a few days sooner, you +might have been present at the ceremony." +</P> + +<P> +"Ceremony? There was a ceremony?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"The Church service?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"In a church?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly a church. You see it was rather late in the evening. The +care-taker had gone to bed. In fact we had to get the Rector out of +his." +</P> + +<P> +"Bern's!" +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't mind. Said he'd sleep all the better for it. And he wore his +gown—over his pyjamas—very effective." +</P> + +<P> +"Had the man no conscientious scruples?" sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"Scruples—against pyjamas?" +</P> + +<P> +"Against mixed marriages." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I didn't ask him. We weren't discussing the ethics of +mixed marriage." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't pretend to misunderstand me, Benis. For a man who has married an +Indian, your levity is disgraceful." +</P> + +<P> +"How ridiculous, Aunt! If you will listen to an explanation—" +</P> + +<P> +"I need no explanation," Aunt Caroline, once more mistress of herself +rose majestically. "I hope I know an Indian when I see one. I am not +blind, I believe. But as there seems to be no question as to the +marriage, I have nothing further to say. Another woman in my place +might feel justified in voicing a just resentment, but I have made it a +rule to expect nothing from any relative, especially if that relative +be, even partially, a Spence. When my poor, dear sister married your +father I told her what she was doing. And she lived to say, 'Caroline, +you were right!' That was my only reward. More I have never asked. All +that I have ever required of my sister's child has been ordinary +docility and reliance upon my superior sense and judgment. Now when I +find that, in a matter so serious as marriage, neither my wishes nor my +judgment have been considered, I am not surprised. I may be shocked, +outraged, overwhelmed, but I am not surprised." +</P> + +<P> +"Bravo!" said Benis involuntarily. He couldn't help feeling that Aunt +Caroline was really going strong. "What I mean to say," he added, "is +that you are quite right Aunt, except in these particulars, in which +you are entirely wrong. But before we go further, what about a little +sustenance. Aren't you horribly hungry?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure they are both starved," said Desire. "And I hate to remind +you that you ate the last sandwich. Will you make Aunt Caroline +comfortable while I cut some more? Perhaps Dr. John will help +me—although we haven't shaken hands yet." +</P> + +<P> +She held out her hands to the uneasy doctor with a charming gesture of +understanding. "Did you expect to see a squaw, too', Doctor?" +</P> + +<P> +"I expected to see, just you." His response was a little too eager. "I +had seen you before—by a pool, bending over—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the photograph? Benis is terribly proud of it," +</P> + +<P> +"Best I've ever done," confirmed the professor. "Did you notice the +curious light effect on that silver birch at the left?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wonderful," said Rogers, but he wasn't thinking of the light effect on +the silver birch. As he followed Desire to the tent his orderly mind +was in a tumult. "He doesn't know how wonderful she is!" he thought. +"And she doesn't care whether he does or not. And that explains—" But +he saw in a moment that it didn't explain anything. It only made the +mystery deeper. +</P> + +<P> +"And now, Benis, that we are alone—" began Aunt Caroline.... +</P> + +<P> +We may safely leave out several pages here. If you realize Aunt +Caroline at all, you will see that at least so much self-expression is +necessary before anyone else can expect a chance. Time enough to pick +up the thread again when the inevitable has happened and her exhausted +vocabulary is replaced by tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I care at all for my own feelings," wept Aunt Caroline. +"There are others to think of. What will Bainbridge say?" +</P> + +<P> +Her nephew roused himself. From long experience he knew that the worst +was over. +</P> + +<P> +"Bainbridge, my dear Aunt," he said, "will say exactly what you tell it +to say. It was because we realized this that we decided to leave the +whole matter in your hands—all the announcing and things. But of +course," with resignation, "if we have taken too much for granted; if +you are not equal to it, we had better not come back to Bainbridge at +all." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," cried Aunt Caroline with fresh tears. "My poor boy! The very +idea! To think that I should live to hear you say it! How gladly I +would have saved you from this had I known in time." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure you would, Aunt. But the gladness would have been all yours. +I did not want to be saved, you see, and people who are saved against +their will are so frightfully ungrateful. Wouldn't you like a dry +hanky? Just wait till you've had a couple of dozen sandwiches. You'll +feel quite differently. Think what a relief it will be to have me off +your mind. You can relax now, and rest. You've been overworking for +years. Consider how peaceful it will be not to have to ask any more +silly girls to visit. You know you hated it, really, and only did it +for my sake." +</P> + +<P> +"I did everything for your sake," moaned Aunt Caroline brokenly. "And +they were silly. But I hoped you would not notice it. And you will +never know what I went through trying to get them down for breakfast at +nine." +</P> + +<P> +"I can imagine it," with ready sympathy. "They always yawned. And there +must have been many darker secrets which I never guessed. You kept them +from me. Do you remember that hole in Ada's stocking?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind. The fib wasn't nearly as big as the hole. But how could +you expect me to help noticing the general lightness and frivolity of +your visitors, shown up so plainly against the background of your own +character?" +</P> + +<P> +"Y-es. I didn't think of that" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I should never have married if I had not got away—from the +comparison, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"There was a danger, I suppose. But," with renewed grief, "Oh, Benis, +such a wedding! No cards, no cake—and in pyjamas—oh!" +</P> + +<P> +"Come now, Aunt, don't give way! And do you feel that it is quite right +to criticise the clergy? I always fancy that it is the first step +toward free-thinking. And you couldn't see much of them, you know, only +the legs. Besides, consider what a wedding with cards and cake would +have meant in Bainbridge at this time. No second maid, no proper cook! +We should have appeared at a disadvantage in the eyes of the whole +town. As it is, we can take our time, engage competent help, select a +favorable date and give a reception which will be the very last word in +elegance." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes! I could get—what am I talking about? Of course I shan't do +anything of the kind. How can you ask me to? Oh, Benis—a heathen!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it, Aunt. Church of England. But I can see what has +happened. You have been allowing old Bones to cloud your judgment. I +never knew a fellow so prone to jump to idiotic conclusions. No doubt +he heard that I had come in search of Indians and, without a single +inquiry, decided that I had married one." +</P> + +<P> +"It was hasty of him. I admit that," said Aunt Caroline wiping her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"But with your knowledge of my personal character you will understand +that my interest in, and admiration for, our aborigines in their darker +and wilder state—" +</P> + +<P> +"John said they were only fairly wild." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, even in a fairly wild state. Or indeed in a wholly tame one. My +interest at any time is purely scientific and would never lead me to +marry into their family circle. My wife's father, as a matter of fact, +is English. A professional man, retired, and living upon a +small—er—estate near Vancouver. Her mother, who died when Desire was +a child, was English also." +</P> + +<P> +"Who took care of the child?" +</P> + +<P> +"A Chinaman." The professor was listening to Desire's distant laugh and +answered absently with more truth than wisdom. +</P> + +<P> +"What!" The tone of horror brought him back. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you mean who brought her up? Her father, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"You said a Chinaman." +</P> + +<P> +"They had a Chinese cook." +</P> + +<P> +"Scandalous! Had the child no Aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor sighed. "Poor girl," he said. "One of the first things +she told me about herself was, 'I have no Aunt.'" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline polished her nose thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"That would account for a great deal," she admitted. "And her being +English on both sides is something. Now that you speak of it, I did +notice a slight accent. I never met an English person yet who could say +"a" properly. But she is young and may learn. In the meantime—" +</P> + +<P> +"The sandwiches are ready," called Desire from the tent. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<P> +"And do you mean to tell me that she really believes that lie?" +</P> + +<P> +Benis Spence had taken his medical adviser up the slope to the Indian +burying-ground. It was the one place within reasonable radius where +they were not likely to be interrupted by periodic appearances of Aunt +Caroline. Aunt Caroline never took liberties with burying-grounds. "A +graveyard is a graveyard," said Aunt Caroline, "and not a place for +casual conversation." There-fore, amid the graves and the crosses, the +friends felt fairly safe. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't she believe it?" countered Spence. "Don't you suppose I +can tell a lie properly?" +</P> + +<P> +"To be honest—I don't." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," somewhat gloomily, "this one seemed to go over all right. It +went much farther than I ever expected. It's far too up-and-coming. The +way it grows frightens me. At first there was nothing—just an +'experience.' A mild abstraction, buried in the past, a sentimental +'has-been' without form or substance. Then, without warning, the +experience acquired a name, and then a history and then, just when I +had begun to forget about it, hair suddenly popped up, yellow hair, +and, the day after, eyes—blue eyes, misty. The nose remains +indeterminate, but noses often do. Only yesterday I felt compelled to +add a mouth. Small and red, I made it—ugh! How I hate a small red +mouth. Oh, if it amuses you—all right!" +</P> + +<P> +"Laugh at it yourself, old man! It's all you can do. But what a +frightful list of blunders. If you had to tell a lie why didn't you +take Mark Twain's advice and tell a good one? The name, for +instance—why on earth did you choose 'Mary?' Even 'Marion' would have +been safer. Don't you know you can't turn a corner in Bainbridge or +anywhere else without stumbling over a Mary? There's a Mary in my +office at the present minute and—yes, by Jove, she has golden hair!" +</P> + +<P> +The professor looked stubborn. +</P> + +<P> +"My Mary's hair was not golden. It was yellow, plain yellow. I remember +I made a point of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, there's Mary Davis. You remember her?" +</P> + +<P> +"The one who visited Aunt Caroline?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Pretty girl. About your own age! 'Twas thought in Bainbridge that +her thoughts turned youward. Her hair was yellow then, and may be again +by now. And she had blue eyes, bright blue." +</P> + +<P> +"My Mary's were not bright blue. Hers were misty, like the hills." +</P> + +<P> +"Forget it, old man! You'll find you won't be able to insist on shades. +Any Mary with golden, yellow, tawny or tow-colored hair, and old blue, +grey blue, Alice blue or plain blue eyes will come under Mrs. Spence's +reflective observation. Your progress will be a regular charge of the +light brigade with Marys on all sides." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you're making yourself unpleasant," said the professor. "And, to +change the subject, why do you insist upon calling Desire 'Mrs. +Spence?' She calls you John." +</P> + +<P> +To his questioner's infinite amazement the doctor blushed. +</P> + +<P> +"She has told me I might," he admitted. "But it seemed so dashed +cheeky." +</P> + +<P> +"Why? You are at least ten years older than she. And a friend of the +family." +</P> + +<P> +"Ten years is nothing," said the doctor. "And I want to be her friend, +not a friend of the family. Besides, she, herself, is not at all like +the girls of twenty whom one usually meets." +</P> + +<P> +"She is simpler, perhaps." +</P> + +<P> +"In manner, but not in character. There is a distance, a poise, +a—surely you feel what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Imagination, John. It is you who create the distance by clinging to +formality." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. You're sure you don't object?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Bones, why should I possibly?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor looked sulky. Benis smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, John," he said after a reflective pause. "Desire is as +direct as a child. If she calls you by your first name you can depend +that she feels no embarrassment about it. So why should you? And +there's another thing. She may not find everything quite easy in +Bainbridge. She will need your frank and unembarrassed friendship—as +well as mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Yours?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. You understand the situation, don't you? At least as far as +understanding is necessary. And you are the only one who will +understand. So you will be of more use to her than anyone else, except +me. I am going to do my best to make her happy. It's my job. I am not +turning it over to you. But there may be times when I shall fail. There +may be times when I shan't know that she isn't happy—a lack of +perspective or something. If ever there comes a time like that and you +know of it, don't spare me. I have taken the responsibility of her +youth upon my shoulders and I am not going to shirk. It will be her +happiness first—at all costs." +</P> + +<P> +"People aren't usually made happy at all costs," said the doctor wisely. +</P> + +<P> +"They may be, if they do not know the price." +</P> + +<P> +"I see." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll know where I stand a bit better when you've read a letter +you'll find waiting for you at home. But here is the whole point of the +matter—I had to get Desire away from that devilish old parent of hers. +And marriage was the only effective way. But Desire did not want +marriage. She has never told me just why but I have seen and heard +enough to know that her horror of the idea is deep seated, a spiritual +nausea, an abnormal twist which may never straighten. I say 'may,' +because there is a good chance the other way. All one can do is to +wait. And in the meantime I want her to find life pleasant. She once +told me that she was a window-gazer. I want to open all the doors." +</P> + +<P> +"Except the one door that; matters," said Rogers gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! You don't believe that. Life has many things to give besides +the love of man and woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Has it? You'll know better some day—even a cold-blooded fish like +you." +</P> + +<P> +"Fish?" said Spence sorrowfully. "And from mine own familiar friend? +Fish!" +</P> + +<P> +"What will you do," exploded the doctor, "when she wakes up and finds +how you have cheated her? When she realizes, too late, that she has +sold her birthright?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor rose slowly and dusted the dry grass from the knees of +his knickers. "Tut, tut!" he said, "the subject excites you. Let us +talk about me for a change. Observe me carefully, John, and tell me +what you think of me. Only not in marine language. Am I an Apollo? Or a +Greek god? Or even a movie star of the third magnitude? Or am I, not to +put too fine a point on it, as homely as a hedge fence?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hang it, Benis, stop your fooling." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not fooling. I want you to understand that I have consulted my +mirror. And I know just how likely I am to appeal to the imagination of +a young girl. I take my chance, nevertheless. Your question, divested +of oratory, means what shall I do if Desire finds her mate and that +mate is not myself? My answer, also divested of oratory, is that I do +not keep what does not belong to me. Is that plain?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor nodded. "Plain enough," he said. "But how will you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I might guess. You see," resuming his seat and his ordinary +manner at the same time, "Desire is my secretary. I make a point of +studying the psychology of those who work with me. And, aside from the +slight abnormality which I have mentioned, Desire is very true to type, +her own type—a very womanly one. And a woman in love is hard to +mistake. But," cheerfully, "she is only a child yet in matters of +loving. And she may never grow up." +</P> + +<P> +"You seem quite happy about it." +</P> + +<P> +"'Call no man happy till he is dead.' And yet—I am happy. If tears +must come, why anticipate them?" +</P> + +<P> +"There speaks the hopeless optimist," said Rogers, laughing. "But +because I called you a fish, I'll give you a bit of valuable advice. I +can't see you scrap quite all your chances. Kill Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't. Besides, why should I? Desire likes to hear about her. Or +says she does. It provides her with an interest. And a little perfectly +human jealousy is very stimulating." +</P> + +<P> +"You think she is jealous?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, not in the way you mean. But every woman likes to be first, even +with her friends. And if she can't be first, she is healthily curious +about the woman who is. Desire would miss Mary very much." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been a fool, Benis." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall try not to be a bigger one." +</P> + +<P> +The friends looked polite daggers at each other. And suddenly smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"To be continued in our next," said Rogers. "Is it finally settled that +we turn homeward tomorrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. We did our last extracting from the hawk-eyed one yesterday. He +has been a real find, John. Do you know what he calls Aunt Caroline? +'The-old-woman-who-sniffs-the-air.' Desire did not translate. Isn't she +rather a wonder, John? Did you ever see anything like the way she +manages Aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +But the doctor's eyes were on the distant tents. +</P> + +<P> +"Someone in blue is waving to us," he said. "It must be your Aunt." +</P> + +<P> +Spence lazily raised his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"No. That's Desire. She is wearing blue." +</P> + +<P> +"She was wearing pink this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But she won't be wearing it this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" curiously. +</P> + +<P> +The professor yawned. "By psychology! I happened to mention that pink +was Mary's favorite color." +</P> + +<P> +Rogers opened his lips. He was plainly struggling with himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't trouble," said Spence serenely. "I know what you feel it your +duty to say. But it isn't really your duty. And there would be no use +in saying it, anyway. I take my chances!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<P> +The long Transcontinental puffed steadily up toward the white-capped +peaks of a continent. They were a day out from Vancouver—a day during +which Desire had sat upon the observation platform, drugged with wonder +and beauty. She had known mountains all her life. They were dear and +familiar, and the sound of rushing water was in her blood. But these +heights and depths, these incredible valleys, these ever-climbing, +piling hills pushing brown shoulders through their million pines, the +dizzy, twisting track and the constant marvel of the man-made train +which braved it, held her spellbound and almost speechless. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately, Aunt Caroline was indisposed and had remained all day in +the privacy of their reserved compartment. Only one such reservation +had been available and the men of the party had been compelled to +content themselves with upper berths in the next car. +</P> + +<P> +To Desire, who presented that happy combination, a good traveller still +uncloyed by travel, every deft arrangement of the comfortable train +provided matter for curiosity and interest—the little ladders for the +upstair berths, the tiny reading-lamps, the paper bags for one's new +hat, the queer little soaps and drinking cups in sealed oil paper—all +these brought their separate thrill. And then there was the +inexhaustible interest of the travellers themselves. When night had +fallen and the great Outside withdrew itself, she turned with eager +eyes to the shifting world around her, a human world even more +absorbing than the panorama of the hills. +</P> + +<P> +What was there, for instance, about that handsome old lady, from Golden +(fascinating name!) which permitted her to act as if the whole train +were her private suite and all the porters servants of her person? She +was the most autocratic old lady Desire had ever seen and far younger +and more alert than the tired-looking daughter who accompanied her. +They were going to New York. They went to New York every year. Desire +wondered why. +</P> + +<P> +She wondered, too, about the rancher's wife going home to Scotland for +the first time since her marriage. What did it feel like to be going +home—to a real home with a mother and brothers and sisters? What did +it feel like to be taking two dark-haired, bright-eyed babies, as like +as twins and with only a year between them, for the fond approval of +grand-parents across the seas? ... The rancher's wife looked as if +she enjoyed it. But women will pretend anything. +</P> + +<P> +Desire's eyes shifted to the inevitable honeymoon couple who were going +to Winnipeg to visit "his" people. The bride was almost painfully +smart, but she was pretty and "he" adored her. Her mouth was small and +red. It fascinated Desire. She could not keep her eyes off it. It was +like—well, it was the kind of mouth men seemed to admire. She tried +honestly to admire it her-self, but the more she tried the less +admirable she found it. She wondered if Benis— +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think of the bride?" she murmured, under cover of a +magazine. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" said Benis, in an unnecessarily loud voice, laying down his +paper. +</P> + +<P> +"S-ssh! Over there. The girl in green." +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty little thing," said Benis. His tone lacked conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Lovely eyes, don't you think? Nice hair and such a darling nose. But +her mouth—isn't her mouth rather small?" +</P> + +<P> +"Regular 'prunes and prisms,'" agreed Benis. +</P> + +<P> +"It is very red, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Lipstick, probably." +</P> + +<P> +"But I thought you liked small, red mouths." +</P> + +<P> +"Hate 'em," said Benis, who had a shockingly bad memory. +</P> + +<P> +Desire went to bed thoughtful. "I suppose," she thought as she lay +listening to the swinging train, "men like certain things because they +belong to certain people and not because they like them really at all." +This was not very lucid but it seemed to satisfy Desire for she stopped +thinking and went to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Morning found them on the top of the world. Desire was up and out long +before the mists had lifted. She watched the wonder of their going, she +saw the coming of the sun. She drew in, with great deep breaths, the +high, sweet air. The cream of her skin glowed softly with the tang of +it. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite lovely!" said a voice behind her, and Desire turned to find her +solitude shared by the young old lady from Golden. +</P> + +<P> +"Your complexion, I mean, my dear," said she, sitting down comfortably +in the folds of a fur coat. "I never use adjectives about the +mountains. It would seem impertinent. How old are you?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire gave her age smiling. "Charming age," nodded the old lady. +"Youth is a wonderful thing. See that you keep it." +</P> + +<P> +"Like you?" said Desire, her smile brightening. +</P> + +<P> +The old lady looked pleased. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so," she said. "Never allow yourself to believe that silly folly +about a woman being as old as she looks. As if a mirror had more mind +than the person looking in it! I remember very well waking up on the +morning of my thirtieth birthday and thinking, 'I am thirty. I am +growing old.' But, thank heaven, I had a mind. I soon put a stop to +that. 'Not a day older will I grow!' I said. And I never have. What's a +mind for, if not to make use of?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked a little awed at an audacity which defied time. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't misunderstand me," went on her companion. "I don't mean that I +tried to look young. I was young. I am young still." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Desire. "I see what you mean. But—wasn't it lonely?" +</P> + +<P> +The old lady patted her arm with an approving hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Clever child!" she said. "Yes, of course it was lonely. But one can't +have everything. Pick out what you want most and cling to it. Let the +rest go. It's a good philosophy." +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it selfish?" +</P> + +<P> +"Youth is always selfish," complacently. "I feel quite complimented now +when anyone calls me a selfish creature. You are a bride, aren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire blushed beautifully. But one couldn't resent so frank an +interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"That thin, dark man is your husband? The one with the chin?" +</P> + +<P> +"He has a chin," doubtfully. "Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, he is my +husband." +</P> + +<P> +"Odd you never noticed his chin before," commented the old lady. "Well, +look out! That man has reserves. Who is the other one?" +</P> + +<P> +"A friend." +</P> + +<P> +The old lady shook a well-kept finger. +</P> + +<P> +"Inconvenient things, friends!" said she. "Far better without them." +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you any?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not one. They went on. All old fogies now." Her air of boredom was +unfeigned. +</P> + +<P> +"But you have your daughter." +</P> + +<P> +"Too old!" The youthful eyes twinkled maliciously. "Now you, my dear, +would be nearer my age. For you have youth within as well as without. +Keep it. It's all there is worth having." +</P> + +<P> +Desire smiled. But the words lingered. She had never valued her youth. +She had been impatient of it. And now to be told that it was all there +was worth having! It was the creed of selfishness. And yet—had life +already given her one of her greatest treasures and had she come near +to missing the meaning of the gift? +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast she observed her husband's chin so narrowly that he became +uneasy, wondering if he had forgotten to shave. She looked at John's +chin, too, with reflective eyes. Undoubtedly it was much inferior. +</P> + +<P> +The train had conquered the mountains now and was plunging down upon +their farther side. Soon they were in the foot-hills and then nothing +but a flashing streak across an endless, endless tableland of wheat. +Desire, who had never seen the prairie, smiled whimsically. +</P> + +<P> +"It is like coming from the world's cathedral to the world's +breakfast-table!" said she. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline snorted. For her part, she said, she found train +breakfasts much the same anywhere except near the Great Lakes, where +one might expect better fish. +</P> + +<P> +It grew very hot. The effortless speed of the train rolled up the +blazing miles and threw them behind, league on league. The sun set and +rose on a level sky. The babies of the rancher's wife grew tired and +sticky. They were almost too much for their equally tired mother, so +half of them sat on Desire's lap most of the time. Desire's half seemed +to bounce a great deal and gave bubbly kisses, but the rings around its +fat wrist and the pink dimples in its fingers were well worth while +keeping clean and cool just to look at. It was true, as Desire reminded +herself, that she did not care for children, but anyone might find a +round, fat one with cooey laughs a pleasant thing to play with! She did +it mostly when Benis was in the smoker with John. +</P> + +<P> +At Winnipeg the honeymoon couple left them and the old lady from +Golden, much to her disgust, was also compelled to stay over for a day +because her middle-aged daughter was train-sick. Other and less +interesting faces took their places. +</P> + +<P> +Desire watched them hopefully but the only one who seemed appealing was +a sturdy prairie school teacher going "home." Desire liked the school +teacher. She was so solid, so sure of herself, so wrapped up in and +satisfied with something which she called "education." She asked Desire +where she had been educated. Desire did not seem to know. "Just +anywhere," she said, "when father felt like it and had time. And I +taught myself shorthand." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you aren't really educated at all?" said the teacher with frank +pity. "What a shame! Education is so important." +</P> + +<P> +Benis was frankly afraid of her. +</P> + +<P> +"But you need not be," Desire assured him. "She looks up to you. She +thinks that, being a professor, you have even more education than she +has." +</P> + +<P> +"God forbid!" said Benis devoutly. +</P> + +<P> +"Besides, she knows all about you. I found out today that she is an +Ontario girl. And she lives—guess where? In Bainbridge!" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline (they were at dinner) looked up from her roast lamb and +remarked "Impossible." +</P> + +<P> +"But she does, Aunt. She says so." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline fancied that probably the young person was mistaken. +"Certainly," she said, "I have never heard of her." +</P> + +<P> +"She lives," said Desire, "on Barker Street and she took her first +class teacher's certificate at Bainbridge Collegiate Institute." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline fancied that they gave almost anyone a certificate there. +All one had to do was to pass the examinations. As to Barker +Street—there was a Barker Street, certainly. And this young person +might live on it. She, herself, was not acquainted with the +neighborhood. +</P> + +<P> +"But she knows you," Desire persisted. "She said, 'Oh, is Miss Caroline +Campion your Aunt? I remember her from my youth up.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Very impertinent," said Miss Campion. Her nephew's eyes began to +twinkle. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, everyone knows Aunt Caroline," he explained. "But then, everyone +knows the Queen of England." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline was mollified. "Of course, in that sense—" She felt able +to go on with her roast lamb. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Rogers, who had listened to this interchange with delight, said now +that the young lady had been quite right about her place of residence. +She did live in Bainbridge, on Barker Street. He did not know her +personally but her older sister was a patient of his. The mother and +father were dead. Very nice, quiet people. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was quite young enough to laugh and to point this with "Dead +ones usually are." +</P> + +<P> +The school teacher, at another table, heard the laugh and felt a +passing sense of injustice. It seemed unfair that anyone so obviously +without education could feel free to laugh in that satisfying way. It +was plain that young Mrs. Spence scarcely realized her sad deficiency. +And it certainly was a little discouraging that the cleverest men +almost invariably.... +</P> + +<P> +Fort William came and passed and in the sparkling sunshine of another +morning the train dashed into the wild Superior country where the +wealth lies under the rock instead of above it. To Desire, her first +glimpse of the Great Lake was like a glimpse of home. The coolness of +the air was grateful after prairie heat but, scarcely had she welcomed +back the smell of pine and fir, before it, too, was left behind and +they swung swiftly into a softer land—a land of rolling fields and +fences and farmhouses; of little towns, with tree-lined roads; of +streams less noisy and more disciplined; of fat cows drowsy in the +growing heat. +</P> + +<P> +"This," said Aunt Caroline with a breath of proprietary satisfaction, +"is Ontario." +</P> + +<P> +Desire, always literal, pointed out that according to the map in the +time-table, they had been in Ontario for some considerable time. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline thought that the map was probably mistaken. "For," she +added with finality, "it was certainly not the Ontario to which I have +been accustomed." +</P> + +<P> +This settled the matter for any sensible person. +</P> + +<P> +"We are nearly home now," she went on kindly. "I hope you are not +feeling very nervous, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"I am not feeling nervous at all," said Desire with surprise. +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately Aunt Caroline took this proof of insensibility in a +flattering light. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes," she said. "It is not, of course, as if you were arriving +alone. You can depend upon me entirely. John, are you sure that your +car will be in waiting?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wired it to wait," grinned John. "And usually it's a good waiter." +</P> + +<P> +"Because," said Aunt Caroline, "we do not wish to be delayed at the +station. If Eliza Merry weather is there, the quicker we get away the +better. I am determined that she shall be introduced to Desire exactly +when other people are and not before. Please remember that, Benis. +Introduce Desire to no one at the station. I think, my dear, we may put +on our hats." +</P> + +<P> +"It's an hour yet, Aunt." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, but I do not wish to be hurried." +</P> + +<P> +Desire put on her hat. It was because she was always willing to give +Aunt Caroline her way in small matters that she invariably took her own +in anything that counted. It is a simple recipe and recommended to +anyone with Aunts.... +</P> + +<P> +"There's Potter's wood!" said Benis, who had been somewhat silent. +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked out eagerly. But Potter's wood was just like any other +wood and— +</P> + +<P> +"There's Sadler's Pond!" said John. +</P> + +<P> +"They've cut down the old elm!" Aunt Caroline voiced deep displeasure. +</P> + +<P> +"And put up a bill-board," said Benis. +</P> + +<P> +Desire felt a trifle lonely. These people, so close to her and yet so +far away, were going home. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, how I wish you weren't stopping off," said the rancher's wife, an +actual tear on her flushed cheek. "You've been so kind, Mrs. Spence. +And anyone more understanding with children I never saw. When you've +got a boy like my Sandy for your own—" +</P> + +<P> +"By jove!" exclaimed Benis. "They're starting to cut down Miller's hill +at last." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline rose flutteringly. "There is the water-tank," she +announced in an agitated voice. "Desire, where is your parasol? My +dear, don't kiss that child again, it's sticky. WHERE is my hand-bag? +John, do you see your car?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't SEE it," admitted John, "but—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bainbridge!" shouted the brakeman. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<P> +Desire was conscious of a brown and gabled station with a bow-window +and flower-beds, a long platform where baggage trucks lumbered, the +calling of taxi-men, a confused noise of greeting and farewell, and +Aunt Caroline's voice uncomfortably near her ear. +</P> + +<P> +"There she is!" whispered Aunt Caroline hoarsely. "Be careful! Don't +look!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who? Where?" asked Desire, wondering. +</P> + +<P> +"Eliza Merryweather. Second to the left." +</P> + +<P> +There was another confused impression of curious faces, of one face +especially with eager eyes and bobbing grey curls, and then she was +caught, as it were, in the swirl of Aunt Caroline and deposited, +somewhat breathless, in a car which, providentially, seemed to expect +her. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Campion was breathing heavily but her face was calm. +</P> + +<P> +"She nearly got it," she said. "But not quite." +</P> + +<P> +"Got what?" asked Desire, still wondering. +</P> + +<P> +"An introduction. Where is Benis? My dear, DON'T LOOK! She is the most +determined person." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Campion herself was staring straight ahead. Desire, much amused, +endeavored to do the same. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely it is a trifle!" she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +But Miss Campion was preoccupied. "Where can Benis be? John, do you +know what is keeping Benis? Oh, here he is," with an exclamation of +relief. "Now we can start. Did I hear you say 'trifle,' my dear? There +are no trifles in Bainbridge. John, I think we might drive home by the +Park." +</P> + +<P> +They drove home by the Park. It was not a long drive, just a dozen or +so of quiet streets, sentineled by maples; a factory in a hollow; a +church upon a hill; a glimpse of two long rows of prosperous looking +business blocks facing each other across an asphalted pavement; a white +brick school where children shouted; then quiet streets again, the +leisurely rising of a boulevarded slope and—home. +</P> + +<P> +They turned in at a white gate in the centre of a long fence backed by +trees. The Spences had built their homestead in days when land was +plentiful and, being a liberal-minded race, they had taken of it what +they would. Of all the houses in Bainbridge theirs alone was prodigal +of space. It stood aloof in its own grounds, its face turned +negligently from the street, outside. For the passer-by it had no +welcome; it kept itself, its flowers and its charm, for its own people. +</P> + +<P> +Desire said "Oh," as she saw it—long and white, with green shutters +and deep verandas and wide, unhurried steps. She had seen many +beautiful homes but she had never seen "home" before. The beauty and +the peace of it caught the breath in her throat. She was glad that +Benis did not speak as he gave her his hand from the car. She was glad +for the volubility of Aunt Caroline and for the preoccupation of Dr. +John with his engine. She was glad that she and Benis stepped info the +cool, dim hall alone. In the dimness she could just see the little, +nervous smile upon his lips and the warm and kindly look in his steady +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +After that first moment, the picture blurred a little with the bustle +of arrival. Aunt Caroline, large and light in her cream dust-coat, +seemed everywhere. The dimness fled before her and rooms and stairs and +a white-capped maid emerged. The rooms confused Desire, there were so +many of them and all with such a strong family likeness of dark +furniture and chintz. Aunt Caroline called them by their names and, +throwing open their doors, announced them in prideful tones. Desire +felt very diffident, they were such exclusive rooms, so old and settled +and sure of themselves—and she was so new. They might, she felt, +cold-shoulder her entirely. It was touch and go. +</P> + +<P> +All but one room! +</P> + +<P> +"This," said her conductor, throwing open a door, "is where Benis does +his work. He calls it his den. But you will agree that library sounds +better." +</P> + +<P> +Desire went in—with the other rooms she had been content to stand in +the doors—and, as she entered, the room seemed to draw round and +welcome her. It was deeply and happily familiar—that shallow, rounded +window from which one could lean and touch the grass outside, that +dark, old desk with its leather and brass, that blue bowl on the corner +of the mantel-piece, the lazy, yet expectant, chairs; even the beech +tree whose light fingers tapped upon the window glass! It was all part +of her life, past or future—somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Aunt Caroline in her character of showman, "we have +fireplaces!" +</P> + +<P> +Desire was so used to fireplaces that this did not seem extraordinary +and yet, from Aunt Caroline's tone, she knew that it must be, and tried +to look impressed. +</P> + +<P> +"They are dirty," went on Aunt Caroline, "but they are worth it. They +give atmosphere. If you have a house like this, you have to have +fireplaces. That is what I tell my maids when I engage them. So that +they cannot grumble afterwards. Fireplaces are dirty, I tell them, +but—what are you staring at, my dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"Was I staring? I didn't know. It is just that I seem to know it all." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline looked wise. "Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Benis +explains that curious feeling—some-thing about your right sphere or +something being larger than your left, or quicker, I forget which. Not +that I can see any sense in it, anyway. Do you mind if I leave you +here? I want to see if Olive has made the changes I ordered upstairs." +</P> + +<P> +"Get a hump on!" said a loud, rude voice. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline jumped. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear! It's that horrible parrot. Benis insists on keeping it. +Some soldier friend of his left it to him. A really terrible bird. And +its language is disgraceful. It doesn't know anything but slang. Not +even 'Polly wants a cracker.' You'll hardly believe me, but it says, +'Gimme the eats!' instead." +</P> + +<P> +"Can it!" said the parrot. Aunt Caroline fled. +</P> + +<P> +Desire, to whom a talking bird was a delightful novelty, went over to +the large cage where a beautiful green and yellow parrot swung +mournfully, head down. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty Polly," said Desire timidly. +</P> + +<P> +The bird made a chuckling noise in his throat like a derisive goblin. +</P> + +<P> +"What is your name, Polly?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yorick," said Polly unexpectedly. "Alas. Poor Yorick! I knew him well." +</P> + +<P> +"You'd think it knew what I said!" thought Desire with a start. She +edged away and once more the welcoming spirit of the room rose up to +meet her. She tried first one chair and then another, fingered the +leather on their backs and finally settled on the light, straight one +in the round window. It was as familiar as the glove upon her hand, and +the view from the window—well, the view from the window was partially +blocked by the professor under the beech tree, smoking. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing her, he discarded his cigar and came nearer, leaning on the sill +of the opened window. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't got your hat off yet," he said in a discontented tone. +"Aren't you going to stay?" +</P> + +<P> +"May not a lady wear her hat in her own house?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see. Then I shan't have to butter your fingers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you compare me to a stray cat?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never compare you to anything." +</P> + +<P> +Desire wanted terribly to ask why, but an unaccustomed shyness +prevented her. Instead she asked if Yorick were really the parrot's +name. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. But he says it is, so I take his word for it. Do you +want to talk about parrots? Because it's not one of my best subjects. +May I change it?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you like." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say, 'If you like,' say 'Right-o.' I always do when I think of +it. Since the war it is expected of one—a sign of this new fraternity, +you know, between Englishmen and Colonials. Everyone over there is +expected to say 'I guess' for the same reason. Only they don't do it. +How do you like your workroom?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mine?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you might not like me to say 'Ours.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be silly!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how do you like it, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire's eyes met his for an instant and then fell quickly. But not +before he had seen a mistiness which looked remarkably like—Good +heavens, he might have known that she would be tired and upset! +</P> + +<P> +"You have noticed, of course," he went on lightly, "that we have +fireplaces? They are very dirty but they provide atmosphere. Almost too +much atmosphere sometimes. There are no dampers and when the wind blows +the wrong way—Oh, my dear child, do cry if you really feel like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Cry!" indignantly. "I n—never cry." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, try it for a change. I believe it is strongly recommended +and—don't go away. Please." +</P> + +<P> +"I had no idea I was going to be silly," said Desire after a moment, in +an annoyed voice. +</P> + +<P> +"It usually comes unexpectedly. Probably you are tired." +</P> + +<P> +Desire wiped her eyes with businesslike thoroughness. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I'm not. I'm suppressed. Do you remember what you said about +suppressed emotion the other day? Well, I'm like that, and it's your +fault. You bring me to this beautiful home and you never, never once, +allow me to thank you properly—oh, I'm not going to do it, so don't +look frightened. But one feels so safe here. Benis, it's years and +years since I felt just safe." +</P> + +<P> +"I know. I swear every time I think of it" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you can guess a little of what it means?" +</P> + +<P> +Their hands were very close upon the window-sill. +</P> + +<P> +"As a psychologist—" began the professor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—No!" murmured Desire. +</P> + +<P> +Their hands almost touched. +</P> + +<P> +And just at that moment Aunt Caroline came in. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you there, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline unnecessarily. "I wish you +would come in and take—oh, I did not mean you to come in through the +window. If Olive saw you! But a Spence has no idea of dignity. Now that +you are in, I wish you would take Desire up to your room. I wired Olive +to prepare the west room. It is grey and pink, so nice for Desire who +is somewhat pale. The bed is very comfortable, too, and large. But, of +course, if you prefer any other room you will change. Desire, my dear, +it is your home, I do not forget that. I have had your bags carried up. +Benis can manage his own." +</P> + +<P> +If Desire were pale naturally, she was more than pale now. Her +frightened eyes fluttered to her husband's face and fluttered away +again. Why had she never thought of this! Sheer panic held her quiet in +the straight-backed chair. +</P> + +<P> +But Spence, without seeming to notice, had seen and understood her +startled eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, Aunt," he said cheerfully. "Of course Desire must make her own +choice. But if she takes my tip she will stay where you've put her. +It's a jolly room. As for me, I'm going up to my old diggings—thought +I'd told you." +</P> + +<P> +"What!" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline's remark was not a question. It was an explosion. +</P> + +<P> +Spence dropped his bantering manner. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Aunt. I hate to disturb your arrangements with my +eccentricities. But insomnia is a hard master. I must sleep in my old +room. We'll consider that settled." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" said Aunt Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +Like the house, she was somewhat old fashioned. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<P> +Tea had been laid on the west lawn under the maples. +</P> + +<P> +Possibly some time in the past the Spences had been a leisured people. +They had brought from the old country the tradition of afternoon tea. +Many others had, no doubt, done the same but with these others the +tradition had not persisted. In the more crowded life of a new country +they had let it go. The Spences had not let it go. It wasn't their way. +And in time it had assumed the importance of a survival. It stood for +some-thing. Other Bainbridgers had "Teas." The Spences had "tea." +</P> + +<P> +Desire had been in her new home a month and had just made a remark +which showed her astonished Aunt Caroline that tea was no more of a +surprise to her than fireplaces had been. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean to tell me you have always had tea?" Miss Campion ceased +from pouring in pure surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes." Desire's surprise was even greater than Aunt Caroline's. +"Li Ho never dreamed of forgetting tea. He served it much more +regularly than dinner because sometimes there wasn't any dinner to +serve. It was a great comfort—the tea, I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"But how extraordinary! And a Chinaman, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose my mother trained him." +</P> + +<P> +"And Vancouver isn't Bainbridge," put in Benis lazily. "A great many +people there are more English than they are in England. All the +old-time Chinese 'boys' served tea as a matter of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Even when no one was calling?" +</P> + +<P> +"Absolutely sans callers of any kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I am sure that is very nice." But it was plain from Aunt +Caroline's tone that she thought it a highly impertinent infringement +upon the privileges of a Spence. She poured her nephew's cup in aloof +silence and refreshed herself with a second before re-entering the +conversation. When she did, it was with something of a bounce. +</P> + +<P> +"Benis," she said abruptly, "can you tell me just exactly what is a +Primitive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" The professor had been trying to read the afternoon News-Telegram +and sip tea at the same time. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline repeated her question. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," said Spence. "That is to say, I can be fairly exact. Would +you like me to begin now? If you have nothing to do until dinner I can +get you nicely started. And there is a course of reading—" +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline stopped him with dignity. "Thank you, Benis. I infer that +the subject is a complicated one. Therefore I will word my question +more simply. Would an Indian, for instance, be considered a Primitive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Um—some Indians might." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," thoughtfully, "then I suppose that is what Mrs. Stopford Brown +meant." +</P> + +<P> +Her delighted listeners exchanged an appreciative glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Very probably," said Benis, with tact, "were you discussing Primitives +at the Club?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. Though it might be rather a good idea, don't you think? If, as you +say, there is a course of reading, it would be sufficiently literary, I +suppose? At present we are taking up psycho-analysis—dreams, you know. +It was not my choice. As a subject for club study I consider it too +modern. Besides, I seldom dream. And when I do, my dreams are not +remarkable. However, it seems that all dreams are remarkable. And I +admit that there may be something in it. Take, for instance, a dream +which I had the other night. I dreamed that I was endeavoring to do my +hair and every time I put my hand on a hairpin that horrible parrot of +yours snapped it up and swallowed it. Now, according to +psycho-analysis, that dream has a meaning. Understood rightly it +discloses that I have, in my waking moments, a repressed feeling of +intense dislike for that hateful bird. And it is quite true. I have. So +you can see how useful that kind of thing might be in getting at the +truth in cases of murder. I hope," turning to Desire, "I hope I am not +being too scientific for you, my dear? When the ladies feel that they +know you better you may perhaps join our club, if you care for anything +so serious? May I give you more tea?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, yes. That would be delightful." +</P> + +<P> +"Not so delightful, my dear, as educative. But as I was saying, Benis, +it is all your fault that this misconception has got about. I blame you +very much in the matter. It comes naturally from your writing so +continually about Indians and foreigners and Primitives generally. +People come to associate you with them. Still, I think it was extremely +rude of Mrs. Stopford Brown to say it." +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," said Spence, with conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"I asked Mrs. Everett, who told me, if anyone else had made remarks +leading up to it. But she says not a word. It was just that Mrs. +Everett said that it was strange that when you had taken so long to +consider marriage you should have made up your mind so quickly in the +end—'Gone off like a sky-rocket!' was her exact wording, and Mrs. +Stopford Brown said, in that frivolous way she has, 'Oh, I suppose he +stumbled across a Primitive.' You will notice, Desire, that Mrs. +Stopford Brown's name is not upon the list for your reception." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" began Desire, controlling her face with difficulty. +</P> + +<P> +"No 'buts,' my dear. It may seem severe, but Mrs. Stopford Brown is +quite too careless in her general conversation. It is true that her +remark is directly traceable to my nephew's unfortunate writings, but +she should have investigated her facts before speaking. The result is +that it is all over town that you have Indian blood. They say that, out +there, almost everyone married squaws once and that is why there is no +dower law in British Columbia. Those selfish people did not wish their +Indian wives to wear the family jewels. Benis! You will break that cup +if you balance it so carelessly. What I want to know is, what are you +going to do about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not being a resident of British Columbia, I cannot do anything, Aunt. +But I think you will find that since women got the vote the matter has +been adjusted." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not understand you. What possible connection has the women's vote +with Mrs. Stopford Brown?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were speaking of dower laws. As for Mrs. Brown, haven't +you already fitted the punishment to the crime?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you will not officially contradict the rumor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Aunt, I am not an official. And a rumor is of no +importance—until it is contradicted. Surely you are letting yourself +get excited about nothing." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline bestowed upon Desire the feminine glance which means, +"What fools men are." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all very well now," she said. "But it is incredible how rumor +persists. And when you are a father—there! I knew you would end by +breaking that cup." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't we being rather absurd?" asked Desire a little later when Aunt +Caroline and the tea tray had departed together. "Besides, you can't +break a cup every time." +</P> + +<P> +Spence sighed. It was undoubtedly true that cups do come to an end. +</P> + +<P> +"What we want to do," said Desire, angry at her heightened color, "is +to be sensible." +</P> + +<P> +"That's what Aunt Caroline is. Do you want us to be like Aunt Caroline?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want us to face facts without blushing and jumping." +</P> + +<P> +"I never blush." +</P> + +<P> +"You jump." +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry. But give me time. I am new at this yet. Presently I shall be +able to listen to Aunt describing my feelings as a grandfather without +a quiver. Poor Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you say 'poor Aunt'?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is going to be rather a blow to her, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think we ought to—tell her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good heavens, no!" +</P> + +<P> +"But it seems so mean to let her go on believing things." +</P> + +<P> +"Not half so mean as taking the belief from her. Besides—" He paused +and Desire felt herself clutch, unaccountably, at the arm of her garden +chair. +</P> + +<P> +"She wouldn't understand," finished Benis. +</P> + +<P> +Desire's grasp upon the chair relaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"Life is like that," he went on slowly. "No matter how careful people +are there is always someone who slips in and gets hurt. Our affairs are +strictly our own affairs and yet—we stumble over Aunt Caroline and +leave her indignant and disappointed and probably blaming Providence +for the whole affair. It is just a curious instance of the intricacy of +human relationships—you're not going in, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is some typing I want to finish," said Desire. "I have been +letting myself get shamefully behind." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<P> +The weather on the day of Desire's reception could scarcely have been +bettered. Rain had fallen during the night; fallen just sufficiently to +lay the dust on the drive and liberate all the thousand flower scents +in the drowsy garden. It was hot enough for the most summery dresses +and cool enough for a summer fur. What more could be desired? +</P> + +<P> +Bainbridge was expectant. It was known that Miss Campion was excelling +herself in honor of her nephew's bride, and the bride herself was +alluringly rumored to be a personality. It is doubtful if anyone really +believed the "part Indian" suggestion, but there were those who liked +to dally with it. Its possibility was a taste of lemon on a cloyed +tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"They say she is part Indian—fancy, a Spence!" +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense. I asked Dr. Rogers about it and he made me feel pretty +foolish. The truth is—her parents are both English. The father is a +doctor, at one time a most celebrated physician in London." +</P> + +<P> +"Physicians who are celebrated in London usually stay there." +</P> + +<P> +"And I am sure she is dark enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Not with that skin! And her eyes are grey." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I admit she's pretty—if you like that style. I wonder where she +gets her clothes?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where they know how to make them, anyway. Did you notice that smoke +colored georgette she wore on Sunday? Not a scrap of relief anywhere. +Not even around the neck." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the latest. I went right home and ripped the lace off mine. But +it made me look like a skinned rabbit, so I put it back. I don't see +why fashions are always made for sweet and twenty!" +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty? She's twenty-five if she's a day. For myself I can't say that +I like to see young people so sure of themselves. A bride, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"They say Mrs. Stopford Brown hasn't had a card for the reception." +</P> + +<P> +"Did she tell you so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no! But she let it drop that she thought it was on the seventh +instead of the eighth." +</P> + +<P> +"Plow funny! Serve her right. It's about time she knew she isn't quite +everybody...." +</P> + +<P> +Desire, herself, was unperturbed. To her direct and unself-conscious +mind there was no reason why she should excite herself. These people, +to whom she was so new, were equally new to her. The interest might be +expected to be mutual. Any picture of herself as affected by their +personal opinions had not obtruded itself. She was prepared to like +them; hoped they would like her, but was not actively concerned with +whether they did or not. She had lived too far away from her kind to +feel the impact of their social aura. Besides, she had other things to +think about. +</P> + +<P> +First of all, there was Mary. She found that she had to think about +Mary a great deal. She did not want to, but there seemed to be a +compulsion. This may have been partly owing to a change of mind with +regard to Mary as a subject for conversation. She had decided that it +was not good for Benis to talk about Her. Why revive memories that are +best forgotten? She never now disturbed him when he gazed into the +sunset; and when he sighed, as he sometimes did without reason, she did +not ask him why. She had even felt impatient once or twice and, upon +leaving the room abruptly, had banged the door. +</P> + +<P> +So, because Mary was unavailable for discussion, Desire had to think +about her. She had to wonder whether her hair was really? And whether +her eyes really were? She wanted to know. If she could find someone who +had known Mary, some entirely unprejudiced person who would tell her, +she might be able to dismiss the subject from her mind. And surely, in +Bainbridge, there must be someone? +</P> + +<P> +But she had been in Bainbridge a month now. People had called. And she +was still as ignorant as ever. She had been so sure that someone would +mention Mary almost at once. She had felt that people would simply not +be able to refrain from hinting to the bride a knowledge of her +husband's unhappy past. There were so many ways in which it might be +done. Someone might say, "When I heard that Professor Spence was +married, I felt sure that the bride would have dark hair because—oh, +what am I saying! Please, may I have more tea?" But no one, not even +the giddiest flapper of them all, had said even that! Perhaps, +incredible as it might seem, Bainbridge did not know about Mary? She +had been, Desire remembered, a visitor there when Benis met her. +Perhaps her stay had been brief. Perhaps the ill-fated courtship had +taken place elsewhere? Even then, it seemed almost unbelievably stupid +of Bainbridge not to have known something. But of course, she had not +met nearly everybody. This fact lent excitement to the idea of the +reception. Something might be said at any moment. +</P> + +<P> +If not—there was still John. John must know. A man does not keep the +news of a serious love affair from his best friend. Some day, when John +knew her well enough, he might speak, delicately, of that lost romance. +Yes. She would have to cultivate John. +</P> + +<P> +Luckily, John was easily cultivated. He had been quite charming to her +from the very first. He thought of her comfort continually, almost too +continually—but that, no doubt, was medical fussiness. He insisted, +for instance, upon putting wraps about her shoulders after dewfall and +refused to believe that she never caught cold. Only last night he had +left early saying that she must get her beauty sleep so as to be fresh +for the reception. +</P> + +<P> +"One would think," she had said, sauntering with him to the gate, "that +the guests might decide to eat me instead of the ices. Why do you all +expect me to quake and shiver? They can't really do anything to me, I +suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do?" The doctor was absent-minded. "Do? Oh, they can do things all +right. But," with quite unnecessary emphasis, "their worst efforts +won't be a patch on the things you will do to them. Why, you'll add ten +years to the age of everyone over twenty and make the others feel like +babes in arms. You'll raise all their vibrations to boiling point and +remain yourself as cool and pulseless as—as you are now." +</P> + +<P> +Desire was surprised, but she was reasonable. +</P> + +<P> +"If you can tell me why my vibrations should raise themselves," she +said, "I will see what can be done." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor had gone home gloomily. +</P> + +<P> +"He is really very moody, for a doctor," thought Desire, as she +sauntered back through the dusk. "It seems to me that he needs cheering +up." +</P> + +<P> +Then she probably forgot him, for certainly no thought of his +gloominess disturbed her beauty sleep. A fresher or more glowing bride +had never gathered flowers for her own reception. She had carried them +into all the rooms; careless for once of their cool aloofness; making +them welcome her whether they would or not. Then, as the stir of +preparation ceased and the house sank into perfumed quiet, she had +slipped back into her own pink and grey room for a breathing space +before it was time to dress. +</P> + +<P> +At Aunt Caroline's earnest request she had taken Yorick with her. +"For," said Aunt Caroline, "I refuse to receive guests with that bird +within hearing distance. The things he says are bad enough but I have a +feeling that he knows many things which he hasn't said yet. And people +are sensitive. Only the other day when old Mrs. Burton was calling him +'Pretty Pol,' he burst into that dreadful laugh of his and told her to +'Shake a leg'! How the creature happened to know about the scandal of +her early youth I can't say. But it is quite true that she did dance on +the stage. She grew quite purple when that wretched bird threw it up to +her." +</P> + +<P> +Desire had laughed and promised to sequestrate Yorick for the +afternoon. He had taken the insult badly and was now muttering protests +to himself with throaty noises which exploded occasionally in bursts of +bitter laughter. +</P> + +<P> +It was too early to dress for another hour but already the dress lay +ready on the bed. Desire had chosen it with care. She had no +wedding-dress. Bridal white would have seemed—well, dangerously near +the humorous. She would have feared that half-smile with which Spence +was wont to appreciate life's pleasantries. But the gown upon the bed +was the last word in smartness and charm. In color it was like pale +sunlight through green water. It was both cool and bright. Against it, +her warm, white skin glowed warmer and whiter; her leaf-brown hair +showed more softly brown. Its skirt was daintily short and beneath it +would show green stockings that shimmered, and slippers that were +vanity. +</P> + +<P> +Desire sat in the window seat and allowed herself to be quite happy. +"If I could just sit here forever," she mused. "If someone could +enchant me, just as I am, with the sun warm on the tips of my toes and +this little wind, so full of flowers, cool upon my face. If I need +never again hear anything save the drone of sleepy bees, the chirping +of fat robins and the hum of a lawn-mower—" +</P> + +<P> +She sat up suddenly. Who could be mowing the west lawn in the heat of +the day? Desire, forgetting about the enchantment, leaned out to see. +Surely it couldn't be? And yet it certainly was. The lawn-mower man +displayed the heated countenance of the bridegroom him-self. +</P> + +<P> +"What is he thinking of?" groaned Desire. "He will make himself a +rag—a perfect rag. I wonder Aunt Caroline allows it." +</P> + +<P> +But Aunt Caroline was presumably occupied elsewhere. No one came to +prevent the ragmaking of the professor, and Desire, after watching for +a moment, raised her finger and gave the little searching call which +had been their way of finding each other in the woods at Friendly Bay. +</P> + +<P> +The professor stopped instantly, leaving the lawn-mower exactly where +it was, in the middle of a swath. With an answering wave he crossed to +the west room window and, with an ease which surprised his audience, +drew his long slimness up the pillar of the porch and clambered over +the railing into the small balcony. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't come in by the front door," he explained, "on account of my +boots. And I can't come in by the back door on account of Extra Help. I +intended getting in eventually by the cellarway, but, if you want me, +that would take too long. Besides, I wanted to show you how neatly I +can shin up a post." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled at her cheerfully. He was damp and flushed, but much brisker +than Desire had thought. He did not look at all raglike. For the first +time since their homecoming she seemed to see him with clear eyes. And +she found him changed. He was younger. Some of the lines had smoothed +out of his forehead. His face showed its cheekbones less sharply and +his hair dipped charmingly, like an untidy boy's. His shirt was open at +the throat. He did not look like a professor at all. Desire momentarily +experienced what Dr. John had called a "heightening of vibration." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything that I can do," offered he helpfully. +</P> + +<P> +"The best thing will be to stop doing," suggested Desire. "Don't you +know that you're accessory to a reception this afternoon? Of course you +are only the host, but it looks better to have the host unwilted." +</P> + +<P> +"Like the salad? I hadn't thought of that. In fact I'm afraid I haven't +been giving the matter serious attention. I must consult my secretary. +How else should a host look?" +</P> + +<P> +"He should look happy." +</P> + +<P> +Benis noted this on his cuff. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire's eyes began to sparkle. +</P> + +<P> +"If he is a bridegroom, as well as a host, he should be careful to look +often at the bride." +</P> + +<P> +"No chance," said Spence gloomily. "Not with the mob that's coming." +</P> + +<P> +"Above all, he looks after his least attractive lady guests. And he +never on any account slips away for a smoke with a stray gentleman +friend." +</P> + +<P> +The professor's gloom lightened. "Is there going to be a stray +gentleman friend? Did old Bones promise?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire nodded triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +"First time in captivity," murmured Spence. "How on earth did you +manage it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I simply asked him!" +</P> + +<P> +"As easy as that?" +</P> + +<P> +They both laughed as happy people laugh at merest nonsense. +</P> + +<P> +"Ha! Ha! Ha!" shrieked Yorick. "Go to it, give 'em hell!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't wonder Aunt Caroline dreads him," said Desire. "His experience +seems to have been lurid." +</P> + +<P> +"Kiss her, you flat-foot, kiss her," shrieked the ribald Yorick. +</P> + +<P> +"Sorry, old man," said Spence regretfully. "It's against the rules to +kiss one's secretary." +</P> + +<P> +Again they both laughed. But was it fancy, or was this laugh a trifle +less spontaneous than the other? "Gracious!" said Desire, suddenly in a +hurry, "I've hardly left myself time to dress." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<P> +It may be said with fairness that the reception given by Miss Campion +for her nephew's bride left Bainbridge thoughtful. They had expected +the bride to be different, and they had found her to be different from +what they had expected. They could not place her; and, in Bainbridge, +everyone is placed. +</P> + +<P> +"I understood," said Mrs. T. L. Lawson, whose word in intellectual +matters was final, "that young Mrs. Spence was wholly uneducated. A +school teacher who met her on the train told my dressmaker that she had +heard her admit the fact with her own lips. So, naturally, not wishing +to embarrass a newcomer, I confined my remarks to the simplest matters. +She did not say very much but I must confess—you will scarcely believe +it—I actually got the impression that she was accommodating her +conversation to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, surely not!" from a shocked chorus. +</P> + +<P> +"It is just a manner she affects," comforted Mrs. Burton Holmes. "Far, +far too assured, in my opinion, for a young bride. I hope it does not +denote a certain lack of fine feeling. In a girl who had been brought +up to an assured social position, such a manner might be understood. +But—well, all I can say is that I heard from my friend Marion Walford +yesterday, and she assured me that Mrs. Spence is quite unknown in +Vancouver society. But, of course, dear Marion knows only the very +smartest people. For myself I do not allow these distinctions to affect +me. If only for dear Miss Campion's sake I determined to be perfectly +friendly. But I felt that, in justice to everybody, it might be well +for her to know that we know. So I asked her, casually, if she were +well acquainted with the Walfords. At first she looked as if she had +never heard of them, and then—'Oh, do you mean the soap people?' she +said. 'I don't know them—but one sees their bill-boards everywhere.' +It was almost as if—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—absurd!" echoed the chorus. "Though if she is really English," +ventured one of them, "she might, you know. The English have such a +horror of trade." +</P> + +<P> +These social and educational puzzles were as nothing to the religious +problem. Bainbridge, who had seen Desire more or less regularly at +church, had taken for granted that in this respect, at least, she was +even as they were. But, after the reception, Mrs. Pennington thought +not. +</P> + +<P> +"I felt quite worried about our pretty bride," said Mrs. Pennington. +"You know how we all hoped that when the dear professor married he +would become more orthodox. Science is so unsettling. And married men +so often do. But—" she sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely not a free thinker?" ventured one in a subdued whisper. +</P> + +<P> +"Or a Christian Scientist?" with equal horror. +</P> + +<P> +Mrs. Pennington intimated that she had not yet sufficient data to +decide. "But," she added, solemnly, "she is not a. Presbyterian." +</P> + +<P> +"She goes to church." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. She was quite frank about that. She did not scruple to say that +she goes to please Miss Campion and because 'it is all so new.'" +</P> + +<P> +"New?" +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly what I said to her. I said, 'New?' My dear, what you do +mean—new?' And she tipped her eyebrows in that oriental way she has +and said, 'Why, just new. I have never been to church, you know!'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, impossible—in this country!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, imagine it! Perhaps she saw my disapproval for she added, 'We had +a prayer-book in the house, though.' As if it were quite the same +thing." +</P> + +<P> +One of the more optimistic members of the chorus thought that this +might show some connection with the Church of England. But Mrs. +Pennington shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"Hardly, I think. Her language was not such as to encourage such a +hope. The very next thing she said to me was, 'Don't you think the +prayer-book is lovely?'" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!—not really?" +</P> + +<P> +"I admit I was shocked. I am not," said Mrs. Pennington, "a Church of +England woman. But I am broad-minded, I hope. And I have more respect +for ANY sacred work than to speak of it as 'lovely.' In fact, in all +kindness, I must say that I fear the poor child is a veritable heathen." +</P> + +<P> +This conclusion was felt to be sound, logically, but without great +practical significance. The veritable heathen persisted in church-going +to such an extent that she tired out several of the most orthodox and +it was rumored that she even went so far as to discuss the sermon +afterward. "Just as if," said Mrs. Pennington, "it were a lecture or a +play or something." +</P> + +<P> +As a matter of fact, Desire was intensely interested in sermons. She +had so seldom heard any that the weekly doling out of truth by the Rev. +Mr. McClintock had all the fascination of a new experience. Mr. +McClintock was of the type which does not falter in its message. He had +no doubts. He had thought out every possible spiritual problem as a +young man and had seen no reason for thinking them out a second time. +What he had accepted at twenty, he believed at sixty, with this +difference that while at twenty some of his conclusions had caused him +sleepless nights, at sixty they were accepted with complacency. No +questioning pierced the hard enamel of his assurance. He saw no second +side to anything because he never turned it over. He had a way of +saying "I believe" which was absolutely final. +</P> + +<P> +Desire had been collecting Mr. McClintock's beliefs carefully. They +fascinated her. She often woke up in the night thinking of them, +wondering at their strange diversity and speculating as to the ultimate +discovery of some missing piece which might make them all fit in. It +was because she was afraid of missing this master-bit that she went to +church so regularly. +</P> + +<P> +The Sunday after the reception was exceptionally hot. It was +exceptionally dusty too, for Bainbridge tolerated no water carts on +Sunday. It was one of those Sundays when people have headaches. Aunt +Caroline had a head-ache. She felt that it would be most unwise to +venture out. She even suggested that, no doubt, Desire had a headache, +too. +</P> + +<P> +"But I haven't," said that downright young person, looking provokingly +cool and energetic. Her husband groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't look at me," he said hastily. "My excuse is not hallowed by +antiquity like Aunt's but it is equally effective. I have to go down to +the cellar to make ice-cream." +</P> + +<P> +This, as Desire knew, was perfectly legitimate. No ice-cream of any +kind could be bought in Bainbridge on Sunday. Therefore a certain +proportion of the population had to descend into its cellars and make +it. It was even possible to tell, if one were curious, how many +families were going to have ice-cream for dinner by counting the empty +seats at morning service. Nearly all of the more prominent families +owned freezers while many of those who were freezerless did not go to +church, anyway. From which it would seem that, in Bainbridge at least, +the righteous had prospered. +</P> + +<P> +On this hot morning, therefore, Desire collected Mr. McClintock's +belief alone. It was an especially puzzling one, having to do with the +origin and meaning of pain and founded upon the text, "Whom the Lord +loveth he chasteneth." +</P> + +<P> +"There is a tendency among modern translators," began Mr. McClintock, +"a tendency which I deplore, to render the word 'chasteneth' as +'teacheth or directeth.' This rendering, in my opinion, is regrettably +lax. We will therefore confine our attention to the older version. It +is my belief that...." +</P> + +<P> +Desire listened attentively to a lengthy and blood-curdling exposition +of this belief and was still in the daze which followed the hearty +singing of the doxology on top of it when the assistant Sunday School +Superintendent asked her to take a class. He was a very hot assistant +and a very hurried one. Even while he spoke to Desire his eye wandered +past her to some of his flock who were escaping by the church door. +</P> + +<P> +"Do take a class, Mrs. Spence," he urged. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean teach one?" asked Desire. "I'm sorry, but I don't know +how." +</P> + +<P> +"Beg pardon? Oh, but of course you do. It is only for today. We are so +short. You will do splendidly, I'm sure. They are very little girls and +it's in the Old Testament." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that will be quite all right. It's Moses. Quite easy." +</P> + +<P> +"I have never—" +</P> + +<P> +"It doesn't matter, really. Just the plain story, you know. I find +myself the best way is to adopt a cheerful, conversational manner and +keep them from asking questions. At that age they never ask the right +ones. Stump you every time if you're not careful. Give them the facts. +They'll understand them later." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand them myself," objected Desire. But by this time the +assistant's eye was quite distracted. +</P> + +<P> +"So very good of you," he murmured, "if you will come this way—" +</P> + +<P> +Desire went that way and presently found herself seated in the Sunday +School room in a blazing bar of sunlight and facing a row of small +Bainbridgers, surprisingly brisk and wide-awake considering the weather. +</P> + +<P> +"We usually have our boys' and girls' classes separate," explained the +assistant. "But this is a mixed class as you see." +</P> + +<P> +Desire saw that the mixture consisted of a very round boy in a very +stiff sailor suit. +</P> + +<P> +"Now children, Mrs. Spence is going to tell you about Moses. Mrs. +Spence is a newcomer. We must make her welcome and show her how well +behaved we are." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not," volunteered an angel-faced child with an engaging smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I got a lickin' on Friday," added the round boy, who as sole member of +his sex felt that he must stand up for it. +</P> + +<P> +The assistant shook a finger at them cheerfully and hurried away. +</P> + +<P> +Desire became the focus of all eyes and a watchful dumbness settled +down upon them like a pall. Frantically she tried to remember her +instructions. But never had a light conversational manner seemed more +difficult to attain. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope," she faltered, seeking for a sympathetic entry, "that your +regular teacher is not ill?" +</P> + +<P> +The row of inquiring eyes showed no intelligence. +</P> + +<P> +"Is she?" asked Desire, looking directly at the child opposite. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma says she only thinks she is," said the child. The row rustled +pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand," went on Desire hastily, "that we are to talk about +Moses. How many here can tell me anything about Moses?" +</P> + +<P> +The row of eyes blinked. But Moses might have been a perfect stranger +for any sign of recognition from their owners. +</P> + +<P> +"Moses," went on Desire, "was a very remarkable man. In his age he +seems even more remarkable—" +</P> + +<P> +A small hand shot up and an injured voice inquired: "Please, teacher, +don't we have the Golden Text?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose we do." There was evidently some technique here of which the +hurried assistant had not informed her. "We will have it now. What is +the Golden Text?" +</P> + +<P> +Nobody seemed to know. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see how we can have it, if you don't know it," said Desire +mildly. +</P> + +<P> +Another hand shot up. "Please teacher, you say it first." +</P> + +<P> +There was also, then, an established order of precedence. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know it, either," said Desire. +</P> + +<P> +This might have precipitated a deadlock. But, fortunately, the row did +not believe her. They smiled stiffly. Their smile revealed more clearly +than anything else how unthinkable it was for a teacher not to know the +Golden Text. Desire, in desperation, remembered the paper-covered +"Quarterly" which the assistant had put into her hands and, with a +flash of inspiration, decided that what the children wanted was +probably there. She opened it feverishly and was delighted to discover +"Golden Text" in large letters on the first page she looked at. She +read hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"And thou Bethlehem in the land of Juda—" +</P> + +<P> +A whole row of hands shot up. "Please teacher, that was last +Christmas!" announced the class reproachfully. +</P> + +<P> +With shame Desire noticed that the lessons in the Quarterly were dated. +But she was regaining something of her ordinary poise. +</P> + +<P> +"You ought to know it, even if it is," she remarked firmly. This was +more according to Hoyle. The little boy's hand answered it. +</P> + +<P> +"'Tain't review Sunday, teacher." +</P> + +<P> +Teacher decided to ignore this. "Very well," she said. "We will now +have the Golden Text for today. Who will say it first? I will give you +a start—'As Moses—'" +</P> + +<P> +"As Moses," piped a chorus of small voices. +</P> + +<P> +"Lifted up," prompted Desire. +</P> + +<P> +"Lifted up," shrilled the chorus. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" expectantly. +</P> + +<P> +The chorus was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, children, go on." +</P> + +<P> +But nobody went on. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know it," declared Desire with mild severity. "Very well. +Learn it for next Sunday. Now I am going to ask you some questions. +First of all—who was Moses?" +</P> + +<P> +She asked the question generally but her eye fell upon the one male +member who swallowed his Sunday gum-drop with a gulp. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know his nother name," said the male member sulkily. +</P> + +<P> +Desire realized that she didn't know, either. "I did not ask you to +tell his name but something about him. Where he lived, for instance. +Where did Moses live?" Her eye swept down to the mite at the end of the +row. +</P> + +<P> +"Bulrushes!" said that infant gaspingly. +</P> + +<P> +"He was hidden among bulrushes," explained Desire, "but he couldn't +exactly live there. Does anyone know what a bulrush is?" +</P> + +<P> +The row exchanged glances and nudged each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Things you soak in coal-oil," began one. +</P> + +<P> +"To make torches at 'lections," added another. +</P> + +<P> +"Same as cat-tails," volunteered a third condescendingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, even if they were anything like that, he couldn't live in them, +could he?" Desire felt that she had made a point at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Could if he was a frog," offered the male member after consideration. +</P> + +<P> +To Desire's surprise the row accepted this seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"But as he was a baby and not a frog," she went on hurriedly, "he must +have lived with his mother in a house. The name of the country they +lived in was Egypt. And Egypt had a wicked King. This wicked King +ordered all the little boy babies—" She paused, appalled at the +thought of telling these infants of that long-past ruthlessness. But, +again to her surprise, the infants now showed pleasurable interest. An +excited murmur rose. +</P> + +<P> +"I like that part!" ... "Why didn't he kill the girl babies, too?" +... "Did he cut their heads right off?" ... "Did their mothers +holler?" ... While the male member offered with an air of authority, +"I 'spect he just wrung their necks." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well! Getting along nicely, I see," said the assistant, +tiptoeing down the aisle. "I felt sure you would interest them, Mrs. +Spence. You will find our children very intelligent." +</P> + +<P> +"Very," agreed Desire. +</P> + +<P> +"They all know the Golden Text, I am sure," he continued with that +delightful manner which children dumbly hate. "Annie, you may begin." +</P> + +<P> +But Annie refused to avail herself of this privilege. Instead she +showed symptoms of tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come!" chided the assistant still more delightfully. "We mustn't +be shy! Bessie, let us hear from you. 'As Moses—'" +</P> + +<P> +"As Moses." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good. Now, Eddie. 'Lifted up.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Lifted up." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good indeed. Mabel, you next. 'The ser-'" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm scared of snakes," said Mabel unexpectedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well! But you are not afraid of snakes in Sunday School." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm s-cared of snakes anywhere!" wailed Mabel. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there is the first bell—excuse me." The relief of the assistant +was a joyful thing. "That means that you have three minutes more, Mrs. +Spence. We usually utilize these last moments for driving home the main +thought of the lesson. Very important, of course, to leave some +concrete idea—sorry, I must hurry." +</P> + +<P> +Desire felt that she must hurry, too. She hadn't even time to wonder +what a concrete idea might be. One can't wonder about anything in three +minutes. +</P> + +<P> +"Children," she began. "We haven't learned much about Moses. But the +main idea of this lesson is that he was a very good man and a great +patriot. He had been brought up in a King's palace, yet when the time +came for him to choose, he left the beautiful home of the mother who +had adopted him and went to his own people. His Own People," she +repeated slowly. "Do you understand that?" The class sat stolidly +silent. Desire's eye rested again upon the little girl with the prim +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma says 'dopting anyone's a terrible risk," said the prim one. "Like +as not they'll never say thank yuh." ... +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<P> +"And that," said Desire later in the day as she related her experiences +to the professor, "that was the idea with which I left them! I shan't +have to teach again, shall I, Benis?" +</P> + +<P> +Her husband smiled. "No. I should think more would be a superfluity." +</P> + +<P> +"They'll say I'm a heathen. I know they will. You don't realize how +serious it is. Think how your prestige will suffer." +</P> + +<P> +"It has suffered already. Only yesterday Mrs. Walkem, the laundress, +told Aunt that your—er—peculiarities were a judgment on me for +'tryin' to find out them things in folkses minds which God has hid away +a-purpose.'" +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm in earnest, Benis—more or less." +</P> + +<P> +"Let it be less, then. My dear girl, you don't really think that +Bainbridge disturbs me?" +</P> + +<P> +"N-no. But it disturbs me. A little. I am so different from all these +people, your friends. And being different is rather—lonely." +</P> + +<P> +"It is," he agreed. "But it is also stimulating." +</P> + +<P> +"I used to think," she went on, following her own thought, "that I was +different because my life was different. I thought that if I could ever +live with people, just as we live here, with everything normal and +everyday, the strangeness would drop away. But it hasn't. I am still +outside." +</P> + +<P> +"Everyone is, though you are young to realize it. Our social life is +very deceiving. Most of us wake up some day to find ourselves alone in +a desert." +</P> + +<P> +Desire swung the hammock gently with the tip of her shoe. "Is not one +ever a part of a whole?" +</P> + +<P> +"Socially, yes. Spiritually—I doubt it. It is some-thing which you +will have to decide for yourself." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to be alone," said Desire rebelliously. "It frightens me. +I want to have a place. I want to fit in. But here, it seems as if I +had come too late. Every-one is fitted in already. There isn't a tiny +corner left." +</P> + +<P> +Spence's grey eyes looked at her with a curious light in their depths. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," he said. "You haven't found your corner yet. When you do, the +rest won't matter." +</P> + +<P> +"But people do not want me. I had a horrid dream last night. I was +wandering all through Bainbridge and all the doors were open so that I +might go in anywhere. I was glad—at first. But I soon saw that my +freedom did not mean anything. No one saw me when I entered or cared +when I went away. I spoke to them and they did not answer. Then I knew +that I was just a ghost." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm another," said a cheerful voice behind them. "All my 'too, too +solid flesh' is melting rapidly. Only ice-cream can save me now!" Using +his straw hat vigorously as a fan Dr. Rogers dropped limply into an +empty chair. "Tell you a secret," he went on confidentially. "I had two +invitations to Sunday supper but neither included ice-cream. So I came +on here." +</P> + +<P> +"Very kind, I'm sure," murmured Benis. +</P> + +<P> +"How did you guess?" began Desire, and then she dimpled. "Oh, of +course,—Benis wasn't in church." +</P> + +<P> +"How did he know that?" asked Benis sharply. "He wasn't there, was he?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor looked conscious. Desire laughed. "His presence did seem to +create a mild sensation," she admitted. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see," he explained, "in the summer I am often very busy—" +</P> + +<P> +"In the cellar," murmured Benis. +</P> + +<P> +"But no one happened to need me today and, besides, my freezer is +broken. This, combined with—" +</P> + +<P> +"An added attraction," sotto voce from the professor. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well—I went, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw you there," said Desire, ignoring their banter. "I thought you +might have gone for the sermon. The subject was one of your +specialties, wasn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor twirled his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Better tell him what the subject was," suggested Benis unkindly. +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you listen?" Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. "That's one of +the things I don't understand about people here. Church and church +affairs seem to play such an important part in Bainbridge. Nearly +everyone goes to some church. But no one seems at all disturbed about +what they hear there. Is it because they believe all that the minister +says, or because they don't believe any of it?" +</P> + +<P> +Her hearers exchanged an alarmed glance. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want them to do?" said John uneasily. "Argue about it? +Besides, this morning was very exceptionally hot." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to be any more heathen than I have to be," went on +Desire, "but I must be terribly heathen if what Mr. McClintock said +this morning is right. He was speaking of pain, physical pain, and, he +said God sent it. I always thought," she concluded naively, "that it +came straight from the devil." +</P> + +<P> +"Healthy chap, McClintock!" said Benis lazily. "Never had anything +worse than measles and doesn't remember them." +</P> + +<P> +"What I'd like to know," said the doctor, "would be his opinion after +several weeks of—something unpleasant. He might feel more like blaming +the devil. What does he think doctors are fighting? God? By Jove, I +must have this out with McClintock! I know that, for one, I never fight +down pain without a glorious sense of giving Satan his licks." +</P> + +<P> +"But you did not even listen." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm listening now." +</P> + +<P> +"And no one else seemed to object to anything he said. I heard some of +them call it a 'beautiful discourse' and 'so helpful.'" +</P> + +<P> +Under her perplexed gaze the two Bainbridgers were clearly +uncomfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"It's because you don't really care what you hear from the pulpit," +said the girl accusingly. "You have your own beliefs and go your own +ways. Another man's views, good or bad, make no difference." +</P> + +<P> +"S-shish! 'ware Aunt Caroline!" warned the professor, but Desire was +too absorbed to heed. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, if one actually believed half of what was said this morning," she +went on, "the world would be a beautiful garden with half its lovely +things forbidden. 'Don't touch the flowers' and 'Keep off the grass' +would be everywhere. It seems such a waste, if God made so many happy +things and then doesn't like it if people are too happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Not many of us suffer from too much happiness," muttered Benis. +</P> + +<P> +"Or too much health," echoed the doctor. "I'd like to tell McClintock +that if people would expect more health, they'd get more. The ordinary +person expects ill-ness. They have a 'disease complex'—that's in your +line, Benis. But just supposing they could change the idea—Eh? +Supposing everybody began to look for health—just take it, you know, +as a God-intended right? I'd lose half my living in a fortnight." +</P> + +<P> +"John Rogers!" Aunt Caroline's voice fell with the effect of sizzling +hailstones upon the fire of John's enthusiasm. "If you must talk +heresy, there are other places beside my garden to do it in." +</P> + +<P> +"I was merely saying—" +</P> + +<P> +"I heard what you were saying. And although it takes a great deal to +surprise me, I am surprised. Such doctrines I consider most dangerous, +highly so. If you are thinking of setting up as a faith healer, the +sooner we know it the better. Desire, my dear, you might see Olive +about tea. Tell her not to forget the lemon. I do not know what I have +done to deserve a maid called Olive," she sighed, "but the only +alternative was Gladys. And Gladys I could not endure. As for illness, +I am surprised at you, John Rogers. I was not in church owing to a +severe headache, but I know the sermon. It is one of Mr. McClintock's +very best. If you had not gone to sleep in the middle of the first +point you would have heard the mystery of pain beautifully explained. A +wonderful preacher. If he wouldn't click his teeth." +</P> + +<P> +The professor shuddered. +</P> + +<P> +"Benis acts so foolishly about it," went on Aunt Caroline. "He insists +that the clicking makes him ill. But why should it? At the same time, +if one of the Elders were to suggest, tactfully, to Mr. McClintock that +he have the upper set tightened it might be well. It would at least" +(with grimness) "do away with the trivial excuses of some people for +not attending Divine service." +</P> + +<P> +Her graceless nephew was understood to murmur something about "too hot +to fight." +</P> + +<P> +"As for Mr. McClintock's ideas," pursued Aunt Caroline, "they are quite +beautiful. The first time he gave the deathbed description which +comprises part of this morning's discourse he had us all in tears. I +mean all of us who were sufficiently awake to realize the fact that it +was a deathbed. His description of the last agony has clearly lost +nothing in poignancy, for Desire came home quite pale. I wonder if you +have noticed, Benis, that Desire is looking somewhat less robust? +Doctor, now that she is not here—" +</P> + +<P> +"Now that she is not here, we will not discuss her," said Spence firmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed! And may I ask why you wish to stop me, Benis? I am speaking to +a qualified medical man, am I not? But there," with resignation, "I +never can expect to understand the present generation. So lax on one +hand, so squeamish on the other. Surely it is perfectly proper that I, +her Aunt—oh, very well, Benis, if you are determined to be silly." +</P> + +<P> +"Now with regard to the Rev. McClintock," put in the doctor hastily. +"Do you really think that he is sufficiently in touch with modern views +to—to—oh, dash it! what was I saying?" +</P> + +<P> +"You were interrupting me when I was telling Benis—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes. I remember. We were talking about new ideas. And you suggested +heresy. But you must remember that, in my profession, new ideas are not +called heresy—except when they are very new. What would you think of +me if I doctored exactly as my father did before me?" +</P> + +<P> +"When you are half as capable as your father, young man, I may discuss +that with you." +</P> + +<P> +"One for you!'' said Benis gleefully. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, leaving me out then, and speaking generally, why should a +physician search continually for fresh wisdom, while a minister—" +</P> + +<P> +"Beware, young man!" Aunt Caroline raised an affrighted hand. "Beware +how you compare your case with that of a minister of the Gospel. That +further wisdom is needed in the practice of medicine, anyone who has +ever employed a doctor is well aware. But where is he who dare add one +jot to Divine revelation?" +</P> + +<P> +"No one is speaking of adding anything. But surely, in the matter of +interpretation, an open mind is a first essential?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the matter of interpretation," said Aunt Caroline grandly, "we have +our ordained ministers. How do you feel," she added shrewdly, "toward +quacks and healers who, without study or training, call themselves +doctors? Do you say, 'Let us display an open mind'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Time!" said Benis, who enjoyed his relative hugely—when she was +disciplining someone else. "Here comes Desire with the tea." +</P> + +<P> +"What I really came out to say, Benis," resumed Aunt Caroline, "is that +I have just had a long distance call—Desire, my dear, cream or +lemon?—a long distance call from Toronto where, I fear, such things +are allowed on Sunday—Doctor, you like lemon, I think?—a call in fact +from Mary Davis. You remember her, Benis? Such a sweet girl. She is +feeling a little tired and would like to run down here for a rest. +Desire, my dear, have you any plans with which this would interfere? I +said that I would consult you and let her know. You are very careless +with your plate, Benis. That Spode can never be replaced." +</P> + +<P> +Fortunately her anxiety for the family heirloom absorbed Aunt +Caroline's whole attention. If she noticed her nephew's look of +anguished guilt and his friend's politely raised brows she ascribed it +to his carelessness in balancing china. Desire's downcast eyes and +stiffened manner she did not notice at all. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, my dear, what do you say? Shall we invite Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"It depends on Benis, of course," said Desire quietly. +</P> + +<P> +"Benis? What has Benis to do with it? Not but that he enjoyed having +her here last time well enough. It is the privilege of the mistress of +the house to choose her guests. I hope you will not be slack in +claiming your privileges. They are much harder to obtain than one's +rights. My dear sister was careless. She allowed Benis's father to do +just as he pleased. Be warned in time." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you wish Miss Davis to visit us, Benis?" Desire's hands were busy +with her teacup. Her eyes were still lowered. +</P> + +<P> +"I have no wishes whatever in the matter," said the professor with what +might be considered admirable detachment. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell Miss Davis we shall be delighted, Aunt," said Desire. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<P> +Time, in quiet neighborhoods, like water in a pool, slips in and out +leaving the pool but little changed. Only when one is waiting for +something dreaded or desired do the days drag or hasten. Miss Davis was +to arrive upon the Friday following her telephone invitation. That left +Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Desire found them very long. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing more had been said of the personality of the expected visitor. +Desire did not ask, because she felt sure that, when she had seen, she +would know without asking. At present there was little enough to go +upon. The guest's name was Mary. Her hair was yellow. She had visited +in Bainbridge before. She and Benis had been friends. Beyond this there +was nothing save the professor's carelessness with the family Spode—an +annoying device for diverting attention in moments of embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +Against this circumstantial evidence there was the common-sense +argument that the real Mary of the professor's romance would hardly be +likely, under the circumstances, to propose herself as his aunt's guest. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was inclined to take the common-sense view. Especially as just +about this time she came upon the track of another Mary, also with +yellow hair, who presented possibilities. The most suspicious thing +about this second Mary was that neither the professor nor his friend +Dr. Rogers had been able to tell Desire her first name. Now in +Bainbridge everyone knows the first name of everyone else. One does not +use it, necessarily, but one knows it. So that when Desire, having one +day noticed a gleam of particularly golden hair, asked innocently to +"whom it might belong" and was met by a plain surname prefixed merely +by "Miss," she became instantly curious. From other sources she learned +that the golden-haired Miss Watkins had been employed as a nurse in Dr. +Rogers' office for several months and that her Christian name was Mary +Sophia. +</P> + +<P> +This also, you will see, was not much to build upon. But Desire felt +that she must neglect nothing. The menace of the unseen, unknown Mary +was beginning seriously to disturb her peace of mind. She determined to +see the doctor's pretty nurse at the earliest opportunity. +</P> + +<P> +The comradeship between herself and Rogers had prospered amazingly. She +had liked the young doctor at first sight; had discerned in him +something charmingly boylike and appealing. And Desire had never had +boy friends. The utter frankness of her friendship was undisturbed by +overmuch knowledge of her own attractions, and the possibility of less +contentment on his side did not occur to her. Feeling herself so much +older, in reality, than he, she assumed with delicious naivete, the +role of confidant and general adviser. What time she could spare from +Benis and the great Book she bestowed most generously upon his friend. +</P> + +<P> +During the four dragging days of waiting the appearance of Miss Davis, +she had found the distraction of Dr. John's company particularly +helpful. And then, after all, Miss Davis did not arrive. Instead, there +came a note regretting a very bad cold and postponing the visit until +its indefinite recovery. The news came at the breakfast table. +</P> + +<P> +"How long," asked Desire thoughtfully, "does a bad cold usually last?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not long—if it's just a cold," answered Benis with some gloom. "But," +more hopefully, "if it is tonsillitis it lasts weeks and if pneumonia +sets in you have to stay indoors for months." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline looked over her spectacles. +</P> + +<P> +"You sound," she said, "as if you wish it were pneumonia." +</P> + +<P> +But in this she was, perhaps, severe. Her nephew was really not capable +of wishing pneumonia for anyone, not even a possible Nemesis by the +name of Mary. He merely felt that if such a complication should +supervene he would bear the news with fortitude. For, speaking +colloquially, the professor was finding himself very much "in the air." +Desire's mind upon the subject of this guest in particular and of Marys +in general, had become clouded to his psychological gaze. He had +thought at first that his young secretary was jealous with that +harmless sex jealousy which may almost as well be described as "pique." +But, of late, he had not felt so sure about it. He did not, in fact, +feel quite so sure about any-thing. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was changing. He had expected her to change, but the rapidity of +it was somewhat breath-taking. In appearance she had become noticeably +younger. The firm line of her lips had taken on softer curves; the warm +white of her skin was bloomy like a healthy child's; shadow after +shadow had lifted from her deep grey eyes. But it was in her manner +that the most significant difference lay. Spence sometimes wondered if +he had dreamed the silent Desire of the mountain cottage. That Desire +had stood coldly alone; had listened and weighed and gone her own way +with the hard confidence of too early maturity. This Desire listened +and weighed still, but her confidence was often now replaced by +questioning. In this new and more normal world, her unserved, +unsatisfied youth was breaking through. +</P> + +<P> +But, if she were younger, she was certainly not more simple. If the +grey eyes were less shadowed, they were no less inscrutable. If the +lips were softer, their serenity was as baffling as their sternness had +been. If she seemed more plastic she was not less illusive. Nimble as +were his mental processes, the professor was discomfited to find that +hers were still more nimble. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile the Book was getting on. No excursions into the land of youth +were allowed to interfere with Desire's idea of her secretarial duties. +If anyone shirked, it was the author; if anyone wanted holidays it was +he. If he were lazy, Desire found ways of making progress without him; +if he grumbled, she laughed. +</P> + +<P> +The day set apart for the arrival of Miss Davis had been voted a +holiday and the professor hoped that her non-appearance would not +interfere with so pleasant an arrangement. But Desire's ideas were +quite otherwise. Sharply on time she descended to the library with her +note-book ready. The professor felt injured. +</P> + +<P> +"Must we really?" he said. "Yes. I see we must. But mind! I know why +you are doing it. I thought of your reason in the night when I was +unable to sleep from overwork. You are hurrying to get through so that +we may leave this sleepy town. Insatiable window-gazer! You wish to +look in bigger windows." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I?" Desire turned limpid eyes upon him and tapped her note-book. +"Then the sooner we get on with this chapter on 'The Significance of +the Totem' the better. But, if you can excuse me this afternoon, Dr. +John has just 'phoned to ask me if I can call on the eldest Miss +Martin. He says that her state of mind is her greatest trouble. And it +does not react to medicine." +</P> + +<P> +The professor looked still more injured. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't begin the totem chapter unless we are going to go on with +it," he objected. "I don't see why John doesn't get a secretary of his +own." +</P> + +<P> +"He has a nurse," said Desire smoothly. +</P> + +<P> +"Er—oh yes, of course. Well, perhaps we had better begin—but why does +he want you to call on Miss Martin?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked self-conscious, a rare thing for her. "Well, you see, I +have an idea about Miss Martin. It may be entirely wrong but John +thinks it worth trying. You knew that her fiance was killed just before +the armistice, didn't you? John says she seemed stunned at the time but +kept on, the way most women did. She helped him fight the 'flu' all +that winter without taking it her-self. But she was one of the first to +come down with it when it returned this Spring. She got through the +worst—and there she stays. John says that if she doesn't begin to pick +up soon there won't be enough of her left to bother about." +</P> + +<P> +"And your idea?" +</P> + +<P> +"You might laugh," said Desire with sudden shyness. +</P> + +<P> +The professor promised not to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"My idea is this. To find out the real reason for her not getting +better and treat that." +</P> + +<P> +"Very simple." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, because John already knows the real cause. He says she doesn't +get well because she doesn't want to. In the old days people would say +her heart was broken. And it seems such a pity, because, if what +everyone says is true, she would have been frightfully unhappy if she +had married him. (Desire became slightly incoherent here.) They weren't +suited at all. He was a musician, a derelict who hadn't a thought in +the world for anything but his violin. Aunt Caroline says the +engagement was a mystery to everyone. She says that probably Miss +Martin just offered to take him in hand and look after him (she used to +be very capable) and he hadn't backbone enough to say she couldn't. +They say that the only time anyone ever saw a gleam in his face was the +day he went away to the war. Then he was killed. And now she won't get +well because she can't forget him." +</P> + +<P> +"And that is what you call a 'pity'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not exactly that." She hesitated. "If he had cared for her as +she thought he did, it wouldn't seem such a waste. But he didn't. +Everybody knew it—except herself." +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody may have been wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. But that is just the point. They weren't. He died as he had lived +without a thought for anything but music. I happened to hear a rather +wonderful story about his dying. Sergeant Timms, who drives the baker's +cart, was in the next cot to his, in the hospital. And my idea is that +if he could just tell her the story—just let her see that he went away +without a thought—she might get things in proportion again and let +herself get well." +</P> + +<P> +"I see. Well, my dear, it is your idea. Is John going to drive you out?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. He wanted to. But I'll have to find the Sergeant and take him with +me." +</P> + +<P> +"In the baker's cart?" +</P> + +<P> +"What a good idea! I would never have thought of that. And I've always +wanted to ride in a baker's cart. They smell so crusty." +</P> + +<P> +So it was really the professor's fault that Bainbridge was scandalized +by the sight of young Mrs. Spence jogging comfortably along through the +outskirts in a bread cart driven by the one-time Sergeant Edward Timms. +</P> + +<P> +"And him so silly with havin' her," said Mrs. Beatty (who first noticed +them), "that he didn't know a French roll from a currant bun." +</P> + +<P> +Indeed we may as well admit that the gallant Sergeant confused more +things that day than rolls and buns. The latter part of his orderly +bread route was strewn thickly with indignant customers. For the +Sergeant was a thoroughgoing fellow quite incapable of a divided +interest. +</P> + +<P> +"You can tell me the details of the story as we go along," Desire said, +"so that I shan't be interrupting your work at all." +</P> + +<P> +The dazzled Sergeant agreed and immediately delivered two whites +instead of one brown and forgot the tickets. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see," he said, "it was this way. We went over there +together, him and me. And we hadn't known each other, so to speak, not +intimate. You didn't know him yourself at all, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire shook her head. +</P> + +<P> +"He was a queer one. Willin' as could be to do what he was told, but +forgettin' what it was, regular. Just naturally no good, like, except +with the fiddle. I will say, that with that there instrument he was a +Paderwooski—yes, mam! By the time our outfit got into them trenches +the boys was just clean dippy about him. They kind of took turns +dry-nursin' him and remindin' him of the things he'd got to do, and +doin' them for him when they could put it over. I'll tell you +this—it's my private suspicion that more than one chap went west +tryin' to keep the bullets offen him! Not that they were crazy about +him exactly, but that fiddle of his had got them goin'. 'Twasn't only +the fiddle he played on, either. Anything would do. That there chap +could play you into any kind of dashed mood he liked and out of it +again. Put more pep into you with a penny whistle than Sousy's band or +a bottle of rum. Ring you out like a dishrag, he could, and hang you +out to dry. Gee! He could do anything—just anything!" +</P> + +<P> +(It was here that the bun episode occurred.) +</P> + +<P> +"Well,—he got buried. Parapet blown in. And when they got him out he +was—hurt some." (The Sergeant remembered that one must not shock the +ladies.) +</P> + +<P> +"That was all I would have known about it," he went on, "only we happen +to turn up in hospital together. I wakes up one mornin' and finds him +in the next cot. He was supposed to be recoverin' but was somehow +botchin' the job. +</P> + +<P> +"'Where's the fiddle?' I says to him one day when I was feelin' social. +And then, all of a minute, I guessed why he wasn't patchin' up like +what was his duty. You see, that b-blessed parapet hadn't had any more +sense than to go and spoil his right arm for him—the one he fiddled +with, see?" +</P> + +<P> +(Here the Sergeant delivered one brick loaf instead of two sandwich +ditto.) +</P> + +<P> +"Well, they kept sayin' there weren't any reason he shouldn't mend up. +But he didn't. And one night—" the Sergeant pulled up the cart so +quickly that Desire almost fell out of it. "You won't believe this +part," he said in a kind of shamefaced way. +</P> + +<P> +"Try me." +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, one night he called to me in a kind of clear whisper. +'Bob!' he says, 'I've got my fiddle!' +</P> + +<P> +"'Sure you have, old cock,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +"'And my arm's as good as ever,' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"'Sure it is! Better,' says I. +</P> + +<P> +"'Listen!' says he. +</P> + +<P> +"And I listened and—but you won't believe this part—" +</P> + +<P> +"I will." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I heared him playin'! Not loud—not very near but so clear not +one of the littlest, tinkly notes was lost. I never heard playin' like +that—no, mam! And the ward was still. I never heard the ward still, +like that. I think I went to sleep listenin'. I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +The Sergeant broke off here long enough to deliver several orders—all +wrong. Desire waited quietly and presently he finished with a jerk. +</P> + +<P> +"When I woke up in the mornin', I was feelin' fine—fine. The first +thing I did was to look over to the next cot. But there was a screen +around it.... I ain't told the story to his folks because he hasn't +got any," he added after a pause. "And I kind of thought it mightn't +comfort his fiancy any—it not bein' personal, so to speak." +</P> + +<P> +Desire frankly wiped her eyes. (It was fortunate that no one saw her do +this.) +</P> + +<P> +"It's a beautiful story," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if you think I ought to tell, I will. But if his fiancy says, +'Was there any message?' hadn't I best put in a little one—somethin' +comforting?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—no." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. Couldn't I just say that at the end he called out +'Amelia!'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. Timms!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not quite playin' the game, eh? Well, then I won't. But it does seem +kind of skimp like.... There's the doctor waitin' at the gate." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<P> +It seemed to Desire, waiting in the garden, that the Sergeant was +taking an unnecessarily long time in telling his story. She had thought +it best that he should be left alone to tell it, so the doctor had gone +on to visit another patient, promising to call for her as he came back. +</P> + +<P> +Desire waited. And, as she waited, she thought. And, as she thought, +she questioned. What had Benis meant when he had said, in that +whimsical way of his, "Well, my dear, it is your idea"? If he had not +approved of it, why hadn't he said so? It had seemed such a sensible +idea. An idea of which anyone might approve.... Why also had +Sergeant Timms been so reluctant to approach Miss Martin with the bare +(and, Desire thought, beautiful) truth? Because he feared it would rob +her of an illusion? But illusions are surely something which people are +better without?—aren't they? +</P> + +<P> +The Sergeant came at last, twirling his cap and looking hot. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" asked Desire nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"She'd like you to go in, Mrs. Spence, if you can spare the time. She +took it quite quiet. 'Thank you, Sergeant,' says she. And never a +question." +</P> + +<P> +The two looked at each other and Desire saw her own doubt plainly +reflected upon the honest gaze of Robert Timms. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go in," she said. "The doctor will take me home." +</P> + +<P> +In the invalid's room there was only quietness. Miss Martin sat in her +chair by the window; her plain, thin face had not sought to turn from +the searching light. Desire felt her heart begin to beat with the +beginnings of an understanding as new as it was revealing. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be sorry," Miss Martin's reassurance was instant. "I am glad to +know.... I always did know, anyway ... and it did not make any +difference ... If you can understand." +</P> + +<P> +Desire nodded. "He must have been very wonderful," she said. In that +new and nameless understanding she forgot that only that morning she +had referred to the dead musician as a "derelict" and "no good for +anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said the invalid musing. "Not quite like the rest of us. And I +see now that he never would have been. I used to think—but the +difference was too deep. It was fundamental.... I feel ... as if +he knew it ... and just wandered on." +</P> + +<P> +"But you?" Desire ventured this almost timidly. The quietness seemed to +intensify in the room. Then the invalid's voice, serene, distant. +</P> + +<P> +"I? ... There is no hurry.... He has his fiddle, you see...." +Miss Martin smiled and the smile held no bitterness. So might a mother +have smiled over a thoughtless child who turns away from a love he is +too young to value. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was silent. +</P> + +<P> +"I did not know love was like that," she said after a long pause. "But +perhaps I do not know anything about love at all." +</P> + +<P> +The older woman looked at her with quiet scrutiny. +</P> + +<P> +"You will," she said. +</P> + +<P> +After that they talked of other things until the doctor came to take +Desire home. +</P> + +<P> +"Queer thing," he said as he threw in the clutch, "I believe she looks +a little better already. That was an excellent idea of yours." +</P> + +<P> +"It was anything but an excellent idea." Desire's tone was taut with +emotional reaction. "Fortunately, it did no harm. But I don't know what +you were thinking of to allow it." +</P> + +<P> +"Allow it?" In surprised injury. +</P> + +<P> +Desire did not take up the challenge. She was looking, he thought, +unusually excited. There was faint color on her cheek. Her hands, +generally so quiet, clasped and unclasped her handbag with an +irritating click. Being a wise man, Rogers waited until the clicking +had subsided. Then, "What's the matter?" he asked mildly. +</P> + +<P> +"John," said Desire, "do you know anything about love?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see you do," she added as the car leapt forward, narrowly missing a +surprised cow. "So perhaps you will laugh at my new wisdom. I learned +something to-day." +</P> + +<P> +The car was giving trouble. For a few moments its eccentricities +required its driver's undivided attention. Even when it was running +smoothly again, he appeared preoccupied. But Desire was seldom in a +hurry. She waited until he was quite ready. +</P> + +<P> +"You learned something—about love?" asked John gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Have you a sore throat? Your voice sounds all dusty. I used to +think," she went on dreamily, "that love was something that came from +outside. That it depended on things. But it doesn't depend on anything +and it's not outside at all." +</P> + +<P> +"And you found this out, today?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I saw it, in Miss Martin. It was quite plain. What idiots we were +to pity her!" +</P> + +<P> +"Did we pity her?" +</P> + +<P> +The question was mechanical. John was not thinking of Miss Martin. He +was thinking of the faint rose upon Desire's half-turned cheek. Desire +blushing! +</P> + +<P> +"Of course we did. And we had no right. And there is no need." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let's do it, then," said John. Out of the corner of his eye he +saw, with a quickening of his pulse, how stirred she was. And his +wonder mounted. That Desire, of the cool, grey eyes and unwarmed smile, +should speak of love at all was sufficiently amazing, but that she +should speak of it with tinted cheek was a miracle. +</P> + +<P> +Yet this, he quickly remembered, was something which he had himself +foreseen. He had never really accepted Spence's theory that early +disillusion had seriously poisoned the lifesprings natural to her age. +Her awakening had been certain. He had warned Spence that she would +wake! He felt all the exultation of a prophet who sees his prophecy +fulfilled. But common sense urged caution. To frighten her now might be +fatal. He tried to bring his mind back to Miss Martin. +</P> + +<P> +"At least," he said, "our intentions were admirable. We were trying to +help her." +</P> + +<P> +"We were being very impertinent," affirmed Desire. "Benis told me so +this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Benis told you?" in surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me. But I am sure he wanted to." +</P> + +<P> +This was too subtle for the doctor. There were times when he frankly +admitted his inability to bridge Desire's conversational chasms. He was +often puzzled by the things she did not say. +</P> + +<P> +"What was Benis thinking of," he said irritably, "to let you come out +in that bread cart?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire laughed. "I hope he was thinking of the Significance of the +Totem. But I'm almost sure he wasn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Does he ever think of anything but that blessed book of his?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid he does—occasionally." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean," with sharpened interest, "that he isn't quite as keen on it +as he used to be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that he doesn't like me to work too hard." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I see. Perhaps he does not wish you to work too hard for me, +either?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire folded her hands upon her bag and looked primly into space. +</P> + +<P> +"He is a very considerate employer," she remarked mildly. "Take +care—you nearly hit that hen!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, d—bother the hen!" +</P> + +<P> +"And he never swears," added Desire with gentle dignity. +</P> + +<P> +They drove for a mile or so without remark and then, Desire, who had +something to say, reopened the conversation without rancour. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be cross," she said. "As a matter of fact Benis does swear +sometimes. He is nervous, you know. I sometimes wonder if it is all due +to shell shock, or whether it is a result of his—er—other experience." +</P> + +<P> +For the second time that day the car skidded. And for the second time, +its unfortunate driver was called upon to give it his whole attention. +Desire waited. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean his former love affair," said she when conversation was again +possible. +</P> + +<P> +"His—I don't know," said John weakly. +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked sceptical. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't fancy I want to question you," she said with haughtiness. "But I +don't see how you can help knowing. You are his doctor. And his friend, +too. He must have told you. Didn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He mentioned something—er—that is to say—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't hesitate! Don't fancy that I mind. I don't, of course. And I +am not curious. Although any-one might be curious. I won't ask you +questions. I am only mildly interested. It is entirely for his own good +that I should like to know if she is quite as wonderful as he thinks. +Is she, John?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I don't know," stammered the wretched John. +</P> + +<P> +Desire nodded patiently. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you don't know how wonderful he thought her? But did you +think her very wonderful, John?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I didn't" +</P> + +<P> +"You thought her plain?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I—I didn't think of her at all." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that you found her insignificant?" +</P> + +<P> +The doctor made a sound which Desire was pleased to interpret as assent. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not surprised," said she earnestly. "Because, from the description +Benis gave, I felt sure he was exaggerating. Not that it makes any +difference, because, if he thought she was like that, what she really +was like didn't matter. That," with plaintive triumph, "is one of the +things I learned today." +</P> + +<P> +The doctor said nothing. It was the only thing which he felt it safe to +say. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<P> +The professor was smoking under the maples by the front steps when the +car drove up. He looked very cool, very comfortable and very sure of +himself—entirely too sure of himself, in John's opinion. John, who at +the moment, felt neither cool nor comfortable, and anything but sure, +observed him with envy and pity. Envy for so obvious a content, pity +for an ignorance which made content possible. +</P> + +<P> +Spence, on his part, seemed unaware of a certain tenseness in the +attitude of both Desire and John, a symptom which might have suggested +many things to a reflective mind. +</P> + +<P> +"You look frightfully 'het up,' Bones," he said. "And your collar is +wilting. Better pause in your mad career and have some tea." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, can't. Office hours—see you later," jerked the doctor rapidly +as he turned his car. +</P> + +<P> +"What have you been doing to John to bring on an attack of 'office +hours' at this time of day?" asked Spence as he and Desire crossed the +lawn together. "Wasn't the great idea a success?" +</P> + +<P> +"John thinks it was." +</P> + +<P> +It was so unlike Desire to give someone else's opinion when asked for +her own that the professor said "um." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," she added stiffly, "it is a question of values." +</P> + +<P> +"Something for something—and a doubt as to whether one pays too dear +for the whistle? Well, don't worry about it. If you could not help, you +probably could not hurt, either.... I had a letter from Li Ho this +afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"A letter!" Desire's swift step halted. Her eyes, wide and startled, +questioned him. "A letter from Li Ho? But Li Ho can't write—in +English." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't he? Wait until you've read it. But I shan't let you read it, if +you look like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Like what? Frightened? But I am frightened. I can't help it. I know +it's foolish. But the more I forget—the worse it is when I remember." +</P> + +<P> +"You must get over that. Sit here while I fetch the letter. Aunt is +out. I'll tell Olive to bring tea." +</P> + +<P> +Desire sat where he placed her. It was very pleasant there with the +green slope of the lawn and the cool shadow of trees. But her widely +opened eyes saw nothing of its homely peace. They saw, instead, a +curving stretch of moonlit beach and a trail which wound upwards into +thick darkness. Ever since she had broken away, that vision had haunted +her, now near and menacing, now dimmer and farther off, but always +there like a spectre of the past. +</P> + +<P> +"It hasn't let me go—it is there always—waiting," thought Desire. And +in the still warmth of the garden she shivered. +</P> + +<P> +The sense of Self, which is our proudest possession, receives some +curious shocks at times. Before the mystery of its own strange changing +the personality stands appalled. The world swings round in chaos before +the startled question, "Who am I—where is that other Self that once +was I?" +</P> + +<P> +Only a few months separated Desire from her old life in the mountain +cottage and already the mental and spiritual separation seemed +infinite. But was it? Was there any real separation at all? That ghost +of herself, which she had left behind on the moonlit beach, was it not +still as much herself as ever it had been? Behind the shrouding veil of +the present might not the old life still live, and the old Self wander, +fixed and changeless? It was a fantastic idea of Desire's that the girl +she had been was still where she had left her, working about the +log-walled rooms, or wandering alone by the shining water. This Self +knew no other life, would never know it—had no lot or part in the new +life of the new Desire. Yet in its background she was always there, a +figure of fate, waiting. Through the pleasant, busy days Desire forgot +her—almost. But never was she quite free from the pull of that +unsevered bond. +</P> + +<P> +Until today there had been no actual word from the discarded past. Dr. +Farr had not replied to Desire's brief announcement of her marriage. +She had not expected that he would. And for the rest, Spence had +arranged with Li Ho for news of anything which might concern the old +man's welfare. +</P> + +<P> +"Here is the letter," said Benis, breaking in upon her musing. "You +will see that, if the clear expression of thought constitutes good +English, Li Ho's English is excellent." +</P> + +<P> +He handed her a single sheet of blue note paper, beautiful with a +narrow purple border and the very last word in "chaste and distinctive" +stationery. +</P> + +<P> +"Honorable Spence and Respected Sir"—wrote Li Ho—"I address husband +as is propriety but include to Missy wishes of much happiness. +Honorable Boss and father is as per accustomed but no different. +Admirable Sami child also of strong appetite when last observed. +Departure of Missy is well to remain so. Moon-devil not say when, but +arrive spontaneous. This insignificant advise from worthless personage +Li Ho." +</P> + +<P> +Desire handed back the letter with a hand that was not quite steady. +The professor frowned. He had hoped that she was beginning to forget. +But, with one so unused to self-revelation as Desire, it had been +difficult to tell. He had thought it unwise to question and he had +never pressed any comparison between her life as it was and as it had +been. Better, he thought, to let all the old memories die. They were, +he fancied, not very tellable memories, being compounded not so much of +word and deed as of those more subtle things without voice or being +which are no less terribly, evilly, real and whose mark remains longest +upon the soul. Even complete understanding would not help him to rub +out these markings. Only that slow over-growing of life, which we call +forgetfulness, could do that. She was so young, there was still an +infinite impulse of growth within her and in the new growth old scars +might pass away. +</P> + +<P> +Desire noticing the new seriousness of his face was conscious of a pang +of guilt. It seems such crass ingratitude to doubt for one instant the +stability of the happiness he had given her. Had he not done more than +it had seemed possible for anyone to do? From the first she had +overflowed with silent gratitude to him. There was wonder yet in the +apparent ease with which he had sauntered into the prison of her life +and, with a laugh and jest, set her free. He had shown her, for the +first time in her life, the blessedness of receiving. Those whose +nature it is to give greatly are not ungenerous to the giving of +others. It is a small and selfish mind which fears to take, and Desire +was neither small nor selfish. She had hidden the thanks she could not +speak deep in her heart, letting them lie there, a core of sweetness, +sweeter for its silence. +</P> + +<P> +Who shall say when in this secret core a wonderful something began to +quicken and to grow? So fine were its beginnings that Desire herself +knew them only as new bloom and color, 'violets sweeter, the blue sky +bluer'—the old eternal miracle of a new-made earth. +</P> + +<P> +She had called this new thing friendship and had been content. Only +today, when she had for an instant glimpsed life through the eyes of +Agnes Martin, had there seemed possible a greater word. In that quiet +room another name had whispered around her heart like the first breath +of a rising wind. She had not dared to listen. Yet, without listening, +she heard. And now, through Li Ho's letter, that other Self who would +have none of love, stretched out a phantom hand and beckoned. +</P> + +<P> +The professor took the letter from her gravely, retaining, for an +instant the unsteady hand that gave it. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you able to get away from it yet?" he asked kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"No. Perhaps I never shall. When the memory comes back I feel—sick. It +is even worse in retrospect. When it was my daily life, I lived it. But +now it seems impossible. Am I getting more cowardly, do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +Spence smiled. "I hope you are," he told her. "When you lived under a +daily strain you were probably keyed to a sort of harmony with it. Now +you are getting more normal. Life is a thing of infinite adjustment." +</P> + +<P> +"You think I could get 'adjusted' again if I had to?" +</P> + +<P> +"You won't have to. Why discuss it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because it puzzles me. Why do I mind things more now than I did? I +used to feel quite casual about father's oddities. They never seemed to +exactly matter. But now," naively, "I would so much like to have a +father like other people." +</P> + +<P> +"That is more normal, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," she went on, as if following her own thoughts, "what Li Ho +calls the moon-devil is really a disease. Have you ever told Dr. John +about father, Benis? What did he say?" The professor fidgeted. "Oh, +nothing much. He couldn't, you know, without more data. But he thinks +his periodical spells may be a kind of masked epilepsy. There are some +symptoms which look like it. The way the attacks come on, with +restlessness and that peculiar steely look in the eye, the unreasoning +anger and especially the—er—general indications." The professor came +to a stammering end, suddenly remembering that she did not know that +last and worst of the moon-devil symptoms. +</P> + +<P> +"It is hereditary, of course," said Desire calmly. +</P> + +<P> +The professor jumped. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear girl! What an idea." +</P> + +<P> +"An idea which I could not very well escape. All these things tend to +transmit themselves, do they not? Only not necessarily so. I seem to +have escaped." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," shortly. "Surely you have never supposed—" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I haven't. That's the odd part of it. I have never been the least +bit afraid. Perhaps it's because I have never felt that I have anything +at all in common with father. Or it may be because I have never faced +facts. I don't know. Even now, when I am facing facts, they do not seem +really to touch me. I never pretended to understand father. He seemed +like two or three people, all strangers. Sometimes he was just a rather +sly old man full of schemes for getting money without working for it, +and very clever and astute. Sometimes he seemed a student and a +scholar—this was his best mood. It was during this phase that he wrote +his scientific articles and taught me all that I know. His own +knowledge seemed to be an orderly confusion o>f all kinds of things. +And he could be intensely interesting when he chose. In those moods he +treated me with a certain courtesy which may have been a remnant of an +earlier manner. But it never lasted long." +</P> + +<P> +"And the other mood—the third one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that Well, that was the bad mood. If it is a disease he was not +responsible. So' we won't talk of it." Desire's lips tightened. "He +usually went away in the hills when the restlessness came on. And I +fancy Li Ho—watched." +</P> + +<P> +"Good old Li Ho!" +</P> + +<P> +Desire nodded. "I think now that perhaps I did not quite appreciate Li +Ho. I should like to know—but what is the use? We shall never know +more than we do." +</P> + +<P> +"Not about Li Ho'. He is the eternal Sphinx wrapped in an everlasting +yesterday. I suppose he did not have even a beginning?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire smiled. "No. He was always there. He is one of my first +memories. A kind of family familiar. Sometimes I think that if he had +not been away the night my mother died she might have been alive still." +</P> + +<P> +Spence hesitated. "You have never told me about your mother's death, +you know," he reminded her gently. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I?" Desire was plainly surprised. "Why—I thought you knew. +That is a queer thing about you," she went on musingly, "I am always +thinking that you know things which you don't. Perhaps it's because you +guess so much without being told. My mother died suddenly—of shock. +Her heart was never strong and the fright of waking to find a thief in +her room proved fatal. It happened one night when Li Ho was away. We +lived in Vancouver at the time and Li Ho often disappeared into +Chinatown. He had all the Oriental passion for fan-tan. That night +there was a police raid on his favorite gambling place and Li Ho was +held till morning. It was always he who locked the doors and attended +to everything at night. Perhaps it was known that he was away. But just +what happened was never settled, for my father was found unconscious on +the floor of the passage outside my mother's door. He couldn't remember +anything clearly. The fact that there had been several previous +burglaries in town and that there were valuables missing offered the +only explanation." +</P> + +<P> +The professor was silent so long that Desire added: "I'm sorry. I +should have told you before." +</P> + +<P> +"What difference would it have made?" He roused himself. "Tell me the +rest of it. Did Li Ho think that your mother had been frightened by +a—thief?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so," in surprise. "Li Ho blamed himself terribly. He said it +was his fault. If they hadn't known he was in the cells all night they +might have suspected him. He acted so queerly. But of course what he +meant was that if he had been at home the thief would not have broken +in." +</P> + +<P> +"There were evidences of his having broken in?" +</P> + +<P> +"There was a window open." +</P> + +<P> +"And were any of the stolen things recovered." +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I ever heard of. And yet, I think perhaps some of them were. +I remember—" Desire paused and a painful flush crept into her cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" prompted Spence gently. +</P> + +<P> +"One of the lost things was an old-fashioned watch belonging to mother. +I used to listen to it ticking. And once, years after, I saw it. Father +had given it to—a friend of his. So, you see, he must have got it +back." +</P> + +<P> +"I see." The professor was aware of a pricking along his spine. He +looked at the unconscious face of the girl and ventured another +question. +</P> + +<P> +"Was your father injured at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"His head was hurt. They did not know whether the thief had struck him +or whether it was the fall. He had fallen just at the foot of the +stairs. We lived in a bungalow, then, and as I was asleep in my little +room under the eaves, it was thought that he had been trying to reach +me—what is the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor had been unable to control an involuntary shudder. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," he said. "Just nerves." +</P> + +<P> +Desire's smile was wistful. "It isn't a pretty story," she said. "None +of the stories I can tell are pretty. That's why I am different from +other people. But I am trying. Perhaps I shall get to be more like them +presently." +</P> + +<P> +The professor banished his dark thoughts with an effort. "God forbid!" +he said cheerfully. "And here comes tea!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<P> +One wonders what would happen to our admirable muddle of a world, if +even a minority of its inhabitants were suddenly to embrace +consistency. It would, presumably, be a world still, but so changed +that its best friends would not know it. It is because every-body, +everywhere and at all times, acts as they could not logically be +expected to act, that our dear familiar chaos of you-never-can-tell +continues to entertain us. +</P> + +<P> +Had Desire possessed consistency, this quality so jewel-like in its +rarity, she would have realized that, having voluntarily stepped aside +from woman's natural destiny, she should also have ceased to trouble +herself with those feminine doubts and hopes which are peculiar to it. +She would have known that the position of secretary to a professional +man does not logically include heart-burnings and questionings +concerning that gentleman's love affairs, past or present. She would +have refused to consider Mary. She would have been quite happy in the +position she had deliberately made for herself. +</P> + +<P> +Much as we would like to present Desire in this thoroughly sensible +light, we fear that her action on the morning following her visit to +the invalid Miss Martin would not bear us out in so doing. For on that +morning, with all facts of the situation freshly in her mind, she went +down-town to Dr. Rogers' office for no other purpose than to see and +talk to Dr. Rogers' yellow-haired nurse. +</P> + +<P> +"When I see her and hear her," said Desire to her-self, "I shall know. +And it will be so comfortable to know." Never a word, mind you, about +the inconsistency of being uncomfortable through not knowing. +</P> + +<P> +No attempt at reminding herself that knowledge was none of her +business. No arguing out of the matter at all. Merely the following of +a blind impulse to find Mary if Mary were to be found. +</P> + +<P> +This impulse, which was wholly foreign to her natural habit of mind, +she justified to herself under the guise of "natural curiosity." All +she had to do was to make the call seem sufficiently casual and to time +her arrival at the doctor's office at an hour when he could not +possibly be in it. As a newcomer, such a mistake would seem quite +plausible and could be passed over easily with "How stupid of me! I +should have known." After that the nurse would probably invite her to +wait. And, even if she did not, the mere exchange of question and +answer would probably be sufficiently revealing. +</P> + +<P> +This small program proceeded exactly as planned and Desire, in her most +becoming frock, learned of the absence of Dr. Rogers with exactly the +right degree of impatience and regret. +</P> + +<P> +"Please come in," said Dr. Rogers' nurse in somewhat drawling accents. +"Doctor may be back any minute." Being a nurse she always predicted the +doctor's arrival no matter how certain she might be that he would not +arrive. +</P> + +<P> +Desire hesitated, glanced quite naturally at her watch and decided to +wait. "If you are sure the doctor won't be long—?" The nurse was sure +that he wouldn't be long. +</P> + +<P> +Here her interest in the caller seemed to cease and she became very +much occupied with a business-like addressing of envelopes at a desk in +the corner. +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked around the cool and pleasant room. It was not like her +idea of a doctor's office, save perhaps for a faint clean smell of +drugs. There were comfortable chairs, flowers in a window-box, a table +with a book or two and some magazines. Through a half-open door, an +inner office showed—all very different from the picture her memory +showed her of the musty, cumbered room in which her father had received +his dwindling patients. As a child she had hated that room, hated the +hideous charts of "people with their skins off," the ponderous books +with their horrific and highly colored plates, the "patients' chair" +with its clinging odor of plush and ether, the untidy desk, the dust on +everything! +</P> + +<P> +But she had not come to Dr. Rogers' office to indulge in memory. She +had come to see the lady who was so busily addressing envelopes and, +after a decent interval of polite abstraction, she devoted herself +cautiously to this purpose. +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Watkins, before Desire's entrance, had not been addressing +envelopes. She had been reading. Her book lay open upon the window-sill +and Desire, having good eyes, could read its title upside down. It was +not a title which she knew, nor, if titles tell anything, did it belong +to a book which invited knowing. Desire felt almost certain that it was +not a book which Mary would care to read. Still, one never could tell. +The professor had said nothing whatever about Mary's literary taste. +</P> + +<P> +Desire's eyes strayed, vaguely, from the book to its owner. Only Miss +Watkins' profile was visible but it was a profile well worth attention. +People who cannot choose their literature are often quite successful +with their caps. Miss Watkins' cap was just right. And her hair was +certainly yellow. Desire frowned. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Watkins, looking up, caught the frown. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor really can't be long now," she drawled sympathetically. Desire +felt that the sympathy, like the assurance, was professional—an +afterglow, perhaps of sympathy which had existed once, before life had +overdrawn its account. She felt, also, that Miss Watkins' nose was +decidedly good. It was straight, with the nicest little blunt point; +and her eyes were blue—not misty blue, like the hills, but a passable +blue for all that. Her expression was cold and eminently superior. +("Frightfully nursey" was what Desire called it to herself.) Her voice +was thin. (Desire was glad of that.) +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor must have been kept somewhere," said the nurse pursuing her +formula. "Won't you sit near the window? There's a breeze." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you." Desire moved to the window. "You must find it very +peaceful here—after nursing overseas." +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Watkins tapped her full upper lip with her pen. "Yes," she said. +"It's very dull." Desire smiled. Her spirits had been rising ever since +her entrance and she was now quite cheerful. Pretty as Miss Mary +Watkins undoubtedly was, there was a some-thing—could it be possible +that she chewed gum? No, of course she could not chew gum. And yet +there was an impression of gum somewhere—an insinuating certainty that +she might chew gum on a dark night when no one was looking. Desire +heaved a little sigh of satisfaction and, leaning out, appeared to +occupy herself with the passers-by. +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't Bainbridge streets wonderful?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +Nurse Watkins' mouth took on a discontented droop. "The streets are all +right," she said, "only they don't go anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +Desire laughed. "Are you as bored as that?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Worse. I wouldn't stay here a minute if it weren't—I mean, if I +hadn't been advised to rest up a bit." +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked at her watch, and rose. Now that her curiosity had been +amply satisfied, she began to realize that curiosity is an undignified +thing. And also that she had not been the only person present to give +way to it. +</P> + +<P> +The somewhat drawling tones of Miss Watkins' voice were not at all in +keeping with the activity of her wide-awake blue eyes. A sense of this +nurse's speculation as to her presence there flicked Desire with little +whips of irritation. It is one thing to observe and quite another to +render oneself observable. She felt the blood flow hotly to her cheek. +Why had she come? How could she have so far forgotten her natural +reserve, her instinctive dislike of intrusion? Desire saw plainly that +she had allowed a regrettable sentiment to trick her into a ridiculous +situation. Satisfied curiosity is usually ashamed of itself. +</P> + +<P> +And how absurd to have fancied for a moment that this blond prettiness +could be Mary! +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid I cannot wait longer," she murmured with polite regret. +</P> + +<P> +"If there is any message—" +</P> + +<P> +"None, I think. Thank you so much." +</P> + +<P> +With the departure of her caller, Miss Watkins' manner underwent a +remarkable change. Professional coolness deserted her. She stamped her +foot and, from the safe concealment of the window curtain, she watched +Desire's unhurried progress down the street with eyes in which the blue +grew clouded and opaque. They brightened again as she noticed Professor +Spence passing on the opposite side of the street, and became quite +snappy with interest as she saw him pause as if to call to his wife, +then, after a swift and hesitating glance at the door from which she +had emerged, pass on without attracting her attention. +</P> + +<P> +As a bit of pure pantomime, these expressions of feeling on Miss +Watkins' part might be misleading with-out the added comment of a +letter which she wrote that night. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I'm going to cut it, Flossy old girl," wrote Miss Watkins. "If you +know of anything near you that would suit me, pass it on. I think I'm +about due to get out of here. You know why I've stayed so long. At +first, I thought if we were together enough he might get to care. +People say I'm not bad for the eyes. And I don't use peroxide. Well, +I've made myself useful—he'll miss me anyway! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"It's kind of hard to give up. But I don't believe it's a bit of use. +I've noticed a difference in him ever since he came back from that +western trip. He doesn't seem to see me anymore. And there's something +else, a look in his eyes and a line along his mouth that were never +there before. I knew something had happened. And now I know what it +was. Another girl, of course. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"And this girl is married! +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You might think this would make things hopeful for me. But it doesn't. +Doctor's just the kind that would go on loving her if she had a +thousand husbands. So here's where I hook it. No use wasting myself, +honey. Maybe I'll get over it. They say everyone does. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Funny thing—she's just the kind I'd think he'd go dippy over, dark +and still, with a lovely, wide mouth and skin like lilies. She is +young, younger than I am. But, believe me, she isn't a kid. Those eyes +of hers have seen things. They're the kind of eyes that I'd go wild +over if I were a man. So I'm not blaming Doctor. He can't help it. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"She came into the office today, just like an ordinary patient. But I +knew right off that she'd come for some-thing. Don't know yet what she +came for. She doesn't give herself away, that one! Didn't seem to look +around, didn't ask questions and only stayed a few minutes. Do you +suppose she could have come to see me? Because, if she did—Well, that +shows where her interest is. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Another odd thing—as she went out, I saw her husband. (I'll tell you, +in strict confidence, that her husband is Professor Spence. They are +well known people here. He used to be a sort of recluse. A queer chap. +Deep as a judge.) Well, I saw him pass, on the opposite side of the +road. He saw her and was just going to call, when it seemed to strike +him where she had come from. I couldn't see very well across the road, +but he looked as if someone had hit him. And he went on without saying +a word. Now that looked queer to me. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Don't write and say that I'm only guessing at things. I may be +mistaken, of course, but I know I'm not. And I'm not a Pharisee (or +whoever it was that threw stones). If she cares for Doctor, I suppose +she can't help it. Some people think her husband handsome but I don't. +He's too thin and he has the oddest little smile. It slips out and +slips in like a mouse. When Dr. John smiles, he smiles all over. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Well, I'll wait a week or so to make sure. Although I'm sure now. If I +ever see Doctor look at her, I'll know. You see, I know how he'd look +if he looked that way. I've kept hoping—but I guess I'd better take my +ticket, Yours, +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"MARY." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This letter satisfactorily explains the loss, some weeks later, of Dr. +Rogers' capable nurse—a matter which he, himself, could never +understand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<P> +Desire was smiling as she left Dr. Rogers' office. It was a smile +compounded of derision and relief—a shamefaced smile which admitted an +opinion of herself very far from flattering. +</P> + +<P> +So occupied was she with her mental reactions that she had no attention +to spare for the opposite side of the street and therefore missed the +slightly peculiar action of her husband-by-courtesy. Professor Spence, +when he had first caught sight of his wife had automatically paused, as +if to call or cross over. It had become their friendly habit to inform +each other of their daily plans and a cheery "whither away?" had risen +naturally to the professor's lips. It rose to them, but did not leave +them, for, in the intervening instant, he had grasped the fact of +Desire's smiling abstraction and had sought its explanation in the +place from which she had come. Desire calling at old Bones' office at +this hour of the morning? Before he had recovered from the surprise of +it, she had passed. +</P> + +<P> +Time, which seems so mighty, is sometimes quite negligible. The most +amazing mental illuminations may occupy only the fraction of a second. +A light flashes and is gone—but meanwhile one has seen. +</P> + +<P> +The professor's pause was hardly noticeable. He walked on at once. But +years could not have instructed him more thoroughly than that one +second. He had received a revelation. Like all revelations, he received +it in its entirety and realized it piecemeal. His thoughts stumbled +over each other in confusion.... Desire at John's office at this +unusual hour? ... Desire in her prettiest frock and smiling ... +smiling, and so lost in her own thoughts that she saw no one ... +Desire ... John? ... What the devil! +</P> + +<P> +Spence had a finicky dislike of strong language. He thought it savored +of weakness, yet he found himself swearing heartily as he hurried +on—meaningless swears which by their very childishness brought him +back to common sense. His step slowed, he forced himself to be +reasonable. He took a brief against his own unwarranted disturbance of +mind and reduced it to argument. There was nothing at all strange, he +pointed out, in Desire having called at old Bones' office at this, or +any other, time of day (but what under heaven did she do it for?). She +might easily have forgotten to tell the doctor some-thing. (What in +thunder would she have to tell him?) She might have dropped in, in +passing (at that hour of the morning?) merely to ask him over for some +tennis (was the dashed telephone out of order?). Or she might have felt +a trifle seedy (pshaw! her health was perfect—idiot!). Anyway she had +a perfect right to see Dr. Rogers at any time and for any reason she +might choose. (Yes, she had—that was the devil of it!) +</P> + +<P> +At this point of his argument the professor was nearly-run down by a +delivery boy on a bicycle and saved himself only by a sharp collision +with a telegraph pole. This served to clear his brain somewhat. His +confusion of thought dropped away. He began to look his revelation in +the face— +</P> + +<P> +"Desire—John?" +</P> + +<P> +It was certainly possible! Why had he never seen it before? ... He +had been warned. John himself had warned him—Old John who had been so +palpably "hit" when he had first seen Desire at Friendly Bay. But he, +Benis Spence, had laughed. Honestly laughed. No possibility of this +possibility had troubled him. He simply had not seen it. And now—he +saw. The thing italicised itself on his brain. +</P> + +<P> +Granted that Desire might love, there was no reason on earth why she +should not love John. +</P> + +<P> +The conclusion seemed childishly simple and yet he had never seriously +considered it. Why? Relentlessly he forced himself to answer why. It +was because he had believed that when Desire woke to love, if she +should so wake, she would wake to love for him! He tore this admission +out of a shrinking heart and laughed at it. It was funny, quite funny +in its ridiculous conceit.... But it hadn't been conceit, it had +been assurance. Impossible to account for, and absurd as it seemed now, +it was some-thing higher than vanity which had hidden in his heart that +happy sense of kinship with Desire which had made John's warning seem +an emptiness of words. +</P> + +<P> +It was gone now, that wonderful sense of "belonging," swept away in the +swift rush of startled doubt. Searching as it might, his mind could not +find anywhere the faintest foothold for a belief that Desire, free to +choose, should turn to him and not to another. +</P> + +<P> +"I had better go and sleep this off somewhere," murmured the professor +with a wry smile. "Mustn't let it get ahead of me. Mustn't make any +more mistakes. This needs thinking out—steady now!" +</P> + +<P> +He tried to forget his own problem in thinking of hers. It couldn't be +very pleasant for her—this. And yet she had been smiling as she came +out of John's office. Perhaps she did not know yet? On second thoughts, +he felt sure that she did not know. He recognized the essentials of +Desire. She was loyalty itself. And had he not reason to know from his +own present experience that the beginnings of love can be very blind. +</P> + +<P> +John, too—but with John it was different. John had given his warning. +If the warning were to be justified he could not blame John. He could +not blame anyone save his own too confident self. Why, oh why, had he +been so sure? Had he not known that love is the most unaccountable of +all the passions? How had he dared to build security on that subtle +thing within himself which, without cause or reason, had claimed as his +the unstirred heart of the girl he had married. +</P> + +<P> +Spence returned home with lagging step. The old distaste for familiar +things, which he thought had gone with the coming of Desire, was heavy +upon him. The gate of his pleasant home shut behind him like a prison +gate. In short, Benis Spence paid for a moment's enlightenment with a +bad day and a night that was no better. +</P> + +<P> +By the morning he had won through. One must carry on. And the advantage +of a quiet manner is that no one notices when it grows more quiet. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was already in the library when he entered it. She looked very +crisp and cool. It struck Spence for the first time that she was +dressing her part—the neat, dark skirt and laundered blouse, +blackbowed at the neck in a perfect orgy of simplicity, were eminently +secretarial. How beautifully young she was! +</P> + +<P> +Desire looked up from her note-book with business-like promptitude. +</P> + +<P> +"I think," she said, "that we are quite ready to go on with the +thirteenth chapter." +</P> + +<P> +"But I think," said Benis, "that it would be much nicer to go fishing." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it's Friday, for one thing. Do you really think it safe to begin +the thirteenth chapter on a Friday?" +</P> + +<P> +His secretary's smile was dutiful, but her lips were firm. "We didn't +do a thing-yesterday," she reminded him. "I couldn't find you anywhere +and no one knew where you were." +</P> + +<P> +"I was—just around," vaguely. +</P> + +<P> +"Not around here," Desire was uncompromising. "Benis, I think we should +really be more businesslike. We should have talked this thirteenth +chapter over yesterday. I see you have a note here for some opening +paragraphs on The Apprehension of Color in Primitive Minds—" +</P> + +<P> +A cascade of goblin laughter from Yorick interrupted her. +</P> + +<P> +"Yorick is amused," said Benis. "He knows all about the apprehension of +color in primitive minds. He advises us to go fishing." +</P> + +<P> +Desire watched him stroke the bird's bent head with a puzzled frown. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you wouldn't joke about—this," she said slowly. "You don't +want that habit of mind to affect your serious work." +</P> + +<P> +Spence looked up surprised. +</P> + +<P> +"The whole character of the book is changing," went on Desire +resolutely. "It will all have to be revised and brought into harmony. +I'm sure you've felt it yourself. In a book like this the treatment +must be the same throughout. I've heard you say that a hundred times. +It doesn't matter what the treatment is, the necessary thing is that it +be consistent. Isn't that right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—yours isn't!" +</P> + +<P> +Spence forgot the parrot (who immediately pecked his finger). He almost +forgot that he had suffered an awakening and had passed a bad night. +Desire interested him in the present moment as she always did. She +was—what was she? "Satisfying" was perhaps the best word for it. Just +to be with her seemed to round out life. +</P> + +<P> +"Prove it!" said he with some heat. +</P> + +<P> +For half an hour he listened while she proved it with great energy and +a thorough knowledge of her facts. He listened because he liked to +listen and not because she was telling him anything new. He knew just +where his "treatment" of his material had changed, and he knew, as +Desire did not, what had changed it. For the change was not really in +the treatment at all, but in himself. +</P> + +<P> +This book had been his earliest ambition. It had been the sole +companion of his thoughts for years. It had been the little idol which +must be served. Without a word of it being written, it had grown with +his growth. His notes for it comprised all that he had filched from +life. He had not hurried. He was leisurely by nature. Then had come the +war, lifting him out of all the things he knew. And, after the war, its +great weariness. Not until he had met Desire and found, in her fresh +interest, something of his own lost enthusiasm, had he been able to +work again. Then, in a glow of recovered energy, the book had been +begun. And all had gone well until the book's inspirer had begun to +usurp the place of the book itself. (Spence smiled as he realized that +Desire was painstakingly tracing the course of her self-caused +destruction.) How could he think of the book when he wanted only to +think of her? Insensibly, his gathered facts had begun to lose their +prime importance, his deductions had lost their sense of weight, all +that he had done seemed strangely insignificant—it was like looking at +something through the wrong end of a telescope. The great book was a +star which grew steadily smaller. +</P> + +<P> +The proportion was wrong. He knew that. But at present he could do +nothing to readjust it. Two interests cannot occupy the same space at +the same time. The book interest had simply succumbed to an interest +older and more potent. +</P> + +<P> +"In this chapter, the Sixth," Desire was saying, "you seem to lose some +of the serious purpose which is a prominent note in the opening +chapters. You begin to treat things casually. You almost allow yourself +to be humorous. Now is this supposed to be a humorous book, or is it +not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—not. Distinctly not." +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, don't you see? If you had treated the thing in that +semi-humorous manner all through and continued in that vein you would +produce a certain definite type of book. The critics would probably +say—" +</P> + +<P> +"I know, spare me!" +</P> + +<P> +"They would say," sternly, "that 'Professor Spence has a light touch.' +That 'he has treated his subject in a popular manner.'" (The professor +groaned.) "But that isn't a patch upon what they will say if you mix up +your styles as you are doing at present." +</P> + +<P> +"But—well, what do you advise?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire sucked her pencil. (He had given up trying to cure her of this +poisonous habit.) +</P> + +<P> +"I've thought about that. If you were not so—so temperamental, I would +say go back and begin again. But that is risky. It will be better to go +on, I think, trying to recapture the more serious style, until the +whole book it at least in some form. Then you will know exactly where +you are and what is necessary to harmonize the whole. You can then +rewrite the 'off' chapters, bringing them into line. This is a +recognized literary method, I believe." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it? Good heavens!" +</P> + +<P> +"I read it in a book." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it must be literary. All right. I'm agreeable. But at present—" +</P> + +<P> +"At present," firmly, "the main thing is to go on." +</P> + +<P> +"This morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't want to go on this morning. That is the flaw in your +literary method. It makes me go on whether I want to or not. Now the +really top-notchers never do that. They are as full of stoppages as a +freight train. Fact. They only create when the spirit moves them." +</P> + +<P> +"Aren't you thinking of Quakers?" suggested Desire sweetly. "Besides +you are not creating. You are compiling—a very different thing." +</P> + +<P> +"But what is the use of compiling an off chapter when I know it is +going to be an off one?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire threw down her pencil. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Benis," she said. "I don't like this. Don't let us play with +words. Surely you are not getting tired—you can't be." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes, urgent and truth-compelling, forced an answer. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite know," he said. "But I am certainly off work at present. +There may be all kinds of reasons. You will have to be patient, Desire." +</P> + +<P> +"Then," in a low voice, "it isn't only indolence?" +</P> + +<P> +He was moved to candor. "It isn't indolence at all. I have always been +a fairly good worker, and will be again. But the driving force has +shifted. I have not been doing good work and I know it. The more I know +it the worse the work will become.... It doesn't matter, really, +child," he added gently, seeing that she had turned away. "The world +can wait for the bit of knowledge I can give it." +</P> + +<P> +Desire, whose face was invisible, took a moment to answer this. When +she did her voice was carefully with-out expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Then this ends my usefulness. You will not need me any more." +</P> + +<P> +The professor, who had been nursing his knee on the corner of the desk, +straightened up so suddenly that he heard his spine click. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" he said. (Good heavens—the girl was as full of +surprises as a grab-bag!) +</P> + +<P> +"It was for the book you needed me, was it not? That was my share of +our partnership." +</P> + +<P> +("Now you've done it!" shouted an exultant voice in the professor's +brain. "Oh, you are an ass!") +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up!" said Spence irritably. "I wasn't talking to you," he +explained apologetically. "It's just a horrid little devil I converse +with sometimes. What I meant was—" He did not seem to know what he +meant and looked rather helplessly out of the window. "Oh, I say," he +said presently, "you are not going to—to act like that, are you? +Agitation's so frightfully bad for me. Ask old Bones." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not agitated," said Desire coldly. "Please be serious." +</P> + +<P> +"I am. Deuced serious. And agitated too. You ought to think twice +before you startle me like that—just when everything was going along +so nicely." +</P> + +<P> +"I am only reminding you of your own agreement," stubbornly. "I want to +be of use." +</P> + +<P> +"Very selfish of you. Can't you think of someone else once in a while?" +</P> + +<P> +"Selfish? Because I want to help?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly. I wonder you don't see it! Think of the mornings I've put +in on this dashed book just because you wanted to help. I have to be +polite, haven't I?—up to a point. But when you begin to blame me for +doing poorly what I do not want to do at all I begin to see that my +self-sacrifice is not appreciated." +</P> + +<P> +"You are talking nonsense." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I am. But it was you who started it. When you said I did not +need you, you said a very nonsensical thing. And a very unkind thing, +too. A man does not like to talk of—his need. But, now that we have +come to just this point, let us have it out. Surely our partnership was +not quite as narrow as you suggest? The book is a detail. It is L. part +of life which will fit in somewhere—an important part in its right +place—but it isn't the whole pattern." He smiled whimsically. "Do not +think of me as just an animated book, my dear—if you can help it. And +remember, no matter how we choose to interpret our marriage, you are my +wife. And my very good comrade. The one thing which could ever change +my need of you is your greater need of—of someone else." +</P> + +<P> +The last words were casual enough but the look which accompanied them +was keen, and a sense of relief rose gratefully in the professor as no +sign of disturbance appeared upon the thoughtful face of his hearer. +</P> + +<P> +"Is Benis here, my dear?" asked Aunt Caroline opening the door. "Oh +yes, I see that he is. Benis, you are wanted on the 'phone. If you +would take my advice, which you never do, you would have an extension +placed in this room. Then you could always just answer and save Olive a +great deal of bother. Not that I think maids ought to mind being +bothered. They never did in my time. But it would be quite simple for +you, when you are writing here, to attend to the 'phone. Perhaps if the +butcher heard a man's voice occasionally he might be more respectful. I +do not expect much of tradespeople, as you know, but if the butcher—" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it the butcher who wishes to speak to me, Aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Good gracious, no. It's long distance. Why don't you hurry? ... Men +have no idea of the value of time," she added as the professor +vanished. "My dear you must not let Benis overwork you. He doesn't +intend to be unkind, but men never think." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<P> +Desire turned back to her papers as the door closed. But her manner was +no longer brisk and business-like. There was a small, hot lump in her +throat. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't fair," she thought passionately. "It's all very well to talk, +but it does make a difference—it does. If I'm not his secretary what +am I?" A hot blush crimsoned her white skin and she stamped her foot. +"I'm not his wife. I'm not! I'm not!" she said defiantly. +</P> + +<P> +There was no one to contradict her. Even Yorick was silent. And, as +contradiction is really necessary to belligerency, some of the fire +died out of her stormy eyes. But it flared again as thought flung +thought upon the embers. +</P> + +<P> +"Wife!" How dared he use the word? And in that tone! A word that meant +nothing to him. Nothing, save a cold, calm statement of claim.... +Not that she wanted it to mean anything else. Had she not, herself, +arranged a most satisfactory basis of coolness and calmness? (Reason +insisted upon reminding her of this.) And a strict recognition of this +basis was precisely what she wanted, of course. Only she wanted it as a +secretary and not as a—not as anything else. +</P> + +<P> +"What's in a word?" asked Reason mildly. "Words mean only what you mean +by them. Wife or secretary, if they mean the same—" +</P> + +<P> +Desire flung her note-books viciously into a drawer and banged it shut. +</P> + +<P> +Why did things insist upon changing anyway? She had been content—well, +almost. She had not asked for more than she had. Why, then, should a +cross-grained fate insist upon her getting less? Since yesterday she +had not troubled even about Mary. Her self-ridicule at the absurdity of +her mistake regarding Dr. Rogers' pretty nurse had had a salutary +effect. And now—just when everything promised so well (self-pity began +to cool the hot lump in her throat). And just when she had made up her +mind that, however small her portion of her husband's thought might be, +it would be enough—well, almost enough— +</P> + +<P> +A screech from Yorick made her start nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"Cats!" said Yorick. "Oh the devil—cats!" +</P> + +<P> +Desire laughed and firmly dislodged Aunt Caroline's big Maltese cat +from its place of vantage on the window-sill. The laughter dissolved +the last of the troublesome lump and she began to feel better. After +all, the book-weariness of which Benis had spoken would probably be a +passing phase. If she allowed herself to go on creating mountains out +of molehills she would soon have a whole range upon her hands. +</P> + +<P> +And he had said he needed her! +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically, she began to straighten the desk, restoring the +professor's notes to their proper places. She was feeling almost +sanguine again when her hand fell upon the photograph. +</P> + +<P> +We say "the" photograph because, of all photographs in the world, this +one was the one most fatal to Desire's new content. She picked it up +casually. Photographs have no proper place amongst notes of research. +Desire, frowning her secretarial frown, lifted the intruder to remove +it and, lifting, naturally looked at it. Having looked, she continued +looking. +</P> + +<P> +It was an arresting photograph. Desire had not seen it before. That in +itself was surprising, since one of Aunt Caroline's hardest-to-bear +social graces was the showing of photographs. She had quantities of +them—tons, Desire sometimes thought. They lived in boxes in different +parts of the house, and were produced upon most unlikely occasions. One +was never quite safe from them. Even the spare room had its own box, +appropriately covered with chintz to match the curtains. +</P> + +<P> +This photograph, Desire saw at once, would not fit into Aunt Caroline's +boxes. It was too big. And it was very modern. Most of Aunt Caroline's +collection dated from the "background" period of photographic art. But +this one was all person. And a very charming person too. +</P> + +<P> +Photographs are often deceiving. But one can usually catch them at it. +Desire perceived at once that this photograph's nose had been +artistically rounded and that its flawlessness of line and texture owed +something to retoucher's lead. But looking through and behind all this, +there was enough—oh, more than enough! +</P> + +<P> +With instant disfavor, Desire noted the perfect arrangement of the +hair, the delicate slope of the shoulder, the lifted chin, the tip of a +hidden ear, the slightly mocking, but very alluring, glance of long, +fawn-like eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Another molehill," thought Desire. And, virtuously disregarding the +instinct leaping in her heart, she turned the fascinating thing face +downwards. Probably fate laughed then. For written large and in very +black ink across the back was the admirably restrained autograph, +"Benis, from Mary" ... +</P> + +<P> +Well, she knew now! +</P> + +<P> +A very different person, this, from the blond Miss Watkins with her +hard blue eyes and too, too dewy lips! Here was a woman of character +and charm. A woman fully armed with all the witchery of sex. A woman +any man might love—even Benis. +</P> + +<P> +Desire did not struggle against her certainty. Her acceptance of it was +as sudden as it was complete. Huddling back in her chair, with the +tell-tale photo in her hands, she felt cold. Certainty is a chill +thing. We all seek certainty but, when we get it, we shiver. The proper +place for certainty is just ahead, that we may warm our blood in the +pursuit of it. Certainty stands at the end of things and human nature +shrinks from endings. +</P> + +<P> +Only that morning, Desire had qualified the good of her present state +by the "if" of "if I only knew." And, now that she did know, the only +unqualified thing was her sense of desolation. The most disturbing of +her speculations had been as nothing to this relentless knowledge. Not +until she had found certainty did she realize how she had clung to hope. +</P> + +<P> +She did not know that she was crying until a tear splashed hot upon her +hand. She did not hear the door open as Benis reentered the room, but +she sprang to her feet, alert and defensive, at the sound of his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Crying?" said Benis. +</P> + +<P> +It was hardly a question. He had, in fact, seen the tear. But there was +nothing in his manner to indicate more than ordinary concern. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," said Desire. +</P> + +<P> +"My mistake. But what is it you are hiding so carefully behind you? +Mayn't I see?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire thought quickly. Her denial of tears had been, she knew, quite +useless. Besides, she had heard that note of dry patience in the +professor's voice before. It came when he wanted something and intended +to get it. And he wanted now to know the cause of her tears. Well, he +would never know it—never. It was the one impossible thing. Desire's +pride flamed in her, a white fire which would consume her utterly—if +he knew. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a personal matter," she said. (This was merely to gain time.) +</P> + +<P> +"It is personal to me also." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not wish to show it to you." +</P> + +<P> +"No. But—do not force me to insist." +</P> + +<P> +These two wasted but few words upon each other. It was not necessary. +Desire took a quick step backward. And, as she did so, the desired +inspiration came. Directly behind her stood the table on which lay Aunt +Caroline's box of photographs. If she could, without turning, +substitute one of them for the tell-tale picture in her hand— +</P> + +<P> +"You will hardly insist, I think." Her eyes were on him, cool and wary. +She took another step backward. He did not follow her. There was a +faint smile on his lips but his face, she noticed with perturbation, +had gone very pale. His eyes were shining and chill, like water under +grey skies. +</P> + +<P> +"Please," he said, holding out his hand. +</P> + +<P> +Desire let her glance go past him. "The door!" she murmured. He turned +to close it. It gave her only a moment. But a moment was all she needed. +</P> + +<P> +"Surely we are making a fuss over nothing." With difficulty she kept a +too obvious relief out of her voice. He must not find her opposition +weakened. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps. But—let me decide, Desire." +</P> + +<P> +"Shan't!" said Desire, like a naughty child. +</P> + +<P> +Fire leapt from the chill grey of his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well, then—" +</P> + +<P> +He took it so quickly that Desire gasped. Then she laughed. She had +never had anything taken from her by force since her childhood and it +was an astonishing experience. Also, she had not dreamed that Benis was +so strong. It hadn't been at all difficult. And this in spite of the +fact that she had clung to the substituted photo-graph with convincing +stubbornness. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—now you've got it, I hope you like it," she said a little +breathlessly. Her eyes were sparkling. She did not know what photo she +had picked up when she dropped the real one. 'Probably it was a picture +of Aunt Caroline herself or of some dear and departed Spence. Benis +would have some difficulty in tracing the cause of the tears he had +surprised. Fortunately he could always see a joke on himself. It would +be funny ... +</P> + +<P> +But it did not seem to be funny. Benis was not laughing. He had gone +quite grey. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Benis?" in a startled tone. "You see it was just a +mistake? I was crying because—because I was sorry you were not going +on with the book. I just happened to have a photograph—" The look in +his eyes stopped her. +</P> + +<P> +"Please don't," he said. +</P> + +<P> +She took the card he held out to her, glanced at it, and choked back a +spasm of hysterical laughter. For it wasn't a picture of Aunt Caroline, +or even of a departed Spence—it was a picture of Dr. John Rogers! +</P> + +<P> +"Gracious!" said Desire. There seemed to be nothing else to say. +"Well," she ventured after a perplexed pause, "you can see that I +couldn't be crying over John, can't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can see—no need why you should;" said Benis slowly. "I'm afraid I +have been very blind." +</P> + +<P> +The girl's complete bewilderment at this was plain to anyone of +unbiased judgment. But Spence's judgment was not at present unbiased. +He went on painfully. +</P> + +<P> +"I owe you an apology for my very primitive method of obtaining your +confidence. But it is better that I should know—" +</P> + +<P> +"Know what? You don't know. I don't know myself. I did not even know +whose the photograph was until—" She hesitated at the look of hurt +wonder in his eyes. "You think I am lying?" she finished angrily. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you are making things unnecessarily difficult. There is no +need for you to explain—anything." +</P> + +<P> +Desire was furious. And helpless. She remembered now that when he had +entered the room he had certainly seen her bending over a photograph. +No wonder her statement that she did not know whose photograph it was +seemed uniquely absurd. There was only one adequate explanation. And +that explanation she wouldn't and couldn't make. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well then," she said loftily. "I shall not explain." +</P> + +<P> +He did not look at her. He had not looked at her since handing her back +John's picture. But he had himself well in hand now. Desire wondered if +she had imagined that greyish pallor, that sudden look of a man struck +down. What possible reason had there been for such an effect anyway? +Desire could see none. +</P> + +<P> +"I came to tell you," he said in his ordinary voice, "that the long +distance call came from Miss Davis. If it is convenient for you and +Aunt, she plans to come along on the evening train. Her cold is quite +better." +</P> + +<P> +"The evening train, tonight?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." He smiled. "She is a sudden person. Gone today and here +tomorrow. But you will like her. And you will adore her clothes." +</P> + +<P> +"Are they the very latest?" +</P> + +<P> +"Later than that. Mary always buys yesterday what most women buy +tomorrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said Desire. "And what does this futurist lady look like?" +</P> + +<P> +Benis considered. "I can't think of anything that she looks like," he +concluded. "She doesn't go in for resemblances. Futurists don't, you +know!" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it odd?" said Desire in what she hoped was a casual voice. "So +many of your friends seem to be named Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"I've noticed that myself—lately." +</P> + +<P> +"There are—" +</P> + +<P> +"'Mary Seaton and Mary Beaton and Mary Carmichael and me,'" quoted +Benis gravely. +</P> + +<P> +Desire permitted herself to smile and turning, still smiling, faced +Aunt Caroline; who, for her part, was in anything but a smiling humor. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you take it good-naturedly, Desire," said Aunt Caroline +acidly. "But people who arrive at a moment's warning always annoy me. I +do not require much, but a few days' notice at the least—have you seen +a photograph anywhere about?" +</P> + +<P> +Desire bit her lips. "Whose photograph was it, Aunt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mary Davis' photograph, of course. The one she gave to Benis when +she was last here. I hope you do not mind my taking it from your room, +Benis? My intention was to have it framed. People do like to see +themselves framed. I thought it might be a delicate little attention. +But if she is coming tonight, it is too late now. Still, we might put +it in place of Cousin Amelia Spence on the drawing-room mantel. What do +you think, my dear?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think we might," said Desire. Her tone was admirably judicial but +her thoughts were not.... If the Mary of the visit were no other +than the Mary of the faun-eyed photograph, why then— +</P> + +<P> +Why then, no wonder that Benis had lost interest in the great Book! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<P> +To give exhaustive reasons for the impulse which brought Miss Mary +Davis to Bainbridge at this particular time would be to delve too +deeply into the complex psychology of that lady. But we shall not be +far wrong if we sum up the determining impulse in one word—curiosity. +</P> + +<P> +The news of Benis Spence's unexpected marriage had been something of a +shock to more than one of his friends. But especially so to Mary Davis. +Upon a certain interesting list, which Miss Davis kept in her +well-ordered mind, the name of this agreeable bachelor had been +distinctly labelled "possible." To have a possibility snatched from +under one's nose without warning is annoying, especially if the season +in possibilities threatens to be poor. The war had sadly depleted Miss +Davis' once lengthy list. And she, herself, was five years older. It +would be interesting, and perhaps instructive, to see the young person +from nowhere who had still further narrowed her personal territory. +</P> + +<P> +"It does seem rather a shame," she confided to a select friend or two, +"that clever men who have escaped the perils of early matrimony should +in maturity turn back to the very thing which constituted that peril." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean men like them young?" said a select friend with brutal candor. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean they like them too young. In the case I'm thinking of, the girl +is a mere child. And quite uncultured. What possibility of intellectual +companionship could the most sanguine man expect?" +</P> + +<P> +"None. But they don't want intellectual companionship." Another select +friend spoke bitterly. "I used to think they did. It seemed reasonable. +As the basis for a whole lifetime, it seemed the only possible thing. +But what's the use of insisting on a theory, no matter how abstractly +sound, if it is disproved in practice every day? Remember Bobby Wells? +He is quite famous now; knows more about biology than any man on this +side of the water. He married last week. His wife is a pretty little +creature who thinks protoplasm another name for appendicitis." +</P> + +<P> +There was a sympathetic pause. +</P> + +<P> +"And biology was always such a fad of yours," sighed Mary thoughtfully. +"Never mind! They are sure to be frightfully unhappy." +</P> + +<P> +"No, they won't. That's it. That's the point I am making. They'll be as +cozy as possible." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Davis thought this point over after the select friend who made it +had gone. She did not wish to believe that its implication was a true +one. But, if it were, if youth, just youth, were the thing of power, +then it were wise that she should realize it before it was too late. +Her own share of the magic thing was swiftly passing. +</P> + +<P> +From a drawer of her desk she took a recent letter from a Bainbridge +correspondent and re-read the part referring to the Spence reception. +</P> + +<P> +"Really, it was quite well done," she read. "Old Miss Campion has a +'flair' for the suitabilities, and now that so many are trying to be +smart or bizarre, it is a relief to come back to the old pleasant +suitable things—you know what I mean. And the old lady has an air. How +she gets it, I don't know, for the dear Queen is her idea of style. +Perhaps there is something in the 'aura' theory. If so, Miss Campion's +aura is the very glass of fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"And the bride! But I hear you are coming down, so you will see the +bride for yourself. There was a silly rumor about her being part +Indian. Well, if Indian blood can give one a skin like hers, I could do +with an off-side ancestor myself! She is even younger than report +predicted. But not sweet or coy (Heavens, how one wearies of that +type!) And Benis Spence, as a bride-groom, has lost something of his +'moony' air. He is quite attractive in an odd way. All the same, I +can't help feeling (and others agree with me) that there is something +odd about that marriage. My dear, they do not act like married people. +The girl is as cool as a princess (I suppose princesses are). And the +professor's attitude is so—so casual. Even John Rogers' manner to the +bride is more marked than the bridegroom's. But you know I never repeat +gossip. It isn't kind. And any-way it may not be true that he drops in +for tea nearly every day." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Davis replaced the letter with a musing smile. And the next +morning she called up on long distance. A visit to Bainbridge, she +felt, might be quite stimulating.... +</P> + +<P> +Observe her, then, on the morning of her arrival having breakfast in +bed. Breakfast in bed is always offered to travellers at the Spence +home—a courtesy based upon the tradition of an age which travelled +hard and seldom. Miss Davis quite approved of the custom. She had not +neglected to bring "matinees" in which she looked most charming. +Negligee became her. She openly envied Margot Asquith her bedroom +receptions. +</P> + +<P> +Young Mrs. Spence, inquiring with true western hospitality, whether the +breakfast had been all that could be desired, was conscious of a pang, +successfully repressed, at the sight of that matinee. She saw at once +that she had never realized possibilities in this direction. Her +night-gowns (even the new ones) were merely night-gowns and her kimonas +were garments which could still be recognized under that name. +</P> + +<P> +"It is rather a duck," said Mary, reading Desire's admiring glance. +"Quite French, I think. But of course, as a bride, you will have oceans +of lovely things. I adore trousseaux. Perhaps you will show me some of +your pretties?" (The bride's gowns, she admitted, might be passable but +what really tells the tale is the underneaths.) +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, with pleasure." Desire's assent was instant and warm. "I shall +love to let you see my things." +</P> + +<P> +It was risky—but effective. Mary's desire to see the trousseau +evaporated on the instant. No girl would be so eager to show things +which were not worth showing. And Mary was no altruist to rejoice over +other people's Paris follies. +</P> + +<P> +After all, she really knew very little about Benis's wife. And you +never can tell. She began to wish that she had brought down with her +some very special glories—things she had decided not to waste on +Bainbridge. Her young hostess had eyes which were coolly, almost +humorously, critical. "Absurd in a girl who simply can't have any +proper criteria!" thought Miss Davis crossly. +</P> + +<P> +"When you are quite rested," said Desire kindly, "you will find us on +the west lawn. The sun is never too hot there in the morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—I remember that." The faintest sigh disturbed the laces of Mary's +matinee. Her faun-like eyes looked wistful. "But if you do not mind, I +think I shall be really lazy—these colds do leave one so wretched." +</P> + +<P> +Desire agreed that colds were annoying. She had not missed the sigh +which accompanied Mary's memory of the west lawn and very naturally +misread it. Mary's regretful decision to challenge no morning +comparison in the sunlight on any lawn was interpreted as regret of a +much more tender nature. Desire's eyes grew cold and dark with shadow +as she left her charming visitor to her wistful rest. +</P> + +<P> +That Mary Davis was the lady of her husband's one romance, she had no +longer any doubt. Anyone, that is, any man, might love deeply and +hopelessly a woman of such rare and subtle charm. Possessing youth in +glorious measure herself, Desire naturally discounted her rival's lack +of it. With her, the slight blurring of Mary's carefully tended +"lines," the tired look around her eyes, the somewhat cold-creamy +texture of her delicate skin, weighed nothing against the exquisite +finish and fine sophistication which had been the gift of the added +years. +</P> + +<P> +In age, she thought, Mary and Benis would rank each other. They were +also essentially of the same world. Neither had ever gazed through +windows. Both had been free of life from its beginning. Love between +them might well have been a fitting progression. +</P> + +<P> +The one fact which did not fit in here was this—in the story as told +by Benis the affair had been one of unreciprocated affection. This +presupposed a blindness on the lady's part which Desire began +increasingly to doubt. She had already reached the point when it seemed +impossible that anyone should not admire what to her was entirely +admirable. Even the explanation of a prior attachment (the "Someone +Else" of the professor's story), did not carry conviction. Who else +could there be—compared with Benis? +</P> + +<P> +No. It looked, upon the face of it, as if there had been a mistake +somewhere. Benis had despaired too soon! +</P> + +<P> +This fateful thought had been crouching at the door of Desire's mind +ever since Mary had ceased to be an abstraction. She had kept it out. +She had refused to know that it was there. She had been happy in spite +of it. But now, when its time was fully come, it made small work of her +frail barriers. It blundered in, leering and triumphant. +</P> + +<P> +Men have been mistaken before now. Men have turned aside in the very +moment of victory. And Benis Spence was not a man who would beg or +importune. How easily he might have taken for refusal what was, in +effect, mere withdrawal. Had Mary retreated only that he might pursue? +And had the Someone Else been No One Else at all? +</P> + +<P> +If this were so, and it seemed at least possible, the retreating lady +had been smartly punished. Serve her right—oh, serve her right a +thousand times for having dared to trifle! Desire wasted no pity on +her. But what of him? With merciless lucidity Desire's busy brain +created the missing acts which might have brought the professor's +tragedy of errors to a happy ending. It would have been so simple—if +Benis had only waited. Even pursuit would not have been required of +him. Mary, unpursued, would have come back; unasked, she might have +offered. But Benis had not waited. +</P> + +<P> +Desire saw all this in the time that it took her to go down-stairs. At +the bottom of the stairs she faced its unescapable logic: if he were +free now, he might be happy yet. +</P> + +<P> +How blind they had both been! He to believe that love had passed; she +to believe that love would never come. Desire paused with her hand upon +the library door. He was there. She could hear him talking to Yorick. +She had only to open the door ... but she did not open it. Yesterday +the library had been her kingdom, the heart of her widening world. Now +it was only a room in someone else's house. Yesterday she would have +gone in swiftly—hiding her gladness in a little net of everyday words. +But today she had no gladness and no words. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H3> + +<P> +Miss Davis had been in Bainbridge a week. Her cold was entirely better +and her nerves, she said, much rested. "This is such a restful place," +murmured Miss Davis, selecting her breakfast toast with care. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad you find it so," said Aunt Caroline. "Though, with the club +elections coming on next week—" she broke off to ask if Desire would +have more coffee. +</P> + +<P> +Desire would have no more, thanks. Miss Campion, looking over her +spectacles, frowned faintly and took a second cup herself—an +indulgence which showed that she had something on her mind. Her nephew, +knowing this symptom, was not surprised when later she joined him on +the side veranda. Being a prompt person she began at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Benis," she said, "I have a feeling—I am not at all satisfied about +Desire. If you know what is the matter with her I wish you would tell +me. I am not curious. I expect no one's confidence, nor do I ask for +it. But I have a right to object to mysteries, I think." +</P> + +<P> +As Aunt Caroline spoke, she looked sternly at the smoke of the +professor's after-breakfast cigarette, the blue haze of which +temporarily clouded his expression. Benis took his time in answering. +</P> + +<P> +"You think there is something the matter besides the heat?" he inquired +mildly. +</P> + +<P> +"Heat! It is only ordinary summer weather." +</P> + +<P> +"But Desire is not used to ordinary summer, in Ontario." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense. It can't be much cooler on the coast. Although I have heard +people say that they felt quite chilly there. It isn't that." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, then?" +</P> + +<P> +Not noticing that she was being asked to answer her own question, Aunt +Caroline considered. Then, with a flash of shrewd insight, "Well," she +said, "if there were any possible excuse for it, I should say that it +is Mary Davis." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"You asked me, Benis. And I have told you what I think. Desire has +changed since Mary came. Before that she seemed happy. There was +something about her—well, I admit I liked to look at her. And she +seemed to love this place. Even that Yorick bird pleased her, a taste +which I admit I could never understand. Now she looks around and sees +nothing. The girl has some-thing on her mind, Benis. She's thinking." +</P> + +<P> +"With some people thought is not fatal." +</P> + +<P> +"I am serious, Benis." +</P> + +<P> +"So am I." +</P> + +<P> +"What I should like to know is—have you, by any chance, been flirting +with Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't shout. You heard what I said perfectly. I do not wish to +interfere. It is against my nature. But if you had been flirting with +Mary, that might account for it. I don't believe Desire would +understand. She might take it seriously. As for Mary—I am ashamed of +her. I shall not invite her here again." +</P> + +<P> +"This is nonsense, Aunt." +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me, Benis. The nonsense is on your side. I know what I am +talking about, and I know Mary Davis. She is one of those women for +whom a man obscures the landscape. She will flirt on her deathbed, or +any-body else's deathbed, which is worse. Come now, be honest. She has +been doing it, hasn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you have to say that. I'll put it in another way. What is +your opinion of Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"She is an interesting woman." +</P> + +<P> +"You find her more interesting than you did upon her former visit?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hardly remember her former visit. I never really knew her before." +</P> + +<P> +"And you know her now?" +</P> + +<P> +"She has honored me with a certain amount of confidence." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline snorted. "I thought so. Well, she doesn't need to honor +me with her confidence because I know her without it. Was she honoring +you that way last night when you stayed out in the garden until +mid-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"We were talking, naturally." +</P> + +<P> +"And—your wife?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a moment's pause while the cigarette smoke grew bluer. "My +wife," said Benis, "was very well occupied." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean that when Dr. John saw how distrait and pale she was, he took +her for a run in his car? Now admit, Benis, that you made it plain that +you wished her to go." +</P> + +<P> +"Did I?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," significantly, "too plain. Mary saw it—and John. You are acting +strangely, Benis. I don't like it, that's flat. Desire is too much with +John. And you are too much with Mary. It is not a natural arrangement. +And it is largely your fault. It is almost as if you were acting with +some purpose. But I'll tell you this—whatever your purpose may be—you +have no right to expose your wife to comment." +</P> + +<P> +She had his full attention now. The cigarette haze drifted away. +</P> + +<P> +"Comment?" slowly. "You mean that people—but of course people always +do. I hadn't allowed for that. Which shows how impossible it is to +think of everything. I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not pretend to understand you, Benis. But then, I never did. Your +private affairs are your own, also your motives. And I never meddle, as +you know. I think though, that I may be permitted a straight question. +Has your feeling toward Desire changed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither changed nor likely to change." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Campion's expression softened. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure that she knows it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am not sure of anything with regard to Desire." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you ought to be. Don't shilly-shally, Benis. It is a habit of +yours. All of the Spences shilly-shally. Make certain that Desire is +aware of your—er—affection. Mark my words—I have a feeling. She is +fretting over Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"I happen to know that she is not." +</P> + +<P> +Small red flags began to fly from Miss Campion's prominent cheek-bones. +</P> + +<P> +"We shall quarrel in a moment, Benis. You are pig-headed. Exactly as +your father was, and without his common sense. I know you think me an +interfering old maid. But I like Desire, and I won't have her made +miserable. I want—" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush—here she comes." +</P> + +<P> +"Ill leave you then," in a sepulchral whisper. "And for goodness' sake, +Benis, do something! ... Were you looking for me, my dear?" added +Aunt Caroline innocently as Desire came slowly toward them. "Do not try +to be energetic this morning. It is so very hot. Sit here. I'll send +Olive out with something cool. I'd like you both to try the new +raspberry vinegar." +</P> + +<P> +Greatly pleased with her simple stratagem the good soul bustled away. +Desire looked after her with a grateful smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe Aunt Caroline likes me," she said with a note of faint +surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that very wonderful?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Benis looked at her quickly and looked away. She was certainly paler. +She held her head as if its crown of hair were heavy. +</P> + +<P> +"It does not seem wonderful to other people who also—like you." +</P> + +<P> +Her eyes turned to him almost timidly. It hurt him to notice that the +old frank openness of glance was gone. Good heavens! was the child +afraid of him? Did she think that he blamed her? That he did not +understand how helpless she was before her awakening womanhood? He +forgot how difficult speech was in the overpowering impulse to reassure +her. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you could be happy; my dear," he said. "You are so young. Can't +you be a little patient? Can't you be content as things are—for a +while?" +</P> + +<P> +Even Spence, blinded as he was by the bitterness of his own struggle, +noticed the strangeness of her look. +</P> + +<P> +"You want things to go on—as they are?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. For a time. We had better be quite sure. We do not want a second +mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"You see that there has been a mistake?" +</P> + +<P> +"Can I help seeing it, Desire?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I suppose not.... And when you are sure?" Her voice was very +low. +</P> + +<P> +"When I—when we are both sure, I shall act. There are ways out. It +ought not to be difficult." +</P> + +<P> +"No, quite easy, I think. I hope it will not be long." +</P> + +<P> +His mask of reasonable acquiescence slipped a little at the wistfulness +of her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't speak like that!" he said sharply. "No man is worth it." +</P> + +<P> +Desire smiled. It was such a sure, secret little smile, that it +maddened him. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't—you can't care like that!" he said in a low, furious tone. +"You said you never could!" +</P> + +<P> +"I do," said Desire. +</P> + +<P> +It was the avowal which she had sworn she would never make. Yet she +made it without shame. Love had taught Desire much since the day of the +episode of the photograph. And one of its teachings had to do with the +comparative insignificance of pride. Why should he not know that she +loved him? Of what use a gift that is never given? Besides, as this +leaden week had passed, she knew that, more than anything else, she +wanted truth between them. Now, when he asked it of her, she gave him +truth. +</P> + +<P> +"It is breaking our bargain," she went on with a wavering smile. "But I +was so sure! I cannot even blame myself. It must be possible to be +quite sure and quite wrong at the same time." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. There is no blame, anywhere. I—I didn't think of what I was +saying." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then—you will guess that it isn't exactly easy. But I will wait +as you ask me. When you are quite sure—you will let me go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Neither of them looked at the other. +</P> + +<P> +Does Jove indeed laugh at lover's perjuries? Even more at their +stupidities, perhaps! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H3> + +<P> +For they really were stupid! Looking on, we can see so plainly what +they should have seen, and didn't. +</P> + +<P> +If thoughts are things (and Professor Spence continues to argue that +they are) a mistaken thought is quite as powerful a reality as the +other kind. Only let it be conceived with sufficient force and +nourished by continual attention and it will grow into a veritable +highwayman of the mind—a thievish tyrant of one's mental roads, +holding their more legitimate travellers at the stand and deliver. +</P> + +<P> +Desire, usually so clearsighted, ought to have seen that the attentions +of Benis to the too-sympathetic Mary were hollow at the core. But this, +her mistaken Thought would by no means allow. Ceaselessly on the watch, +it leapt upon every unprejudiced deduction and turned it to the +strengthening of its own mistaken self. What might have seemed merely +boredom on the professor's part was twisted by the Thought to appear an +anguished effort after self-control. Any avoidance of Mary's society +was attributed to fear rather than to indifference. And so on and so on. +</P> + +<P> +Spence, too, a man learned in the byways of the mind, ought to have +known that, to Desire, John was a refuge merely, and Mary the real lion +in the way. But his mistaken Thought, born of a smile and a photograph, +grew steadily stronger and waxed fat upon the everyday trivialities +which should have slain it. So powerful had it become that, by the time +of Desire's arrival on the veranda, it had closed every road of +interpretation save its own. +</P> + +<P> +Nor was John in more reasonable case. His mistaken Thought was +different in action but equally successful in effect. Born of an +insistent desire, and nursed by half fearful hope, it stood a beggar at +the door of life, snatching from every passing circumstance the crumbs +by which it lived. Did Desire smile—how eagerly John's famished +Thought would claim it for his own. Did she frown—how quick it was to +find some foreign cause for frowning. And, as Desire woke to love under +his eyes, how ceaselessly it worked to add belief to hope. How +plausibly it reasoned, how cleverly it justified! That Spence loved his +wife, the Thought would not accept as possible. All John's actual +knowledge of the depth and steadfastness of his friend's nature was +pooh-poohed or ignored. Benis, dear old chap, cared nothing for women. +Hadn't he always shunned them in his quiet way? And hadn't he, John, +warned Benis, anyway? The Thought insisted upon the warning with +virtuous emphasis. It pointed out that Benis had laughed at the +warning. Even if—but we need not follow John's excursions further. +They all led through devious ways to the old, old justification of +everything in love and war. +</P> + +<P> +As time went on, the thing which fed the mistaken thoughts of both +Benis and John was the change in Desire herself. That she was +increasingly unhappy was evident to both. And why should she be +unhappy—unless? +</P> + +<P> +To John Rogers, that summer remained the most distracting summer of his +life. Desire should have seen this—would have seen it had her +mind-roads not been closed by their own obsession. The probability is +that she did not consciously think of John at all. He was there and he +was kind. She saw nothing farther than that. +</P> + +<P> +The relationship between the two men remained apparently the same and +indeed it is likely that, in the main, their conception one of the +other did not change. To Benis, John's virtues were still as real and +admirable as ever. To John, Benis was still a bit of a mystery and a +bit of a hero>. (There were war stories which John knew but had never +dared to tell, lest vengeance befall him.) But, these basic things +aside, there were new points of view. Seen as a possible mate for +Desire, Benis found John most lamentably lacking. Seen in the same +light, Benis to John was undesirable in the extreme. "If it could only +be someone more subtle than John," thought Benis. And, "If only old +Benis were a bit more stable," thought John. Both were insincere, since +no possible combination of qualities would have satisfied either. +</P> + +<P> +Of this fatally misled quartette, Mary Davis was perhaps the one most +open to reason. And yet not altogether so, for the thought of Benis +Spence as eternally escaped was not a welcome one. She realized now +that she might have liked the elusive professor more than a little. +They would have been, she thought, admirably suited. At the worst, +neither would have bored the other. And the Spence home was quite +possible—as a home for part of the year at least. It was certainly +annoying that fate should have cut in so unexpectedly. And for what? +Apparently for nothing but that a girl with grey, enigmatic eyes and +close-shut lips should keep from Mary a position which she did not want +herself. For Mary, captive of her Thought, was more than ready to +believe that Desire's hidden preference was for John. She naturally +could not grant her rival a share of her own discriminating taste in +loving. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," thought Mary, "it is her immaturity which makes her prefer +the doctor person to one who so far outranks him. She admires sleek +hair and a straight nose. The finer fascinations of Benis escape her." +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile she stayed on. +</P> + +<P> +"I know I should come home," she wrote the most select of the select +friends. "And I know dear Miss Campion thinks so! But the situation +here is too absorbing. And, as my invitation was indefinite, I can +hardly be accused of outstaying it. I can't be supposed to know that +I'm not wanted. I justify myself by the knowledge that I am of some use +to Benis. You know I can interest most men when I try, and this time my +'heart is in it'—like Sentimental Tommy. I am even teaching a +perfectly dear parrot they have here to sing, 'Oh, What a Pal was +Mary.' Will you run over to my rooms and send down that London smoke +chiffon frock with the silver underslip? Stockings and slippers to +match in a box in the bottom drawer. I am contemplating a moon-light +mood and must have the accessories. One loses half the effect if one +does not dress the part. Madam Enigma never dresses in character. +Because she never assumes one. So dull to be always just oneself, don't +you think? Even if one knew what one's real self is, which I am sure I +do not. +</P> + +<P> +"This girl annoys me. How she can be so simple and yet so complex I +can't understand. I thought perhaps a dash of jealousy might be +revealing. But she hasn't turned a hair. I have my emotions pretty well +in hand myself but even if I didn't adore my husband, I'd see that no +one else appropriated him. But as far as Madam Coolness is concerned it +looks as if I might put her husband in my pocket and keep him there +indefinitely. +</P> + +<P> +"I told you in my last about the good-looking doctor. What she sees in +him puzzles me. He is handsome but as dull as all the proverbs. Can't +be original even in his love affairs—otherwise he would hardly select +his best friend's bride—so bookish! Why doesn't someone fall in love +with the wife of his enemy? It seems to have gone out since Romeo's +time. (Now don't write and tell me that Juliet wasn't married.) +</P> + +<P> +"Another thing which I find odd, is the attitude of Benis himself. He +is quite alive, painfully so, to the drift of the thing. Yet he does +nothing. And this is not in keeping with his character. He is the type +of man who, in spite of an unassertive manner, holds what he has with +no uncertain grasp. Why, then, does he let this one thing go? The +logical deduction is that he knows that he never had it. All of which, +being interpreted, means that things may happen here through the sheer +inertia of other things. Almost every day I think, 'Something ought to +be done.' But I know I shall never do it. I am not the novelist's +villainess who arranges a compromising situation and produces the +surprised husband from behind a door. Neither am I a peacemaker or an +altruist. I am not selfish enough in one way nor un-selfish enough in +another. (Probably that is why life has lost interest in my special +case.) Even my emotions are hopelessly mixed. There are times when I +find myself viciously hoping that Madam Composure will go the limit and +that right quickly. And there are other times when I feel I should like +to choke her into a proper realization of what she is risking. Not for +her sake—I'm far too feminine for that—but because I hate to see her +play with this man (whom I like myself) and get away with it." +</P> + +<P> +It is worth while remembering the closing sentences of this letter. +They explain, or partially explain, a certain future action on the part +of the writer, which might otherwise seem out of keeping with her well +defined attitude of "Mary first." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</H3> + +<P> +"There is one thing which I simply do not understand." Miss Davis dug +the point of a destructive parasol into the well-kept gravel of the +drive and allowed a glance of deep seriousness to drift from under the +shadow of her hat. Unfortunately, her companion was not attending. +</P> + +<P> +It was the day of Mrs. Burton Jones' garden party, the Bainbridge event +for which Miss Davis was, presumably, staying over. Mary, in a new +frock of sheerest grey and most diaphanous white, and a hat which lay +like a breath of mist against the gold of her hair, had come down +early. In the course of an observant career, she had learned that, in +one respect at least, men are like worms. They are inclined to be +early. Mary had often profited by this bit of wisdom, and was glad that +so few other women seemed to realize its importance. One can do much +with ten or fifteen uninterrupted minutes. +</P> + +<P> +But today Mary had not done much. She had found Benis, as she expected, +on the front steps. They had talked for quite ten minutes without an +interruption—but also without any reason to deplore one. +</P> + +<P> +This was failure. And Mary, whose love of the chase grew as the quarry +proved shy, was beginning to be seriously annoyed with Benis. He might +at least play up! Even now he was not looking at her, and he did not +ask her what it was that she simply did not understand. Mary decided +that he deserved something—a pin-prick at least. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you get a car, Benis?" she asked inconsequently. "If you had +one, Desire might ride in it some-times, instead of always in Dr. +Rogers'. Can't you see that it's dangerous?" +</P> + +<P> +"One has to take risks," said Spence plaintively. "John is careless. +But he has never killed anyone yet." +</P> + +<P> +"You're impossible, Benis." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know. But particularly impossible as a chauffeur. That's why I +haven't a car. What would I do with a driver when I wasn't using him? +Desire will have a car of her own as soon as she likes to try it. Aunt +won't drive and I—don't." +</P> + +<P> +This was the first approach to a personal remark the professor had +made. No one was in sight yet and Mary began to hope again. Once more +she tried the gently serious gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" she asked, not too eagerly. +</P> + +<P> +Yorick, sunning himself by the door, gave vent to a goblin chuckle. +"Oh, what a pal was M-Mary! Oh, what a pal—Nothing doing!" he finished +with a shriek and began to flap his wings. +</P> + +<P> +The professor laughed. "Yorick gets his lessons mixed," he said. "But +isn't he a wonder? Did you ever know a bird who could learn so quickly?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary did not want to talk about birds. "Do tell me why you dislike +driving?" she asked with gentle insistence. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I like it.-It's not that. I used to drive like Jehu, or John. +Never had an accident. But when I came back from overseas I found I +couldn't trust my nerve—no quick judgment, no instinctive +reaction—all gone to pieces. Rather rotten." +</P> + +<P> +With unerring intuition Mary knew this for a real confidence. +Fortunately she was an expert with shy game. +</P> + +<P> +"Quite rotten," she said soberly. He went on. +</P> + +<P> +"It's little things like that that hit hard. Not to be One's own man in +a crisis—d'y' see?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"But it's only temporary," he continued more cheer-fully. "I'll try +myself out one of these days. Only, of course, arranged tests are never +real ones. The crisis must leap on one to be of any use. Some little +time ago, when I was at the coast, an incident happened—a kind of +unexpected emergency"—he paused thoughtfully as a sudden vision of a +moon-lit room flashed before him—"I got through that all right," he +added, "so I'm hopeful." +</P> + +<P> +"How thrilling," said Mary. "Won't you tell me what it was?" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes met hers with a placidity for which she could have shaken him. +</P> + +<P> +"It wouldn't interest you," he said. "I hear Aunt coming at last." +</P> + +<P> +Miss Campion's voice had indeed preceded her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, there you are, Mary," she said with some acidity. "I told Desire +you were sure to be down first." +</P> + +<P> +"I try to be prompt," said Mary meekly. "I have been keeping Benis +company until you were ready." She spoke to Miss Campion but her +slightly mocking eyes watched for some change upon the face of her +young hostess. Desire, as usual, was serene. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary thinks we are all heathens not to have a car," said Benis. "When +are you going to choose yours, Desire?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all, I think," said Desire. +</P> + +<P> +Men, even clever men, are like that. The professor had seen no possible +sting in his idly spoken words. But the sore, hot spot, which now +seemed ever present in Desire's heart, grew sorer and hotter. To owe a +car to the reminder of another woman! Naturally, Desire could do very +well without it. +</P> + +<P> +"But don't you miss a car terribly?" asked Mary with kind concern. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot miss what I have never had." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, in the west, I suppose one does have horses still." +</P> + +<P> +"There may be a few left, I think." Desire's slow smile crept out as +memory brought the asthmatic "chug" of the "Tillicum." "My father and I +used a launch almost exclusively." In spite of herself she could not +resist a glance at the professor. His eyes met hers with a ghost of +their old twinkle. +</P> + +<P> +"A launch?" Mary's surprise was patent. "Did you run it yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"We had a Chinese engineer," said Desire demurely. "But I could manage +it if necessary." +</P> + +<P> +Further conversation upon modes of locomotion on the coast was cut off +by the precipitate arrival of John who, coming up the drive in his best +manner, narrowly escaped a triple fatality at the steps. +</P> + +<P> +"You people are careless!" he exclaimed indignantly. "What do you mean +by standing on the drive? Some-one might have been hurt! Anyone here +like to get driven to the garden party?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do doctors find time for garden parties in Bainbridge?" asked Mary in +mock surprise. +</P> + +<P> +"Healthiest place you ever saw!" declared Dr. John gloomily. "And +anyway, this garden party is a prescription of mine. Naturally I am +expected to take my own medicine. I said to Mrs. B. Jones, 'What you +need, dear Mrs. Jones, is a little gentle excitement combined with +fresh air, complete absence of mental strain and plenty of cooling +nourishment.' Did you ever hear a garden party more delicately +suggested? Desire, will you sit in front?" +</P> + +<P> +"Husbands first," said Benis. "In the case of a head-on collision, I +claim the post of honorable danger." +</P> + +<P> +It was surely a natural and a harmless speech. But instantly the +various mistaken thoughts of his hearers turned it to their will. +Desire's eyes grew still more clouded under their lowered lids. "He +does not dare to sit beside Mary," whispered her particular mental +highwayman. "Oho, he is beginning to show human jealousy at last," +thought Mary. "He has noticed that she likes to sit beside me," exulted +John. Of them all, only Aunt Caroline was anywhere near the truth. "He +has taken my warning to heart," thought she. "But then, I always knew I +could manage men if I had a chance." +</P> + +<P> +A garden party in Bainbridge is not exciting, in itself. In themselves, +no garden parties are exciting. As mere garden parties they partake +somewhat of the slow and awful calm of undisturbed nature. One could +see the grass grow at a garden party, if so many people were not +trampling on it. So it is possible that there were those in Mrs. Burton +Jones' grounds that afternoon who, bringing no personal drama with +them, had rather a dull time. For others it was a fateful day. There +were psychic milestones on Mrs. Burton Jones' smooth lawn that +afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +It was there, for instance, that the youngest Miss Keith (the pretty +one) decided to marry Jerry Clarkson, junior (and regretted it all her +life). It was there that Mrs. Keene first suspected the new principal +of the Collegiate Institute of Bolshevik tendencies. (He had said that, +in his opinion, kings were bound to go.) And it was there that Miss +Ellis spoke to Miss Sutherland for the first time in three years. (She +asked her if she would have lemon or chocolate cake—a clear matter of +social duty.) It was there also that Miss Mary Sophia Watkins, Dr. +Rogers' capable nurse, decided finally that a longer stay in Bainbridge +would be wasted time. It was the first time she had actually seen her +admired doctor and the object of his supposed regard together, and a +certain look which she surprised on Dr. John's face as his eyes +followed Desire across the lawn, convinced her so thoroughly that, like +a sensible girl, she packed up that night and went back to the city. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was that very look which also decided Spence. For decide he +did. There was no excuse for waiting longer. He must "have it out" with +John. Desire must be given her freedom. Of John's attitude he had small +doubt. His infatuation for Desire had been plain from the beginning. +Time had served only to centre and strengthen it. He could not in +justice blame John. He didn't blame John. That is to say, he would not +officially permit himself to blame John, though he knew very well that +he did blame him. A sense of the rights of other people as opposed to +one's own rights has been hardly gained by the Race, and is by no means +firmly seated yet. Let primitive passions slip control for an instant +and presto! good-bye to the rights of other people! The primitive man +in Spence would not have argued the matter. Having obtained his mate by +any means at all, it would have gone hard with anyone who, however +justly, attempted to take her from him. Today, at Mrs. Burton-Jones' +garden party, the acquired restraints of character seemed wearing thin. +The professor decided that it might be advisable to go home. +</P> + +<P> +Desire and Mary noticed his absence at about the same time. And both +lost interest in the party with the suddenness of a light blown out. +</P> + +<P> +"Things are moving," thought Mary with a thrill of triumph. But in +spite of her triumph she was angry. It is not pleasant to have the +power of one's rival so starkly revealed. Malice crept into her +faun-like eyes as she looked across to where Desire sat, a composed +young figure, listening with apparent interest to the biggest bore in +Bainbridge. What right had she to hold a man's hot heart between her +placid hands! Mary ground her parasol into Mrs. Burton-Jones' best sod +and her small white teeth shut grindingly behind her lips. +</P> + +<P> +Desire was trying to listen to the little man with the enlarged ego who +attempted to entertain her. But she was very much aware of Mary and all +her moods. "She is selfish. She will make him miserable," thought +Desire. "But she will make him happy first. And, in any case, he must +be free." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Mrs. Spence," the little man beside her was saying, "a man like +myself, however diffident, must be ready to do his full duty by the +community in which he lives. That is why I feel I must accept the +nomination for mayor of this town—if I am offered it. My friends say +to me, 'Miller, you are a man, and we need a man. Bainbridge needs a +man.' What am I to do under such circumstances? If there is no man—" +</P> + +<P> +"You might try a woman," said Desire, suddenly losing patience. The +garden party was stupid. The egotist was stupid. She was probably +stupid too, because she knew that a few weeks ago she would have found +both the party and the egotist entertaining. She would have been +delighted to peep in at a window where every-thing was labelled "Big +I." She would have enjoyed Mrs. Burton-Jones' windows immensely—but +now, windows bored her. In the only window that mattered the blinds +were down. Desire's life had narrowed as it broadened. It wasn't life +that she wanted any more—it was the one thing which could have made +life dear. +</P> + +<P> +A great impatience of trivialities came upon her. She hardly heard the +injured tones of the little man who had embarked upon a heated +repudiation of a feminine mayoralty. It did not amuse her even when he +proved logically that women could never be anything because they were +always something else. Instead she looked to Dr. John for rescue, and +Dr. John, most observant of knights, immediately rescued her. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you see that?" asked Mrs. Keene (the same who discovered the +Bolshevik principal). She touched Miss Davis significantly on the arm. +</P> + +<P> +Mary, who had seen perfectly well, looked blank. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you are not one of us," went on Mrs. Keene. "So you can +scarcely be expected.... Still, living in the same house ... and +knowing the dear professor so well." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you wish to speak to him? He has gone home, I think," said Mary, +innocently. "I fancy he doesn't suffer garden parties gladly." +</P> + +<P> +"No—such a pity! With a wife so young and, if I may say so, so +different. One feels that she has not been brought up amongst us. So +sad. I always say 'Let our young men marry at home.' So sensible. One +knows where one is then, don't you think?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary agreed that, in such a position, one might know where one was. +</P> + +<P> +"And book writing," said Mrs. Keene, "so fatiguing! So liable to occupy +one's attention—to the exclusion of other matters.... The dear +professor.... So bound up in the marvels of the human brain!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not brain, mind," corrected Mary gently. "The professor is a +psychologist." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, of course if you wish to separate them, in a scriptural sense. +But what I mean is that such biological studies are dangerous. So +absorbing. When one examines things through a microscope—" +</P> + +<P> +"One doesn't—in psychology." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, perhaps not so much as formerly, especially since vivisection is +so looked down upon. But it is terribly absorbing, as I say. And one +can hardly expect an absorbed man to see things. And yet—" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it," asked Mary bluntly, "that you think Professor Spence +ought to see?" +</P> + +<P> +This was entirely too blunt for Mrs. Keene. She, in her turn, looked +blank. What did Miss Davis mean? She was not aware that she had +suggested the professor's seeing anything. Probably there was nothing +at all to see. Young people have such latitude nowadays. She herself +was not a gossip. She despised gossip. "What I always say," declared +she, virtuously, "is 'do not hint thing's.' Say them right out and then +we shall know where we are. Don't you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +Mary agreed that, under these conditions also, one might be fairly sure +of one's position in space. "Unless," she concluded maliciously, "there +is anything in the Einstein theory." +</P> + +<P> +This latter shot had the effect intended, for Mrs. Keene said +hurriedly, "Oh, of course in that case—" and moved away. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going home, Mary," said Aunt Caroline, coming up. Aunt Caroline +had had enough garden party. She had noticed both the rescue of Desire +by John, and the conversation of Mary with Mrs. Keene—the "worst old +gossip in Bainbridge." +</P> + +<P> +Desire was quite ready to go. So was Mary. The centre of attraction for +them both had shifted itself. John too, felt that he ought to turn up +at the office. But all three ladies politely declined a lift home in +his car. +</P> + +<P> +"It is so hot," he pleaded. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not hot," said Aunt Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +Mary smiled mockingly and murmured something about the great distances +of small towns. Desire said, "No, thank you, John," in her detached +way—a way which drove him mad even while he adored it. +</P> + +<P> +So the Burton-Jones garden party faded into history. But +history-in-the-making caught up its effects and carried them on.... +</P> + +<P> +It was a lovely night. But indoors it was hot with the accumulated heat +of the day. Instead of going to bed, Mary slipped out into the garden. +It was fresher there, and she was restless. The front of the house lay +in darkness, but, from the library window at the side, stretched a +ribbon of light. Benis must be still at work. With slippers which made +no sound upon the grass, Mary crossed over to the window and looked in. +</P> + +<P> +What she saw there stung her already fretted soul to unreasoning anger, +and for once the circumspect Miss Davis acted upon impulse undeterred +by thought. Entering the house softly, she ran upstairs to the west +room which she entered without knocking. +</P> + +<P> +Desire, seated at the dressing table, turned in surprise. She was ready +for bed, but lingered over the brushing of her hair. With another spasm +of anger, Mary noticed the hair she brushed—hair long and lustrous and +lifted in soft waves. A pink kimona lay across the back of her chair, a +pretty thing—but not at all French. +</P> + +<P> +"Put it on," said Mary, "and come here. I want to show you something." +</P> + +<P> +Desire did not ask "What?" Nor did she keep Mary waiting. Pleasant or +unpleasant, it was not Desire's way to delay revelation. Together the +two girls hurried out into the dew-sweet garden. As they went, Mary +spoke in gusty sentences. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care what you do." (She was almost sobbing in her anger.) "I +don't understand you.... I don't want to.... But you're not going +to get away with it ... that cool air of yours ... pretending not +to see.... If you are human at all you'll see ... and remember all +your life." +</P> + +<P> +They were close to the library window now. Desire looked in. +</P> + +<P> +She looked so long and stood so still that Mary had time to get back a +little of her breath and something of her common sense. An instinct +which her selfish life had pretty well buried began to stir. +</P> + +<P> +"Come away," she whispered, "I shouldn't have ... it wasn't fair +... he would never forgive us if he knew we had seen him like this!" +</P> + +<P> +Desire drew back instantly. +</P> + +<P> +"No," she said. Her voice was toneless. Her face in the darkness +gleamed wedge-shaped and unfamiliar between the falling waves of her +hair. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," said Mary sulkily. "But I thought you ought to know what +you are doing. It takes a lot to break up a man like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Desire. "All the same I had no right—" +</P> + +<P> +"You will have," said Desire evenly. +</P> + +<P> +They were at her door now. She paused with her hand on the knob. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew he cared," she said in the same level voice, "but I didn't know +that he cared like that." +</P> + +<P> +"You know now," said Mary. Her irritation was returning. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Desire. "Good-night." +</P> + +<P> +She opened the door and went in. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</H3> + +<P> +It seems incredible and yet it is a fact that Bainbridge never knew +that young Mrs. Spence had run away. Full credit for this must be given +to Miss Caroline Campion, who never really believed it herself—a +mental limitation which lent the necessary air of unemphasized truth to +her statement that Desire had been summoned suddenly to her father. +</P> + +<P> +Miss Campion had, in her own mind, built up an imaginary Dr. Farr in +every way suited to be the father-in-law of a Spence. This creation she +passed on to Bainbridge as Desire's father. "Such a fine old +gentleman," she would say. "And so devoted to his only daughter. Quite +a recluse, though, my nephew tells me. And not at all strong." This +idea of delicacy, which Miss Campion had added to the picture from a +sense of the fitness of things, proved useful now. An only daughter may +be summoned to attend a delicate father at a moment's notice, without +unduly straining credulity. +</P> + +<P> +One feels almost sorry for Bainbridge. It would have enjoyed the truth +so much! +</P> + +<P> +"Is Desire going to have no breakfast at all?" asked Aunt Caroline, +from behind the coffee-urn on the morning following the garden-party. +It was an invariable custom of hers to pretend that her nephew was +fully conversant with his wife's intentions. +</P> + +<P> +"She may be tired," said Benis. +</P> + +<P> +"No. She has been up some time. The door of her room was open when I +came down." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she is probably in the garden. I'll ask Olive to call her." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not call her yourself? I have a feeling—" +</P> + +<P> +The professor rose from his untasted coffee. When Aunt Caroline "had a +feeling" it was useless to argue. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sleeping badly again, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline. "Your eyes +look like burnt holes in a blanket." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing to bother about, Aunt." He stepped out quickly into the sunny +garden. But Desire was not among the flowers, neither was she on the +lawn nor in the shrubbery. A few moments' search proved that she was +not out of doors at all. Benis returned to his coffee. He found it +quite cold and no waiting Aunt Caroline to pour him another cup. "I +wonder," he pondered idly, "why, when one really wants coffee, it is +always cold." +</P> + +<P> +Then he forgot about coffee suddenly and completely, for Aunt Caroline +came in with the news that Desire was gone. +</P> + +<P> +"Gone where?" asked Spence stupidly. +</P> + +<P> +"That," said Aunt Caroline, "she leaves you to inform me." +</P> + +<P> +With the feeling of being someone else and acting under compulsion he +took the few written lines which she held out to him. "Dear Aunt +Caroline," he read, "Benis will tell you why I am going. But I cannot +go without thanking you. I'll never forget how good you have +been—Desire." +</P> + +<P> +"I had a feeling," said Aunt Caroline with mournful triumph. "It never +deceives me, never! As I passed our dear girl's room this morning, I +said, 'She is not there'—and she wasn't!" +</P> + +<P> +"I think you mentioned that the door was open." +</P> + +<P> +"That has nothing to do with it. I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you find this note?" +</P> + +<P> +"On her dressing table. When you went into the gar-den, I went +upstairs. I had a feeling—" +</P> + +<P> +"Was there nothing else? No note for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," in surprise. "She says you know all about it. Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something, not all." +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline was, upon occasion, quite capable of meeting a crisis. +Remembering the neglected coffee, she poured a cup for each of them. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," said she, "drink this. You look as if you needed it. I must +say, Benis, that you don't act as if you knew anything, but if you do, +you'd better tell me. Where is Desire?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"Umph! Then what you do know won't help us to find her. Finding her is +the first thing. I wonder," thoughtfully, "if she told John?" +</P> + +<P> +A wintry smile passed over the professor's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I shall ask him," he said. +</P> + +<P> +Aunt Caroline proceeded with her own deducing. "There is no one else +she could have told," she reasoned. "She did not tell you. She did not +tell me. Naturally, she would not tell Mary. And a girl nearly always +tells somebody. So it must be John. I hope you are sufficiently ashamed +of yourself, Benis? I told you Desire wouldn't understand your +attentions to Mary. Though I admit I did not dream she would take them +quite so seriously. I don't envy you your explanations." +</P> + +<P> +"Aunt—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment, Benis. On second thought, if I were you I would not +explain at all. Simply tell her she is mistaken and stick to that. She +may believe you. Promise her that you will never see Mary again—and +you won't" (grimly) "if I have anything to say about it. Desire will +come around. I have a feeling—" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Aunt!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me proceed, Benis. I have a feeling that she will forgive +you—once. But let this be a lesson. Desire is not a girl who will +forgive twice." +</P> + +<P> +"You are all wrong, Aunt," with weary patience. "But it doesn't matter. +Say nothing about this. I am going to see John." +</P> + +<P> +"Not before you drink that coffee." +</P> + +<P> +Benis obediently drank. Hurry would not mend what had happened. +</P> + +<P> +"She has taken her travelling coat and hat," pursued Aunt Caroline. +"Her train slippers, that taupe jersey-cloth suit, some fresh blouses, +her dressing case, her night things and your photo off the dressing +table." +</P> + +<P> +Benis smiled, a wry smile, and pushed back his cup. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look fit to go anywhere," said Aunt Caroline irritably. "Why +can't you call John on the 'phone?" +</P> + +<P> +"That would be quite modern," said Benis. "But—I think I'll see him. I +shan't be long." +</P> + +<P> +It never once occurred to the professor, you will notice, that he might +find John vanished also. His obsessing thought had not been able to +change his essential knowledge of either Desire or John. If Desire had +gone, she had gone because she could not stay. But she had gone alone. +Just what determining thing had happened to make her flight imperative, +Benis could not guess. But he would not have been human if he had not +blamed the other man. "The fool has bungled it!" he thought. "Lost +control of his precious feelings, perhaps—broken through—said +something—frightened her." We may be sure that he cursed John in his +heart very completely. +</P> + +<P> +But when he entered John's office and saw John he began to doubt even +this. There was no guilt on the doctor's face—no sign of apprehension +or regret, no tremor of knowledge. An angry-eyed young man looked up +from a letter he was reading with nothing more serious than injured +wonder in his gaze. +</P> + +<P> +"Can you beat it?" asked John disgustedly, waving the letter. "Aren't +women the limit? Here's this one going off without a word, or an +excuse, or anything. Just gone! And a silly note thrown on my desk. I +tell you women have absolutely no sense of business +obligation—positively not!" +</P> + +<P> +Spence restrained himself. +</P> + +<P> +"You are speaking of—?" +</P> + +<P> +"That nurse of mine, Miss Watkins. Never a word about leaving +yesterday, and today vanished—vamoosed—simply non est! Look at what +she says.—" +</P> + +<P> +Spence pushed the letter aside. +</P> + +<P> +"There is something more important than that, John," he said quietly, +"Desire has left me." +</P> + +<P> +The two men stared at each other. Spence was the first to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"There is no doubt about it. She is gone. She has not told us where. I +see that you do not know." +</P> + +<P> +John shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"There may be a note for you in the morning's mail." Benis was coldly +brief. "I must know where she is. If you can help me, let me know." He +turned to the door. +</P> + +<P> +With difficulty John found his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew nothing of this, Benis." +</P> + +<P> +"I realize that," dryly. "But you may be responsible for it. She had no +idea of leaving yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"Benis, I swear—" +</P> + +<P> +"It is not necessary. Besides," bitterly, "you could afford to be +patient. You felt fairly—sure, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure! No, I—" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you merely hoped?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—damn!" +</P> + +<P> +"Quite so. There is nothing to say. Not being a sentimentalist, I +shan't pretend to love you, John. But I gambled and I've lost. I have +always admired a good loser." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV +</H3> + +<P> +Upon reaching home Benis found Aunt Caroline waiting for him just +inside the outer gate. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought," she explained, "that we might talk while strolling up the +drive. Then Olive would not overhear." +</P> + +<P> +The professor had quite neglected to consider Olive. +</P> + +<P> +"I have told Olive," went on Aunt Caroline, "that Mrs. Spence had +received news of her father which was far from satisfactory and that +she had left for Vancouver by the early morning train. The morning +train is the only one she could have left by, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then that's all right. I also let Olive know, indirectly, that you +were remaining behind to attend to a few matters. After which you would +follow." +</P> + +<P> +Admiration for this generalship pierced even the deep depression of the +professor. +</P> + +<P> +"Does John know where she is?" pursued Aunt Caroline. +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then she has gone home to her father. She said something the other day +which puzzled me. I can't remember just what it was but she seemed to +have some fatalistic idea, about her old life having a hold upon her +which she couldn't shake off. Pure morbidity, as I pointed out. But she +has gone back. I have a feeling that she has." +</P> + +<P> +"You may be right, Aunt. It will be easy to find out. If I can make the +necessary inquiries without arousing gossip. There was nothing in the +mail—for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. The man has just been. But there is something for Desire, an odd +looking package done up in foreign paper. I have it here." +</P> + +<P> +Spence took from her hand a slim, yellowish packet, directed in the +crabbed writing of Li Ho. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't make out whether it is 'Hon. Mrs. Professor Spence' or whether +the 'Mrs.' is 'Mr.' Perhaps you had better open it, Benis." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, later." Spence slipped the packet into his pocket. "It 'can't +have anything to do with our present problem.... I must make some +telephone inquiries. But if Desire has gone, Aunt, we may as well face +facts. She does not want me to follow her." +</P> + +<P> +"Doesn't she?" Aunt Caroline surveyed him with a pitying smile. "How +stupid men are! But go along to the library. You've had no decent +breakfast. I'll send you in something to eat. As for Bainbridge—leave +that to me." ... +</P> + +<P> +How curiously does a room change with the changing mind of its +occupant. Benis Spence had known his library in many moods. It had been +a refuge; it had been a prison; it had been a place of dreams. He had +liked to fancy that something of himself stayed there—something which +met him, warm and welcoming, when he came in at the door. He had liked +to play that the room had a soul. And, after he had brought Desire +home, the idea had grown until he had seemed to feel an actual presence +in its cool seclusion. But if presence there had been, it was gone now. +The place was empty. The air hung dull and lifeless. The chairs stood +stiff against the wall, the watching books had no greeting. Only Yorick +swung and flapped in his cage, his throat full of mutterings. +</P> + +<P> +It is all very well to be a good loser. But loss is bitter. Here was +loss, stark and staring. +</P> + +<P> +Spence walked over to the neatly tidied desk and there, for an instant, +the cold finger lifted from his heart. A letter was lying on the clean +blotter—she had not gone without a word, then! She had slipped in here +to say good-bye.... A very little is much to him who has nothing. +</P> + +<P> +The letter was brief. Only a few words written hurriedly with a +spluttering pen: +</P> + +<P> +"I am going, Ben-is. I think we are both sure now. But please—please +do not pity me. Love is too big for pity. You have given me so much, +give me this one thing more—the understanding that can believe me when +I say that I, too, am glad to give. +</P> + +<P> +"Desire." +</P> + +<P> +Benis laid the letter softly down upon the ordered desk. No, he need +not pity her. She had had the courage to let little things go. She, who +had demanded so royally of life, now made no outcry that the price was +high. Well, ... it need not be so high, perhaps. He would make it as +easy as might be. +</P> + +<P> +The parrot was trying to attract him with his usual goblin croaks. +Benis rubbed its bent, green head. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll miss her, too, old chap," he said, adding angrily, "dashed +sentimentality!" +</P> + +<P> +The sound of his own voice steadied him. He must be careful. Above all, +he must not sink into self-pity. He must go back to his work. It had +meant everything to him once. It must mean everything to him again. If +he were a man at all he must fight through this inertia. Life had +tumbled him out of his shell, played with him for an hour, and now +would tumble him back again—no, by Jove, he refused to be tumbled +back! He would fight through. He would come out somewhere, some-time. +</P> + +<P> +It occurred to him that he ought to be thankful that Desire at least +was going to be happy. But he did not feel glad. He was not even sure +that she was going to be happy. Something kept stubbornly insisting +that she would have been much happier with him. Quite with-out +prejudice, had they not been extraordinarily well suited? He put the +question up to fate. The hardest thing about the whole hard matter was +the insistent feeling that a second mistake had been made. John and +Desire—his mind refused to see any fitness in the mating. Yet this +very perversity of love was something which he had long recognized with +the complacence of assured psychology. +</P> + +<P> +He heard Mary's voice in the hall. He had forgotten Mary. He hoped she +would not tap upon the library door—as she sometimes did. No, thank +heaven, she had gone upstairs! That was an odd idea of Aunt Caroline's. +If he had felt like smiling he would have smiled at it. Desire jealous +of Mary? Ridiculous.... +</P> + +<P> +"Here comes old Bones," said Yorick conversationally. +</P> + +<P> +The professor started. It was a phrase he had him-self taught the bird +during that time of illness when John's visit had been the bright spot +in long dull days. It had amused them both that the parrot seldom made +a mistake, seeming to know, long before his master, when the doctor was +near. +</P> + +<P> +But today? Surely Yorick was wrong today. John would not come today. +Would never come again—but did anyone save John race up the drive in +that abandoned manner? Benis frowned. He did not want to see John. He +would not see him! But as he went to leave the library by one door John +threw open the other and stood for an instant blinded by the +comparative dimness within. +</P> + +<P> +"Where are you, Benis?" +</P> + +<P> +"Here." +</P> + +<P> +Spence closed the door. His brief anger was swallowed up in something +else. Never, even in France, had he seen John look like this. +</P> + +<P> +"We're a precious pair of dupes!" began John in a high voice and +without preliminaries. "Prize idiots—imbeciles!" +</P> + +<P> +"Very likely," said Benis. "But you're not talking to New York." +</P> + +<P> +He made no move to take the paper which John held out in a shaking hand. +</P> + +<P> +"What is the matter with you?" he asked sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with me? Oh, nothing. What's the matter with all of +us? Crazy—that's all! Here—read it! It's from Desire. Must have +posted it last night." +</P> + +<P> +Spence put the letter aside. +</P> + +<P> +"If you have news, you had better tell it. That is if you can talk in +an ordinary voice." +</P> + +<P> +John laughed harshly. "My voice is all right. Not so dashed cool as +yours. Read it!" +</P> + +<P> +Spence took the sheet held out to him; but he had no wish to> read +Desire's words to John. +</P> + +<P> +"If it is a private letter—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't be a bigger fool than you have been! Unless," with sudden +suspicion, "you've known all along? Perhaps you have. Even you could +hardly have been so completely duped." +</P> + +<P> +"If you will tell me what you are talking about—" +</P> + +<P> +"Read it. It is plain enough." +</P> + +<P> +The professor slowly opened the folded sheet. It was a longer note than +the one she had left for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear John," he read, "if I I'd known yesterday that I would leave so +soon I could have said good-bye. But my decision was made suddenly. I +think you must have seen how it is with Benis and Mary and I can't go +without telling you that I knew about it from the first. I don't want +you to blame Benis. He told me about it before we were married, and I +took the risk with my eyes open. How could he, or I, have guessed that +he had given up hope too soon?—and anyway, it wasn't in the bargain +that I should love him.—It just happened.—He is desperately unhappy. +Help him if you can.—Your affectionate Desire." +</P> + +<P> +"My affectionate Desire!" mocked John, still in that high, strained +voice which now was perilously near a sob. "That—that is what I was to +her, a convenient friend! You—you had it all. And let it go, for the +sake of that blond-haired, deer-eyed, fashion plate—" +</P> + +<P> +"That's enough! You are not an hysterical girl. Sit down.... I can't +understand this, John. I thought—" +</P> + +<P> +The two men looked at each other, a long look in which distrust at +least was faced and ended. The excited flush, died out of John's cheek. +He looked weary and shame-faced. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought she loved you," said Spence simply. +</P> + +<P> +The doctor's eyes fell. It was his honest admission that he, too, had +thought this possible. +</P> + +<P> +"Even now," went on the professor haltingly, "I can-not believe ... +it doesn't seem possible ... me? ... John, does the letter mean +that Desire loves me?" +</P> + +<P> +John Rogers nodded, turning away. +</P> + +<P> +Silence fell between them. +</P> + +<P> +"What will you do—about the other?" asked the doctor presently. +</P> + +<P> +"What other? There is no other. I loved Desire from the very first +night I saw her. I didn't know it, then. It was all new. And," with a +bitter smile, "so different from what one expects. Mary was never +any-thing but the figure of straw I told you of. I thought," naively, +"that Desire had forgotten Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you?" said John. "Why man, the woman doesn't live who would +forget! And Miss Davis filled the bill to the last item—even the name +'Mary'." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh what a pal was M-Mary!" croaked Yorick obligingly. +</P> + +<P> +"The bird, too!" said John. "Everyone doing his little best to sustain +the illusion—even, if I am any judge, the lady herself." +</P> + +<P> +But Benis Spence had never wasted time upon the lady herself. And he +did not begin now. With a face which had suddenly become years younger +he was searching frantically in his desk for the transcontinental +time-table. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap36"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVI +</H3> + +<P> +The train crawled. +</P> + +<P> +Although it was a fast express whose speed might well provoke the +admiration of travellers, in one traveller it provoked nothing save +grim endurance. Beside the consuming impatience of Benis Hamilton +Spence, its best effort was a little thing. When it slowed, he +fidgeted, when it stopped he fumed. He wanted to get out and push it. +</P> + +<P> +Five days—four—three—two—a day and a half—the vastness of the +spaces over which it must carry him grew endless as his mind +continually tried to span them. He felt a distinct grievance that any +country should be so wide. +</P> + +<P> +"Making good time!" said a genial person, travelling in the tobacco +trade. The professor eyed him with suspicion, as a man deranged by +optimism. +</P> + +<P> +The train crawled. +</P> + +<P> +Spence removed his eyes from the passing landscape and tried to forget +how slowly it was passing. He saw himself at the end of his journey. He +saw Desire. He saw a grudging moment, or second perhaps, devoted to +explanation. And then—How happy they were going to be! (If the train +would only forget to stop at stations it might get somewhere.) How +wonderful it would be to feel the empty world grow full again! To raise +one's eyes, just casually, and to see—Desire. To speak, in just one's +ordinary voice, and to know she heard. To stretch out one's hand and +feel that she was there. (What were they doing now? Putting on more +cars? Outrageous!) He would even write that book presently, when he got +around to it. (When one felt sure one could write.) But first they +would go away, just he and she, east of the sun and west of the moon. +They would sit together somewhere, as they used to sit on the +sun-warmed grass at Friendly Bay, and say nothing at all.... How +nearly they had missed it ... but it would be all right now. Love, +whom they had both denied, had both given and forgiven. It would be all +right, it must be all right, now! (But how the train crawled.) +</P> + +<P> +Poor John, poor old Bones! What a blow it had been for him. Although he +should certainly have had more sense than to fancy—Well, of course, a +man can fancy anything it he wants it badly enough. Spence was honestly +sorry for John—that is, he would be when he had time to consider +John's case. But John, too, would be all right presently. (Why under +heaven do trains need to wait ten minutes while silly people walk on +platforms without hats?) John would marry a nice girl. Not a girl like +Desire—not that type of girl at all. Someone quite different, but +nice. A fair girl, like that nurse he had had in his office. John might +be very happy with a wife like that ... +</P> + +<HR ALIGN="center" WIDTH="60%"> + +<P> +It was not until the fourth night out that the professor remembered the +packet from Li Ho. It had loomed so small among the events of that day +of revelations that he had completely forgotten it. He did not even +remember putting it in his pocket—but there it was, still unopened, +and promising some slight distraction from the wearying contemplation +of the crawling train. It would shut out, too, the annoyance of the +tobacco traveller, smoking with an offensive leisureliness, and +declaring, in defiance of all feeling, that they were "Sharp on time +and going some!" +</P> + +<P> +With a reviving interest in something outside the time-table, Spence +cut the string and opened the yellow packet. A small note-book fell out +and a letter—two letters, and one of them in the unmistakable writing +of Li Ho him-self. This latter, the professor opened first. +</P> + +<P> +"Honorable Spence and Esteemed Professor, dear Sir," wrote Li Ho. +"Permit felicity to include book belong departed parent of valued wife. +Deceased lady write as per day. Li Ho extract and think proper missy to +know. Honorable Boss head much loony. Secure that missy remain removed +if desiring safety. Belong much danger here since married as per also +enclosed. Exalted self be insignificantly warned by person of no +intelligence, Li Ho." +</P> + +<P> +Farther down, in a corner of the sheet was this sentence: +</P> + +<P> +"Permit to notably add that respected lady departed life Jan. 14." +</P> + +<P> +Li Ho had certainly surpassed himself. The bewildered professor forgot +about the time-table entirely. What Chinese meaning lay behind this +jumble of dictionary words? That they were not used at haphazard Spence +knew. Li Ho had some distinct meaning to convey—had indeed already +conveyed it in the one outstanding word "danger." For an instant the +professor's mind sickened with that weakness which had been his +dreadful legacy of war. But it passed immediately. Something stronger, +deeper in, took quiet command. Desire was in danger! Shock has a way at +times of giving back what shock has taken.—Spence became his own man +once more—cool, ready. +</P> + +<P> +With infinite care he went over the Chinaman's disjointed sentences. +They had been written under stress. +</P> + +<P> +That much presented no difficulty. Li Ho, the imperturbable, had +permitted himself a fit of nerves ... Something must have happened. +Something new. Something which threatened a danger not sufficiently +emphasized before. In his former letter Li Ho had indeed intimated that +a return was not desirable, but it had been an intimation based on +general principles only. This was different. This had all the marks of +urgent warning. "No more safe being married as per inclosed." This +cryptic remark might mean that further enlightenment was to be sought +in the enclosures. +</P> + +<P> +Spence picked up the second letter. It was addressed to Dr. Herbert +Farr at Vancouver, and was merely a formal notice from a firm of +English solicitors—post-marked London—a well-known firm, probably, +from the address on their letterhead. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Dr. Herbert Farr, + Vancouver, B. C.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Dear Sir: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +As executors in the estate of Mrs. Henry Strangeways we beg to inform +you that the allowance paid to you for the maintenance of Miss Desire +Farr is hereby discontinued. This action is taken under the terms of +our late clients will,—whereby such allowance ceases upon the marriage +of the said Desire Farr or her voluntary removal from your roof and +care. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +Obediently yours, + Hervey & Ellis."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The professor whistled. Here was enlightenment indeed! A very +sufficient explanation of the old man's grim determination to block any +self-dependence on Desire's part which would mean "removal from" his +"care." Here was someone paying a steady (and perhaps a fat) allowance +for the young girl's maintenance—someone of whom she herself had +certainly never heard and of whose bounty she remained completely +ignorant. It was easy enough now to follow Li Ho's reasoning. If it was +for this allowance, and this alone, that the old doctor had kept Desire +with him, long after her presence had become a matter of indifference +or even of distaste, the ending of the allowance meant also the ending +of his tolerance. "No more safe, being married." The difference, in Li +Ho's opinion, was all the difference between comparative safety and +real danger. Money! As long as Desire had meant money there had been an +instinct in the old scoundrel which, even in his moon-devil fits, had +protected the goose which laid the golden eggs. But now—now this +inhibition was removed, Desire, no longer valuable, was no longer +safeguarded. And who could tell what added grudge of rage and vengeance +might be darkly harbored in the depths of that crafty and unbalanced +mind? +</P> + +<P> +And Desire, unwarned, was even now almost within the madman's reach.... +Spence sternly refused to think of this ... there was time yet ... +plenty of time.... The thing to do was to keep cool ... steady +now! +</P> + +<P> +"Kind of pretty, going through these here mountains by moonlight," +observed the tobacco traveller, inclined to be genial even under +difficulties. "She'll be full tomorrow night. Queer thing that them +there prohibitionists can't keep the moon from getting full!" He +laughed in hearty appreciation of his own cleverness. +</P> + +<P> +The professor, a polite man, tried to smile. And then, suddenly, the +meaning of what had been said came home to him. +</P> + +<P> +Tomorrow night would be full moon! +</P> + +<P> +He had forgotten about the moon. +</P> + +<P> +"Queer cuss," thought the travelling man. "Stares at you polite enough +but never says anything. No conversation. Just about as lively as an +undertaker." +</P> + +<P> +But if Benis had forgotten to remove his eyes from the travelling man, +he did not know it. He did not see him. He saw nothing but +moonlight—moonlight across an uncovered floor and the white dimness of +a bed in the shadow! ... But he must keep cool ... was there time +to stop Desire with a telegram? She was only a day ahead ... no—he +was just too late for that. He knew the time-table by heart. Her train +was already in ... impossible to reach her now! +</P> + +<P> +Fear having reached its limit, his mind swung slowly back to reason.... +There was, he told himself, no occasion for panic. Li Ho might have +exaggerated. Besides, a danger known is almost a danger met And Li Ho +knew. Li Ho would be there. When, Desire came he would guard her.... +A few hours only ... until he could get to her.... She was safe +for tonight at least. She would not attempt to cross the Inlet, until +the morning. She would have to hire a launch—a thing no woman would +attempt to do at that hour of night. She was in no hurry. She would +stay somewhere in the city and get herself taken to Farr's Landing in +the morning.... Through the day, too, she would be safe ... and, +to-morrow night, he, Benis, would be there.... But not until late +... not until after the moon ... better not think of the moon ... +think of Li Ho ... Li Ho would surely watch ... +</P> + +<P> +He lay in his berth and told himself this over and over. The train +swung on. The cool, high air of the mountains crept through the +screened window. They were swinging through a land of awful and +gigantic beauty. The white moon turned the snow peaks into glittering +fountains from which pure light cascaded down, down into the blackness +at their base ... one more morning ... one more day ... Vancouver +at night ... a launch ... Desire! +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile one must keep steady. The professor drew from its yellow +wrapping the little note-book which had been the second of Li Ho's +enclosures. It had belonged, if Li Ho's information were correct, to +Desire's mother—a diary, probably. "Deceased lady write as per day." +Spence hesitated. It was Desire's property. He felt a delicacy in +examining it. But so many mistakes had already been made through want +of knowledge, he dared not risk another one. And Li Ho had probably +other than sentimental reasons for sending the book. +</P> + +<P> +He shut out the mountains and the moonlight, and clicking on the +berth-light, turned the dog-eared pages reverently. Only a few were +written upon. It was a diary, as he had guessed, or rather brief bits +of one. The writing was small but very clear in spite of the fading +ink. The entries began abruptly. It was plain that there had been +another book of which this was a continuation. +</P> + +<P> +The first date was November 1st—no year given. +</P> + +<P> +"It is raining. The Indians say the winter will be very wet. Desire +plays in the rain and thrives. She is a lovely child, +high-spirited—not like me." +</P> + +<P> +"November 10th—He was worse this month. I think he gets steadily a +little worse. I dare not say what I think. He would say that I had +fancies. No one else sees anything save harmless eccentricity,—except +perhaps Li Ho. But I am terrified. +</P> + +<P> +"December 7th—I tried once more to get away. He found me quickly. It +isn't easy for a woman with a child to hide—without money. For myself +I can stand it—my own fault! But—my little girl! +</P> + +<P> +"December 15th—I have been ill. Such a terrible experience. My one +thought was the dread of dying. I must live. I cannot leave +Desire—here. +</P> + +<P> +"December 20th—He bought Desire new shoes and a frock today. It is +strange, but he seems to take a certain care of her. Why? I do not +know. I have wondered about his motives until I fancy things. What +motive could he have ... except that maybe he is not all evil? Maybe +be cares for the child. She is so sweet—No. I must not deceive myself. +Whatever his reason is, I know that it is not that. +</P> + +<P> +"January 9th—A strange thing happened today. I found a torn envelope +bearing the name of Harry's English lawyers. I have seen the same kind +of envelope in Harry's hands more than once. They used to send him his +remittance, I think. What can this man have to do with English lawyers? +I am frightened. But for once I am more angry than afraid. I must +watch. If he has dared to write to Harry's people—" +</P> + +<P> +The writing of the next entry had lost its clearness. It was almost +illegible. +</P> + +<P> +"January 13th—How could he! How could he sink so low! I have seen the +lawyer's letter. He has taken money. From Harry's mother—for Desire. +And this began within a month of our marriage. It shames me so that I +cannot live. Yet I must live. I can't leave the child. But I can stop +this hateful traffic in a dead man's honor. I will write myself to +England." +</P> + +<P> +This was the last fragment. Spence looked again at the almost erased +date—January 13th. He felt the sweat on his forehead for, beside that +date, the unexplained postscript of Li Ho's letter took on a ghastly +significance. +</P> + +<P> +"Respected lady depart life on January 14th." +</P> + +<P> +She had not lived to write to England! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap37"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVII +</H3> + +<P> +It seemed to Benis Spence afterward that during that last day, while +the train plunged steadily down to sea level, he passed every boundary +ever set for the patience of man. It was a lovely, sparkling day. The +rivers leaped and danced in sunshine. Long shadows swept like beating +wings along the mountain sides. The air blew cool and sweet upon his +lips. But for once he was deaf and blind and heedless of it all. He +thought only of the night—of the night and the moon. +</P> + +<P> +It came at last—a night as lovely as the day. Benis sat with his hand +upon his watch. They were running sharp on time. There could be nothing +to delay them now—barring an accident. Instantly his mind created an +accident, providing all the ghastly details. He saw himself helpless, +pinned down, while the full moon climbed and sailed across the skies.... +</P> + +<P> +But there was no accident. A cheery bustle soon began in the car. +Suitcases were lifted up, unstrapped and strapped again. Women took +their hats from the big paper bags which hung like balloons between the +windows. There was a general shaking and fixing and sorting of +possessions. Only the porter remained serene. He knew exactly how long +it would take him to brush his car and did not believe in beginning too +soon. Benis kept his eye on the porter. He stirred at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Bresh yo' coat, Suh?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor allowed himself to be brushed and even proffered the +usual tip, so powerful is the push of habit. In the narrow corridor by +the door he waited politely while the lady who wouldn't trust her +suitcase to the porter got stuck sideways and had to be pried out. But +when once his foot descended upon the station platform, he was a man +again. The killing inaction was over. +</P> + +<P> +With the quiet speed of one who knows that hurry defeats haste, he set +about materializing the plans which he had made upon the train. And +circumstance, repentant of former caprice, seemed willing to serve. The +very first taxi-man he questioned was an intelligent fellow who knew +more about Vancouver than its various hotels. A launch? Yes, he knew +where a launch might be hired, also a man who could run it. Provided, +of course— +</P> + +<P> +Spence produced an inspiring roll of bills. The taxi-man grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, if you've got the oof it's easy enough," he assured him. "Wake +up the whole town and charter a steamer if you don't care what they +soak you." He considered a moment. "'Tisn't a dope job, is it?" +</P> + +<P> +Spence looked blank. +</P> + +<P> +"What I mean to say is, what kind of man do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Any man who will take me where I want to go." +</P> + +<P> +The taxi-man nodded. "All right. That's easy." +</P> + +<P> +In less time than even to the professor seemed possible the required +boat-man was produced and bargained with. That is to say he was +requested to mention his terms and produce his launch, both of which he +did without hesitancy. And again circumstance was kind. +</P> + +<P> +"If it's Farr's Landing you want," said the boat-man, leading a +precarious way down a dark wharf, "I guess you've come to the right +party. 'Taint a place many folks know. But I ran in there once to +borrow some gas. Queer gink that there Chinaman! Anyone know you're +coming? Anyone likely to show a light or anything?" +</P> + +<P> +The professor said that his visit was unexpected. They would have to +manage without a light. +</P> + +<P> +The boat-man feared that, in that case, the terms might "run to" a bit +more. But, upon receiving a wink from the taxi-man, did not waste time +in stating how far they might run, but devoted himself to the +encouragement of a cold engine and the business of getting under way. +</P> + +<P> +Once more Spence was reduced to passive waiting. But the taste of the +salt and the smell of it brought back the picture of Desire as he had +seen her first—strong, self-confident. He had thought these qualities +ungirlish at the time; now he thanked God for the memory of them. +</P> + +<P> +It had been dark enough when they left the wharf but soon a soft +brightness grew. +</P> + +<P> +"Here she comes!" said his pilot with satisfaction. "Some moon, ain't +she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hurry!" There was an urge in the professor's voice which fitted in but +poorly with the magic of the night. The boat-man felt it and wondered. +He tried a little conversation. +</P> + +<P> +"Know the old Doc. well?" he inquired. "Queer old duck, eh? And that Li +Ho is about the most Chinky Chinaman I ever seen. Come to think of it, +I never paid him back that gas I borrowed." +</P> + +<P> +"Hasn't he been across lately?" asked Spence, controlling his voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't seen him. But then 'tisn't as if I was out looking for him. +Used to be a right pretty girl come over sometimes, the old Doc's +daughter. Hasn't been around for a long time. Maybe you're a relative +or some-thing?" +</P> + +<P> +"See here," said Spence. "It's on account of the young lady that I am +going there tonight. I have reason to fear that she may be in danger." +</P> + +<P> +"That so?" The boat-man's comfortably slouched shoulders squared. He +leaned over and did something to his engine. "In that case we'll take a +chance or two. Hold tight, we're bucking the tide-rip. Lucky we've got +the moon!" +</P> + +<P> +Yes, they had the moon! With growing despair the professor watched her +white loveliness drag a slipping mantle over the dark water. The same +light must lie upon the clearing on the mountain ... where was Li Ho? +Was he awake—and watching? Had he warned the girl? Or was she +sleeping, weary with the journey, while only one frail old Chinaman +stood between her and a terror too grim to guess ... +</P> + +<P> +A long interval ... the sailing moon ... the swish of parting water +as the launch cut through ... +</P> + +<P> +"Must be thereabouts now," said the boat-man suddenly. "I'll slow her +down. Keep your eye skinned for the landing." +</P> + +<P> +A period of endless waiting, while the launch crept cautiously along +the rocky shore—then a darker shadow in the shadows and the boat-man's +excited "Got it!" The launch slipped neatly in beside the float. +</P> + +<P> +"Want any help?" asked the boat-man curiously as his passenger sprang +from the moving launch. +</P> + +<P> +Spence did not hear him. He was already across the sodden planks. Only +the up-trail now lay between him and the end—or the beginning. The +shadows of the trees stretched waving arms. He felt strong as steel, +light as air as he sprang up the wooded path.... +</P> + +<P> +It was just as he had pictured it—the cottage in its square of silver +... the sailing moon! +</P> + +<P> +But the cottage was empty. +</P> + +<P> +He knew at once that it was empty. He dared not let himself know it. +With a doggedness which defied conviction, he dragged his feet, +suddenly heavy, across the rough grass. The door on the veranda was +open. Why not?—the door of an empty house.... He went in. +</P> + +<P> +The moonlight showed the old familiar things, the chinks in the wall, +the rickety table, the couch, the stairway! ... He stumbled to the +stairway. He forced his leaden feet to mount it.... It was pitch +dark there. The upper doors were shut.... "Her door—on the right." +He said this to himself as if prompting a stupid little boy with a +lesson ... In the darkness his hand felt for the door-knob ... but +why open the door? ... There was no life behind it. He knew that.... +There was no life anywhere in this horrible emptiness.... "Death, +then." He muttered, as he flung back the door. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing there ... only moonlight ... nothing ... yes, +something on the floor ... some-thing light and lacy, crushed into +shapelessness ... Desire's hat. +</P> + +<P> +He picked it up. The wires of its chiffon frame, broken and twisted, +fell limp in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +There was no other sign in the room. The bed was untouched. The Thing +which had wrecked its insatiate rage upon the hat had not lingered. +Spence went out slowly. There would be time for everything now—since +time had ceased to matter. He laid the hat aside gently. There might be +work for his hands to do. +</P> + +<P> +With mechanical care he searched the cottage. No trace of disturbance +met him anywhere until he reached the kitchen. Something had happened +there Over-turned chairs and broken table—a door half off its hinge. +Someone had fled from the house this way ... fled where? +</P> + +<P> +There were so many places! +</P> + +<P> +In his mind's eye Spence saw them ... the steep and slippery cliff, +with shingle far below ... the clumps of dense bracken ... the +deep, dark crevices where water splashed! ... +</P> + +<P> +He went outside. It was not so bright now. There were clouds on the +moon. One side of the clearing lay wholly in shadow. He waited and, as +the light brightened, he saw the thing he sought—trampled bracken, a +broken bush.... He followed the trail with a slow certitude of which +ordinarily he would have been incapable.... It did not lead very +far. The trees thinned abruptly. A rounded moss-covered rock rose up +between him and the moon ... and on the rock, grotesque and darkly +clear, a crouching figure—looking down.... +</P> + +<P> +A curious sound broke from Spence's throat. He stooped and sprang. But +quick as he was, the figure on the rock was quicker. It slipped aside. +Spence heard a guttural exclamation and caught a glimpse of a yellow +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho!" +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman pulled him firmly back from the edge of the moss-covered +rock. +</P> + +<P> +"All same Li Ho," he said. "You come click—but not too dam click." +</P> + +<P> +"I know. Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +It was the one thing which held interest for Bern's Spence now. +</P> + +<P> +Li Ho stepped gingerly to the edge of the rounded rock. In the clear +light, Spence could see how the moss had been scraped from the margin. +</P> + +<P> +"Him down there," said Li Ho. "Moon-devil push 'um. Plenty stlong +devil!" Li Ho shrugged. +</P> + +<P> +Spence's clenched hands relaxed. +</P> + +<P> +"Dead?" he asked dully. +</P> + +<P> +"Heap much dead," said Li Ho. "Oh, too much squash!" He made a gesture. +</P> + +<P> +Benis was not quite sure what happened then. He remembers leaning +against a tree. Presently he was aware of a horrible smell—the smell +of some object which Li Ho held to his nostrils. +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty big smell," said Li Ho. "Make 'urn sit up." +</P> + +<P> +Benis sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is—" he began. But his throat closed upon the question. He +could not ask. +</P> + +<P> +"Missy in tent," said Li Ho stolidly. "Missy plenty tired. Sleep velly +good." +</P> + +<P> +Spence tried to take this in ... tent ... sleep ... +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho tell missy house no so-so," went on the China-man, pressing his +evil-smelling salts closer to his victim's face. "Missy say 'all +light'—sleep plenty well in tent; velly fine night." +</P> + +<P> +Benis tried feebly to push the abomination away from his nose. +</P> + +<P> +"Desire ... alive?" he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh elite so. Velly much. Moon-devil velly smart but Li Ho much more +clever. Missy she no savey—all light." +</P> + +<P> +Spence began to laugh. It was dangerous laughter—or so at least Li Ho +thought, for he promptly smothered it with his "velly big smell." The +measure proved effective. The professor decided not to laugh. He held +himself quiet until control came back and then stood up. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought she was dead, Li Ho," he said. +</P> + +<P> +In the half light the inscrutable face changed ever so little. +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho no let," said the Chinaman simply. "You better now, p'laps?" he +went on. "We go catch honor-able Boss before missy wake." Spence +nodded. He felt extraordinarily tired. But it seemed that tiredness did +not matter, would never matter. The empty world had become warm and +small again. Desire was safe. +</P> + +<P> +Together he and Li Ho slid and scrambled down the mountain's face, by +ways known only to Li Ho. And there, on a strip of beach left clean and +wet by the receding tide, they found the dead man. Beside him, and +twisted beneath, lay the green umbrella. +</P> + +<P> +"How did it really happen, Li Ho?" asked Spence. Not that he expected +any information. +</P> + +<P> +"Moon-devil velly mad," said Li Ho. "Honorable Boss no watch step. +Moon-devil push—too bad!" +</P> + +<P> +"And the fight in the kitchen? And on the trail?" +</P> + +<P> +Li Ho shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No fight anywhere," he said blandly. +</P> + +<P> +"And this long rip in your coat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Too much old coat—catch 'um in bush," said Li Ho. +</P> + +<P> +So when they lifted the body and it was found that the arm beneath the +torn coat was useless, Spence said nothing. And somehow they managed to +carry the dead man home. +</P> + +<P> +It was dawn when they laid him down. Birds were already beginning to +twitter in the trees. Desire would be waking soon. The world was going +to begin all over presently. Spence laid his hand gently on the +Chinaman's injured arm. +</P> + +<P> +"You saved her, Li Ho," he said. "It is a big debt for one man to owe +another." +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman said nothing. He was looking at the dead face—a curious +lost look. +</P> + +<P> +"He velly good man one time," said Li Ho. "All same before moon-devil +catch 'um." +</P> + +<P> +"You stayed with him a long time, Li Ho. You were a good friend." +</P> + +<P> +Li Ho blinked rapidly, but made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you come with us, Li Ho?" The inscrutable, oriental eyes looked +for a moment into the frank eyes of the white man and then passed by +them to the open door—to the dawn just turning gold above the sea. The +uninjured hand rose and fell in an indescribable gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho go home now!" +</P> + +<P> +The words seemed to flutter out like birds into some vast ocean of +content. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap38"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII +</H3> + +<P> +Desire was waking. She had slept without a dream and woke wonderingly +to the shadows of dancing leaves upon the white canvas above her. It +was a long time since she had slept in a tent—a lifetime. She felt +very drowsy and stupid. The brooding sense of fatality which had made +her return so dreamlike still numbed her senses. She had come back to +the mountain, as she had known she must come. And, curiously enough, in +returning she had freed herself. In coming back to what she had hated +and feared she had faced a bogie. It would trouble her no more. For all +that she had lost she had gained one thing, Freedom. But even freedom +did not thrill her. She was too horribly tired. +</P> + +<P> +Idly she let her thought drift over the details of her home-coming. Li +Ho had been so surprised. His consternation at seeing her had been +comic. But he had asked no questions, and had given her breakfast in +hospitable haste. In the cottage nothing was altered. It was as if she +had been away overnight. And against this changelessness she knew +herself changed. She was outside of it now. It could never prison her +again. +</P> + +<P> +While she drank Li Ho's coffee, Dr. Farr had come in. He had been told, +she supposed, of her return, for he showed no surprise at seeing +her—had greeted her absently—and sat for a time without speaking, his +long hands folded about the green umbrella. This, too, was familiar and +added to the "yesterday" feeling. He had not changed. It was her +attitude toward him which was different. The curious fear of him, which +she had hidden under a mask of indifference, was no longer there to +hide. Even the fact of his relationship had lost its sharp +significance. She was done with the thing which had made it poignant. +Parentage no longer mattered. So little mattered now. +</P> + +<P> +She had spoken to him cheerfully, ignoring his mood, and he had replied +irritably, like a bad-tempered child who resents some unnecessary claim +upon its attention. But she did not observe him closely. Had she done +so, she might have noticed a curious glazing of the eyes as they lifted +to follow her—shining and depthless like blue steel. +</P> + +<P> +"I do not expect to stay long, father," she told him. "Only until I +find something to do. I am a woman now, you know, and must support +myself." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke as one might speak to a child, and he had nodded and mumbled: +"Yes, yes ... a woman now ... certainly." Then he had begun to +laugh. She had always hated this silent, shaking laugh of his. Even now +it stirred something in her, something urgent and afraid. But she was +too tired to be urged or frightened. She refused to listen. +</P> + +<P> +In the afternoon she had sat out in the sun, not thinking, willing to +be rested by the quiet and drugged by the scent of pine and sea. To her +had come Sami, appearing out of nothing as by magic, his butter-colored +face aglow with joy. Sami had almost broken up her weary calm. He was +so glad, so warm, so alive, so little! But even while he snuggled +against her side, her Self had drifted away. It would not feel or know. +It was not ready yet for anything save rest. +</P> + +<P> +Li Ho had made luncheon, Li Ho had brought tea. Otherwise Li Ho had +left her alone. About one thing only had he been fussy. She must not +sleep in her old room. It was not aired. It needed "heap scrub." He had +arranged, he said, a little tent "all velly fine." Desire was passive. +She did not care where she slept. +</P> + +<P> +When bedtime had come, Li Ho had taken her to the tent. It was cozily +hidden in the bush and, as he had promised, quite comfortable. But she +thought his manner odd. "Are you nervous, Li Ho?" she asked with a +smile. +</P> + +<P> +The Chinaman blinked rapidly, disdaining reply. But in his turn asked a +question—his first since her arrival. Had the honorable Professor +Spence received an insignificant parcel? Desire replied vaguely that +she did not know. What was in the parcel? +</P> + +<P> +"Velly implotant plasel," said Li Ho gravely. "Honorable husband arrive +plenty click when read um insides." +</P> + +<P> +There had seemed no sense to this. But Desire did not argue. She did +not even attend very carefully when Li Ho added certain explanations. +He had found, it appeared, some papers which had belonged to her mother +and had felt it his duty to send them on. +</P> + +<P> +"Where did you find them, Li Ho?" +</P> + +<P> +Instead of answering this, Li Ho, after a moment's hesitation, had +produced from some recess of his old blue coat an envelope which he +handled with an air of awed respect. +</P> + +<P> +"Li Ho find more plasel too. Pletty soon put um back. Honorable Boss +indulge in fit if missing." +</P> + +<P> +"Which means that it belongs to father and that you have—borrowed it?" +suggested she, delicately. +</P> + +<P> +"No b'long him. B'long you," said Li Ho, thrusting the packet into her +hand. And, as if fearful of being questioned further, he had taken the +candle and departed. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave me the candle, Li Ho," she had called to him. But he had not +returned. And a candle is a small matter. She was used to undressing in +the dusk. Almost at once she had fallen asleep. +</P> + +<P> +Now in the morning, as she lay and watched the shadows of the leaves, +she remembered that, though he had taken the candle, he had left the +letter. It lay there on the strip of old carpet beside her cot. Desire +withdrew her attention from the leaves and picked it up. With a little +thrill she saw that Li Ho had been right. It was her own name which was +written across the envelope ... +</P> + +<P> +Her own name, faded yet clear on a wrinkled envelope yellowed at the +edges. The seal of the envelope had been broken.... +</P> + +<P> +Sometime in her childhood Desire must have seen her mother's writing. +Conscious memory of it was gone, but in the deeper recesses of her mind +there must have lingered some recognition which quickened her heart at +sight of it. +</P> + +<P> +A letter from the dead? No wonder Li Ho had handled it with reverence. +With trembling fingers the girl drew it from its violated covering. +</P> + +<P> +"Little Desire"—the name lay like a caress—"if you read this it will +be because I am not here to tell you. And, there is no one else. My +great dread is the dread of leaving you. If I could only look into the +future for one moment, and see you in it, safe and happy, nothing else +would matter. But I am afraid. I have always been too much afraid. You +are not like me. I try to remember that. You are like your grandfather. +He was a brave man. His eyes were grey like yours. He died before you +were born and he never knew that Harry was not really my husband. I did +not know it either, then. You see, he had a wife in England. I suppose +he thought it did not matter. But when he died, it did matter. There +was no one then on whom either you or I had any claim. I should have +been brave enough to go on by myself. But I was never brave. +</P> + +<P> +"It was then that Dr. Farr, who had been kind through Harry's illness, +asked me to marry him. He was a middle-aged man. He said he would take +care of w both. You were just three months old. +</P> + +<P> +"I know now that I made a terrible mistake. He is not kind. He is not +good. I am terrified of him. But the fear which makes me brave against +other fears is the thought of leaving you. I try to remember my father. +If I had been like him I could have worked for you and we might have +been happy. Perhaps my mother was timid. I don't remember her. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what to put in this letter, or how to make you +understand. I loved your father. He was not a bad man. I am sure he +never harmed anyone. He would have taken care of me all his life. But +he didn't live. It was Dr. Farr who found out about the English wife. +He pointed out that you would have no name and offered to give you his. +</P> + +<P> +"I did you a great wrong. His name—better far to have no name than +his! I am sure it is a wicked name. So I want you to know that it is +not yours. You have no name by law, but I think, now, that there are +worse things. Your father's name was Harry Strangeways. His people are +English, a good family but very strict. I could not let them know about +us. They would never have forgiven Harry. It would have been like +slandering the dead. Do not blame him, little Desire, for I am sure he +meant to do right. He was always light-hearted. And kind—always kind. +Your laugh is just like his. Think of us both, if you can, with +kindness—your unhappy Mother." +</P> + +<P> +Long before Desire came to the end of the crumpled sheets her tears +were falling hot and thick upon them. Tears which she had not been able +to shed for her own broken hope came easily now for this long vanished +sorrow. Her mother! How pitifully bare lay the shortened story of that +smothered life. Desire's heart, so much stronger than the heart of her +who gave it birth, filled with a great tenderness. She saw herself once +more a little frightened child. She felt again that sense of Presence +in the room. And knew that, for a child's sake, a gentle soul had not +made haste to happiness. +</P> + +<P> +For that gay scamp, her father, Desire had no tear. And no +condemnation. Her mother had loved him. Her gentleness had seen no +flaw. Lightly he had taken a woman to protect through life—to neglect, +as lightly, the little matter of living. Desire let his picture slip +unhindered from her mind. +</P> + +<P> +There was relief, though, in the knowledge that she owed no duty +there—or here. The instinct which had always balked at kinship with +the strange old man who had held her youth in bondage had not been the +abnormal thing she once had feared it was. She had fought through—but +it was good to know that she had fought with Nature, not against her. +At least she could start upon her new life clean and free.... +</P> + +<P> +A pity, though, that life should lie like ashes on her lips! +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap39"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIX +</H3> + +<P> +Nevertheless, and despite the taste of ashes, one must live and take +one's morning bath. Desire thought, not without pleasure, of the pool +beneath the tree. Wrapped in her blue kimona, her leaf-brown hair +braided tightly into a thick pigtail and both hands occupied with +towels and soap, she pushed back the tent flap and stepped out into the +green and gold of morning. +</P> + +<P> +The first thing she saw was Benis sitting on a fallen log and waiting. +He had been waiting a long time. In the flashing second before he saw +her, Desire had time to draw one long breath of wonder. After that, +there was no time for anything. The professor's patience suddenly gave +out. +</P> + +<P> +He had intended to begin with an explanation. But it is a poor lover +who can't find a better beginning than that ... And what could Desire +do, with towels in one hand and soap in the other? +</P> + +<P> +When he released her at last, blushing and glowing, it was to find the +most urgent need for explanation past. +</P> + +<P> +"Idiots, weren't we?" asked Benis happily. +</P> + +<P> +Desire agreed. But her eyes questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"There isn't any Mary, you see," he told her hastily. "Never was; never +could be. (Let me take your soap?) Mary was a figment—mortal mind, you +know. Your fault entirely." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know. But I did it to please you. I am a truthful person, +really. (Let me take your towels?) And I thought you had more +sense—Oh, Desire, darling!" +</P> + +<P> +"But—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I was a fool, too. I admit it. I thought you were fretting about +John. Fancy your fretting about dear old Bones! I thought—oh well, it +seems silly enough now. But the day I found you crying over his +photo-graph—" +</P> + +<P> +"Her photograph," interposed Desire shakily. +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was Mary's photograph. I found it on your desk." +</P> + +<P> +"It was John's, when I saw it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—but you didn't see it soon enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—you young deceiver! But once you went to John's office and came +away smiling." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? I went to find Mary. And I didn't find her. When the real +Mary came—" +</P> + +<P> +"There is no real Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Benis—isn't she?" +</P> + +<P> +"She positively isn't." +</P> + +<P> +"But you said—" +</P> + +<P> +"I lied, my dear. It was a jolly good lie, though." +</P> + +<P> +"A lie is never—" +</P> + +<P> +"No, but this one was. You wouldn't have married me if I hadn't. And +you told a whopper yourself once. You said that children—" but Desire +refused to listen. +</P> + +<P> +Later on, as they sat together on the log with a squirrel hiding +provender in one of Desire's slippers and another chattering agreeably +in Benis's ear, he told her briefly the history of the night. That is, +he told her all that he thought it needful she should know. Of the +scraps of diary in his pocket he said nothing,—some day, perhaps, when +she had become used to happiness, and the cottage on the mountain was +far away. But now—of what use to drag out the innermost horror or add +an awful query to her memory of her mother's death? The old man was +gone—let the past go with him. +</P> + +<P> +Desire listened silently. Sorrow she could not pretend. The suddenness +of the end was shocking and death is ever awful to the young. But the +eyes she lifted to her husband, though solemn, were not sad. When he +had finished, she slipped into his hand, with new, sweet shyness, the +letter which lifted forever the shadow of the dead man from across +their path. +</P> + +<P> +Benis Spence read it with deep thankfulness. Fate was indeed making +full amends. No dread inheritance now need narrow the way before them. +It meant—he stole a glance at Desire who was industriously emptying +her slipper. The curve of her averted cheek was faintly flushed. The +professor's whimsical smile crept out. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me!" he said. He took her slipper from her and, kneeling, felt her +breath like flowers brush his cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a whopper, Benis," Desire whispered. +</P> + +<P> +Looking up, he saw the open gladness of her face. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Window-Gazer, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WINDOW-GAZER *** + +***** This file should be named 4284-h.htm or 4284-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/8/4284/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + + diff --git a/4284.txt b/4284.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e0b0fef --- /dev/null +++ b/4284.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10949 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Window-Gazer, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Window-Gazer + +Author: Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +Posting Date: July 23, 2009 [EBook #4284] +Release Date: July, 2003 +First Posted: December 30, 2001 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WINDOW-GAZER *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + + + + + + +THE WINDOW-GAZER + + +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY + + + + + + So in ye matere of Life's goodlie showe + Some buy what doth them plese. + While others stand withoute and gaze thereinne-- + Your eare, good folk, for these! + --OLD ENGLISH RHYME. + + + + + + +THE + +WINDOW-GAZER + +BY + +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY + + AUTHOR OF "MIST OF MORNING," "UP THE HILL AND OVER," + "THE SHINING SHIP," ETC. + + + + + + +THE WINDOW-GAZER + + +CHAPTER I + +Professor Spence sat upon an upturned keg--and shivered. No one had +told him that there might be fog and he had not happened to think of it +for himself. Still, fog in a coast city at that time of the year was +not an unreasonable happening and the professor was a reasonable man. +It wasn't the fog he blamed so much as the swiftness of its arrival. +Fifteen minutes ago the world had been an ordinary world. He had walked +about in it freely, if somewhat irritably, following certain vague +directions of the hotel clerk as to the finding of Johnston's wharf. He +had found Johnston's wharf; extracted it neatly from a very wilderness +of wharves, a feat upon which Mr. Johnston, making boats in a shed at +the end of it, had complimented him highly. + +"There's terrible few as finds me just off," said Mr. Johnston. "Hours +it takes 'em sometimes, sometimes days." It was clear that he was +restrained from adding "weeks" only by a natural modesty. + +At the time, this emphasizing of the wharf's seclusion had seemed +extravagant, but now the professor wasn't so sure. For the wharf had +again mysteriously lost itself. And Mr. Johnston had lost himself, and +the city and the streets of it, and the sea and its ships were all +lost--there was nothing left anywhere save a keg (of nails) and +Professor Benis Hamilton Spence sitting upon it. Around him was nothing +but a living, pulsing whiteness, which pushed momentarily nearer. + +It was interesting. But it was really very cold. The professor, who had +suffered much from sciatica owing to an injury of the left leg, +remembered that he had been told by his medical man never to allow +himself to shiver; and here he was, shivering violently without so much +as asking his own leave. And the fog crept closer. He put out his hands +to push it back--and immediately his hands were lost too. "Really," +murmured the professor, "this is most interesting!" Nevertheless, he +reclaimed his hands and placed them firmly in his coat pockets. + +He began to wish that he had stayed with Mr. Johnston in the boat shed, +pending the arrival of the launch which, so certain letters in his +pocket informed him, would leave Johnston's wharf at 5 o'clock, or +there-abouts, Mondays and Fridays. Mr. Johnston had felt very uncertain +about this. "Though she does happen along off and on," he said +optimistically, "and she might come today. Not," he added with +commendable caution, "that I'd call old Doc. Farr's boat a 'launch' +myself." + +"What," asked Professor Spence, "would you call her yourself?" + +"Don't know as I can just hit on a name," said Mr. Johnston. "Doesn't +come natural to me to be free with language." + +It had been pleasant enough on the wharf at first and certainly it had +been worth something to see the fog come in. Its incredible advance, +wave upon wave of massed and silent whiteness, had held him spellbound. +While he had thought it still far off, it was upon him--around him, +behind him, everywhere! + +But perhaps it would go as quickly as it had come. + +He had heard that this is sometimes a characteristic of fog. +Fortunately he had already selected a keg upon which to sit, so with a +patient fatalism, product of a brief but lurid career in Flemish +trenches, he resigned himself to wait. The keg was dry, that was +something, and if he spread the newspaper in his pocket over the most +sciatic part of the shrapneled leg he might escape with nothing more +than twinges. + +How beautiful it was--this salt shroud from the sea! How it eddied and +funneled and whorled, now massing thick like frosted glass, now +thinning to a web of tissue. Suddenly, while he watched, a lane broke +through. He saw clearly the piles at the wharf's end, a glimpse of dark +water, and, between him and it, a figure huddled in a cloak--a female +figure, also sitting upon an upturned keg. Then the magic mist closed +in again. + +"How the deuce did she get there?" the professor asked himself crossly. +"She wasn't there before the fog came." He remembered having noticed +that keg while choosing his own and there had been no woman sitting on +it then. "Anyway," he reflected, "I don't know her and I won't have to +speak to her." The thought warmed him so that he almost forgot to +shiver. From which you may gather that Professor Spence was a bachelor, +comparatively young; that he was of a retiring disposition and the +object of considerable unsolicited attention in his own home town. + +He arose cautiously from the keg of nails. It might be well to return +to the boatshed, even at the risk of falling into the Inlet. But he had +not proceeded very far before, suddenly, as he had hoped it would, the +mist began to lift. Swiftly, before the puff of a warmer breeze, it +eddied and thinned. Its soundless, impalpable pressure lessened. The +wharf, the sea, the city began to steal back, sly, expressionless, +pretending that they had been there all the time. Even Mr. Johnston +could be clearly seen coming down from the boatshed with a curious +figure beside him--a figure so odd and unfamiliar that he might have +been part of the unfamiliar fog itself. + +"Well, you've certainly struck it lucky today," called the genial Mr. +Johnston. "This here is Doc. Farr's boy. He's going right back over +there now and he'll take you along--if you want to go." + +There was a disturbing cadence of doubt in the latter part of his +speech which affected the professor's always alert curiosity, as did +also the appearance of the "boy" reputed to belong to Dr. Farr. How old +he was no one could have guessed. The yellow parchment of his face was +ageless; ageless also the inscrutable, blank eyes. Only one thing was +certain--he had never been young. For the rest, he was utterly composed +and indifferent, and unmistakably Chinese. + +"I hope there is no mistake," said Professor Spence hesitatingly. "Dr. +Farr certainly informed me that this was the wharf at which his launch +usually--er--tied up. But--there could scarcely be two doctors of that +name, I suppose? It's somewhat uncommon." + +"Oh, it's him you want," assured Mr. Johnston. "Only man of that name +hereabouts. Lives out across the Narrows somewheres. Used to live here +in Vancouver years ago but now he don't honor us much. Queer old skate! +They say he's got some good Indian things, though--if it's them you're +after?" + +The professor ignored the question but pondered the information. + +"I think you are right. It must be the same person," he said. "But he +certainly led me to expect--" + +A chuckle from the boat-builder interrupted him. "Ah, he'd do that, all +right," grinned Mr. Johnston. "They do say he has a special gift that +way." + +"Well, thank you very much anyway." The professor offered his hand +cordially. "And if we're going, we had better go." + +"You'll be a tight fit in the launch," said Mr. Johnston. "Miss Farr's +down 'ere somewhere. I saw her pass." + +"Miss Farr!" The professor's ungallant horror was all too patent. He +turned haunted eyes toward the second nail keg, now plainly visible and +unoccupied. + +"Missy in boat. She waitee. No likee!" said the Chinaman, speaking for +the first time. + +"But," began the professor, and then, seeing the appreciative grin upon +Mr. Johnston's speaking countenance, he continued blandly--"Very well, +let us not keep the lady waiting. Especially as she doesn't like it. +Take this bag, my man, it's light. I'll carry the other." + +With no words, and no apparent effort, the old man picked up both bags +and shuffled off. The professor followed. At the end of the wharf there +were steps and beneath the steps a small floating platform to which was +secured what the professor afterwards described as "a marine vehicle, +classification unknown." Someone, girl or woman, hidden in a loose, +green coat, was already seated there. A pair of dark eyes looked up +impatiently. + +"I am afraid you were not expecting me," said the professor. "I am +Hamilton Spence. Your father--" + +"You're getting your feet wet," said the person in the coat. "Please +jump in." + +The professor jumped. He hadn't jumped since the sciatica and he didn't +do it gracefully. But it landed him in the boat. The Chinaman was +already in his place. A rattle and a roar arose, the air turned +suddenly to gasoline and they were off. + +"Has it a name?" asked the professor as soon as he could make himself +heard. + +"What?" + +The professor was not feeling amiable. "It might be easier to refer to +it in conversation if one knew its name," he remarked, "'Launch' seems +a trifle misleading." + +There was a moment's silence. Then, "I suppose 'launch' is what father +called it," said his companion. He could have sworn that there was cool +amusement in her tone. "I see your difficulty," she went on. "But, +fortunately, it has a name of its own. It is called the Tillicum.'" + +"As such I salute it!" said Spence, gravely. + +The other made no attempt to continue the conversation. She retired +into the fastness of the green cloak, leaving the professor to ponder +the situation. It seemed on the face of it an absurd situation enough, +yet there should certainly be nothing absurd in it. Spence felt a +somewhat bulky package of letters even now in the pocket of his coat. +These letters were real and sensible enough. They comprised his +correspondence with one Dr. Herbert Farr, Vancouver, B. C. As letters +they were quite charming. The earlier ones had dealt with the +professor's pet subject, primitive psychology. The later ones had been +more personal. Spence found himself remembering such phrases as "my +humble but picturesque home," "my Chinese servant, a factotum +extraordinary," "my young daughter who attends to all my simple wants" +and "my secretary on whose efficient aid I more and more depend--" + +"I suppose there is a secretary?" he asked suddenly. + +"Oh yes," answered the green cloak, "I'm it." + +"And, 'a young daughter who attends'--" + +"--'to all my simple wants?' That's me, too." + +"But you can't be 'my Chinese servant, a factotum extraordinary?'" + +"No, you have already met Li Ho." + +"There?" queried the professor, gesturing weakly. + +"Yes." + +Spence pulled himself together. "There must be a home, though," he +asserted firmly, "'Humble but picturesque'--" + +"Well," admitted the voice from the green cloak, "it is rather +picturesque. And it is certainly humble." + +Suddenly she laughed. It was a very young laugh. The professor felt +relieved. She was a girl, then, not a woman. + +"Isn't father too' amusing?" she asked pleasantly. + +"Quite too much so," agreed the professor. He was very cold. "I beg +your pardon," he added stiffly, remembering his manners. + +"Oh, I don't mind!" The girl assured him. "Father is a dreadful old +fraud. I have no illusions. But perhaps it isn't so bad after all. He +really is quite an authority on the West Coast Indians,--if that is +what you wish to consult him about." + +Professor Spence was in a quandary. But perfect frankness seemed +indicated. + +"I didn't come to consult him about anything," he said slowly. "I am a +psychologist. I wish to do my own observing, at first hand. I came not +to question Dr. Farr, but to board with him." + +"BOARD WITH HIM!" + +In her heartfelt surprise the girl turned to him and he saw her face, +young, arresting, and excessively indignant. + +"Quite so," he said. "Do not excite yourself. I perceive the +impossibility. I can't have you attending to my wants, however simple. +Neither can I share the services of a secretary whose post, I gather, +is an honorary one. But I simply cannot go back to Mr. Johnston's grin: +so if you can put me up for the night--" + +She had turned away again and was silent for so long that Spence became +uneasy. But at last she spoke. + +"This is really too bad of father! He has never done anything quite as +absurd as this before. I don't quite see what he expected to get out of +it. He might know that you would not stay. He wouldn't want you to +stay. I can't understand--unless," her voice became crisp with sudden +enlightenment, "unless you were foolish enough to pay in advance! +Surely you did not do that?" + +The professor was observing his boots in an abstracted way. + +"I am afraid my feet are very wet," he remarked. + +"They are. They are resting in at least an inch of water," she said +coldly. "But that isn't answering my question. Did you pay my father +anything in advance?" + +The professor fidgeted. + +"A small payment in advance is not very unusual," he offered. +"Especially if one's prospective host is anxious to add a few little +unaccustomed luxuries--" + +"Yes, yes," she interrupted rudely. "I recognize the phrase!" Without +looking up he felt her wrathful gaze upon his face. "It means that +father has simply done you brown. Oh, well, it's your own fault. You're +old enough to know your way about. And the luxuries you will enjoy at +our place will certainly be unaccustomed ones. Didn't you even ask for +references?" + +Her tone irritated the professor unaccountably. + +"Are we nearly there?" he asked, disdaining to answer. "I am extremely +cold." + +"You will have a nice climb to warm you," she told him grimly, "all up +hill!" + +"'A verdant slope,'" quoted the professor sweetly, "'rising gently from +salt water toward snowclad peaks, which, far away,--'" They caught each +other's eyes and laughed. + +"Here is our landing," said the girl quite cheerfully. "And none too +soon! I suppose you haven't noticed it, but the 'Tillicum' is leaking +like a sieve!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Salt in the air and the breath of pine and cedar are excellent sleep +inducers. Professor Spence had not expected to sleep that night; yet he +did sleep. He awoke to find the sun high. A great beam of it lay across +the foot of his camp cot, bringing comforting warmth to the toes which +protruded from the shelter of abbreviated blankets. The professor +wiggled his toes cautiously. He was accustomed to doing this before +making more radical movements. They were a valuable index to the state +of the sciatic nerve. This morning they wiggled somewhat stiffly and +there were also various twinges. But considering the trying experiences +of yesterday it was surprising that they could wiggle at all. He lifted +himself slowly--and sank back with a relieved sigh. It would have been +embarrassing, he thought, had he not been able to get up. + +All men have their secret fears and Professor Spence's secret fear was +embodied in a story which his friend and medical adviser (otherwise +"Old Bones") had seen fit to cite as a horrible example. It concerned a +man who had sciatica and who didn't take proper care of him-self. One +day this man went for a walk and fell suddenly upon the pavement unable +to move or even to explain matters satisfactorily to a heartless +policeman who insisted that he was drunk. The doctor had laughed over +this story; doctors are notoriously inhuman. The professor had laughed +also, but the possible picture of him-self squirming helplessly before +a casually interested public had terrors which no enemies' shrapnel had +ever been able to inspire. + + Well, thank heaven it hadn't happened yet! The professor confided +his satisfaction to an inquisitive squirrel which swung, bright eyed, +from a branch which swept the window, and, sitting up, prepared to take +stock of the furnishings of his room. A grim smile signalled his +discovery that there were no furnishings to take stock of. Save for his +camp bed, an affair of stout canvas stretched between crossed legs, the +room was beautifully bare. Not a chair, not a wash-stand, not a table +cumbered it--unless a round, flat tree stump, which looked as if it +might have grown up through the floor, was intended for both washstand +and table. It had served the latter purpose at any rate as upon it +rested the candle-stick containing the solitary candle by which he had +got himself to bed. + +"Single room, without bath," murmured the professor. "Oh, if my Aunt +Caroline could see me now!" + +Oddly enough, something in the thought of Aunt Caroline seemed to have +a reconciling effect upon Aunt Caroline's nephew. He lay back upon his +one thin pillow and reviewed his position with surprising fortitude. +After all, Aunt Caroline couldn't see him--and that was something. +Besides, it had been an adventure. It was surprising how he had come to +look for adventures since that day, five years ago, when the grim +adventure of war had called him from the peace-filled beginnings of +what he had looked forward to as a life of scholarly leisure. He had +been thirty, then, and quite done with adventuring. Now he was +thirty-five and--well, he supposed the war had left him restless. +Presently he would settle down. He would begin his great book on the +"Psychology of Primitive Peoples." Everything would be as it had been +before. + +But in the meantime it insisted upon being somewhat different--hence +this feeling which was not all dissatisfaction with his present absurd +position. He was, he admitted it, a badly sold man. But did it matter? +What had he lost except money and self-esteem? The money did not matter +and he was sure that Aunt Caroline, at least, would say that he could +spare the self-esteem. Besides, he would recover it in time. His +opinion of himself as a man of perspicacity in business had recovered +from harder blows than this. There was that affair of the South +American mines, for instance,--but anybody may be mistaken about South +American mines. He had told Aunt Caroline this. "It was," he told Aunt +Caroline, "a financial accident. I do not blame myself. My father, as +you know, was a far-sighted man. These aptitudes run in families." Aunt +Caroline had said, "Humph!" + +Nevertheless it was true that the elder Hamilton Spence, now deceased, +had been a far-sighted man. Benis had always cherished a warm +admiration for the commercial astuteness which he conceived himself to +have inherited. He would have been, he thought, exactly like his +father--if he had cared for the drudgery of business. So it was a habit +of his, when in a quandary, to consider what his parent would have done +and then to do likewise--an excellent rule if he had ever succeeded in +applying it properly. But there were always so many intruding details. +Take the present predicament, for instance. He could scarcely picture +his father in these precise circumstances. To do so would be to +presuppose actions on the part of that astute ancestor quite out of +keeping with his known character. Would Hamilton Spence, senior, have +crossed a continent at the word of one of whom he knew nothing, save +that he wrote an agreeable letter? Would he have engaged (and paid for +in advance) board and lodging at a place wholly supposititious? Would +he have neglected to ask for references? Hamilton Spence, junior, was +forced to admit that he would not. + +But those letters of old Farr had been so blamed plausible! + +Well, anyhow, he would have the pleasure of meeting and outfacing the +old rascal. This satisfaction he had expected the night before. But +upon their arrival at the "picturesque though humble" cottage (after a +climb at the memory of which his leg still shuddered), it was found +that Dr. Farr was not at home. + +"He has probably gone 'up trail'" Miss Farr had said casually, "and in +that case he won't be back until morning." + +"Did you say up?" The professor's voice held incredulity. Whereupon his +hostess had most unkindly smiled: "You're not much of a walker, are +you?" was her untactful comment. + +"My leg--" He had actually begun to tell her about his leg! Luckily her +amused shrug had acted as a period. He felt very glad of this now. To +have admitted weakness would have been weak indeed. For the girl was so +splendidly strong! Only a child, of course, but so finely moulded, so +superbly strung--light and lithe. How she had swung up the trail, a +heavy packet in either hand, with scarcely a quickened breath to tell +of the effort! Her face?--he tried to recall her face but found it +provokingly elusive. It was a young face, but not youthful. The +distinction seemed strained and yet it was a real distinction. The eyes +were grey, he thought. The eyebrows very fine, dark and slanted +slightly, as if left that way by some unanswered question. The nose was +straight, delightful in profile. The mouth too firm for a face so +young, the chin too square--perhaps. But even as he catalogued the +features the face escaped him. He had a changing impression, only, of a +graceful contour, warm and white, dark careless eyes, and +hair--quantities of hair lying close and smooth in undulated waves--its +color like nothing so much as the brown of a crisping autumn leaf. He +remembered, though, that she was poorly dressed--and utterly +unconscious, or careless, of being so. And she had been amused, +undoubtedly amused, at his annoyance. A most unfeminine girl! And that +at least was fortunate--for he was very, very weary of everything +feminine! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Yawningly, the professor reached for his watch. + +It had run down. + +"Evidently they do not wake guests for breakfast," he mused. "Perhaps," +with rising dismay, "there isn't any breakfast to wake them for!" + +He felt suddenly ravenous and hurried into his clothes. It is really +wonderful how all kinds of problems give place to the need for a wash +and breakfast. Somewhere outside he could hear water running, so with a +towel over his arm and a piece of soap in his pocket he started out to +find it. His room, as he had noted the night before, was one of two +small rooms under the eaves. There was a small, dark landing between +them and a steep, ladderlike stair led directly down into the +living-room. There was no one there; neither was there anyone in the +small kitchen at the back. Benis Spence decided that this second room +was a kitchen because it contained a cooking stove. Otherwise he would +not have recognized it, Aunt Caroline's idea of a kitchen being quite +otherwise. Someone had been having breakfast on a corner of the table +and a fire crackled in the stove. Window and door were open, and leafy, +ferny odors mingled with the smell of burning cedar. The combined scent +was very pleasant, but the professor could have wished that the bouquet +of coffee and fried bacon had been included. He was quite painfully +hungry. + +Through the open door the voice of falling water still called to him +but of other and more human voices there were none. Well, he could at +least wash. With a shrug he turned away from the half cleared table +and, in the doorway, almost ran into the arms of a little, old man in a +frock coat and a large umbrella. There were other items of attire, but +they did not seem to matter. + +"My dear sir," said the little, old man, in a gentle, gurgling voice. +"Let me make you welcome--very, very welcome!" + +"Thank you," said the professor. + +There were other things that he might have said, but they did not seem +to suggest themselves. All the smooth and biting sentences which his +mind had held in readiness for this moment faded and died before the +stunning knowledge of their own inadequacy. Surprise, pure and simple, +stamped them down. + +"Unpardonable, my not being at home to receive you," went on this +amazing old gentleman. "But the exact time of your coming was somewhat +indefinite. Still, I am displeased with myself, much displeased. You +slept well, I trust?" + +The professor was understood to say that he had slept well. + +Dr. Farr sighed. "Youth!" he murmured, waving his umbrella. "Oh, youth!" + +"Quite so," said the professor. There was a dryness in his tone not +calculated to encourage rhapsody. The old gentleman's gurgle changed to +a note of practical helpfulness. + +"You wish to bathe, I see. I will not detain you. Our sylvan bathroom +you will find just down the trail and behind those alders. Pray take +your time. You will be quite undisturbed." + +With another dry "Thank you," the professor passed on. He was limping +slightly, otherwise he would have passed on much faster. His instinct +was to seek cover before giving vent to the emotion which consumed him. + +Behind the alders, and taking the precaution of stuffing his mouth with +a towel, he could release this rising gust of almost hysterical +laughter. + +That was Dr. Herbert Farr! The fulfilled vision of the learned scholar +he had come so far to see capped with nicety the climax of this absurd +adventure. What an utter fool, what an unbelievable idiot he had made +of himself! For the moment he saw clear and all normal reactions proved +inadequate. There was left only laughter. + +When this was over he felt better. Withdrawing the towel and wiping the +tears of strangled mirth from his eyes he looked around him. The sylvan +bathroom was indeed a charming place. Great rocks, all smooth and brown +with velvet moss, curved gently down to form a basin into which fell +the water from the tiny stream whose musical flowing had called to him +through his window. Around, and somewhat back beneath tall sentinel +trees, crept the bushes and bracken of the mountain; but, above, the +foliage opened and the sun shone in, turning the brown-green water of +the pool to gold. With a sigh of pure delight the laughter-weary +professor stepped into its cool brightness--and with a gasp of +something very different, stepped quickly out again. But, quick as he +was, the liquid ice of that green-gold pool was quicker. It ran through +his tortured nerve like mounting fire--"Oh--oh--damn!" said the +professor heartily. + +The sweat stood out on his forehead before he had rubbed and warmed the +outraged limb into some semblance of quietude again. The pool seemed no +longer lovely. Very gingerly he completed such ablutions as were +strictly necessary and then, very cold, very stiff and very, very empty +he turned back toward the house. + +This time, instead of passing through the small vegetable garden behind +the kitchen, he skirted the clearing, coming out into the wide, open +space in front of the cottage. On one side of him, and behind, spread +the mountain woods but before him and to the right the larger trees +were down. There was a vista--for the first time since he had sat upon +a keg in the fog he forgot him-self and his foolishness, his hunger, +his aching nerves, his smarting pride, everything! The beauty before +him filled his heart and mind, leaving not a cranny anywhere for lesser +things. Blue sea, blue sky, blue mountains, blue smoke that rose in +misty spirals as from a thousand fairy fires and, nearer, the +sun-warmed, dew-drenched green--green of the earth, green of the trees, +green of the graceful, sweeping curves of wooded point and bay. Far +away, on peaks half hidden, snow still lay--a whiteness so ethereal +that the gazer caught his breath. + +And with it all there was the scent of something--something so fresh, +so penetrating, so infinitely sweet--what could it be? + +"Ambrosia!" said Benis Spence, unconscious that he spoke aloud. + +"Balm of Gilead," said a practical voice beside him. "It smells like +that in the bud, you know." + +"Does it?" The professor's tone was dreamy. "Honey and wine--that's +what it's like--honey and wine in the wilderness! You didn't tell me it +would be like this," he added, turning abruptly to his companion of the +night before. + +"How could I tell what it would be like--to you?" asked the girl. "It's +different for everyone. I've known people stand here and think of +nothing but their breakfast." + +At the word "breakfast" (which had temporarily slipped from his +vocabulary) the famished professor wheeled so quickly that his knee +twisted. Miss Farr smiled, her cool and too-understanding smile. + +"There's something to eat," she said. "Come in." + +She did not wait for him but walked off quickly. The professor followed +more slowly. The path, even the front path, was rough (he had noticed +that last night); but the cottage, seen now with the glamour of its +outlook still in his eyes, seemed not quite so impossible as he had +thought. The grace of early spring lay upon it and all around. True, it +was small and unpainted and in bad repair, but its smallness and its +brownness seemed not out of keeping with the mountain-side. Its narrow +veranda was railed by unbarked branches from the cedars. Its walls were +rough and weather-beaten, its few windows, broad and low. The door was +open and led directly into the living room whence his hostess had +preceded him. + +The marvellous scent of the morning was everywhere. The room, as he +went in, seemed full of it. Not such a bad room, either, not nearly so +comfortless as he had thought last night. There was a fireplace, for +instance, a real fireplace of cobble-stones, for use, not ornament; a +long table stood in the middle of the room, an old fashioned sofa +sprawled beneath one of the windows. There was a dresser at one end +with open shelves for china and, at the other, a book-case, also open, +filled with old and miscellaneous books.... + +And, best and most encouraging of all, there was breakfast on the table. + +"I told Li Ho to give you eggs," said Miss Farr. "It is the one thing +we can be sure of having fresh. Do you like eggs?" + +The professor liked eggs. He had never liked eggs so well before, +except once in Flanders--he looked up to thank his hostess, but she had +not waited. Nevertheless the breakfast was very good. Not until he had +finished the last crumb of it did he notice that the comfort of the +place was more apparent than real. The table tipped whenever you +touched it. The chair upon which he sat had lost an original leg and +didn't take kindly to its substitute. The china was thick and chipped. +The walls were unfinished and draughty, the ceiling obviously leaked. +There had been some effort to keep the place livable, for the faded +curtains were at least clean and the floor swept--but the blight of +decay and poverty lay hopelessly upon it all. + +And what was a young girl--a girl with level eyes and lifted +chin--doing in this galley? ... Undoubtedly the less he bothered +himself about that question the better. This young person was probably +just as she wished to appear, careless and content. And in any case it +was none of his business. + +The sensible thing for him to do was to pack his bag and turn his +back--the absurd old man with the umbrella ... pshaw! ... He +wouldn't go home, of course. Aunt Caroline would say "I told you so" ... +no, she wouldn't say it--she would look it, which was worse ... +he had come away for a rest cure and a rest cure he intended to have +... with a groan he thought of the pictures he had formed of this +place, the comfortable seclusion, the congenial old scholar, the +capable secretary, the--he looked up to find that Miss Farr had +returned and was regarding him with a cool and pleasantly aloof +consideration. + +"Are you wondering how soon you may decently leave?" she inquired. "We +are not at all formal here. And, of course--" her shrug and gesture +disposed of all other matters at issue. "Yours are the only feelings +that need to be considered. I should like to know, though," she +continued with some warmth of interest, "if you really came just to +observe Indians. Father might think of a variety of attractions. +Health?--any-thing from gout to tuberculosis. Fish?--father can talk +about fish until you actually see them leaping. Shooting?--according to +father, all the animals of the ark abound in these mountains. +Curios?--father has an Indian mound somewhere which he always keeps +well stocked." + +Professor Spence smiled. "So many activities," he said, "should bring +better results." + +"They are too well known. Most people make some inquiry." The faint +emphasis on the "most" made the professor feel uncomfortable. Was it +possible that this young girl considered him, Benis Spence, something +of a fool? He dismissed the idea as unlikely. + +"Inquiry in my case would have meant delay," he answered frankly, "and +I was in a hurry. I wanted to get away from--I wanted to get away for +rest and study in a congenial environment. Still, I will admit that I +might not have inquired in any case. I am accustomed to trust to my +instinct. My father was a very far-sighted man--what are you laughing +at?" + +"Nothing. Only it sounded so much like 'nevertheless, my grandsire drew +a long bow at the battle of Hastings'--don't you remember, in +'Ivanhoe?'" + +The professor sighed. "I have forgotten 'Ivanhoe,'" he said, "which +means, I suppose, that I have forgotten youth. Sometimes its ghost +walks, though. I think it was that which kept me so restless at home. I +thought that if I could get away--You see, before the war, I was +gathering material for a book on primitive psychology and when I came +back I found some of the keenness gone." He smiled grimly. "I came back +inclined to think that all psychology is primitive. But I wanted to get +to work again. I had never studied the West Coast Indians and your +father's letters led me to believe that--er--" + +It was not at all polite of her to laugh, but he had to admit that her +laughter was very pleasant and young. + +"It is funny, you know," she murmured apologetically. "For I am sure +you pictured father as a kind of white patriarch, surrounded by his +primitive children (father is certain to have called the Indians his +'children'!). Unfortunately, the Indians detest father. They're half +afraid of him, too. I don't know why. Years ago, when we lived up +coast--" she paused, plainly annoyed at her own loquacity, "we knew +plenty of Indians then," she finished shortly. + +"And are there no Indians here at all?" + +"There is an Indian reservation at North Vancouver. That is the +nearest. I do not think they are just what you are looking for. But +both in Vancouver and Victoria you can get in touch with men who can +direct you. Your journey need not be entirely wasted." + +"But Dr. Farr himself--Is he not something of an authority?" + +"Y-es. I suppose he is." + +"What information the letters contained seemed to be the real thing." + +"Oh, the letters were all right. I wrote them." + +"You!" + +"Didn't I tell you I was the secretary? My department is the +'information bureau.' I do not see the actual letters. There are always +personal bits which father puts in himself." + +"Bits regarding boarding accommodation, etc.?" + +She did not answer his smile, and her eyes grew hard as she nodded. + +"Usually I can keep things from going that far. I can't quite see how +it happened so suddenly in your case." + +"I happen to be a sudden person." + +"Evidently. Father was quite dumbfounded when he knew you had actually +arrived. He certainly expected an interval during which he could invent +good and sufficient reasons for putting you off." + +"Such as?" + +"Such as smallpox. An outbreak of smallpox among the Indians is quite a +favorite with father." + +"The old--I beg your pardon!" + +"Don't bother. You are certainly entitled to an expression of your +feelings. It may be the only satisfaction, you will get. But aren't we +getting away from the question?" + +"Question?" + +"When do you wish Li Ho to take you back to Vancouver?" + +Professor Spence opened his lips to say that any time would suit. It +was the obvious answer, the only sensible answer, the answer which he +fully intended to make. But he did not make it. + +"Must I really go?" he asked. He was, so he had said himself, a sudden +person. + +His hostess met his deprecating gaze with pure surprise. + +"You can't possibly want to stay?" + +"I quite possibly can. I like it here. And I'm horribly tired." + +The hostility which had begun to gather in her eyes lightened a little. + +"Tired? I noticed that you limped this morning. Is there anything the +matter with you?" + +It was certainly an ungracious way of putting it. And her eyes, while +not exactly hostile, were ungracious, too. They would make anyone with +a spark of pride want to go away at once. The professor told himself +this. Besides, his only possible reason for wishing to stay had been +some unformed idea of being helpful to the girl herself--ungrateful +minx! + +"If there is anything really wrong--" the cold incredulity of her tone +was the last straw. + +"Nothing wrong at all!" said Professor Spence. He arose briskly. Alas! +He had forgotten his sciatic nerve. He had forgotten, too, the +crampiness of its temper since that glacial bath, and, most completely +of all, had he forgotten the fate of the +man-who-didn't-take-care-of-himself. Therefore it was with something of +surprise that he found himself crumpled up upon the floor. Only when he +tried to rise again and felt the sweat upon his forehead did he +remember the doctor's story.... Spence swore under his breath and +attempted to pull himself up by the table. + +"Wait a moment!" + +The cold voice held authority--the authority he had come to respect in +hospital--and he waited, setting his teeth. Next moment he set them +still harder, for Li Ho and the girl picked him up without ceremony and +laid him, whitefaced, upon the sprawling sofa. + +"Why didn't you say you had sciatica?" asked Miss Farr, belligerently. + +It seemed unnecessary to answer. + +"I know it is sciatica," she went on, "because I've seen it before. And +if you had no more sense than to bathe in that pool you deserve all +you've got." + +"It looked all right." + +"Oh--looked! It's melted ice--simply." + +"So I realized, afterwards." + +"You seem to do most things afterwards. What caused it in the first +place, cold?" + +"The sciatica? No--an injury." + +There was a slight pause. + +"Was it--in the war?" The new note in her voice did not escape Spence. +He lied promptly--too promptly. Desire Farr was an observant young +person, quite capable of drawing conclusions. + +"I'm not going to be sympathetic," she said. "That," with sudden +illumination, "is probably what you ran away from. But you'd better be +truthfull Was it a bullet?" + +"Shrapnel." + +"And the treatment?" + +"Rest, and the tablets in my bag." + +"Right--I'll get them." + +It was quite like old hospital times. The sofa was hard and the pillows +knobby. But he had lain upon worse. Li Ho was not more unhandy than +many an orderly. And the tablets, quickly and neatly administered by +Miss Farr, brought something of relief. + +Not until she saw the strain within his eyes relax did his +self-appointed nurse pass sentence. + +"You certainly can't move until you are better," she said. "You'll have +to stay. It can't be helped but--father will have a fit." + +"A fit?" murmured Spence. Privately he thought that a fit might do the +old gentleman good. + +"He hates having anyone here," she went on thoughtfully. "It upsets +him." + +"Does it? But why? I can understand it upsetting you. But he--he +doesn't do the work, does he?" + +"Not exactly," the girl smiled. "But--oh well, I don't believe in +explanations. You'll see things for your-self, perhaps. And now I'll +get you a book. I won't warn you not to move for I know you can't." + +With a glance which, true to her promise, was not overburdened with +sympathy, his strangely acquired hostess went out and closed the door. + +He tried to read the book she had handed him ("Green Mansions"--ho-r +had it wandered out here?) but his mind could not detach itself. It +insisted upon listening for sounds outside. And presently a sound +came--the high, thin sound of a voice shaking with weakness or rage. +Then the cool tones of his absent nurse, then the voice +again--certainly a most unpleasant voice--and the crashing sound of +something being violently thrown to the ground and stamped upon. +Through the closed door, the professor seemed to see a vision of an +absurd old man with pale eyes, who shrieked and stamped upon an +umbrella. + +"That," said Hamilton Spence, with resignation, "that must be father +having a fit!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Letter from Professor Hamilton Spence to his friend, John Rogers, M.D. + +DEAR Bones: Chortle if you want to--your worst prognostications have +come true. The unexpectedness of the sciatic nerve, as set forth in +your parting discourse, has amply proved itself. The dashed thing is +all that you said of it--and more. It did not even permit me to +collapse gracefully--or to choose my public. Your other man had a +policeman, hadn't he? + +Here I am, stranded upon a sofa from which I cannot get up and detained +indefinitely upon a mountain from which I cannot get down. My nurse (I +have a nurse) refuses to admit the mountain. She insists upon referring +to this dizzy height as "just above sea-level" and declares that the +precipitous ascent thereto is "a slight grade." Otherwise she is quite +sane. + +But sanity is more than I feel justified in claiming for anyone else in +this household. There is Li Ho, for instance. Well, I'm not certain +about Li Ho. He may be Chinese-sane. My nurse says he is. But I have no +doubts at all about my host. He is so queer that I sometimes wonder if +he is not a figment. Perhaps I imagine him. If so, my imagination is +going strong. What I seem to see is a little old man in a frock coat so +long that his legs (like those of the Queen of Spain) are negligible. +He has a putty colored face (so blurred that I keep expecting him to +rub it out altogether), white hair, pale blue eyes--and an umbrella. + +Yesterday, attempting to establish cordial relations, I asked him why +the umbrella. He had a fit right on the spot? + +Let me explain about the fits. When his daughter just said, "Father +will have a fit," I thought she spoke in a Pickwickian sense, meaning, +"Father will experience annoyance." But when I heard him having it, I +realized that she had probably been quite literal. When father has a +fit he bangs his umbrella to the floor and jumps on it. Also he tears +his hair. I have seen the pieces. + +I said to my nurse: "The mention of his umbrella seems to agitate your +father." She turned quite pale. "It does," she said. "I hope you +haven't mentioned it." I said that I had merely asked for information. +"And did you get it?" asked she. I said that I had--since it was +apparent that one has to carry an umbrella if one wishes to have it +handy to jump upon. She didn't laugh at all, and looked so withdrawn +that it was quite plain I need expect no elucidation from her. + +I had to dismiss the subject altogether. But, later on, Li Ho (who +appears to partially approve of me) gave a curious side light on the +matter. At night as he was tucking me up safely (the sofa is slippery), +he said, "Honorable Boss got hole in head-top. Sun velly bad. Umblella +keep him off." + +"But he carries it at night, too," I objected. + +Li Ho wagged his parchment head. "Keep moon off all same. Moon muchy +more bad. Full moon find urn hole. Make Honorable Boss much klasy." + +Remarkably lucid explanation--don't you think so? The "hole in head +top" is evidently Li Ho's picturesque figure for "mental vacuum." +Therefore I gather that our yellow brother suspects his honorable boss +of being weak-headed, a condition aggravated by the direct rays of the +sun and especially by the full moon. He may be right--though the old +man seems harmless enough. "Childlike and bland" describes him usually. +Though there are times when he looks at me with those pale eyes--and I +wish that I were not quite so helpless! He dislikes me. But I have +known quite sane people do that. + +I am writing nonsense. One has to, with sciatica. I hope this +confounded leg lets me get some sleep tonight. + +Yours, + +B. + +P.S.: Not exactly an ideal home for a young girl--is it? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +It had rained all night. It had rained all yesterday. It had rained all +the day before. It was raining still. Apparently it could go on raining +indefinitely. + +Miss Farr said not. She said that it would be certain to clear up in a +day or two. "And then," she said, "you will forget that it ever rained." + +Professor Spence doubted it. He had a good memory. + +"You look much better this morning," his nurse went on. "Have you tried +to move your leg yet?" + +"I am thinking of trying it." + +This was not exactly a fib on the part of the professor because he was +thinking of it. But it did not include the whole truth, because he had +already tried it, tried it very successfully only a few moments before. +First he had made sure that he was alone in the room and then he had +proceeded with the trial. Very cautiously he had drawn his lame leg up, +and tenderly stretched it out. He had turned over and back again. He +had wiggled his toes to see how many of them were present--only the +littlest toe was still numb. He had realized that he was much better. +If the improvement kept on, he knew that in a day or so he would be +able to walk with the aid of a cane. And he also knew that, with his +walking, his status as an invalid guest would vanish. Luckily, no one +but himself could say when the walking stage was reached--hence the +strict privacy of his experiments. + +"Father thinks that you should be able to walk in about three days," +said Miss Farr cheerfully. + +Spence said he hoped that Dr. Farr was right. But the rain, he feared, +might keep him back a bit, "I am really sorry," he added, "that my +presence is so distasteful to the doctor. I have been here almost two +weeks and I have seen so little of him that I'm afraid I am keeping him +out of his own house." + +"No, you are not doing that," the girl's reassurance was cordial +enough, "Father is having an outside spell just now. He quite often +does. Sometimes for weeks together he spends most of his time out of +doors. Then, quite suddenly, he will settle down and be more +like--other people." + +It was her way, the professor noticed, to state facts, not to explain +them. + +"Then he has what I call an 'inside spell,'" she went on. "That is when +he does most of his writing. He does some quite good things, you know. +And a few of them get published." + +"Scientific articles?" asked Spence. + +"Well--articles. You might not call them scientific. Science is very +exact, isn't it? Father would rather be interesting than exact any day." + +Her hearer found no difficulty in believing this. + +"His folk-lore stories are the best--and the least exact," continued +she, heedless of the shock inflicted upon the professorial mind. "He +knows exactly the kind of things Indians tell, and tells it very much +better." + +"You mean he--he fakes it?" + +"Well--he calls it 'editing.'" + +"But, my dear girl, you can't edit folk-lore!" + +"Father can." + +"But--but it isn't done! Such material loses all value if not +authentic." + +"Does it?" + +The question was indifferent. So indifferent, in the face of a matter +of such moment, that Hamilton Spence writhed upon his couch. Here at +least there was room for genuine missionary work. He cleared his throat. + +"I will tell you just how much it matters," he began firmly. But the +fates were not with him, neither was his audience. Attracted by some +movement which he had missed she, the audience, had slipped to the +door, and was opening it cautiously. + +"What is it?" asked the baffled lecturer crossly. + +"S-ssh! I think it's Sami." + +"A tame bear?" + +"No. Wait. I'll prop you up so you can see him. Look, behind the +veranda post." + +The professor looked and forgot about the value of authenticity; for +from behind the veranda post a most curious face was peeping--a round, +solemn baby face of cafe au lait with squat, wide nose and flat-set +eyes. + +"A Jap?" exclaimed Spence in surprise. + +"No. He's Indian. Some of the babies are so Japaneesy that it's hard to +tell the difference. Father says it's a strain of the same blood. But +they are not all as pretty as Sami. Isn't he a duck?" + +"He is at home in the rain, anyway. Why doesn't he come in?" + +"He's afraid of you." + +"That's unusual--until one has seen me." + +"Sami doesn't need to see a stranger." + +"Well, that's primitive enough, surely! Let's call him in." + +"I'd like to, but Sami won't come for calling." + +"Oh, won't he? Leave the door open and watch him." + +As absorbed now as the girl herself, the professor put his finger to +his lips and whistled--a low, clear whistle, rather like the calling of +a meditative bird. Several times he whistled so, on different notes; +and then, to her surprise, the watching girl saw the little wild thing +outside stir in answer to the call. Sami came out from behind the post +and stood listening, for all the world like an inquiring squirrel. The +whistle sounded again, a plaintive, seeking sound, infinitely alluring. +It seemed to draw the heart like a living thing. Slowly at first and +then with the swift, gliding motion of the woods, the wide-eyed +youngster approached the open door and stood there waiting, poised and +ready for advance or flight. Again the whistle came, and to it came +Sami, straight as a bird to its calling mate. + +"Tamed!" said the professor softly. "See, he is not a bit afraid." + +"How on earth did you do it?" asked Miss Farr when the shy, brown baby +had been duly welcomed. The whistler was visibly vain. + +"Oh, it's quite simple. I merely talked to him in his own language." + +"I see that. But where did you learn the language?" + +"Well, a fellow taught me that--man I met at Ypres. He could have +whistled back the dodo, I think. He knew all kinds of calls--said all +the wild things answered to them." + +"Was he a great naturalist?" + +The cheerful vanity faded from Spence's face, leaving it sombre. + +"He--would have been," he said briefly. + +Miss Farr asked no more questions. It was a restful way she had. And +perhaps because she did not ask, the professor felt an unaccustomed +impulse. "He was a wonderful chap," he volunteered. "There are few like +him in a generation. It seemed--rather a waste." + +The girl nodded. "Used or wasted--it's as it happens," she said. "There +is no plan." + +"That's a heathen sentiment!" The professor recovered his cheerfulness. +"A sentiment not at all suited for the contemplation of extreme youth." + +"I am not extremely young." + +"You? I was referring to our brown brother. He is becoming uneasy +again. What's the matter with him?" + +Whatever was the matter, it reached, at that moment, an acute stage and +Sami disappeared through the door into the kitchen. Perhaps his ears +were sharper than theirs and his eyes keener. He may have seen a large +umbrella coming across the clearing. + +Miss Farr frowned. "Sami is afraid of father," she explained briefly. +The door opened as she added, "I wonder why?" + +"A caprice of childhood, my daughter," said the old doctor mildly. "Who +indeed can account for the vagaries of the young?" + +"They are usually quite easy to account for," replied his daughter +coldly. "You must have frightened the child some time." + +"Tut, tut, my dear. How could an old fogey like myself frighten anyone?" + +"I don't know. But I should like to." + +Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment. And again the +captive on the sofa found himself disliking intensely the glance of the +old man's pale blue eyes. He was glad to see that they fell before the +grey eyes of the girl. + +"Well, well!" murmured Dr. Farr vaguely, looking away. "It doesn't +matter. It doesn't matter. Tut, tut, a trifle!" + +"I don't think so," said she. And abruptly she went out after the child. + +"Fanciful, very fanciful," murmured the old man, looking after her. +"And stubborn, very stubborn. A bad fault in one so young. But," +beaming benevolently upon his guest, "we must not trouble you with our +small domestic discords. You are much better, I see, much better. That +is good." + +"Getting along very nicely, thanks," said Spence. "I was able to change +position this morning without assistance." + +"Only that?" The doctor's disappointment was patent. "Come, we should +progress better than that. If you will allow me to prescribe--" + +"Thank you--no. I feel quite satisfied with the treatment prescribed by +old Bones--I mean by my friend, Dr. Rogers. He understands the case +thoroughly. One must be patient." + +"Quite so, quite so." The curiously blurred face of the doctor seemed +for a moment to take on sharper lines. Spence had observed it do this +before under stress of feeling. But as the exact feeling which caused +the change was usually obscure, it seemed safest to ignore it +altogether. He was growing quite expert at ignoring things. For, quite +contrary to the usual trend of his character, he was reacting to the +urge of a growing desire to stay where he wasn't wanted. He didn't +reason about it. He did not even admit it. But it moved in his mind. + +"I'm not fretting at all about being tied up here," he went on +cheerfully. "I find the air quite stimulating. I believe I could work +here. In fact, I have some notes with me which I may elaborate. I fancy +that, as you said in your letters, Miss Farr will prove a most capable +secretary. I am going to ask her to help me." + +"Are you indeed?" The doctor's tone was polite but absent. + +"You do not object, I hope?" + +"Object--why should I object? But Desire is busy, very busy. I doubt if +her duties will spare her. I doubt it very much." + +"Naturally, I should wish to offer her ample remuneration." + +Again the loose lines of the strange old face seemed to sharpen. There +was a growing eagerness in the pale eyes ... but it died. + +"Even in that case," said Dr. Farr regretfully, "I fear it will be +impossible." + +Spence pressed this particular point no further. He had found out what +he wanted to know, namely, that his host's desire to see the last of +him was stronger even than his desire for money. His own desire to see +more of his host strengthened in proportion. + +"Supposing we leave it to Miss Farr herself," he suggested smoothly. +"Since you have personally no objection. If she is unwilling to oblige +me, of course--" + +"I will speak to her," promised the doctor. + +Spence smiled. + +"What surprises me, doctor," he went on, pushing a little further, "is +how you have managed to keep so very intelligent a secretary in so +restricted an environment. The stronger one's wings, the stronger the +temptation to use them." + +He had expected to strike fire with this, but the pale eyes looked +placidly past him. + +"Desire has left me, at times, but--she has always come back." The old +man's voice was very gentle, almost caressing, and should certainly +have provided no reason for the chill that crept up his hearer's spine. + +"She has never found work suited to her, perhaps," suggested Spence. +"If you will allow me,--" + +"You are very kind," the velvet was off the doctor's voice now. He rose +with a certain travesty of dignity. "But I may say that I desire--that +I will tolerate--no interference. My daughter's future shall be her +father's care." + +Spence laughed. It was an insulting laugh, and he knew it. But the +contrast between the grandiloquent words and the ridiculous figure +which uttered them was too much for him. Besides, though the most +courteous of men, he deliberately wished to be insulting. He couldn't +help it. There rose up in him, suddenly, a wild and unreasoning anger +that mere paternity could place anyone (and especially a young girl +with cool, grey eyes) in the power of such a caricature of manhood. + +"Really?" said Spence. There was everything in the word that tone could +utter of challenge and derision. He raised himself upon his elbow. The +doctor, who had been closely contemplating his umbrella, looked up +slowly. The eyes of the two men met.... Spence had never seen eyes +like that ... they dazzled him like sudden sunlight on a blade of +steel ... they clung to his mind and bewildered it ... he forgot +the question at issue ... he forgot-- + +Just then Li Ho opened the kitchen door. + +"Get 'um lunch now," said Li Ho, in his toneless drawl. "Like 'um egg +flied? Like 'um boiled?" + +Spence sank back upon his pillow. + +"Like um any old way!" he said. His voice sounded a little breathless. + +The doctor, once again absorbed in the contemplation of his umbrella, +went out. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Luncheon, for which Li Ho had provided eggs both boiled and fried, was +eaten alone. His hostess did not honor him with her company, nor did +her father return. Li Ho was attentive but silent And outside the rain +still rained. + +Professor Spence lay and counted the drops as they fell from a knot +hole in the veranda roof--one small drop--two medium-sized drops--one +big drop--as if some unseen djinn were measuring them out in ruthless +monotony. He counted the drops until his brain felt soggy and he began +to speculate upon what Aunt Caroline would think of fried eggs for +luncheon. He wondered why there were no special dishes for special +meals in Li Ho's domestic calendar; why all things, to Li Ho, were good +(or bad) at all times? Would he give them porridge and bacon for +dinner? Spence decided that he didn't mind. He was ready to like +anything which was strikingly different from Aunt Caroline.... + +One small drop--two medium-sized drops--one big drop.... He wondered +when he would know his young nurse well enough to call her by her first +name? (Prefixed by "miss," perhaps.) "Desire"--it was a rather charming +name. How old would she be, he wondered; twenty? There were times when +she looked even younger than twenty. But he had to confess that she +never acted like it. At least she did not act as he had believed girls +of twenty are accustomed to act. Very differently indeed.... One +small drop--two medium-sized--oh, bother the drops! Where was she, +anyway? Did she intend to stay out all afternoon? Was that the way she +treated an invalid? ... He couldn't see why people go out in the +rain, anyway. People are apt to take their deaths of cold. People may +get pneumonia. It would serve people right--almost.... One drop--oh, +confound the drops! + +The professor tried to read. The book he opened had been a famous +novel, a best-seller, some five years ago. It had been thought +"advanced." Advanced!--but now how inconceivably flat and stale! How on +earth had anyone ever praised it, called it "epoch-marking," bought it +by the thousand thousand? Why, the thing was dead--a dead book, than +which there is nothing deader. This reflection gave him something to +think of for a while. Instead of counting drops he amused himself by +strolling back through the years, a critical stretcher-bearer, picking +up literary corpses by the wayside. They were thickly strewn. He was +appalled to find how faintly beat the pulse of life even in the living. +Would not another generation see the burial of them all? Was there no +new Immortal anywhere? + +"When I write a novel," thought the professor solemnly, "which, please +God, I shall never do, I will write about people and not about things. +Things change always; people never." It was a wise conclusion but it +did not help the afternoon to pass. + +Desire, that is to say Miss Farr, had passed the window twice already. +He might have called her. But he hadn't. If people forget one's very +existence it is not prideful to call them. And the Spences are a +prideful race. Desire (he decided it didn't matter if he called her +Desire to himself, she was such a child) was wearing--an old tweed coat +and was carrying wood. She wore no hat and her hair was glossy with +rain.... People take such silly risks--And where was Li Ho? Why +wasn't he carrying the wood? Not that the wood seemed to bother Desire +in the least. + +The captive on the sofa sighed. It was no use trying to hide from +himself his longing to be out there with her in that heavenly +Spring-pierced air, revelling in its bloomy wetness; strong and fit in +muscle and nerve, carrying wood, getting his head soaked, doing all the +foolish things which youth does with impunity and careless joy. The new +restlessness, which he had come so far to quiet, broke over him in +miserable, taunting waves. + +Why was he here on the sofa instead of out there in the rain? The war? +But he was too inherently honest to blame the war. It was, perhaps, +responsible for the present state of his sciatic nerve but not for the +selling of his birthright of sturdy youth. The causes of that lay far +behind the war. Had he not refused himself to youth when youth had +called? Had he not shut himself behind study doors while Spring crept +in at the window? The war had come and dragged him out. Across his +quiet, ordered path its red trail had stretched and to go forward it +had been necessary to go through. The Spences always went through. But +Nature, every inch a woman, had made him pay for scorning her. She had +killed no fatted calf for her prodigal. + +So here he was, at thirty-five, envying a girl who could carry wood +without weariness. The envy had become acute irritation by the time the +wood was stacked and the wood-carrier brought her shining hair and +rain-tinted cheeks into the living-room. + +"Leg bad again?" asked Desire casually. + +"No--temper." + +"It's time for tea. I'll see about it." + +"You'll take your wet things off first. You must be wet through. Do you +want to come down with pneumonia?" + + The girl's eyebrows lifted. "That's silly," she said. And indeed +the remark was absurd enough addressed to one on whom the wonder and +mystery of budding life rested so visibly. "I'm not wet at all," she +went on. "Only my coat." She slipped out of the old tweed ulster, +scattering bright drops about the room. "And my hair," she added as if +by an afterthought. "I'll dry it presently. But I don't wonder you're +cross. The fire is almost out. We'll have something to eat when the +kettle boils. Father's gone up trail. He probably won't be back." For +an instant she stood with a considering air as if intending to add +something. Then turned and went into the kitchen without doing it. She +came back with a handful of pine-knots with which she deftly mended the +fire. + +The professor moved restlessly. + +"I'll be around soon now," he said, "and then you shan't do that." + +"Shan't do what?" + +"Carry wood." + +"That's funny." Desire placed a crackling pine-knot on the apex of her +pyramid and sat back on her heels to watch it blaze. Her tone was +ruminative. "There's no real sense in that, you know. Why shouldn't I +carry wood when I am perfectly able to do it? Your objection is purely +an acquired one--a manifestation of the herd instinct." + +There was a slight pause. Professor Spence was wondering if he had +really heard this. + +"W--what was that you said?" he asked cautiously. + +Desire laughed. He had observed with wonder, amounting almost to awe, +that she never giggled. + +"Score one for me!" She turned grey, mirthful eyes on his. "Amn't I +learned? I read it in an article in an old Sociological Review--a copy +left here by a man whom father--well, we needn't bother about that part +of it. But the article was wonderful. I can't remember who wrote it." + +"Trotter, perhaps,--yes, it would be Trotter," murmured the professor. + +Desire swung round upon her heels, regarding him a trifle wistfully. + +"I should like to know all that you know," she said. "All the strange +things inside our minds." + +"Would you? But if you knew what I know you would only know that you +knew nothing at all." + +"Yes, it's all very well to say that," shrewdly, "but you don't mean +it. Besides, even if you don't know anything, you have glimpses of all +sorts of wonderful things which might be known. You can go on, and it's +the going on that matters." + +"But I can't carry wood." + +A little smile curled the corners of Desire's lips. He did not see it +because she had turned to the fire again and, with that deliberate +unself-consciousness which characterized her, was proceeding to unpin +and dry her hair. Spence had not seen it undone before and was +astonished at its length and lustre. The girl shook it as a young colt +shakes its mane, spreading it out to the blaze upon her hands. + +"I know what you mean, though," admitted Spence, "there is nothing like +the fascination of the unknown. It very nearly did for me." + +Desire looked up long enough to allow her slanting brows to ask their +eternal question. + +"Too much inside, not enough outside," he answered. "I ought to have +made myself a man first and a student afterward. Then I might have been +out in the rain you." + + She considered this, as she considered most things, gravely. Then +met it in her downright way. + +"There's nothing very wrong with you, is there? Nothing but what can be +put right." + +"No." + +"Well then, you can begin again. And begin properly." + +"I am thirty-five." + +"In that case you have no time to waste." + +It was a thoroughly sensible remark. But somehow the professor did not +like it. After all, thirty-five is not so terribly old. He decided to +change the subject. But there was no immediate hurry. It was pleasant +to lie there in the firelight watching this enigma of girl-hood dry her +hair. Perhaps she would notice his silence and ask him what he was +thinking about. + +"You really ought to offer me a penny for my thoughts," he observed +plaintively. + +"Oh, were you thinking? So was I." + +"I'll give you a penny for yours!" + +Desire shook her head. + +"No? Then I'll give you mine for nothing. I was thinking what a pity it +is that you are only an amateur nurse." + +"I hate nursing." + +"How unwomanly! Lots of women hate it--but few admit it. However, it +wasn't a nurse's duties I was thinking of, but a patient's privileges. +You see, if you were a professional nurse I could call you 'Nurse +Desire.'" + +"Do you mean that you want to call me by my first name?" + +"Since you put it more bluntly than I should dare to,--yes. It is a +charming name. But perhaps--" + +"Oh, you may use it if you like," said the owner of the name +indifferently. "It sounds more natural. I am not accustomed to 'Miss +Fair.'" + +This ought to have been satisfactory. But it wasn't. And after he had +led up to it so tactfully, too! Not for the first time did it occur to +our psychologist that tact was wasted upon this downright young person. +He decided not to be tactful any longer. + +"I'm getting well so rapidly," he said, "that I shall have to admit it +soon." + +The girl nodded. + +"Are you glad?" + +"Of course I am glad." + +"I shall walk with a cane almost in no time. And when I can walk, I +shall have to go away." + +"Yes." There was no hesitation in her prompt agreement. Neither did she +add any polite regrets. The professor felt unduly irritated. He had +never become used to her ungirlish taciturnity. It always excited him. +The women he had known, especially the younger women, had all been +chatterers. They had talked and he had not listened. This girl said +little and her silences seemed to clamour in his ears. Well, she would +have to answer this time. + +"Do you want me to go?" he asked plainly. + +"I don't want you to go." Her tone was thoughtful. "But I know you +can't stay. One has to accept things." + +"One doesn't. One can make things happen." + +"How?" + +"By willing." + +"Do you honestly believe that?" He was astonished at the depth of +mockery in her tone. + +"I certainly do believe it. I'll prove it if you like." + +"How?" + +"By staying." + +Again she was silent. + +He went on eagerly. "Why shouldn't I stay--for a time at least? I have +plenty of work to go on with. Indeed it was with the definite intention +of doing this work that I came. If you want me, I'll stay right enough. +The bargain that was made with your father was a straight, fair +business arrangement. I have no scruples about requiring him to carry +out his part of it The trouble was that it seemed as if insistence +would be unfair to you. But if you and I can arrange that--if you will +agree to let me do what I can to help, chores, you know, carrying wood +and so on, then I should not need to feel myself a burden." + +"You have not been a burden." + +"Thanks. You have been extraordinarily kind. As for the rest of it--I +mentioned the matter to Dr. Farr this morning." + +She was interested now. He could see her eyes, intent, through the +falling shadow of her hair. + +"I reminded him that he had offered me the services of a secretary and +explained that I was ready to avail myself of his offer." + +"And what did he say to that?" + +"Well--er--we agreed to leave the decision to you." + +"Was that all?" + +"Practically all." + +"Practically, but not quite. You quarreled, didn't you? Frankly, I do +not understand father's attitude but I know what his attitude is. He +does not want you here. Neither you nor anyone else. The secretarial +work you offer would be--I can't tell you exactly what it would be to +me. It would teach me something--and I am so hungry to know! But he +will find some way to make it impossible. You will have to go." + +"Nonsense! He cannot go back on his agreement." + +"You mean he has accepted money? That," bitterly, "means nothing to +him." + +"Nevertheless it gives me ground to stand on. And you, too. You have +done secretarial work before?" + +"Yes. I have certain qualifications. At intervals I have tried to make +myself independent. Several times I have secured office positions in +Vancouver. But father has always made the holding of them impossible." + +"How?" + +"I would rather not go into it." There was weary disgust in her voice. + +"But what reason does he give?" + +"That his daughter's place is in her father's house--funny, isn't it?" + +"You do not think that affection has anything to do with it?" + +"Not even remotely. Whatever his reason may be for keeping me with him, +it is not that. Affection is something of which one knows by instinct, +don't you think? Even Li Ho--I know instinctively that Li Ho is fond of +me. I am absolutely certain that my father is not." + +"It is no life for a young girl." + +"It has been my life." + +The professor felt uncomfortable. There was that in her tone which +forbade all comment. She had given him this tiny glimpse and quite +evidently intended to give no more. But Spence, upon occasion, could be +a persistent man. + +"Miss Desire," he said gravely, "do you absolutely decline my +friendship?" If she wanted directness, she was getting it now. + +"How can I do otherwise?" Her face was turned from him and her low +voice was muffled by her hair. But for the first time she had cast away +her guard of light indifference. "Friendship is impossible for me. I +thought you would see--and go away. Nothing that you can do would be +any real help. I have tried before to free myself. But I could not. +Nor, in the little flights of freedom which I had, did I find anything +that I wanted. I am as well here as anywhere. Unless--" + +She was silent, looking into the fire. + +"Unless I were really free," she added softly. + +He could not see her face. But she looked very young sitting there with +her unbound hair and hands clasped childishly about her knees. + +"You have wondered about me--in a psychological way--ever since you +came." She went on, her voice taking on a harsher note. "You have been +trying to 'place' me. Well, since you are curious I will tell you what +I am. When I was younger and we lived in towns I used to wander off by +myself down the main streets to gaze in the windows. I never went into +any of the stores. The things I wanted were inside and for sale--but I +could not buy them. I was just a window-gazer. That's what I am still. +Life is for sale somewhere. But I cannot buy it." + +The throb of her voice was like the beating of caged wings through the +quiet room. + +"But--" began Spence, and then he paused. It wasn't at all easy to know +what to say. "You are mistaken," he went on finally. "Life isn't for +sale anywhere. Life is inside, not outside. And no one ever really +wants the things they see in other people's windows." + +"I do," said Desire coldly. + +She was certainty very young! Spence felt suddenly indulgent. + +"What, then--for instance?" he asked. + +The girl shook back her hair and arose. + +"Freedom, money, leisure, books, travel, people!" + +"I thought you were going to leave out people altogether," said Spence, +whimsically. "But otherwise your wants are fairly comprehensive. You +have neglected only two important things--health and love." + +"I have health--and I don't want love." + +"Not yet--of course--" began the professor, still fatherly indulgent. +But she turned on him with a white face. + +"Never!" she said. "That one thing I envy no one. You are wondering why +I have never considered marriage as a possible way out? Well, it isn't +a possible way--for me. Marriage is a hideous thing--hideous!" + +She wasn't young now, that was certain. It was no child who stood there +with a face of sick distaste. The professor's mood of indulgent +maturity melted into dismay before the half-seen horror in her eyes. + +But the moment of revelation passed as quickly as it had come. The +girl's face settled again into its grave placidity. + +"I'll get the tea," she said. "The kettle will be boiling dry." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +In the form of a letter from Professor Spence to his friend, Dr. John +Rogers. + +No letter yet from you, Bones; Bainbridge must be having the measles. +Or perhaps I am not allowing for the fact that it takes almost a +fortnight to go and come across this little bit of Empire. Also Li Ho +hasn't been across the Inlet for a week. He says "Tillicum too muchy +hole. Li Ho long time patch um." + +On still days, I can hear him doing it. Perhaps my hostess is right and +we are not so far away from the beach as I fancied on the night of my +arrival. I'll test this detail, and many others, soon. For today I am +sitting up. I'm sure I could walk a little, if I were to try. But I am +not in a hurry. Hurry is a vice of youth. + +And I am actually getting some work done. Bones, old thing, I have made +a discovery for the lack of which many famous men have died too soon. I +have discovered the perfect secretary! + +These blank lines represent all the things which I might say but which, +with great moral effort, I suppress. I know what a frightful bore is +the man who insists upon talking about a new discovery. Therefore I +shall not indulge my natural inclination to tell you just how perfect +this secretary is. I shall merely note that she is quick, accurate, +silent, interested, appreciative, intelligent to a remarkable +degree--Good Heavens! I'm doing it! I blush now when I remember that I +engaged Miss Farr's services in the first place from motives of +philanthropy. Is it possible that I was ever fatuous enough to believe +that I was the party who conferred the benefit? If so, I very soon +discovered my mistake. In justice to myself I must state that I saw at +once what a treasure I had come upon. You remember what a quick, sure +judgment my father had? Somehow I seem to be getting more like him all +the time. The moment any proposition takes on a purely business aspect, +I become, as it were, pure intellect. I see the exact value, business +value, of the thing. Aunt Caroline never agrees with me in this. She +insists upon referring to that oil property at Green Lake and that +little matter of South American Mines. But those mistakes were trifles. +Any man might have made them. + +In this case, where I am right on the spot, there can be no possibility +of a mistake. I see with my own eyes. Miss Farr is a dream of +secretarial efficiency. She combines, with ease, those widely differing +qualities which are so difficult to come by in a single individual. It +is inspiring to work with her. I find that her co-operation actually +stimulates creative thought. My notes are expanding at a most +satisfactory rate. My introductory chapter already assumes form. +And--by Jove! I seem to be doing it again. + +But one simply does not make these discoveries every day. + +The other aspects of the situation here, the non-business aspects, are +not so satisfactory. The menage is certainly peculiar. I had what +amounted to a bloodless duel with mine host the other day. Perhaps I +was not as tactful as I might have been. But he is an irritating +person. One of those people who seem to file your nerves. In fact there +is something almost upsetting' about that mild old scoundrel. He gives +me what the Scots call a "scunner." (You have to hear a true Scot +pronounce it before you get its inner meaning.) And when, that day, he +began talking about his daughter's future being her father's care, I +said--I forget exactly what I said but he seemed to get the idea all +right. It annoyed him. We were both annoyed. He did not put his +feelings into words. He put them into his eyes instead. And horrid, +nasty feelings they were. Quite murderous. + +The duel was interrupted by Li Ho. Li Ho never listens but he always +hears. Seems to have some quieting influence over his "honorable Boss," +too. + +But I wish you could have seen the old fellow's eyes, Bones. I think +they might have told some tale to a medical mind. Normally, his eyes +are blurry like the rest of his fatherly face. And their color, I +think, is blue. But just then they looked like no eyes I have ever +seen. A cold light on burnished steel is the only simile I can think +of--perfect hardness, perfect coldness, lustre without depth! The +description is poor, but you may get the idea better if I describe the +effect of the look rather than the look itself. The warm spot in my +heart froze. And it takes something fairly eerie to freeze the heart at +its core. + +From this, as a budding psychologist, I draw a conclusion--there was +something abnormal, something not quite human in that flashing look. +The conclusion seems somewhat strained now. But at the time I was +undoubtedly glad to see Li Ho. Li Ho may be a Chink, but he is human. + +You may gather that our "battle of the Glances" did not smooth my +pillow here. If the old chap didn't want me to stay before, he is even +less anxious for my company now. But I am going to stay. Aunt Caroline +would call this stubbornness. But of course it isn't. It is merely a +certain strength of character and a business determination to carry out +a business bargain. Dr. Farr allowed me to engage board here and to pay +for it. I am under no obligation to take cognizance of his deeper +feelings. + +The only feelings which concern me in this matter are the feelings of +his daughter. If my staying were to prove a burden for her I could not, +of course, stay. But I see many ways in which I may be helpful, and I +know that she needs and wants the secretarial work which I have given +her. Usually she holds her head high and one isn't even allowed to +guess. But one does guess. Her meagre ration of life is plain beyond +all artifice of pride. + +John, she interests me intensely. She is a strange child. She is a +strange woman. For both child and woman she seems to be, in fascinating +combination. But, lest you should mistake me, good old bone-head, let +me make it plain that there is absolutely no danger of my falling in +love with her. My interest is not that kind of interest. I am far too +hard headed to be susceptible. I can appreciate the tragedy of a +charming girl placed in such unsavory environment, and feel impelled to +seek some way of escape for her without being for one moment disturbed +by that unreasoning madness called love. Every student of psychology +understands the nature and the danger of loving. 'Every sensible +student profits by what he understands. You and I have had this out +before and you know my unalterable determination never to allow myself +to become the slave of those primitive and passing instincts. Nature, +the old hussy, is welcome to the use of man as a tool for her own +purposes. But there are enough tools without me. The race will not +perish because I intend to remain my own man. But I shall have to +evolve some way of helping Miss Farr. She cannot be left here under +these conditions. + +I am writing to Aunt Caroline, briefly, that I am immersed in study and +that my return is indefinite. Don't, for heaven's sake, let her suspect +that I have employed Miss Farr as secretary. You know Aunt Caroline's +failing. Do be discreet! + +Yours, + +B. H. S. + +P.S.: Any arrangement I may find it necessary to propose in Miss Farr's +case will be based on business, not sentiment. B. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Desire was seated upon a moss-covered rock, hugging her knees and +gazing out to sea. It was her favorite attitude and, according to +Professor Spence, a very dangerous one, especially in connection with a +moss-covered rock. He would have liked to point out this obvious fact +but that would have been fussy--and fussy the professor was firmly +determined not to be. Aunt Caroline was fussy. The best he could do was +to select another rock, not so slippery, and to provide an object +lesson as to the proper way of sitting upon it. Unfortunately, Desire +was not looking. They had come a little way "up trail"--at least Desire +had said it was a little way, and her companion was too proud of his +recovered powers of locomotion to express unkind doubt of the +adjective. There had been no rainy days for a week. The air was +sun-soaked, and salt-soaked, and somewhere there was a wind. But not +here. Here some high rock angle shut it out and left them to the drowsy +calm of wakening Summer. Below them lay the blue-green gulf, +white-flecked and gently heaving; above them bent a sky which only +Italy could rival--and if Miss Farr with her hands clasped round her +knees were to move ever so little, either way, there was nothing to +prevent her from falling off the face of the mountain. The professor +tried not to let this reflection spoil his enjoyment of the view. He +reminded him-self that she was probably much safer than she looked. And +he remembered Aunt Caroline. Still-- + +"Don't you think you might sit a little farther back?" he suggested +carelessly. + +"Why?" + +"I can't talk to the back of your head." + +"Talk!" dreamily, "do you really have to talk?" + +Naturally the professor was silent. + +"That's rude, I suppose," said Desire, suddenly swinging round (a feat +which brought Spence's heart into his mouth). "I don't seem to acquire +the social graces very rapidly, do I?" + +"I thought," the professor's tone was somewhat stiff, "that we came up +here for the express purpose of talking." + +"Y-es. You did express some such purpose. But--must we? It won't do any +good, you know." + +"I don't know. And it will do good. One can't get anywhere without +proper discussion." + +The girl sighed. "Very well--let's discuss. You begin." + +"My month," said Spence firmly, "is almost up. I shall have to move +along on Friday." + +"On Friday?" If he had intended to startle her, he had certainly +succeeded. "Was--was the arrangement only for a month?" she asked in a +lowered voice. + +"The arrangement was to continue for as long as I wished. But only one +month's payment was made in advance. With Friday, Dr. Farr's obligation +toward me ends. He is not likely to extend it." + +She sat so still that he forgot how slippery the moss was and thought +only of the growing shadow on her face. + +"But, the work!" she murmured. "We are only just beginning. I wish--oh, +I shall miss it dreadfully." + +"'It,'" said Spence, "is not a personal pronoun." + +"I shall miss you, too, of course." + +"Well, be careful not to overemphasize it." + +Her grey eyes looked frankly and straightly into his. Their clear +depths held a rueful smile. "You are conceited enough already," she +said, "but if it will make you feel any better, I don't mind admitting +that I shall miss you far, far more than you deserve." + +"Spoken like a lady!" said Spence warmly. "And now let us consider my +side of it. After the month that I have spent here--do you really think +that I intend to go away--like that?" + +"There is only one way of going, isn't there?" + +"Not at all. There are various ways. Ways which are quite, quite +different." + +"You have thought of some other--some quite different way?" + +"Yes. But I daren't tell it to you while you sit on that slippery rock. +It is a somewhat startling way and you might--er--manifest emotion. I +should prefer to have you manifest it in a less dangerous place." + +Desire's very young laugh rippled out. "Fussy!" she said. But +nevertheless she climbed down and sat demurely upon stones in the +hollow. There was an unfamiliar light in her waiting eyes, the light of +interest and of hope. + +Spence, rather to his consternation, realized that it was up to him to +justify that hope. And he wasn't at all sure ... however, he had to +go through with it, ... There was a fighting chance, anyway. + +"Let's think about the work for a moment," he began nervously. "That +work, my book, you know, is simply going all to pot if you can't keep +on with it. You can see yourself what it means to have a competent +secretary. And you like the work. You've just admitted that you like +it." + +He saw the light begin to fade from her eyes. She shook her head. + +"If you are going to suggest that I go with you as your secretary," she +said with her old bluntness, "it is useless. I have tried that way out. +I won't try it again." Her lips grew stern and her eyes dark with some +too bitter memory. + +"I honestly don't see what Dr. Farr could do," said Spence tentatively. + +"You would," said Dr. Farr's daughter with decision. + +"And anyway," proceeding hastily, "that wasn't what I was thinking of. +I knew that you would refuse to go as my secretary. I ask you to go as +my wife." + +Desire rose. + +"Is this where I am expected to manifest emotion?" she asked dryly. + +"Yes. And you're doing it! I knew you would. Women are utterly +unreasoning. You won't even listen to what I have to say." + +The girl moved slowly away. + +"And I can't get up without help," he added querulously. + +Desire stopped. "You can," she said. + +"I can't. Not after that dreadful climb." + +"Then I shall wait until you are ready. But we do not need to continue +this conversation." + +The professor sighed. "This," he said, "is what comes of taking a woman +at her word." + +"What?" + +"I might have known," he went on guilefully, "that you didn't really +mean it. No young girl would." + +"Mean what?" + +"That you had no room in your scheme of things for ordinary marriage. +Of course you were talking nonsense. I beg your pardon." + +"Will you kindly explain what you mean!" + +"I will if you will sit down so that I may talk to you on my own level. +You see, your determination not to marry struck me very much at the +time because it voiced my own--er--determination also. I said to +myself, 'Here are two people sufficiently original to wish to escape +the common lot.' I thought about it a great deal. And then an idea +came. It was, I admit, the inspiration of a moment. But it grew. It +certainly grew." + +Desire sat down again and folded her hands over her knees. + +"I will listen." + +"It is very simple," he hastened to explain. "Simplicity is, I think, +the keynote of all true inspiration. An idea comes, and we are filled +with amazement that we have so long ignored the obvious. Take our case. +Here are we two, strongly of one mind and wanting the same thing. A +perfectly feasible way of getting that thing occurs to me. Yet when I +suggest this way you jump up and rush away." + +"I haven't rushed yet." + +"No. But you were going to. And all because you cannot be logical. No +woman can." + +His listener brushed this away with a gesture of impatience. + +"I can prove it," went on the wily one. "You object to marriage, yet +you covet the freedom marriage gives. Now what is the logical result of +that? The logical result is fear--fear that some day you may want +freedom so badly that you will marry in order to get it." + +"It is not--I won't." + +"I knew you would not admit it. But it is true all the same. The other +night when you said 'marriage is hideous,' I saw fear in your eyes. +There is fear in your eyes now." + +The girl dropped her eyes and raised them again instantly. Her slanting +eyebrows frowned. + +"Nevertheless," she said, "I shall not marry." + +"But you will, as an honest person, admit the other part of the +proposition--that you want something at least of what marriage can +give?" + +"Yes." + +"Well then--that states your case. Now let me state mine. I, too, have +an insuperable objection to marriage. My--er--disinclination is +probably more soundly based than yours, since it is built upon a wider +view of life. But I, too, want certain things which marriage might +bring. I want a home. Not too homey a home, in the strictly domestic +sense (Aunt Caroline is strictly domestic) but a--a congenial home. I +want the advice and help of a clever woman together with the sense of +permanence and security which, in our imperfect state of civilization, +is made possible only by marriage. And I, too, have my secret fear. I +am afraid that some day I may be driven--in short, I am afraid of Aunt +Caroline." + +Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. + +"A man--afraid of his aunt?" + +"Yes," gloomily, "it is men who are afraid of aunts. It is not at all +funny," he added as her eyes relaxed, "if you knew Aunt Caroline you +wouldn't think so. She is determined to have me married and she has a +long life of successful effort behind her. One failure is nothing to an +aunt. She is always quite certain that the next venture will turn out +well. And it usually does. In brief, I am thirty-five and I go in +terror of the unknown. If I do not marry soon to please myself, I shall +end by marrying to please someone else. Do you follow me?" + +"Make it plainer," ordered Desire soberly. "Make it absolutely plain." + +"I will. My proposition is, in its truest and strictest sense, a +marriage of convenience. Marriage, it appears, can give us both what we +want, a formal ceremony will legalize your position as my secretary and +free you entirely from the interference of your father. It will permit +you to accept freely my protection and everything else which I have. +Your way will be open to the things you spoke of the other night, +freedom, leisure, money, travel, books. The only thing we are shutting +out is the thing you say you have no use for--love. But perhaps you did +not mean--" + +"I did." + +"Then, logically, my proposal is sound." + +"Am I to take all these things, and give nothing?" + +"Not at all. You give me the things I want most, freedom, security, the +grace of companionship, and collaboration in my work, so long as your +interest in it continues. I will be a safely married man and you--you +will be a window-gazer no longer. There is only one point"--the +speaker's gaze turned from her and wandered out to sea--"I can be sure +of what I can bring into your life," his voice was almost stern, "but I +warn you to be very sure of what you will be shutting out." + +"You mean?" + +"Children," said Spence crisply. + +"I do not care for children." + +The professor's soberness vanished. "Oh--what a whopper!" he exclaimed. + +"I mean, I do not want children of my own." + +"But supposing you were to develop a desire for them later on?" + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +"I might," she acknowledged. "But in my case it would be merely the +outcropping of a feminine instinct, easily suppressed. I am not at all +afraid of it. Look at all the women who are perfectly happy without +children." + +"Hum!" said the professor. "I am looking at them. But I find them +unconvincing. There are a few, however, of whom what you say is true. +You may be one of them. How about Sami?" + +"Sami? Oh, Sami is different. He is more like a mountain imp than a +child. I don't think Sami would seem real anywhere but here. If anyone +were to try to transplant him he might vanish altogether. Poor little +chap--how terribly he would miss me!" finished Desire artlessly. + +She had accepted the possibility, then! Spence's heart gave a leap and +was promptly reproved for leaping. This was not, he reminded himself, +an affair of the heart at all. It was a coldly-thought-out, hard-headed +business proposition. Such a proposition as his father's son might +fittingly conceive. The thing to do now was to stride on briskly and +avoid sentiment. + +"Then as we seem to agree upon the essentials," he said, "there remains +only one concrete difficulty, your father. He would object to marriage +as to other things, I suppose?" + +"Yes, but we should have to ignore that." + +"You wouldn't mind?" somewhat doubtfully. + +"No. I have always known that a break would come some day. It isn't as +if he really cared. Or as if I cared. I don't. If I should decide that +there is an honest chance for freedom, a chance which I can take and +keep my self-respect, I am conscious of no duty that need restrain me." + +Spence said nothing, and after a moment she went on. + +"Why should I pretend--as he pretends? I loath it! Day after day, even +when there is no one to see, he keeps up that horrible semblance of +affection. And all the time he hates me. I see it in his eyes. And once +or twice--" She hesitated and then went rapidly on without finishing +her sentence. "There is some reason why it is to his advantage to keep +me with him. But it imposes no obligation upon me. I do not even know +what it is." + +"Perhaps Li Ho may know?" + +"Li Ho does know. Li Ho knows everything. But when I asked him he said, +'Honorable boss much lonely--heap scared of devil maybe.' Li Ho always +refers to devils when he doesn't wish to tell anything." + +"I've noticed that. He's a queer devil himself. Would he stay on, do +you think?" + +"Yes. And that's odd, too. In some way Li Ho is father's man. It's as +if he owned him. There must be a story which explains it. But no one +will ever hear it. Li Ho keeps his secrets." + +Spence nodded. "Yes. Li Ho and his kind are the product of forces we +only guess at. I asked a man who had spent twenty years in China if he +had learned to understand the Oriental mind. He said he had learned +more than that, he had learned that the Oriental mind is beyond +understanding. But--aren't we getting away from our subject? Let's +begin all over again. Miss Farr, I have the honor to ask your hand in +marriage." + +She was silent for so long a time that the professor had opportunity to +think of many things. And, as he thought, his heart went down--and +down. She would refuse. He knew it. The clean edge of her mind would +cut through all his tangle of words right to the core of the real +issue, And the core of the real issue was not as sound as it would need +to be to satisfy her demands. For in that core still lay a possibility, +the possibility of love. He had not eliminated love. Many a man has +loved after thirty-five. Many a girl who has sworn--but no, she would +not admit this possibility in her own case. It was only in his case +that she would recognize it. She would see the weak spot there.... She +would refuse. He could feel refusal gathering in her heart. And his own +heart beat hotly in his throat. For if this failed, what other way was +left? Yet to go and leave her here, alone in that rotting cottage on +the hill.... the prey of any ghastly fate.... no, it couldn't be done. +He must convince her. He must. + +"My friend," said Desire (he loved her odd, old-fashioned way of +calling him "my friend"), "I admit that you have tempted me. But--I +can't. It wouldn't be fair. It is easy to feel sure for one's self but +it's another thing to be sure for others. A marriage of that kind would +not satisfy you. You say your outlook is wider than mine and of course +it is. But I have seen more than you think. Even men who are +tremendously interested in their work, like you, want--other things. +They want what they call love, even if to them it always sinks to +second place, if indeed it means nothing more than distraction. And +love would mean more than that to you. I have an instinct which tells +me that, in your case, love will come. You must be free to take it." + +It was final. He felt its finality, and more than ever he swore that it +should not be so. There must be an argument somewhere--wait! + +"Supposing," said Spence haltingly, "Supposing.... supposing I am not +free now? Supposing love has come--and gone?" + +He was not a good liar. But his very ineptitude helped him here. It +tangled the words on his tongue, it brought a convincing dew upon his +forehead. "I'd rather not talk about it," he finished. "But you see +what I mean." + +"Yes. I hadn't thought of that. It might make a difference. I should +want to be very sure. If there were any chance--" + +"There is no chance. Positively none. That experience, which you say +you feel was a necessary experience in my case, is over and done with. +It cannot recur. I am not the man to--to--" he was really unable to go +on. But she finished it for him. + +"To love twice," said Desire, looking out over the sea. "Yes I can +understand that--what did you say?" + +"I think I may be able to walk now," said the professor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +With the recovery of a leg sufficiently workable in the matter of +climbing stairs, Dr. Farr's boarder had resigned the family couch in +the sitting-room and had retired to his spartan chamber under the +eaves. From its open window that night he watched the moon. Let nothing +happen to the universe in the meantime, and there would be a full moon +on Friday night. The professor hoped that nothing would happen. + +She had not exactly said "Yes" yet. He must not forget that. But it +could do no harm to feel reasonably sure that she was going to. He did +not conceal from himself that he had brought things off remarkably +well. That last argument of his had been a masterpiece of strategy. +There were other, shorter, words which might have described it. But +they were not such pleasant words. And when a thing is necessary it is +just as well to be pleasant about it. No harm had been done. Quite the +opposite. Desire's one valid objection had been neatly and effectually +disposed of. And now the matter could be dropped. It would be +forgotten.... What did it amount to in any case? Other men lied +every day saying they had never loved. He had lied only once in saying +that he had.... At the same time it might be very embarrassing to.... +yes, certainly, the matter must be dropped! + +They would, he supposed, find it necessary to elope.... No sense in +looking for trouble! The old gentleman had been odder than ever the +last day or so. He had ceased even to pretend that his guest's presence +was anything but an annoyance. He had refused utterly to enter into any +connected conversation and had been restless and erratic to a degree. +"Too muchy moon-devil," according to Li Ho. That very afternoon he had +met them coming down from their talk upon the rocks and the ironic +courtesy of his greeting had been little less than baleful. At supper +he had remarked sentimentally upon the flight of time, referring to the +nearness of Friday in a way eminently calculated to speed the parting +guest. + +Friday, at latest, then? If they were to go they would go on +Friday.--Friday and the full moon. + +In the meantime he felt no desire for sleep. The moon, perhaps? +Certainly there is nothing in the mere business-like prospect of +engaging a permanent secretary to cause insomnia. The professor +supposed it was simply his state of health in general. It might be a +good idea to drop a line to his medical man. He had promised to report +symptoms. Besides, it was only fair to prepare John. The candle was +burnt out, but the moon would do--pad on knee, he began to write.... + + +"Beloved Bones--I am writing in the hope that the thought of you may +cause cerebral exhaustion. I find the moon too stimulating. Otherwise I +rejoice to report myself recovered. I can walk. I can climb hills. I +can un-climb hills, which is much worse, and I eat so much that I'm +ashamed to look my board money in the face. You might gently prepare +Aunt Caroline by some mention of an improved appetite. + +I had a letter from Aunt Caroline yesterday. That is to say, three +letters. When you included (by request) "positively no letter writing" +in my holiday menu, you did not make it plain who it was that was +positively not to write. So, although she tells me sadly that she +expects no answers, Aunt Caroline positively does. I may say at once +that I know all the news. + +On the other hand, there is some news which Aunt Caroline does not +know. Owing to your embargo on letters, I have not been able to inform +my Aunt of the progress of my book, nor of my discovery of the perfect +secretary. I have not, in short, been able to tell her anything. + +So you will have to do it for me. + +But first, as man to man, I want to ask you a question. Having found, +by an extraordinary turn of luck, the perfect secretary, would you +consider me sane if I let her go? Of course you would not. I asked +myself the same question yesterday and received the same answer. + +So I have asked her to marry me. + +I put it that way because I know you like to have things broken to you. +And now, having heard all your objections (oh, yes, I can hear them. +Distance is only an idea) I shall proceed to answer them.-- + +No. It is not unwise to marry a young girl whom I scarcely know. Why +man! That is part of the game. Think of the boredom of having to live +with some one you know? Someone in whose house of life you need expect +no odd corners, no unlooked for turnings, no steps up, or down, no +windows with a view? Only a madman would face such monotony. + +No. It is not unfair to the other party. The other party has a mind and +is quite capable of making it up. She will not marry me unless she +jolly well wants to. Far more than most people, I think, she has the +gift of decision. Neither is it as if what I have to offer her were not +bona fide. Take me on my merits and I'm not a bad chap. My life may +have been tame but it has been clean. (Only don't tell Aunt Caroline). +I have a sufficiency of money. What I promise, I shall perform. And as +for ancestors--Well, I refer everyone to Aunt Caroline for ancestors. +If Miss Desire marries me she will receive all that is in the bond and +any little frills which I may be able to slip in. (There will not be +many frills, though, for my lady is proud.) + +Yes. Aunt Caroline will make a fuss. I trust you will bear up under it +for my sake. I think it will be well for her to learn of my marriage +sufficiently long before our return to insure resignation, at least, +upon our arrival. After the storm the calm, and although, with my dear +Aunt, the calm is almost the more devastating, I trust you will acquit +yourself with fortitude. + +And now we come to the only valid objection, which you have, +strong-mindedly, left until the last--my prospective father-in-law! He +is a very objectionable old party, and I do not mind your saying so. +But one simply can't have everything. And Bainbridge is a long way from +Vancouver. Also, as a husband I can take precedence, and, by George, +I'll do it! So you see your objection is really an extra inducement. It +is only by marrying the daughter of Dr. Farr that I can protect Dr. +Farr's daughter. + +Are you satisfied now? I don't know whether I mentioned it, but she +hasn't actually said "yes" yet. She had certain objections, or rather a +certain objection which I found it necessary to meet in a--a somewhat +regrettable manner. I was compelled to adopt strategy. She thought our +proposed contract (we do things in a business manner) might not be +quite fair to me. She was ready to admit that I was getting a good +thing in secretaries but she feared that, later on, I might wish to +make a change. I had to meet this scruple somehow and I seemed to know +by instinct that she would not believe me if I expounded those theories +of love and marriage which you know I so strongly hold. Pure reason +would not appeal to her. So I had to fall back upon sentiment. Instead +of saying, "I shall never love. It is impossible," I said, "I have +loved. It is over." + +Sound tactics, don't you think? ... Well I don't care what you think! +I have to get this girl safely placed somehow. + +We shall have to elope probably. Fancy, an elopement at thirty-five! +The father seems to consider her continued presence here as vital to +his interest, though why, neither of us can understand. Well, I'm not +exactly afraid of the old chap but it will certainly be easier for her +if there are no wild farewells. Therefore we shall probably fold our +tent like the Arabs and steal away as silently as the "Tillicum" will +allow. + +Li Ho will have to be told. He will know anyway, so we may as well tell +him. It appears that whatever may be the reasons for keeping a young +girl buried here, they do not extend to Li Ho. It will not be the first +time that his Chinese inscrutability has assisted at a (temporary) +departure. + +I shall let Aunt Caroline know as soon as the act is irrevocable and +shall inform you at the same time so that you may not be unprepared. +You realize, I suppose, that you will be accused of being accessory? +Didn't you tell me that a trip would do me good? + +We shall not come home for a few weeks. My secretary has spoken of an +old Indian whom she knows, a perfect mine of simon-pure folk-lore. He +lives some-where up the coast, about a day's journey, I think. We may +visit him. With her to interpret for me, I may get some very valuable +notes. I may add that we are both very keen on notes. When we have done +what can be done out here, we shall come home. The fall and winter we +shall spend upon the book. My secretary will insist upon attending to +business first. And then--well, then she wants to go shopping. So we +shall have to go where the good shops are. + +What does she wish to buy? Oh, not much--just life, the assorted kind. + +B. H. S. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It was the day before Friday. Friday, so very near, seemed already +palpably present in the surcharged air of the cottage. No one mentioned +it, but that made its nearness more potent. At his usual hour for +dictation, Professor Spence had come out upon the narrow veranda. But, +although his secretary was there, pencil in hand, he had not dictated. +Instead he had sat contemplating Friday so long that his secretary +tapped her foot in impatience. + +"Are you really lazy?" she asked, "Or are you just pretending to be?" + +"I am really lazy. All truly gifted people are. You know what Wilde +says, 'Real industry is simply the refuge of people who have nothing to +do.'" + +The prompt, "Who is Wilde?" of the secretary did not disconcert him. He +had discovered that her ignorance was as unusual as her knowledge. + +"Who is Wilde? Oh, just a little bit of English literature. Christian +name of Oscar. You'll come across him when you go shopping." + +A faint pucker appeared between the secretary's eye-brows. + +"You are coming shopping, aren't you?" asked Spence, faintly stressing +the verb. + +"I--want to." + +"That's settled then." + +The pucker grew more pronounced. The secretary resigned all hope of +dictation and laid down her pencil. + +"Tomorrow," reminded Spence gently, "is Friday." + +"Yes, I know. And if I go, do I--we--go tomorrow?" + +"It would be advisable." + +"The time doesn't matter," mused Desire. "But--do you mind if I speak +quite plainly?" + +"Not at all. You have hardened me to plain speaking." + +"I have been thinking over what you told me. It does make a difference. +I see that I need not be afraid of--of what I was afraid of. It's as +if--as if we had both had the measles." + +"You can take--" began Spence, but stopped him-self. It would never do +to remind her that one may take the measles twice. + +"Of course you won't believe it, not for a long time anyway," she went +on in the tone of an indulgent grand-mother, "but love is only an +episode. You are fortunate to be well over it." + +Spence sighed. He hadn't intended to sigh. It just happened. +Fortunately it was the correct thing. + +"I don't want to distress you," kindly, "but we were rather vague the +other night. I understood the main fact, but that is about all. You +didn't tell me what happened after." + +The professor's chair, which had been tilted negligently back, came +down with a thud. + +"After?" he murmured meekly. "After--?" + +"I mean," prompted Desire gently, "did she marry the other man?" + +"The other man? I--I don't know." The professor was willing to be +truthful while he could. But instantly he saw that it wouldn't do. + +"You--don't--know?" If ever incredulity breathed in any voice it +breathed in hers. It gave our weak-kneed liar the brace that he needed. + +"No," he said sadly, "they were to have been married--I have never +heard." + +"Oh! Then, of course, she did not live in your home town." + +"Didn't she?" asked Spence, momentarily off guard. "Oh, I see what you +mean--no, naturally not." + +"I thought that perhaps you might have been boy and girl together," +dreamily. "It so often happens." + +"It does," said Spence. "But it didn't." + +"And is there no one--no friend, from whom you could naturally inquire? +You feel you wouldn't care to ask anyone?" + +"Ask? Good heavens, no--certainly not!" + +"Men are queer," said Desire naively. "A woman would just simply have +to ask." + +"She would." + +"You think me inquisitive?" Her quick brain had not missed the dry +implication of his tone. "But you see I had to know something. It's all +right, I'm sure. But it would have been so much--more comfortable if +she were quite married." + +(Oh course it would--why in thunder hadn't he thought of that? The +professor was much annoyed with himself.) + +"She is probably quite, utterly married long ago," he said gloomily. +"What possible difference can it make?" + +"None. Don't look so bitter! Perhaps I should not have asked questions. +I won't ask any more--except one. Would you mind very much telling me +her name?" + +Her name! + +The harassed man looked wildly around. But there was no escape. Not +even Sami was in sight. Only a jeering crow flapped black wings and +laughed discordantly. + +"Just her first name, you know," added Desire reasonably. + +"Oh yes--certainly. No, of course I don't mind. I am quite willing to +tell you her name. But--do you mean her real name or--or--the name she +was usually called?" The professor was sparring wildly for time. + +"Wasn't she called by her real name?" + +"Well--er--not always." + +Desire's eyebrows became very slanting. "Any name will do," she said +coldly. + +The professor gathered himself together. "Her name," he said +triumphantly, "Was--is Mary." + +He had done well for himself this time! His questioner was plainly +satisfied with the name Mary. Perhaps lying gets easier as you go on. +He hoped so. + +"My mother's name was Mary," said Desire. "It is a lovely name." + +Spence felt very proud of himself. Not only had he produced a lovely +name in the space of three seconds and a half, but he had also provided +a not-to-be-missed opportunity of changing the subject. + +"I suppose you do not remember your mother," he said tentatively. + +"Oh yes, I do, although I was quite small when she died. Father says I +fancy some of the things I remember. Perhaps I do. I always dream very +vividly. And fact and dream are easily confused in a child's mind. My +most distinct memories are detached, like pictures, without any before +or after to explain them. There is one, for instance, about waking up +in the woods at night, wrapped in my mother's shawl and seeing her +face, all frightened and white, with the moon, like a great, silver +eye, shining through the trees. But I can't imagine why my mother would +be hiding in the woods at night." + +"Why hiding?" + +"There is a sense of hiding that comes with the memory--without +anything to account for it But, although I do not remember connected +incidents very well, I remember her--the feeling of having her with me. +And the terrible emptiness afterwards. If she had gone quite away, all +at once, I couldn't have borne it." + +"Do you mean that she had a long illness?" asked Spence, greatly +interested. + +"No. She died suddenly. It was just--you will call it silly +imagination--" she broke off uncertainly. + +"I might call it imagination without the adjective." + +"Yes. But it wasn't. It was real. The sense, I mean, that she hadn't +gone away. Nothing that wasn't real would have been of the slightest +use." + +"It all depends on how we define reality. What seems real at one time +may seem unreal at another." + +She nodded. + +"That is just what has happened. I am not sure, now. The sense of +nearness left me as I grew up. But at that time, I lived by it. Do you +find the idea absurd?" + +"Why should I? Our knowledge of our own consciousness is the absurdity. +All we know is that our normal waking consciousness is only one special +type. Around it lie potential forms of consciousness entirely +different, and quite as real. Sometimes we, or it, or they, break +through. I am paraphrasing James. Do you know James?" + +"I have read 'Daisy Miller.'" + +"This James was the Daisy Miller man's brother." + +"Did he believe in the possibility of the dead helping the living?" + +"He believed in all kinds of possibilities. But I don't think he +considered that possibility proven." + +"It couldn't be proved, could it?" asked Desire thoughtfully. +"Experiences like that are so intensely individual. One cannot pass +them on." + +"Can you describe yours at all?" + +"Hardly. It was just a feeling of Presence. A sense of her being there. +It came at all sorts of times and in all sorts of places. We lived in +Vancouver when mother died. It was a much smaller town then, not like +the city you have seen. But after her death we moved about a great +deal, never staying very long anywhere, until we came here. There +were--experiences." Her eyes hardened. "But, as long as I had that +sense I am speaking of, I was safe. I used to have long crying fits in +the dark, a kind of blind terror of everything. And after one of them +it nearly always came. I never questioned it. Never once did I ask +myself, 'Is it mother?'. I just knew that it was. There seemed nothing +unusual about it." + +"Was there no one, no woman, to take care of you?" + +"There were--women." Desire's lips tightened into a thin red line. "We +did not travel alone. Once I remember terrifying a--a friend of +father's who was 'looking after' me. She heard me crying in my little, +dark room one night, and as soon as she could slip away, came in. She +was a kindly sort. But when she got there I was quite content and +happy--which surprised her much more than the crying had done. She +asked me what had 'shut me up,' and I said 'My mother is here--go +away.' She turned quite pasty-white and the candle shook so that the +hot grease fell upon my hands." + +"What a life for a child!" exclaimed Spence in sudden rage. "Desire +dear, you must come with me! I couldn't--couldn't leave you here. +I--oh, dash it! I mean, it's so evident, isn't it, that we need each +other?" + +"You really and truly need me?" doubtfully. + +"Really and truly." + +"But if I come, you ought to know something of the life I have lived. +You must realize that I am not an innocent young girl." + +"Aren't you?" The professor found it difficult to say this with the +proper inflection. It did not sound as business-like as he could have +wished. But she was too much absorbed to notice. + +"No. I've seen things which young girls do not see. I have heard things +which are never whispered before them. No one cared particularly what I +saw or heard. When I was smaller there was always someone--some +'housekeeper.' They were all kinds. None of them ever stayed long. +Looking back, it seems as if they passed like lurid shadows. Only one +of them seemed a real person. The others were husks. Her name was Lily. +She was very stout, her face was red and her voice loud. But there was +something real about Lily. And she was fond of children. She liked me. +She went out of her lazy way to teach me wisdom--oh, yes, it was +wisdom," in answer to Spence's horrified exclamation, "hard, sordid +wisdom, the only wisdom which would have helped me through the back +alleys of those days. I am unspeakably grateful to Lily. She spared me +much, and once she saved me--I can't tell you about that," she finished +simply. + +Spence bit his lip on a word to which the expression of his face gave +force and meaning. But Desire was not looking at him. + +"Do you see why I am different from other girls?" She asked gravely. + +The professor restrained himself. "I see that you are different," he +said. "I don't care why. But I'm glad that you have told me what you +have. It explains something that has bothered me--" he paused seeking +words. But she caught up his thought with lightning intuition. + +"You mean it explains why marriage isn't beautiful to me, like it may +be to a sheltered girl? Yes. I wanted you to see that. It may be holy, +but it isn't holy to me. I want to live my life apart from all that. To +me it is smirched and sodden and hateful. And now, do you still wish me +to come and be your secretary?" + +"Now more than ever," said Spence. It was only the sealing of a +business transaction. But greatly to his annoyance he could not +entirely control a certain warmth and eagerness. + +Desire held out a frank hand. + +"Then I will marry you when you are ready," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Being a delayed letter from Dr. John Rogers to his friend and patient, +Benis Hamilton Spence. + +DEAR Idiot: I knew you would get it--and you got it. Perhaps after this +you will learn to treat your sciatic nerve with proper respect. But +there is a worse complaint than sciatica. It lasts longer. Certain +symptoms of it are indicated in the things which your letter leaves +unsaid. Beans, old thing, you alarm me. + +Now here is a sporting offer. If you'll drop it and come home at once +I'll promise never to tell Aunt Caroline. Come the moment you can put +foot to the ground. And, until then, I recommend strict seclusion and +no nursing. Nursing might well be fatal. Stick to Li Ho. He is your +only chance. + +Your Aunt Caroline sends her love. (I told her I was writing you +directions for further treatment). She feels the deprivation of your +letters keenly. She can't see why the writing of a nice, chatty letter +to one's only living Aunt should prove an undue drain upon nervous +energy. Life has taught her not to expect consideration from relatives, +but it does seem hard that her only sister's boy should treat her as if +she were the scarlet fever. To allow himself to be ordered away from +home for a rest cure was certainly less than courteous. To anyone not +understanding the situation it would almost imply that his home was not +restful. And after all the trouble she had taken even to the extent of +strained relations with those Macfarland people who own a rooster. If +the slight had been aimed entirely at herself she could have taken it +silently, but when it included the three or four charming girls whom +she had asked to visit (one at a time) for the purpose of providing +pleasant company, she felt obliged to protest. Although protest, she +knew, was useless. All this, however, she could have borne. The thing +that she could scarcely forgive was the slight offered to his native +town by a departure three days before the set date, thereby turning his +"going away" tea into a "gone away"--an action considered by all +(invited) Bainbridge as a personal insult. + +Pause here for breath. + +To continue. Your Aunt Caroline does not believe in rest cures anyway. +She thinks poultices are much more effective. It stands to reason that +if a thing is in, it ought to come out. Rest cures are just laziness. +But, thank goodness, she never expected anything from the Spence family +but laziness. And she had told her sister so before she married into +it.... + +Allow an hour here for ancestral history with appropriate comment and +another hour for a brief review of your own conduct from youth up and +we come within measurable distance of a few words by me. I took up the +point of the four or five nice girls who had been invited to visit. I +put the whole thing down to shock and pointed out that patience is +required. A return to physical normality, I said, would doubtless bring +with it a reviving interest in the sex. It was indeed very fortunate, I +told her, that you were, at present, indifferent. Any question of +selecting a life partner in your present nervous state would be most +dangerous. Your power of judgment, I pointed out, was temporarily +jarred and out of gear. You might marry anybody. The only safe, the +only humane way, was to give you time to recover yourself. + +"Power of judgment!" said Aunt Caroline. "Do you mean to tell me that +my sister's son is in danger of becoming an idiot?" + +I said not exactly an idiot. Yet your strong disinclination toward +marriage could certainly be traced to a shocked condition of the +nerves. Certain fixed ideas-- + +"Fixed ideas!" said your Aunt. She has a particularly annoying habit of +repeating one's words. "Benis has always had fixed ideas--though when +he was young," she added with satisfaction, "I knew how to unfix them. +If this absurd rest cure can do anything to cure chronic stubbornness, +I've nothing to say. Why, even his father was easier to manage." + +"Benis," I said, "considers himself very like his father." + +"Does he?" retorted your dear Aunt with withering scorn. "He is just as +much like his father as a lemon is like a lobster." + +This ended our conversation. But the effect of it is still with me. +Last night I dreamed of lemons and today I prescribed lobster for a man +with acute dyspepsia. I tell you what, you old shirker, it's up to you +to come home and bear your own Aunt. I'm through. Bones. + +P.S. The office nurse has been changed since you left. I have now Miss +Watkins, returned from overseas. I think you knew her--name of Mary? +Very good looking--almost her only fault. + +P.P.S. What you say about your pleasant old gentle-man with the +umbrella sounds very much like masked epilepsy. Ought to be under +treatment. I should say dangerous. + +S.O.S. Aunt Caroline has just 'phoned to know whether all +letter-writing is barred or if not, wouldn't it be helpful if you were +to drop a line to a few of your young-friends? For herself she expects +nothing, but she does think, etc., etc., etc.! + +Come back! B. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Comprising a lengthy letter from, Benis Spence to John Rogers, M.D. + +DEAR and Venerable Bones: Your fatherly letter came too late. What was +going to happen has happened. But I will be honest and admit that its +earlier arrival would have made no difference. Calm yourself with the +thought that our fates are written upon our foreheads. I have been able +to read mine for some little time now. For there are some things which +are impossible and leaving Desire here was one of them. + +I call her "Desire" to you because it is what you will be calling her +soon. Strange, how that small fact seems to place her' Fancy my +marrying someone whom you would naturally call "Mrs. Spence"? There are +such people. All Aunt Caroline's young friends are like that. You would +say, "I have looked forward to meeting you, Mrs. Spence," and she would +giggle and say, "Oh, Dr. Rogers, I have heard my husband speak of you +so often!" But Desire will say, "So this is John." And then she will +look at you with that detached yet interested look and you will find +yourself saying "Desire" before you think of it. You see, she belongs. + +But before I bring you up to date with regard to recent events, I had +better tell you a few facts about my more remote past. I refer to Mary. +I have already told you that I found a past necessary. At that time I +hoped that something fairly abstract would do. But Desire does not like +abstractions. She likes to "know where she is." So I had to tell her +about Mary. I'll tell you, too, before I forget details and for +heaven's sake get them right! You never can tell when your knowledge +may be needed. In the first place there is the name. I'm rather proud +of that. I had to choose it at a moment's notice and I did not +hesitate. Desire herself says it is a lovely name. And so safe--amn't I +right in the impression that every second girl in Bainbridge and +elsewhere is called Mary? Mary, my Mary, might be anybody. + +Here, then, are the main facts. I have had (pre-war) a serious +attachment. It was an affection tragically misplaced. She did not love +me. She loved another. She may, or may not, have married him. (It would +have been better to have had the marriage certain, but I didn't see it +in time.) I will never care for another woman. Her name was Mary. +Please tabulate this romance where you can put your hand on it. I may +need your help at any time. As a doctor your aid would be invaluable +should it become necessary for Mary to decease. + +And now to leave romance for reality. Your long and lucid discourse on +masked epilepsy was most helpful. It was almost as informing as Li Ho's +diagnosis of "moon-devil." Both have the merit of leaving the inquirer +with an open mind. However--let's get on. If you have had my later +letters you will know that circumstances indicated an elopement. But +the more I thought of eloping, the more I disliked the idea. My father +was not a man who would have eloped. And, in spite of Aunt Caroline's +lobsters and lemons, I am very like my father. "That I have stolen away +this old man's daughter--" Somehow it seemed very Othelloish. I decided +to simply tell Dr. Farr, calmly and reasonably, that Desire and I had +decided to marry. I did tell him. I was calm and reasonable. But he +wasn't. + +There is a bit of sound tactics which says, "Never let the enemy +surprise you." But how is one to keep him from doing it if he insists? +The surer you are that the enemy is going to do a certain thing, the +more surprised you are when he doesn't. Now I felt sure that when Dr. +Farr heard the news he would have a fit. I expected him to use language +and even his umbrella. But nothing of this kind happened. He simply sat +there like a slightly faded and vague old gentleman and said +"So?"--just like that. + +I assured him, as delicately as possible that it was so. + +Then, without warning, he began to weep. John, it was horrible! I can't +describe it. You would have to see his blurred old face and depthless +eyes before you could understand. Tears are healthy, normal things. +They were never meant for faces like his. I must have said something, +in a kind of horror, for he got up suddenly and trotted off into the +woods, without as much as a whisper. + +It looked like an easy victory. But I knew it wasn't. I admit that I +felt rather sorry we had not eloped. Li Ho made me still sorrier. + +"Not much good, you make honorable Boss cly," said Li Ho. "Gettie mad +heap better." + +I felt that, as usual, Li Ho was right. And, just here, let me +interpose that I am quite sure Li Ho can speak perfectly good English +if he wishes. He certainly understands it. I have tried to puzzle him +often by measured and academic speech and never yet has he missed the +faintest shade of meaning. So I did not waste time with Pigeon English. +I told him the facts briefly. + +"Me no likee," said Li Ho. + +"You don't have to," said I. + +Li Ho explained that it was not the contemplated marriage which +received his disapproval but the circumstances surrounding it. "Me +muchy glad Missy get mallied," said he. "Ladies so do, velly nice! When +you depart to go?" + +"Tomorrow," I said. Since we had given up the elopement it seemed more +dignified to wait and depart by daylight. + +Li Ho shook his head. + +"You no wait tomolla," said he, "You go tonight. You go click." + +"We can't go too quickly to suit me," I said. "It is for Miss Desire to +decide." + +"Me tell Missy," he said and hurried away. + +Somehow, Li Ho always knows where to find Desire. She vanishes from my +ken often, but never from his. He must have found her quickly this time +for she came at once. She looked troubled. + +"Li Ho says we had better go tonight," she said. + +"Can you be ready?" + +"Yes. It isn't that. It's just that it would seem more--more sensible +by daylight. But Li Ho says you have told father, and that father +was--upset. He said something about tonight being the full moon. But I +can't see why that should matter. Do you?" + +"Only that it will be easy to cross the Inlet." + +"It can't be that. Li Ho can take the Tillicum' over on the darkest +night. It has something to do with father. He seems to think that the +full moon affects him. And it's true that he often goes off on the +mountain about that time. But I can't see why that should hurry us." + +I did not see it either. And yet I felt that I should like to hurry. + +"We certainly will not go unless you wish," I began. But Li Ho +interrupted me in his colorless way. + +"Alice same go this eveling," he said blandly. "No take 'Tillicum' +tomolla. Velly busy tomolla. Velly busy next day. Velly busy all week." + +"Look here," I said, "you'll do exactly what your mistress tells you." + +His celestial impudence was making me hot. But Desire stopped me. "It's +no use," she explained. "I have really no authority. And he means what +he says. We must go tonight or wait indefinitely." + +I was eager to be gone. But it went against the grain to be hustled off +by a Chinaman. Perhaps my face showed as much, for Desire went on. "You +needn't feel like that about it. He doesn't intend to be impudent. He +probably thinks he has a very real reason for getting us away. And Li +Ho's reasons are liable to be good ones. We had better go." + +The rest of the day was uneventful, save for the incident of Sami. I +think I told you about Sami, didn't I? A kind of brown familiar who +follows Desire about. He is a baby Indian as much a part of the +mountain as the leaping squirrels and not nearly so tame. He is the one +thing here that I think Desire is sorry to leave. And for this reason I +hoped he wouldn't appear before we were gone. I had done all my +packing--easy enough since I had scarcely unpacked--and I could hear +Desire moving about doing hers. The place seemed particularly peaceful. +I could, have felt almost sorry to leave my cool, bare room with its +tree-stump for a table and all the forest just outside. But as I sat +there by the window there came upon me, for the second time that day, a +mounting hurry to be gone. There was nothing to account for it, but I +distinctly felt an inward "Hurry! Hurry!" So propelling was it that +only the knowledge that the "Tillicum" would not float until high tide +kept me from finding Desire and begging her to come away at once. I did +go so far as to wander restlessly down into the garden where she had +gone to feed the chickens. Perhaps I would have gone farther and +mentioned my misgivings but just then Sami came and I forgot all about +them. I don't believe I have ever seen any child so frightened as that +little Indian! He simply fell through the bushes behind the chicken +house and shot, like a small, brown catapult, into Desire's arms. His +round face was actually grey with fear. And he huddled in her big apron +shivering, for all the world like some terrified animal. + +Naturally the first thing to do was to get the thing that had +frightened him. An axe seemed a likely weapon, so, picking it up, I +slid into the bushes at the point where Sami had come out of them. + +Perfect serenity was there! The afternoon light lay golden on the moss +above the fallen trees. No hidden scurrying in the underbrush told of +wild, wood things hastening to safety from some half-sensed danger. No +broken branches or trampled earth told of any past or present struggle. +There was no trace of any fearsome creature having passed along that +peaceful trail. + +I searched thoroughly and found nothing. On my way back to the clearing +I met Li Ho. + +'"Find anything, Li Ho?" I asked eagerly. + +The Celestial grinned. + +"Find honorable self," said he. "Missy she send. Missy heap scared +along of you." + +"Nonsense!" I said. "I can take care of myself. Even if it had been a +bear, I had an axe." + +"Bear!" said Li Ho. And then he laughed. Did you ever hear a Chinaman +laugh? I never had. Not this Chinaman anyway. It was so startling that +I forgot what I was saying. Next moment I could have sworn that he had +not laughed at all. + +We found Sami, much comforted, sitting upon Desire's lap, a thing he +could seldom be induced to do. At our entrance he began to shiver again +but soon quieted. Desire had tried questioning but it was of no use. He +either couldn't, or wouldn't, say anything about what had frightened +him. Desire was inclined to think that he did not know. But I was not +so sure. It's a fairly well established fact that children simply can't +speak of certain terrors. And the more frightened they are the more +powerful is the inhibition. In any case it was useless to question Sami +so we fed him instead and presently he went to sleep. + +I suppose we all forgot him. I know I did. One doesn't elope every day. +And it was never Sami's way to insist upon his presence as ordinary +children do. Li Ho departed to tinker with the "Tillicum" and +afterwards returned to give us a late supper. Desire kept out of my +way. One might almost have thought that she was shy--if so, a most +perplexing development. For why should she feel shy? It wasn't as if we +had not put the whole affair on a perfectly business basis. Perhaps +there is some elemental magic in names, so that, to a woman, the very +word "marriage" has power to provoke certain nervous reactions? + +However that may be, even Desire forgot Sami. We left the house just as +the clearing began to grow brighter with light from the still hidden +moon, and we were halfway down to the boat landing before anyone +thought of him. Oddly enough it was I who remembered. "Sami!" I +exclaimed, with a little throb of nameless fear. "We have forgotten +Sami." + +Desire, I thought, looked surprised and somewhat vexed at her +oversight. But displayed no trace of the consternation which had +suddenly fallen on me. + +"He is all right," she said. "He will sleep till morning unless his +mother comes for him." + +"Where you leave um?" asked Li Ho briefly. He had already set down the +bag he was carrying. + +"In my own bed." + +"Me go get!" said Li Ho. + +But I had not waited. I had started to "go get" myself. The sense of +breathless hurry was on me again. I did not pause to argue that the +child was perfectly safe. I forgot that I had ever been lame. Perhaps +that sciatic nerve is only mortal mind anyway. When I came out into the +clearing the cottage was turning silver in the first rays of the full +moon. Very peaceful and secure it looked. And yet I hurried! + +I made no noise. To myself I explained this by a desire not to waken +the youngster. No use frightening him. I stole, as quietly as one of +his own ancestors, to the foot of the stairs. The door of Desire's room +was open. I could see a moonlit bar across the dark landing.... + +I think I went straight up that stair. I hope so. You know that one of +my worst nervous troubles has been a dread that I might fail in some +emergency? I dread a sort of nerve paralysis.... But I got up the +stair. The fear that seemed to push me back wasn't personal, or +physical--one might call it psychic fear, only that the word explains +nothing.... I looked in at the open door. There seemed to be nothing +there but the moonlight. The room must have been almost as bare as my +own. But over on the far side, beyond the zone of the window, was the +dim whiteness of a bed. I could see nothing clearly--but the Fear was +there. I dragged, actually dragged, my feet across the floor--my sight +growing clearer, until at last--I saw! + +I think I shouted, but it was so like a nightmare that I may not have +made a sound.... The dragging weight must have left my feet as I +sprang forward ... but it is all confused! And the whole thing lasted +only a minute. + +In that minute I had seen what I would have sworn was not human. Even +while I knew It for the little old man with the umbrella, I had no +sense of its humanness. Something bent above the bed--the old man's +face was there, the thin figure, the white hair, and yet it seemed the +wildest absurdity to call the Fury who wore them by any human name. + +The eyes looked at me--eyes without depth or meaning--eyes like bits of +blue steel reflecting the light of Tophet--, incarnate evil, blazing, +peering ... I caught a glimpse of long, thin hands, like claws, +around the folded umbrella, a flash of something bright at the ferrule +... and then the picture dissolved like an image passing from a dimly +lighted screen. Before I could skirt the bed, whatever had been upon +the other side of it had melted into the darkness beyond the moon. I +bent over the bed. Sami was there--Sami, rolled shapelessly in the +concealing bedclothes, his round face hidden in the pillow, his black +hair just a blot of darkness on the white.... It might have been +Desire lying there! ... + +I found the door through which the Thing had slipped. But it was +useless to try to follow. There was no one in the house nor in the +moonlit clearing. And Desire and Li Ho were waiting on the trail. I +picked up the still sleeping child and blundered down to them. + +It seemed incredible to hear Desire's laugh. + +"Good gracious!" she said. "You're carrying him upside down." + +She had had no hint of danger. But with Li Ho it was different. He fell +back beside me when Desire had relieved me of the child. I could feel +his inscrutable eyes upon my face. + +"You see um," said Li Ho. It was an assertion, not a question. + +I nodded. + +"No be scare," muttered he. "Missy all safe. Everything all safe now. +Li Ho go catch um. Li Ho catch um good. All light--tomolla." + +"You mean you can manage him and he'll be all right tomorrow?" I said. +"But--what is it!" + +The Celestial shrugged. + +"Muchy devil maybe. Muchy moon-devil, plaps. Velly bad." + +"There's a knife in that umbrella, Li Ho." + +But though his eyes looked blandly into mine, I couldn't tell whether +this was news to Li Ho or not.... + +Well, that's the story. I've written it down while it's fresh, sparing +comment. Desire sang as we crossed the Inlet; little, low snatches of +song with a hint of freedom in them. She had made her choice and it is +never her way to look back. The old "Tillicum" rattled and chugged and +the damp crept in around our feet. But the water was a path of gold and +the sky a bowl of silver--and as an example of present day elopements +it had certainly been fairly exciting. + +Yours, Benis. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Desire Spence bent earnestly over the writing pad which lay open upon +her knee. + +"Mrs. Benis Hamilton Spence," she wrote. And then: + +"Mrs. B. Hamilton Spence." + +And then: + +"Mrs. Benis H. Spence." + +Over this last she sucked her pencil thoughtfully. + +"One more!" prompted her husband encouragingly. "Don't decide before +you inspect our full line of goods." + +"Initials, only, lack character," objected Desire. "There is nothing +distinctive about 'Mrs. B. H. Spence'. It doesn't balance well, either. +I think I'll decide upon the 'Benis H.' I like it--although I have +never heard of 'Benis' as a name before." + +"You are not supposed to have heard of it," explained its owner +complacently. "It is a very exclusive name, a family name. My mother's +paternal grandmother was a Benis." + +Desire was not attending. "Your nickname, too, is odd," she mused. "How +on earth could anyone make 'Beans' out of 'Benis Hamilton?'" + +"Very easily--but how did you know that anyone had?" + +"Oh, from a touching inscription on one of your books, 'To Beans--from +Bones.'" + +"Well--there's a whole history in that. It happened by a well defined +process of evolution. When I went to school I had to have a name. A +school boy's proper name is no good to him. Proper names are simply not +done. But the christening party found my combination rather a handful. +No one could do anything with Benis and the obvious shortening of +Hamilton was considered too Biblical. 'Ham', however, suggested +'Piggy'. This might have done had there not already existed a 'Piggy' +with a prior right. 'Piggy' suggested 'Pork', but 'Pork' isn't a name. +'Pork' suggested 'Beans'. And once more behold the survival of the +fittest." + +Desire laughed. + +The professor listened to her laugh with a strained expression which +relaxed when no words followed it. + +"I was afraid," he admitted penitently, "that you might want to know +why 'Pork' is not as much a name as 'Beans'." + +"But--it isn't." + +"Quite so. Only you are the first member of your delightful sex who has +ever perceived it. You are a perceptive person, Mrs. Spence." + +It was the fourth day of their Business Honeymoon. Four days ago they +had landed from the cheerful little coast steamer whose chattering load +of summer campers they had left behind on the route. For four +sun-bright days and dew-sweet nights they had found themselves sole +possessors of a bay so lovely that it seemed to have emerged bodily +from a green and opal dream. + +"'Friendly Bay,' they calls it," a genial deckhand told them, grinning. +"But you folks will be the only friends anywheres about. There's a sort +of farm across the point, though, and maybe you could hit the trail by +climbing, if you get too fed up with the scenery." + +"Oh, we shan't want any company," said the new Mrs. Spence +innocently--a remark so disappointing in its unembarrassed frankness +that the deck-hand lost interest and decided that they were "just +relations" after all. + +They had carried their camp with them, and, from where they now sat, +they could see its canvas gleaming ivory white against its background +of green. Desire's eyes, as she raised them from her name-building, +lingered upon it proudly. It was such a wonderful camp!--her first +experience of what money, unconsidered save as a purchasing agent, can +do. Even her personal outfit was something of a revelation. How +deliciously keen and new was this consciousness of clothes--the smart +high-laced boots, the soft, sand-colored coat and skirt, the knickers +which felt so easy and so trim, the cool, silk shirt with its wide +collar, the dainty, intimate things beneath! She would have been less +than woman, had the possession of these things failed to meet some +need,--some instinct, deep within, which her old, bare life had daily +mortified. + +And it had all been so easy, so natural! How could she ever have +hesitated to make the change? Even her pride was left to her, intact. +He, her friend, had given and she had taken, but in this there had been +no spoiling sense of obligation, for, presently, she too was to give +and to give unstintedly: new strength and skill seemed already tingling +in her firm, quick hands; new vigor and inspiration stirred in her +eager brain--and both hands and brain were to be her share of +giving--her partnership offering in this pact of theirs. She was eager, +eager to begin. + +But already they had been four days in camp without a beginning. So far +they had not even looked for the trail which was to lead them to the +cabin of Hawk-Eye Charlie whose store of Indian lore had been the +reason for their upcoast journey. This delay of the expeditionary party +was due to no fault of its secretary. During the past four days she had +proposed the search for the trail four times, one proposal per day. And +each day the chief expeditioner had voted a postponement. The chief +expeditioner was lazy. At least that was the excuse he made. And +Desire, who was not lazy, might have fretted at the inaction had she +believed him. But she knew it was not laziness which had drawn certain +new lines about the expeditioner's mouth and deepened the old ones on +his forehead. It was not laziness which lay behind the strained look in +his eyes and the sudden return of his almost vanished limp. These +things are not symptoms of indolence. They are symptoms of nerves. And +Desire knew something of nerves. What she did not know, in the present +case, was their exciting cause. Neither could she understand this new +reticence on the part of their victim nor his reluctance to admit the +obvious. She puzzled much about these problems while the lazy one +rested in the sun and the quiet, golden days wrought the magic of their +cure. + +And Spence, mere man that he was, fancied that she noticed nothing. The +pleasant illusion hastened his recovery. It tended to restore a +complacency, rudely disturbed by an enforced realization of his own +back-sliding. He had been quite furious upon discovering that the +"little episode" of the moonlit cottage had filched from him all his +new won strength and nervous stamina, leaving him sleepless and +unstrung, ready to jump at the rattling of a stone. More and more, +there grew in him a fierce disdain of weakness and a cold determination +to beat Nature at her own game. Let him once again be "fit" and wily +indeed would be the trick which would steal his fitness from him. + +Meanwhile, laziness was as good a camouflage as anything and lying on +the grass while Desire chose her name was pleasant in the extreme. + +"Names," murmured the lazy one dreamily, "are things. When a thing is +'named true' its name and itself become inseparable and identical. That +is why all magic is wrought by names. It becomes simply a matter of +knowing the right ones." + +"Is that a very new idea, or a very old one?" + +"All ideas are ageless, so it must be both." + +"I wonder how they named things in the very, very first?" mused Desire. +"Did they just sit in the sun, as we are sitting, and think and think, +until suddenly--they knew?" + +"Very likely. There is a legend that, in the beginning, everything was +named true--fire, water, earth, air--so that the souls of everything +knew their names and were ruled by those who could speak them. But, as +the race grew less simple and more corrupt, the true names were +obscured and then lost altogether. Only once or twice in all the ages +has come some master who has known their secret--such, perhaps, as He +who could speak peace to the wind and walk upon the sea and change the +water into wine." + +Desire nodded. "Yes," she said. "It feels like that--as if one had +forgotten. Sometimes when I have been in the woods alone or drifting +far out on the water, where there was no sound but its own voice, it +has seemed as if I had only to think--hard--hard--in order to remember! +Only one never does." + +"But one may--there is always the chance. I fancied I was near it +once--in a shell hole. The stars were big and close and the earth +seemed light and ready to float away. I almost had it then--my lips +were just moving upon some mighty word--but someone came. They found me +and carried me in ... I say, the sun is climbing up, let's follow it." + +Hand in hand they followed the line of the sinking sun up the slippery +slope. They both knew where they were going, for every evening of their +stay they had wandered there to sit awhile in the little deserted +Indian burying-ground which lay, white fenced and peaceful, facing the +flaming west. When they had found it first it had seemed to give the +last touch of beauty to that beautiful place. + +"It is so different," said Desire, searching carefully, as was her way, +for the proper word. "It is so--so beautifully dead. It ought to be +like that," she went on thoughtfully. "I never realized before why our +cemeteries are so sad--it is because we will not let them really +die--we dress them up with flowers--a kind of ghastly life in death. +But this--" + +They looked around them at the little white-fenced spot with its great +centre cross, grey and weather-beaten, and all its smaller crosses +clustering round. There was warmth here, the warmth of sun upon a +western slope. There was life, too, the natural life of grass and vine, +the cheerful noise of birds and squirrels and bees. And, for color, +there were harmonies in all the browns and greens and yellows of the +rocky soil. + +"Let us sit here. They won't mind. They are all sleeping so happily," +Desire had declared. "And the crosses make it seem like one large +family--see how that wild rose vine has spread itself over a whole +group of graves! It is so friendly." + +Spence had fallen in with her humor, and had come indeed to love this +place where even the sun paused lingeringly before the mountains +swallowed it up. + +This afternoon he flung himself down beside their favorite rose-vine +with the comfortable sense of well-being which comes with returning +health. Even more than Desire, he wondered that he had ever hesitated +before an arrangement so eminently satisfying. If ever events had +justified an impulse, his impulse, he felt, had been justified. He +stole a glance at Desire as she sat in pleasant silence gazing into the +sunset. She was happier already, and younger. Something of that hard +maturity was fading from her eyes--the tiny dented corners of her lips +were softer.... Oh, undoubtedly he had done the right thing! And +everything had run so smoothly. There had been no trouble. No unlocked +for Nemesis had dogged his steps even in the matter of that small +strategy concerning his unhappy past. He had been unduly worried about +that, owing probably to early copy-book aphorisms. Honesty is the best +policy. Yes, but--nothing had happened. Mary, bless her, was already +only a memory. She had played her part and slipped back into the void +from whence she came. He could forget her very name with impunity. A +faint smile testified to a conscience lulled to warm security. + +But security is a dangerous thing. It tempts the fates. Even while our +strategist smiled, the girl who sat so silently beside him was +wondering about that smile--and other things. He was much better, she +reflected, if he could find his passing thoughts amusing. Amusement at +one's own fancies is a healthy sign. And today she had noticed, also, +that his laziness was almost natural. Perhaps it might be safe now to +say what she had made up her mind should be said. But not too abruptly. +When next she spoke it was merely to continue their previous discussion. + +"Do you think people may have 'true' names, too?" she asked presently. +"Just ordinary people, like you and me?" + +Spence nodded. "Always noting," he added, "that you and I are not +ordinary people." + +"Then if anyone knew another's true name, and used it, the other could +not help responding?" + +"Um-m. I suppose not." + +"Perhaps that is what love is," said Desire. + +Even then no presentiment of coming trouble stirred beneath Spence's +dangerous serenity. Perhaps it was because the air had made him +comfortably drowsy. He merely nodded, deftly swallowing a yawn. Desire +went on: + +"Then love is only complete understanding?" + +"Always thought it might be some trifle like that," murmured the drowsy +one. "But don't ask me. How should I know? That is," rousing hastily, +"I do know, of course. And it is. There's a squirrel eating your hat." + +Desire changed the position of the hat. But the subject remained and +she resumed it dreamily. + +"Then in order that it might be quite complete, the understanding would +have to be mutual. If only one loved, there would always be a lack." + +"Not a doubt of it!" said Spence firmly. + +"Well, then--don't you see?" + +"See? See what? That squirrel's eating your hat again." + +"Go away!" said Desire to the squirrel. And, when it had gone, "Don't +you see?" she repeatedly gravely. + +The professor always loved her gravity. And he had not seen. He was, in +fact, almost asleep. "You tell me," he said, rushing upon destruction. + +Then Desire said what she had made up her mind to say. He never knew +exactly what it was because before she actually said the word "Mary," +he was too sleepy, and afterwards he was too dazed. + +Mary! The word went through him like an electric shock. It tingled to +his criminal toes. It whirled through his cringing brain like a +pinwheel suddenly lighted. It exploded like a bomb in the recesses of +his false content. + +Desire was talking about Mary! Talking about her in that frank and +unembarrassed way which he had always admired. But good heavens! didn't +she realize that Mary was dead and buried? No. She evidently did not. +Far from it. When he was able to listen intelligently once more, Desire +was saying: + +"... and, to a man like you, philosophy should be such a help. I feel +you will be far, far less unhappy if you do not shut yourself up with +your memories. Do you suppose I have not noticed how nervous and worn +out you have been since the night we came away? Why have you tried to +hide it?" + +"I haven't--" + +"Yes you have. Please, please don't quibble. And hidden things are so +dangerous. It isn't as if I would not understand. You ought to give me +credit for a little knowledge of human nature. I knew perfectly well +that when you married me--you would think of Mary. You could hardly +help it." + +The professor sat up. He was not at all sleepy now. Mary had "murdered +sleep." But he was still dazed. + +"Wait a moment." He raised a restraining hand. "Let me get this right. +You say you have noticed a certain lack of energy in my manner of late?" + +"Anyone must have noticed it." + +"But I explained it, didn't I?" + +"Yes?" The slight smile on Desire's lips was sufficient comment on the +explanation. The professor began to feel injured. + +"Then I gather, further, that you do not accept the explanation?" + +"Don't be cross! How could I? I have eyes. And my point is simply that +there is no need for any concealment between us. You promised that we +should be friends. Friends help friends when they are in trouble." + +The professor rumpled his hair The pinwheel in his brain was slowing +down. Already the marvelous something which accepts and adjusts the +unexpected was hard at work restoring order. Mary was not dead. He had +to reckon with Mary. Very well, let Mary look to her-self. Let her +beware how she harassed a desperate man! Let her--but he was not pushed +to extremes yet. + +"I thought," he said slowly, "that we had tacitly agreed not to reopen +this subject." + +Desire looked surprised. + +"And I still think that it would be better, much better to ignore it +altogether." + +"Oh, but it wouldn't," said Desire. "See how dreadfully dumpy you have +been since Friday." + +"I have not been dumpy. But supposing I have, there may be other +reasons. What if I can honorably assure you that I have not been +thinking of the past at all?" + +"Then I should want to know what you have been thinking of." + +"But supposing I were to go further and say that my thoughts are my own +property?" + +"That would be horridly rude, don't you think? And you are not at all a +rude person. If you'll risk it, I will." + +Her smile was insufferably secure. + +"You are willing to risk a great deal," snapped Spence. "But if it's +truth you want--" + +He almost confessed then. The temptation to slay Mary with a few well +chosen words almost overpowered him. But he looked at the expectant +face beside him and faltered. Mary would not die alone. With her would +die this newborn comradeship. And Desire's smile, though insufferable, +was sweet. How would it feel to see that bright look change and pale to +cold dislike? Already in imagination he shivered under the frozen anger +of that frank glance. + +He could not risk it! + +Should he then, ignoring Mary, ascribe his symptoms to their true +cause? By dragging out the horror of that moonlit night, he could +account for any vagary of nerves. But that way of escape was equally +impossible. He could not let that shadow fall across her path of +new-found freedom. Nor would he, in any case, gain much by such +postponement. The wretched professor began to realize that the devil is +indeed the father of lies and that he who sups with him needs a long +spoon. + +Meanwhile, Desire was waiting. + +He felt that he would like to shake her--sitting there with untroubled +air and face like an inquiring sphinx--to shake her and kiss her and +tell her that there wasn't any Mary and--he brought himself up with a +start. What nonsense was this! + +"Look here," he said irritably, "you are all wrong. You really are. +It's perfectly true I've been feeling groggy. But there doesn't have to +be a reason for that, unfortunately. Old Bones warned me that I might +expect all kinds of come-backs. But I'm almost right again now. Another +day or two of this heavenly place and I shan't know that I have a +nerve." + +"Yes," critically. "You are better. I should say that the worst was +over." + +"I'm sure it is. Supposing we leave it at that." + +Desire smiled her shadowy smile. "Very well. But I wanted you to know +that I understand. It's so silly to go on pretending not to see, when +one does see. And it's only natural that things should seem more +poignant for a time. Only you will recover much more quickly if you +adopt a sensible attitude. I do not say, 'do not think of Mary,' I say +'think of her openly.'" + +"How," said Spence, "does one think openly?" + +"One talks." + +"You wish me to talk of Mary?" + +"It will be so good for you!" warmly. + +They looked for a moment into each other's eyes. And Spence was +conscious of a second shock. Was there, was there the faintest glint of +something which was not all sympathy in those grey depths of hers? +Before his conscious mind had even formulated the question, his other +mind had asked and answered it, and, with the lightning speed of the +subconscious, had acted. The professor became aware of a complete +change of outlook. His remorse and timidity left him. His brain worked +clearly. + +"Very well," said the professor. + +The worm had turned! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Mornings are beautiful all over the earth but Nature keeps a special +kind of morning for early summer use at Friendly Bay. In sudden +clearness, in chill sweetness, in almost awful purity there is no other +morning like it. It wrings the human soul quite clear of everything +save wonder at its loveliness. + +Desire never bathed until the sun was up, not because she feared the +dawn-cold water but because she would not stir the unbroken beauty of +its opal tide. With the first rays of the sun, the spell would break, +the waves would dance again, the gulls would soar and dip, the crabs +would scuttle across the shining sand, the round wet head of a friendly +seal would pop up here and there to say good-morning. Then, Desire +would swim--far out--so far that Spence, watching her, would feel his +heart contract. He could not follow her--yet. But he never begged her +not to take the risk, if risk there were. Why should she lose one happy +thrill in her own joyous strength because he feared? Better that she +should never come back from these long, glorious swims than that he +should have held her from them by so much as a gesture. + +And she always did come back, glowing, dripping, laughing, her head as +sleek as a young seal's, salt upon her lips and on her wave-whipped +cheek. Spence, whose swims were shorter and more sedate, would usually +have breakfast ready. + +But upon this particular morning Desire loitered. Though the smell of +bacon was in the air, she sat pensively in the shallows of an outgoing +tide and flung shells at the crabs. She would have told you that she +was thinking. But had she used the word "feeling" she would have been +nearer the truth. And the thing which she obscurely felt was that +something had mysteriously altered for the worse in a world which, of +late, had shown remarkable promise. It was a small thing. She hardly +knew what it was. Merely a sense of dissonance somewhere. + +Whatever it was, it had not been there yesterday. Yesterday morning she +had felt no desire to sit in the shallows and throw shells at crabs. +Yesterday morning her mind had been full of that happy inconsequence +which feels no need of thought. Today was different. Mentally she shook +herself with some irritation. "What is the matter with you?" she asked. +But the self she addressed seemed oddly reluctant. "Come now," said +Desire, hitting an especially big crab, "out with it! There's no use +pretending that you don't know." Thus adjured, the self offered one +single and sulky word. The word was "Mary." "Oh, nonsense!" said Desire +hastily. + +But there it was. She had forced the answer and had to make the best of +it. Her memory trailed back. Once started, it had small difficulty in +tracking her dissatisfaction to its real beginning. Everything, it +reminded her, had been perfect until she and Benis had sat upon the +hill in the sunset and talked about Mary. Something had happened then. +Like a certain ancestress she had coveted the fruit of knowledge and +knowledge had been given her. Not at once--Benis had at first been +distinctly reluctant--but by gentle persistence she had won through his +cool reserve. Abruptly and without visible reason, his attitude had +changed. He had said in that drawling voice of his, "You wish me to +talk about Mary?" And then, suddenly, he had talked. + +He had told her several things. The color of Mary's hair, for instance. +Her hair was yellow. Benis had been insistent in pointing out that when +he said "yellow" he did not mean goldish or bronze, or fawn-colored or +tow-colored or Titian, but just yellow. "Do you see that patch of sky +over there where the mountain dips?" he had said. "Mary's hair was +yellow, like that." + +That patch of sky, as Desire remembered it, was very beautiful. Quite +too beautiful to be compared to any-one's hair. No doubt it was only in +Benis's imagination that Mary's hair was anything like it. + +But nevertheless it was there that the world had gone wrong. It was +while Benis had sat gazing into that patch of amber sky that Desire, +gazing too, had, for the first time, realized the Other. Up until then, +Mary had been an abstraction--thenceforth she was a personality. That +made all the difference. Desire, throwing shells at crabs, admitted +that, for her, there had been no Mary until she had heard that her hair +was yellow. + +It was ridiculous but it was true. Mary without hair had been a gentle +and retiring shade. A phantom in whom it had been possible to take an +academic interest. But no shade has a right to hair like an amber +sunset. Desire threw a shell viciously. Very little more, she felt, and +she would positively dislike Mary! + +She jumped up and stamped in the shallow water. The crabs, big and +little, scuttled away. + +"Hurr-ee!" called the professor waving a frying-pan. + +"Com-ing!" Desire's voice rose gaily. For the present, her small +dissatisfaction vanished with the crabs. + +"This coffee has been made ten minutes," grumbled the +getter-of-breakfast with a properly martyred air. "Whatever were you +doing?" + +"Thinking." + +"It isn't done. Not before breakfast." + +"I was thinking," fibbed Desire, "that I have never been so spoiled in +my life and that it can't go on. My domestic conscience is beginning to +murmur. As soon as we are at home, you will be expected to stay in bed +until you smell the coffee coming up the stairs." + +"Aunt Caroline," said the professor, "does not believe in coffee for +breakfast, except on Sunday." + +"I do." + +"Eh? Oh--I see. Well, I'll put my money on you. Only I hope you aren't +really set on making it yourself. Because the cook would leave.'" + +"Good gracious! Do we have a cook?" + +"We do. At least, we did. Also a maid. But maids, I understand, are +greatly diminished. There appear to have been tragedies in Bainbridge. +Have you eaten sufficient bacon to listen calmly to an extract from +Aunt Caroline's last? Sit tight, then-- + +"'As to what the world is coming to in the matter of domestic +service,'" writes Aunt Caroline, "I do not know. I do not wish to worry +you, Benis, but as you will be marrying some day, in spite of that +silly doctor of yours who insists that it's not to be thought of, you +may as well be conversant with the situation. To put it briefly--I have +been without competent help for two weeks. You know, dear boy, that I +am easily satisfied. I expect very little from anyone. But I think that +I am entitled to prompt and willing service. That, at the very least! +Yet I must tell you that Mabel, my cook, has left me most ungratefully +after only three months' notice! She is to be married to Bob Summers, +the plumber. (Lieutenant Robert Summers, since the war, if you please!) +Well, she can never say I did not warn her. I did not mince matters. I +told her exactly what married life is, and why I have never tried it. +But the foolish girl is beyond advice. I have had two cooks since +Mabel, but one insisted upon whistling in the kitchen and the other +served omelette made with one egg. My wants are trifling, as you know, +but one cannot abrogate all personal dignity--' + +"Do you get the subtle connection between the one egg and Aunt +Caroline's personal dignity?" asked Spence with anxiety. "Because if +you don't, I'll never be able to ask you to live in Bainbridge. I may +as well confess now that it was only my serene confidence in your sense +of humor which permitted me to marry you at all. I should never have +dared to offer Aunt Caroline as an 'in-law' to anyone who couldn't see +a joke." + +"You are very fond of her all the same," said Desire shrewdly. "And +though she expects very little from anyone, she evidently adores you. +She can't be all funny. There must be an Aunt Caroline, deep down, that +is not funny at all. I think I'm rather afraid of her. Only you have so +often said that she wished you to get married--" + +"Excuse me, my dear. What I said was, 'Aunt Caroline wished to get me +married.' The position of the infinitive is the important thing. Aunt +Caroline never intended me to do it all by myself." + +"Oh. Then, in that case, she may resent your having done it." + +"Resent," cheerfully, "is a feeble word. It doesn't express Aunt +Caroline at all." + +"You take it calmly." + +"Well, you see I've got you to fight for me now." + +They looked at each other over the empty coffee cups and laughed. + +It is easy to laugh on a fine morning. But if they had known where Aunt +Caroline was at that moment--how-ever, they didn't. + +"Once," said Spence "my Aunt read a book upon Eugenics. I don't know +how it happened. It was one of those inexplicable events for which no +one can account. It made a deep impression. She has studied me ever +since with a view to scientific matrimony. Alas, my poor relative!" + +"I once read a book upon Eugenics, too," said Desire with a reminiscent +smile. "It seemed sensible. Of course I was not personally interested +and that always makes a difference. One thing occurred to me, +though--it didn't seem to give Nature credit for much judgment." + +Benis chuckled. "No, it wouldn't. Terrible old blunderer, Nature! +Always working for the average. Never seems to have heard the word +'specialize.' We've got her there." + +"Then you think--" + +"Oh no," hastily, "I don't. I observe results with interest, that is +all." + +Desire began to collect the breakfast dishes. "That was where the book +seemed weak," she said thoughtfully. "It hadn't much to say about +results. It dealt mostly with consequences. They," she added after a +pause, "were rather frightening." + +The professor glanced at her sharply. Had she been worrying over this? +Had she connected it with that dreadful old man whom she called father? +But her face was quite untroubled as she went on. + +"I think they've missed something, though," she said. "There must be +something more than the things they tabulate. Some subtle force of life +which isn't physical at all. Something that uses physical things as +tools. If its tools are fine, it will do finer work, but if its tools +are blunt it will work with them anyway. And it gets things done." + +"By Jove!" said Spence. This was one of Desire's "windows with a view." +He was always stumbling upon them. But he knew she was shy of comment. +"We'll tell Aunt Caroline that," he murmured hopefully. "It may +distract her mind." ... + +That day they found and followed the trail to the shack of Hawk-Eye +Charlie. It proved to be neither long nor arduous. The professor +managed it with ease. But he would have been quite unable to manage the +hawk-eyed one without the expert aid of his secretary. To his +unaccustomed mind their quarry was almost witless and exceedingly +dirty. But Desire knew her Indian. + +"It isn't what he is, but what he knows," she explained. "And he has a +retiring nature." + +So very retiring was it that only fair words, aided by tactful displays +of tea and tobacco, could penetrate its reservations. Desire was quite +unhurried. But presently she began to extract bits of carefully hidden +knowledge. It had to be slow work, for, witless as he of the hawk-eye +seemed, he was well aware of the value (in tobacco) of a wise +conservation. He who babbles all he knows upon first asking is a fool. +But he who withholds beyond patience is a fool also. Was it not so? +Desire agreed that a middle course is undoubtedly the path of wisdom. +She added, carelessly, that the white-man-who-wished-stories was in no +hurry. Neither had he come seeking much for little. Payment would be +made strictly on account of value received. The tea was good. And the +tobacco exceptionally strong, as anyone could tell from a distance. Why +then should the hawk-eyed one delay his own felicity? + +This hastened matters considerably and the secretary's note-book was +soon busy. Spence felt his oldtime keenness revive. And Desire was +happy for was not this her work at last? It was a profitable day. +Should anyone care to know its results, and the results of others like +it, they may look up chapter six, section two, of Spence's Primitive +Psychology, unabridged edition. Here they will find that the fables of +Hawk-Eye Charlie, properly classified and commented upon, have added +considerably to our knowledge of a fascinating subject. But far be it +from us to steal the professor's thunder. We are not writing a book +upon primitive psychology. We are interested only in the sigh of +pleasurable satisfaction with which the professor's secretary closed +her fat note-book and called it a day. + +From that point our interest leads us back to camp along the trail +through the warm June woods with the late sunlight hanging like golden +gauze behind the fretted screens of green. We are interested in sunsets +and in basket suppers eaten in the dim coolness of a miniature canyon +through which rushed and tumbled an icy stream from, the snow peaks far +above. We are interested in a breathless race with a chattering +squirrel during which Desire's hair came down--a bit of glorious autumn +in the deep green wood--and the tying of it up again (a lengthy +process) by the professor with cleverly plaited stems of tender +bracken. All these trifles interest us because, to those two who knew +them, they remained fresh and living memories when the note-book and +its contents were buried in the dust of yesterday. + +It was twilight when they came out of the wood. The sun had gone and +taken its golden trappings with it. A clear, still light was everywhere +and, in the brilliant green of the far sky, a pale star shone. They +watched it brighten as the green grew dark. A wonderful purple blueness +spread upon the distant hills. + +Desire sighed happily. + +"It is the end of the first day of real work," she said. "The end and +the beginning." + +Her companion, usually like wax to her moods, made no answer. He did +not seem to hear. His gaze seemed drowned in that wonderful blue. +Desire, who had been unaccountably content, felt suddenly lonely and +disturbed. + +"What is it?" she asked. Her voice had fallen from its glad note. She +put out her hand, touching his coat sleeve timidly. It was the first +time she had ever touched him save in service. But if her touch brought +a thrill there was no> sign of it. Her voice dropped still lower, "What +are you thinking of?" she almost whispered. + +The professor did not answer. Instead he turned to her with a sad +smile. (Very well done, too!) + +Desire dropped her hand with a sharp exclamation. "Oh," she said, "I +forgot! You were thinking--" + +The professor's smile smote her. + +"Her eyes were blue like that!" he said. + +Desire tripped over a fallen branch. And, when she recovered herself, +"Purple, do you mean?" she asked. "I have always thought purple eyes +were a myth." + +"Now you are making fun," said the professor after a reproachful pause. + +"How do you mean--making fun?" + +"'I never saw a purple cow,'" quoted he patiently. + +"Oh, I wasn't!" cried Desire in distress. + +Spence begged her pardon. But he did it abstractedly. His eyes were +still upon the sky. + +"You'll fall over that root," prophesied she grimly. "Do look where you +are going!" + +The professor returned to earth with difficulty. "Sorry!" he murmured. +"I doubt if I should allow these moods to bother you. But you told me +it might do me good to talk." + +"Not all the time!" said Desire a trifle tartly. + +He looked surprised. "But--" he began. + +"Oh, I'm so hungry!" said Desire. "Do let's hurry." + +She hastened ahead down the slope towards the camp. The tents lay in +the shadow now but, as they neared them, a flickering light shot up as +if in welcome. Desire paused. + +"Someone lighting a fire!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Who can it be?" + +Against the glow of the new-lit blaze a tall figure lifted itself and a +clear whistle cut the silence of the Bay. + +Spence's graceful melancholy dropped from him like a forgotten cloak. + +"Bones!" he gasped in an agitated whisper. "Oh, my prophetic soul, my +doctor!" + +Another figure rose against the glow--a wider figure who called shrilly +through a cupped hand. + +"Ben--is!" + +"My Aunt!" said the professor. + +He sat down suddenly behind a boulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +To understand Aunt Caroline's arrival at Friendly Bay we should have to +understand Aunt Caroline, and that, as Euclid says, is absurd. +Therefore we shall have to take the arrival for granted. The only light +which she herself ever shed upon the matter was a statement that she +"had a feeling." And feelings, to Aunt Caroline, were the only reliable +things in a strictly unreliable world. To follow a feeling across a +continent was a trifle to a determined character such as hers. To +insist upon Dr. Rogers following it, too, was a matter of course. + +"I shall need an escort," said Aunt Caroline to that astonished +physician, "and you will do very nicely. If Benis is off his head, as +you suggest, it is my plain duty to look into the matter and your plain +duty, as his medical adviser, to accompany me. I am a woman who demands +little from her fellow creatures, knowing perfectly well that she won't +get it, but I naturally refuse to undertake the undivided +responsibility of a deranged nephew galavanting, by your own orders, +Doctor, at the ends of the earth." + +"I did not say he was deranged," began the doctor helplessly, "and you +said you didn't believe me anyway." + +"Don't quote me to excuse yourself." Aunt Caroline sailed serenely on. +"At least preserve the courage of your convictions. There is certainly +something the matter with Benis. He has answered none of my letters. He +has completely ignored my lettergrams. To my telegram of Thursday +telling him that I had been compelled to discharge my third cook since +Mabel for wiping dishes on a hand towel, he replied only by silence. +And the telegraph people say that the message was never delivered owing +to lack of address. Easy as I am to satisfy, things like this cannot be +allowed to continue. My nephew must be found." + +"But we don't know where to look for him," objected her victim weakly. + +Aunt Caroline easily rose superior to this. + +"We have a map, I hope? And Vancouver, heathenish name! must be marked +on it somewhere. If not, the railroad people can tell us." + +"But he is not in Vancouver." + +"There--or thereabouts. When we get there we can ask the policeman, +or," with a grim twinkle, "we can enquire at the asylums. You forget +that my nephew is a celebrated man even if he is a fool." + +The doctor gave in. He hadn't had a chance from the beginning, for Aunt +Caroline could answer objections far faster than he could make them. +They arrived at the terminus just four days after the expeditionary +party had left for Friendly Bay. + +If Aunt Caroline were surprised at finding more than one policeman in +Vancouver, she did not admit it. Neither did the general atmosphere of +ignorance as to Benis daunt her in the least. She adhered firmly to her +campaign of question asking and found it fully justified when inquiry +at the post-office revealed that all letters for Professor Benis H. +Spence were to be delivered to the care of the Union Steamship Company. +From the Union Steamship Company to the professor's place of refuge was +an easy step. But Dr. Rogers, to whom this last inquiry had been +intrusted, returned to the hotel with a careful jauntiness of manner +which ill accorded with a disturbed mind. + +"Well, we've found him," he announced cheerfully. "And now, if we are +wise, I think we'll leave him alone. He is camping up the coast at a +place called Friendly Bay--no hotels, no accommodation for ladies--he +is evidently perfectly well and attending to business. You know he came +out here partly to get material for his book? Well, that's what he's +doing. Must be, because there are only Indians up there." + +"Indians? What do you mean--Indians? Wild ones?" + +"Fairly wild." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. She is one of the few ladies left who possess +this Victorian, accomplishment. "And you advise my leaving my sister's +child in his present precarious state of mind alone among fairly wild +Indians?" + +"Well--er--that's just it, you see. He isn't alone--not exactly." + +"What do you mean--not exactly?" + +"I mean that his--er--secretary is with him. He has to have a secretary +on account of never being sure whether receive is 'ie' or 'ei.' They +are quite all right, though. The captain of the boat says so. And +naturally on a trip of that kind, research you know, a man doesn't like +to be interrupted." + +Aunt Caroline arose. "When does the next boat leave?" She asked calmly. + +"But--dash it all! We're not invited. We can't butt in. I--I won't go." + +Aunt Caroline, admirable woman, knew when she was defeated. She had a +formula for it, a formula which seldom failed to turn defeat into +victory. When all else failed, Aunt Caroline collapsed. She collapsed +now. She had borne a great deal, she had not complained, but to be told +that her presence would be a "butting in" upon the only living child of +her only dead sister was more than even her fortitude could endure! No, +she wouldn't take a glass of water, water would choke her. No, she +wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't lower her voice. What did hotel +people matter to her? What did anything matter? She had come to the +end. Accustomed to ingratitude as she was, hardened to injustice and +desertion, there were still limits-- + +There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that she +had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged passage at once, +for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a few days +earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence. + +It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils of +tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels--but Aunt Caroline, impervious +to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward. + +"I suppose," she said to her now subdued escort, "that we shall have to +pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to take +him back east with us." + +The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with his +throat. + +"It's the damp air," said Aunt Caroline. "Have a troche. If Benis +really needs a secretary I think I can arrange to get one for him. Do +you remember Mary Davis? Her mother was an Ashton--a very good family. +But unfortunate. The girls have had to look out for themselves rather. +Mary took a course. She could be a secretary, I'm sure. Benis could +always correct things afterward. And she is not too young. Just about +the right age, I should think. They used to know each other. But you +know what Benis is. He simply doesn't--your cold is quite distressing, +Doctor. Do take a troche." + +The doctor took one. + +"Of course Benis may object to a lady secretary--" + +"By Jove," said Rogers as if struck with a brilliant idea. "Perhaps his +secretary is a lady!" + +"How do you mean--a lady! Don't be absurd, Doctor. You said yourself +there was no proper hotel. Benis is discreet. I'll say that for him." + +The doctor's brilliance deserted him. He twiddled his thumbs. But +although Aunt Caroline's repudiation of his suggestion had been +unhesitating there was a gleam of new uneasiness in her eye. She said +no more. It was indeed quite half an hour before she remarked +explosively. + +"Unless it were an Indian!" + +Her companion turned from the scenery in pained surprise. + +"An Indian what?" he asked blankly. + +"An Indian secretary--a female one." + +"Nonsense. Indians aren't secretaries." + +But Aunt Caroline had "had a feeling." "It was your-self who suggested +that she might be a girl," she declared stubbornly, "and if she is a +girl, she must be an Indian. Indians are different--look at Pullman +porters." + +The doctor gasped. + +"Even I don't mind a Pullman porter," finished Aunt Caroline grandly. + +"That's very nice," the doctor struggled to adjust him-self. "But +Pullman porters are not Indians, and even if they were I can't quite +see how it affects Benis and his lady secretary." + +"The principle," said Aunt Caroline, "is the same." + +Rogers wondered if his brain were going. At any rate he felt that he +needed a smoke. Aunt Caroline did not like smoke, so comparative +privacy was assured. Also, a good smoke might show him a way out of his +difficulty. + +It didn't. At the end of the second cigar the cold fact, imparted by +the clerk in the steamship office, that Professor Spence and wife had +preceded them upon this very boat, was still a cold fact and nothing +more. The long letter from the bridegroom which would have made things +plain had passed him on his trip across the continent and was even now +lying, with other unopened mail, in his Bainbridge office. + +If Benis were married, then the bride could be no other than the +nurse-secretary he had written about in that one inconsequent letter to +which he, Rogers, had replied with unmistakable warning. But the thing +seemed scarcely credible. If it were a fact, then it might very easily +be a tragedy also. Marriage in such haste and under such circumstances +could scarcely be other than a mistake, and considering the quality of +Benis Spence, a most serious one. + +John Rogers was very fond of his eccentric friend and the threatened +disaster loomed almost personal. He felt himself to blame too, for the +advice which had thrown Spence directly from the frying-pan of Aunt +Caroline into the fire of a sterner fate. Add to all this a keen +feeling of unwarranted intrusion and we have some idea of the state of +mind with which Dr. John Rogers saw the white tents of the campers as +the steamer put in at Friendly Bay. + +"There are two tents," said Aunt Caroline lowering her lorgnette. "I +shall be quite comfortable." + +The doctor did not smile. His sense of humor was suffering from +temporary exhaustion and his strongest consciousness was a feeling of +relief that neither Benis nor anyone else appeared to notice their +arrival. Even the unique spectacle of a middle-aged lady in +elastic-sided boots proceeding on tiptoe, and with all the tactics of a +scouting party, toward the evidently deserted tents provoked no +demonstration from anyone. + +"They're not here!" called the scouting party in a carrying whisper. + +"Obviously not." The doctor wiped his heated fore-head. "Probably +they've gone for the night. Then you'll have to marry me to save my +reputation." + +"Jokes upon serious subjects are in very bad taste, young man," said +Aunt Caroline. But her rebuke was half-hearted. She looked uneasy. +"John," she added with sudden suspicion, "you don't suppose they could +have known we were coming?" + +"How could they possibly?" + +"If she is an Indian, they might. I've heard of such things. I--oh, +John! Look!" + +"Snake?" asked John callously. Nevertheless he followed Aunt Caroline's +horrified gaze and saw, with a thrill of more normal interest, a pair +of dainty moccasins whose beaded toes protruded from the flap of one of +the tents. + +"Indian!" gasped Aunt Caroline. "Oh John!" + +"Not a bit of it!" Our much tried physician spoke with salutary +shortness. "They may be Indian-made but that's all. I'll eat my hat if +it's an Indian who has worn them. Did you ever see an Indian with a +foot like that?" + +Indignation enabled Aunt Caroline to disclaim acquaintance with any +Indian feet whatever. + +"It's a white girl's moccasin," he assured her. "Lots of girls wear +them in camp. Or," hastily, "it may be a curiosity. Benis may be making +a collection." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. Her gaze was fixed with almost piteous intensity +upon the tent. + +"D'you think I might go in?" she faltered. + +"You might" said John carefully. + +Aunt Caroline sighed. + +"How dreadful to have traditions!" she murmured. "There's no real +reason why I shouldn't go in. And," with grim honesty, "if you weren't +here watching I believe I'd do it. Anyway we may have to, if they don't +come soon. I can't sit on this grass. I'm sure it's damp." + +"I'll get you a chair from Benis's tent," offered John unkindly. "There +are no traditions to forbid that, are there?" + +"No. And, John--you might look around a little? Just to make sure." + +The doctor nodded. He had every intention of looking around. He felt, +in fact, entitled to any knowledge which his closest observation might +bring him. But the tent was almost empty. That at least proved that the +tent belonged to Spence. He was a man with an actual talent for +bareness and spareness in his sleeping quarters. Even his room at +school had possessed that man-made neatness which one associates with +sailor's cabins and the cells of monks. The camp-bed was trimly made, a +dressing-gown lay across a canvas chair, a shaving mug hung from the +centre pole--there was not so much as a hairpin anywhere. + +John crossed thoughtfully to the folding stand which stood with its +portable reading lamp beside the bed. There was one unusual thing +there, a photograph. Benis, as his friend knew, was an expert amateur +photographer--but he never perched his photographs upon stands. This +one must be an exception, and exceptions are illuminating. + +It was still quite light inside the tent and the doctor could see the +picture clearly. It was an extraordinarily good one, quite in the +professor's happiest style. Composition, lighting, timing, all were +perfect. But it is doubtful if John Rogers noticed any of these +excellencies. He was absorbed at once and utterly in the personality of +the person photographed. This was a girl, bending over a still pool. +The pose was one of perfectly arrested grace and the face which was +lifted, as if at the approach of someone, looked directly out of the +picture and into Roger's eyes. It was the most living picture he had +ever seen. The lips were parted as if for speech, there was a smile +behind the widely opened eyes. And both face and form were beautiful. + +The doctor straightened up with a sharply drawn breath. It seemed that +something had happened. For one flashing instant some inner knowledge +had linked him with his own unlived experience. It was gone as soon as +it came. He did not even realize it, save as a sense of strangeness. +Yet, as a chemist lifts a vial and drops the one drop which changes all +within his crucible, so some magic philtre tinged John Roger's cup of +life in that one stolen look. + +"Have you found anything?" Aunt Caroline's voice came impatiently. + +"Nothing." + +But to himself he added "everything" for indeed the mystery of Benis +seemed a mystery no longer. The photograph made everything clear. And +yet not so clear, either. The doctor looked around at the ship-shape +bachelorness of the tent, at the neat pile of newly typed manuscript +upon the bed, and felt bewildered. Even the eccentricity of Benis, in +its most extravagant mode, seemed inadequate as a covering explanation. + +Giving himself a mental shake, the intruder picked up the largest chair +and rejoined Aunt Caroline. + +"It's Benis right enough," he announced. "He is probably off +interviewing Indians. I had better light a fire. It may break the news." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +We left the professor somewhat abruptly in the midst of a cryptic +ejaculation of "My Aunt!" + +"How can it be your Aunt?" asked Desire reasonably. + +"I don't know how. But, owing to some mysterious combination of the +forces of nature, it is my Aunt. No one else could wear that hat." + +"Then hadn't we better go to meet her? You can't sit here all night." + +"I know I can't. It's too near. We didn't see her soon enough!" + +"Cowardly custard!" said Desire, stamping her foot. + +The professor's mild eyes blinked at her in surprise. "Good!" he said +with satisfaction. "That is the first remark suitable to your extreme +youth that I've ever heard you make. But the sentiment it implies is +all wrong. Physical courage, as such, is mere waste when opposed to my +Aunt. What is wanted is technique. Technique requires thought. Thought +requires leisure. That is why I am sitting here behind a boulder--what +is she doing now?" + +Desire investigated. + +"She is walking up and down." + +"A bad sign. It doesn't leave us much time. The most difficult point is +the introduction. Now, in an introduction, what counts for most? +Ancestors, of course. My dear, have you any ancestors?" + +"Not one." + +"I was afraid of that. In fact I had intended to provide a few. But I +never dreamed they would be needed so soon. What is she doing now?" + +"She has stopped walking. She has turned. She is coming this way." + +"Then we must take our chance." The professor rose briskly. "Never +allow the enemy to attack. Come on. But keep behind me while I draw her +fire." + +Aunt Caroline advanced in full formation. + +"Benis. Ben--nis!" she called piercingly. "He can't be very far away," +she declared over her shoulder. "I have a feeling--Benis!" + +"Who calls so loud?" quoted the professor innocently, appearing with +startling suddenness from behind the boulder. "Why!" in amazed +recognition. "It is Aunt Caroline!" + +"It is." Aunt Caroline corroborated grimly. + +"This is a surprise," exclaimed the professor. As we have noted before, +he liked to be truthful when possible. "How'd'do, Aunt! However did you +get here?" + +"How I came," replied Aunt Caroline, "is not material. The fact that I +am here is sufficient." + +"Quite," said Benis. "But," he added in a puzzled tone, "you are not +alone. Surely, my dear Aunt, I see----" + +"You see Dr. Rogers who has kindly accompanied me." + +"John Rogers here? With you?" In rising amazement. + +"It is a detail." Aunt Caroline's voice was somewhat tart. "I could +scarcely travel unaccompanied." + +"Surely not. But really--was there no lady friend--" + +"Don't be absurd, Benis!" But she was obscurely conscious of a check. +Against the disturbed surprise of her nephew's attitude her sharpened +weapons had already turned an edge. Only one person can talk at a time, +and, to her intense indignation, she found herself displaced as the +attacking party. Also the behavior of her auxiliary force was +distinctly apologetic. + +"Hello, Benis!" said Rogers, coming up late and reluctant. "Sorry to +have dropped in on you like this. But your Aunt thought--" + +"Don't say a word, my dear fellow! No apology is necessary. I am quite +sure she did. But it might be a good idea for you to do a little +thinking yourself occasionally. Aunt is so rash. How were you to know +that you would find us at home? Rather a risk, what? Luckily, Aunt," +turning to that speechless relative with reassurance, "it is quite all +right. My wife will be delighted--Desire, my dear, permit me--Aunt, you +will be glad, I'm sure--this is Desire. Desire, this is your new Aunt." + +"How do you do?" said Desire. "I have never had an Aunt before." + +It was the one thing which she should have said. Had she known Aunt +Caroline for years she could not have done better. But, unfortunately, +that admirable lady did not hear it. She had heard nothing since the +shattering blow of the word "wife." + +"John," she said hoarsely. "Take me away. Take me away at once!" + +"Certainly," said John, "Only it's frightfully damp in the woods. And +there may be bears." + +"Bears or not. I can't stay here." + +"Oh, but you must," Desire came forward with innocent hospitality. "You +can sleep on my cot and I'll curl up in a blanket. I am quite used to +sleeping out." + +Aunt Caroline closed her eyes. It was true then. Benis Spence had +married a squaw! Blindly she groped for the supporting hand of the +doctor. "John," she moaned, "did you hear that? Sleeping out--oh how +could he?" + +"Very easily, I should think." Under the slight handicap of assisting +the drooping lady to her chair, John Rogers looked back at Desire, +standing now within the radius of the camp fire's light--and once again +he felt the strangeness as of some half-glimpsed prophecy. "She is +wonderful," he added. "Look!" + +Aunt Caroline looked, shuddered, and collapsed again upon a whispered +"Indian!" + +"Nonsense!" Rogers almost shook her. And yet, considering the +suggestive force of the poor lady's preconceived ideas, the mistake was +not unpardonable. In those surroundings, against that flickering light, +standing, straight and silent in her short skirt and moccasins, her +leaf-brown hair tied with bracken and turned to midnight black by the +shadows, her grey eyes mysterious under their dark lashes, and her lips +unsmiling, Desire might well have been some beauty of that vanishing +race. A princess, perhaps, waiting with grave courtesy for the welcome +due her from her husband's people. + +"And not a bit ashamed of it," murmured Aunt Caroline in what she +fondly hoped was a whisper. "Utterly callous! Benis," in a wavering +voice, "I had a feeling--" + +"Wait!" interrupted Benis, producing a notebook and pencil. "Let us be +exact, Aunt. Just when did you notice the feeling first?" + +"What difference does that make?" Aunt Caroline's voice was perceptibly +stronger. + +"Why," eagerly, "don't you see? If you had the feeling at the time +(allowing for difference by the sun) it is a case of actual +clairvoyance. If the feeling was experienced previous to the fact then +it is a case of premonition only, and, if after, the whole thing can be +explained as mere telepathy." + +"Oh," said Aunt Caroline. But she said it thoughtfully. Her voice was +normal. + +"Wonderful thing--this psychic sense," went on her nephew. "Fancy +you're knowing all about it even before you got my letter!" + +"Did you send a letter?" asked Aunt Caroline after a pause. "Why Aunt! +Of course. Two of them. Before and after. But I might have known you +would hardly need them. If you had only arrived a few days sooner, you +might have been present at the ceremony." + +"Ceremony? There was a ceremony?" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"The Church service?" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"In a church?" + +"Not exactly a church. You see it was rather late in the evening. The +care-taker had gone to bed. In fact we had to get the Rector out of +his." + +"Bern's!" + +"He didn't mind. Said he'd sleep all the better for it. And he wore his +gown--over his pyjamas--very effective." + +"Had the man no conscientious scruples?" sternly. + +"Scruples--against pyjamas?" + +"Against mixed marriages." + +"I don't know. I didn't ask him. We weren't discussing the ethics of +mixed marriage." + +"Don't pretend to misunderstand me, Benis. For a man who has married an +Indian, your levity is disgraceful." + +"How ridiculous, Aunt! If you will listen to an explanation--" + +"I need no explanation," Aunt Caroline, once more mistress of herself +rose majestically. "I hope I know an Indian when I see one. I am not +blind, I believe. But as there seems to be no question as to the +marriage, I have nothing further to say. Another woman in my place +might feel justified in voicing a just resentment, but I have made it a +rule to expect nothing from any relative, especially if that relative +be, even partially, a Spence. When my poor, dear sister married your +father I told her what she was doing. And she lived to say, 'Caroline, +you were right!' That was my only reward. More I have never asked. All +that I have ever required of my sister's child has been ordinary +docility and reliance upon my superior sense and judgment. Now when I +find that, in a matter so serious as marriage, neither my wishes nor my +judgment have been considered, I am not surprised. I may be shocked, +outraged, overwhelmed, but I am not surprised." + +"Bravo!" said Benis involuntarily. He couldn't help feeling that Aunt +Caroline was really going strong. "What I mean to say," he added, "is +that you are quite right Aunt, except in these particulars, in which +you are entirely wrong. But before we go further, what about a little +sustenance. Aren't you horribly hungry?" + +"I am sure they are both starved," said Desire. "And I hate to remind +you that you ate the last sandwich. Will you make Aunt Caroline +comfortable while I cut some more? Perhaps Dr. John will help +me--although we haven't shaken hands yet." + +She held out her hands to the uneasy doctor with a charming gesture of +understanding. "Did you expect to see a squaw, too', Doctor?" + +"I expected to see, just you." His response was a little too eager. "I +had seen you before--by a pool, bending over--" + +"Oh, the photograph? Benis is terribly proud of it," + +"Best I've ever done," confirmed the professor. "Did you notice the +curious light effect on that silver birch at the left?" + +"Wonderful," said Rogers, but he wasn't thinking of the light effect on +the silver birch. As he followed Desire to the tent his orderly mind +was in a tumult. "He doesn't know how wonderful she is!" he thought. +"And she doesn't care whether he does or not. And that explains--" But +he saw in a moment that it didn't explain anything. It only made the +mystery deeper. + +"And now, Benis, that we are alone--" began Aunt Caroline.... + +We may safely leave out several pages here. If you realize Aunt +Caroline at all, you will see that at least so much self-expression is +necessary before anyone else can expect a chance. Time enough to pick +up the thread again when the inevitable has happened and her exhausted +vocabulary is replaced by tears. + +"Not that I care at all for my own feelings," wept Aunt Caroline. +"There are others to think of. What will Bainbridge say?" + +Her nephew roused himself. From long experience he knew that the worst +was over. + +"Bainbridge, my dear Aunt," he said, "will say exactly what you tell it +to say. It was because we realized this that we decided to leave the +whole matter in your hands--all the announcing and things. But of +course," with resignation, "if we have taken too much for granted; if +you are not equal to it, we had better not come back to Bainbridge at +all." + +"Oh," cried Aunt Caroline with fresh tears. "My poor boy! The very +idea! To think that I should live to hear you say it! How gladly I +would have saved you from this had I known in time." + +"I am sure you would, Aunt. But the gladness would have been all yours. +I did not want to be saved, you see, and people who are saved against +their will are so frightfully ungrateful. Wouldn't you like a dry +hanky? Just wait till you've had a couple of dozen sandwiches. You'll +feel quite differently. Think what a relief it will be to have me off +your mind. You can relax now, and rest. You've been overworking for +years. Consider how peaceful it will be not to have to ask any more +silly girls to visit. You know you hated it, really, and only did it +for my sake." + +"I did everything for your sake," moaned Aunt Caroline brokenly. "And +they were silly. But I hoped you would not notice it. And you will +never know what I went through trying to get them down for breakfast at +nine." + +"I can imagine it," with ready sympathy. "They always yawned. And there +must have been many darker secrets which I never guessed. You kept them +from me. Do you remember that hole in Ada's stocking?" + +"Yes, but I--" + +"Never mind. The fib wasn't nearly as big as the hole. But how could +you expect me to help noticing the general lightness and frivolity of +your visitors, shown up so plainly against the background of your own +character?" + +"Y-es. I didn't think of that" + +"Perhaps I should never have married if I had not got away--from the +comparison, I mean." + +"There was a danger, I suppose. But," with renewed grief, "Oh, Benis, +such a wedding! No cards, no cake--and in pyjamas--oh!" + +"Come now, Aunt, don't give way! And do you feel that it is quite right +to criticise the clergy? I always fancy that it is the first step +toward free-thinking. And you couldn't see much of them, you know, only +the legs. Besides, consider what a wedding with cards and cake would +have meant in Bainbridge at this time. No second maid, no proper cook! +We should have appeared at a disadvantage in the eyes of the whole +town. As it is, we can take our time, engage competent help, select a +favorable date and give a reception which will be the very last word in +elegance." + +"Yes! I could get--what am I talking about? Of course I shan't do +anything of the kind. How can you ask me to? Oh, Benis--a heathen!" + +"Not a bit of it, Aunt. Church of England. But I can see what has +happened. You have been allowing old Bones to cloud your judgment. I +never knew a fellow so prone to jump to idiotic conclusions. No doubt +he heard that I had come in search of Indians and, without a single +inquiry, decided that I had married one." + +"It was hasty of him. I admit that," said Aunt Caroline wiping her eyes. + +"But with your knowledge of my personal character you will understand +that my interest in, and admiration for, our aborigines in their darker +and wilder state--" + +"John said they were only fairly wild." + +"Well, even in a fairly wild state. Or indeed in a wholly tame one. My +interest at any time is purely scientific and would never lead me to +marry into their family circle. My wife's father, as a matter of fact, +is English. A professional man, retired, and living upon a +small--er--estate near Vancouver. Her mother, who died when Desire was +a child, was English also." + +"Who took care of the child?" + +"A Chinaman." The professor was listening to Desire's distant laugh and +answered absently with more truth than wisdom. + +"What!" The tone of horror brought him back. + +"Oh, you mean who brought her up? Her father, of course." + +"You said a Chinaman." + +"They had a Chinese cook." + +"Scandalous! Had the child no Aunt?" + +The professor sighed. "Poor girl," he said. "One of the first things +she told me about herself was, 'I have no Aunt.'" + +Aunt Caroline polished her nose thoughtfully. + +"That would account for a great deal," she admitted. "And her being +English on both sides is something. Now that you speak of it, I did +notice a slight accent. I never met an English person yet who could say +"a" properly. But she is young and may learn. In the meantime--" + +"The sandwiches are ready," called Desire from the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"And do you mean to tell me that she really believes that lie?" + +Benis Spence had taken his medical adviser up the slope to the Indian +burying-ground. It was the one place within reasonable radius where +they were not likely to be interrupted by periodic appearances of Aunt +Caroline. Aunt Caroline never took liberties with burying-grounds. "A +graveyard is a graveyard," said Aunt Caroline, "and not a place for +casual conversation." There-fore, amid the graves and the crosses, the +friends felt fairly safe. + +"Why shouldn't she believe it?" countered Spence. "Don't you suppose I +can tell a lie properly?" + +"To be honest--I don't." + +"Well," somewhat gloomily, "this one seemed to go over all right. It +went much farther than I ever expected. It's far too up-and-coming. The +way it grows frightens me. At first there was nothing--just an +'experience.' A mild abstraction, buried in the past, a sentimental +'has-been' without form or substance. Then, without warning, the +experience acquired a name, and then a history and then, just when I +had begun to forget about it, hair suddenly popped up, yellow hair, +and, the day after, eyes--blue eyes, misty. The nose remains +indeterminate, but noses often do. Only yesterday I felt compelled to +add a mouth. Small and red, I made it--ugh! How I hate a small red +mouth. Oh, if it amuses you--all right!" + +"Laugh at it yourself, old man! It's all you can do. But what a +frightful list of blunders. If you had to tell a lie why didn't you +take Mark Twain's advice and tell a good one? The name, for +instance--why on earth did you choose 'Mary?' Even 'Marion' would have +been safer. Don't you know you can't turn a corner in Bainbridge or +anywhere else without stumbling over a Mary? There's a Mary in my +office at the present minute and--yes, by Jove, she has golden hair!" + +The professor looked stubborn. + +"My Mary's hair was not golden. It was yellow, plain yellow. I remember +I made a point of that." + +"Well then, there's Mary Davis. You remember her?" + +"The one who visited Aunt Caroline?" + +"Yes. Pretty girl. About your own age! 'Twas thought in Bainbridge that +her thoughts turned youward. Her hair was yellow then, and may be again +by now. And she had blue eyes, bright blue." + +"My Mary's were not bright blue. Hers were misty, like the hills." + +"Forget it, old man! You'll find you won't be able to insist on shades. +Any Mary with golden, yellow, tawny or tow-colored hair, and old blue, +grey blue, Alice blue or plain blue eyes will come under Mrs. Spence's +reflective observation. Your progress will be a regular charge of the +light brigade with Marys on all sides." + +"Now you're making yourself unpleasant," said the professor. "And, to +change the subject, why do you insist upon calling Desire 'Mrs. +Spence?' She calls you John." + +To his questioner's infinite amazement the doctor blushed. + +"She has told me I might," he admitted. "But it seemed so dashed +cheeky." + +"Why? You are at least ten years older than she. And a friend of the +family." + +"Ten years is nothing," said the doctor. "And I want to be her friend, +not a friend of the family. Besides, she, herself, is not at all like +the girls of twenty whom one usually meets." + +"She is simpler, perhaps." + +"In manner, but not in character. There is a distance, a poise, +a--surely you feel what I mean." + +"Imagination, John. It is you who create the distance by clinging to +formality." + +"All right. You're sure you don't object?" + +"My dear Bones, why should I possibly?" + +The doctor looked sulky. Benis smiled. + +"Look here, John," he said after a reflective pause. "Desire is as +direct as a child. If she calls you by your first name you can depend +that she feels no embarrassment about it. So why should you? And +there's another thing. She may not find everything quite easy in +Bainbridge. She will need your frank and unembarrassed friendship--as +well as mine." + +"Yours?" + +"Yes. You understand the situation, don't you? At least as far as +understanding is necessary. And you are the only one who will +understand. So you will be of more use to her than anyone else, except +me. I am going to do my best to make her happy. It's my job. I am not +turning it over to you. But there may be times when I shall fail. There +may be times when I shan't know that she isn't happy--a lack of +perspective or something. If ever there comes a time like that and you +know of it, don't spare me. I have taken the responsibility of her +youth upon my shoulders and I am not going to shirk. It will be her +happiness first--at all costs." + +"People aren't usually made happy at all costs," said the doctor wisely. + +"They may be, if they do not know the price." + +"I see." + +"You'll know where I stand a bit better when you've read a letter +you'll find waiting for you at home. But here is the whole point of the +matter--I had to get Desire away from that devilish old parent of hers. +And marriage was the only effective way. But Desire did not want +marriage. She has never told me just why but I have seen and heard +enough to know that her horror of the idea is deep seated, a spiritual +nausea, an abnormal twist which may never straighten. I say 'may,' +because there is a good chance the other way. All one can do is to +wait. And in the meantime I want her to find life pleasant. She once +told me that she was a window-gazer. I want to open all the doors." + +"Except the one door that; matters," said Rogers gloomily. + +"Nonsense! You don't believe that. Life has many things to give besides +the love of man and woman." + +"Has it? You'll know better some day--even a cold-blooded fish like +you." + +"Fish?" said Spence sorrowfully. "And from mine own familiar friend? +Fish!" + +"What will you do," exploded the doctor, "when she wakes up and finds +how you have cheated her? When she realizes, too late, that she has +sold her birthright?" + +The professor rose slowly and dusted the dry grass from the knees of +his knickers. "Tut, tut!" he said, "the subject excites you. Let us +talk about me for a change. Observe me carefully, John, and tell me +what you think of me. Only not in marine language. Am I an Apollo? Or a +Greek god? Or even a movie star of the third magnitude? Or am I, not to +put too fine a point on it, as homely as a hedge fence?" + +"Oh, hang it, Benis, stop your fooling." + +"I'm not fooling. I want you to understand that I have consulted my +mirror. And I know just how likely I am to appeal to the imagination of +a young girl. I take my chance, nevertheless. Your question, divested +of oratory, means what shall I do if Desire finds her mate and that +mate is not myself? My answer, also divested of oratory, is that I do +not keep what does not belong to me. Is that plain?" + +The doctor nodded. "Plain enough," he said. "But how will you know?" + +"Well, I might guess. You see," resuming his seat and his ordinary +manner at the same time, "Desire is my secretary. I make a point of +studying the psychology of those who work with me. And, aside from the +slight abnormality which I have mentioned, Desire is very true to type, +her own type--a very womanly one. And a woman in love is hard to +mistake. But," cheerfully, "she is only a child yet in matters of +loving. And she may never grow up." + +"You seem quite happy about it." + +"'Call no man happy till he is dead.' And yet--I am happy. If tears +must come, why anticipate them?" + +"There speaks the hopeless optimist," said Rogers, laughing. "But +because I called you a fish, I'll give you a bit of valuable advice. I +can't see you scrap quite all your chances. Kill Mary." + +"I can't. Besides, why should I? Desire likes to hear about her. Or +says she does. It provides her with an interest. And a little perfectly +human jealousy is very stimulating." + +"You think she is jealous?" + +"Oh, not in the way you mean. But every woman likes to be first, even +with her friends. And if she can't be first, she is healthily curious +about the woman who is. Desire would miss Mary very much." + +"You've been a fool, Benis." + +"I shall try not to be a bigger one." + +The friends looked polite daggers at each other. And suddenly smiled. + +"To be continued in our next," said Rogers. "Is it finally settled that +we turn homeward tomorrow?" + +"Yes. We did our last extracting from the hawk-eyed one yesterday. He +has been a real find, John. Do you know what he calls Aunt Caroline? +'The-old-woman-who-sniffs-the-air.' Desire did not translate. Isn't she +rather a wonder, John? Did you ever see anything like the way she +manages Aunt?" + +But the doctor's eyes were on the distant tents. + +"Someone in blue is waving to us," he said. "It must be your Aunt." + +Spence lazily raised his eyes. + +"No. That's Desire. She is wearing blue." + +"She was wearing pink this morning." + +"Yes. But she won't be wearing it this afternoon." + +"How do you know?" curiously. + +The professor yawned. "By psychology! I happened to mention that pink +was Mary's favorite color." + +Rogers opened his lips. He was plainly struggling with himself. + +"Don't trouble," said Spence serenely. "I know what you feel it your +duty to say. But it isn't really your duty. And there would be no use +in saying it, anyway. I take my chances!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The long Transcontinental puffed steadily up toward the white-capped +peaks of a continent. They were a day out from Vancouver--a day during +which Desire had sat upon the observation platform, drugged with wonder +and beauty. She had known mountains all her life. They were dear and +familiar, and the sound of rushing water was in her blood. But these +heights and depths, these incredible valleys, these ever-climbing, +piling hills pushing brown shoulders through their million pines, the +dizzy, twisting track and the constant marvel of the man-made train +which braved it, held her spellbound and almost speechless. + +Fortunately, Aunt Caroline was indisposed and had remained all day in +the privacy of their reserved compartment. Only one such reservation +had been available and the men of the party had been compelled to +content themselves with upper berths in the next car. + +To Desire, who presented that happy combination, a good traveller still +uncloyed by travel, every deft arrangement of the comfortable train +provided matter for curiosity and interest--the little ladders for the +upstair berths, the tiny reading-lamps, the paper bags for one's new +hat, the queer little soaps and drinking cups in sealed oil paper--all +these brought their separate thrill. And then there was the +inexhaustible interest of the travellers themselves. When night had +fallen and the great Outside withdrew itself, she turned with eager +eyes to the shifting world around her, a human world even more +absorbing than the panorama of the hills. + +What was there, for instance, about that handsome old lady, from Golden +(fascinating name!) which permitted her to act as if the whole train +were her private suite and all the porters servants of her person? She +was the most autocratic old lady Desire had ever seen and far younger +and more alert than the tired-looking daughter who accompanied her. +They were going to New York. They went to New York every year. Desire +wondered why. + +She wondered, too, about the rancher's wife going home to Scotland for +the first time since her marriage. What did it feel like to be going +home--to a real home with a mother and brothers and sisters? What did +it feel like to be taking two dark-haired, bright-eyed babies, as like +as twins and with only a year between them, for the fond approval of +grand-parents across the seas? ... The rancher's wife looked as if +she enjoyed it. But women will pretend anything. + +Desire's eyes shifted to the inevitable honeymoon couple who were going +to Winnipeg to visit "his" people. The bride was almost painfully +smart, but she was pretty and "he" adored her. Her mouth was small and +red. It fascinated Desire. She could not keep her eyes off it. It was +like--well, it was the kind of mouth men seemed to admire. She tried +honestly to admire it her-self, but the more she tried the less +admirable she found it. She wondered if Benis-- + +"What do you think of the bride?" she murmured, under cover of a +magazine. + +"Where?" said Benis, in an unnecessarily loud voice, laying down his +paper. + +"S-ssh! Over there. The girl in green." + +"Pretty little thing," said Benis. His tone lacked conviction. + +"Lovely eyes, don't you think? Nice hair and such a darling nose. But +her mouth--isn't her mouth rather small?" + +"Regular 'prunes and prisms,'" agreed Benis. + +"It is very red, though." + +"Lipstick, probably." + +"But I thought you liked small, red mouths." + +"Hate 'em," said Benis, who had a shockingly bad memory. + +Desire went to bed thoughtful. "I suppose," she thought as she lay +listening to the swinging train, "men like certain things because they +belong to certain people and not because they like them really at all." +This was not very lucid but it seemed to satisfy Desire for she stopped +thinking and went to sleep. + +Morning found them on the top of the world. Desire was up and out long +before the mists had lifted. She watched the wonder of their going, she +saw the coming of the sun. She drew in, with great deep breaths, the +high, sweet air. The cream of her skin glowed softly with the tang of +it. + +"Quite lovely!" said a voice behind her, and Desire turned to find her +solitude shared by the young old lady from Golden. + +"Your complexion, I mean, my dear," said she, sitting down comfortably +in the folds of a fur coat. "I never use adjectives about the +mountains. It would seem impertinent. How old are you?" + +Desire gave her age smiling. "Charming age," nodded the old lady. +"Youth is a wonderful thing. See that you keep it." + +"Like you?" said Desire, her smile brightening. + +The old lady looked pleased. + +"Quite so," she said. "Never allow yourself to believe that silly folly +about a woman being as old as she looks. As if a mirror had more mind +than the person looking in it! I remember very well waking up on the +morning of my thirtieth birthday and thinking, 'I am thirty. I am +growing old.' But, thank heaven, I had a mind. I soon put a stop to +that. 'Not a day older will I grow!' I said. And I never have. What's a +mind for, if not to make use of?" + +Desire looked a little awed at an audacity which defied time. + +"Don't misunderstand me," went on her companion. "I don't mean that I +tried to look young. I was young. I am young still." + +"Yes," said Desire. "I see what you mean. But--wasn't it lonely?" + +The old lady patted her arm with an approving hand. + +"Clever child!" she said. "Yes, of course it was lonely. But one can't +have everything. Pick out what you want most and cling to it. Let the +rest go. It's a good philosophy." + +"Isn't it selfish?" + +"Youth is always selfish," complacently. "I feel quite complimented now +when anyone calls me a selfish creature. You are a bride, aren't you?" + +Desire blushed beautifully. But one couldn't resent so frank an +interest. + +"Yes," she said. + +"That thin, dark man is your husband? The one with the chin?" + +"He has a chin," doubtfully. "Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, he is my +husband." + +"Odd you never noticed his chin before," commented the old lady. "Well, +look out! That man has reserves. Who is the other one?" + +"A friend." + +The old lady shook a well-kept finger. + +"Inconvenient things, friends!" said she. "Far better without them." + +"Haven't you any?" + +"Not one. They went on. All old fogies now." Her air of boredom was +unfeigned. + +"But you have your daughter." + +"Too old!" The youthful eyes twinkled maliciously. "Now you, my dear, +would be nearer my age. For you have youth within as well as without. +Keep it. It's all there is worth having." + +Desire smiled. But the words lingered. She had never valued her youth. +She had been impatient of it. And now to be told that it was all there +was worth having! It was the creed of selfishness. And yet--had life +already given her one of her greatest treasures and had she come near +to missing the meaning of the gift? + +At breakfast she observed her husband's chin so narrowly that he became +uneasy, wondering if he had forgotten to shave. She looked at John's +chin, too, with reflective eyes. Undoubtedly it was much inferior. + +The train had conquered the mountains now and was plunging down upon +their farther side. Soon they were in the foot-hills and then nothing +but a flashing streak across an endless, endless tableland of wheat. +Desire, who had never seen the prairie, smiled whimsically. + +"It is like coming from the world's cathedral to the world's +breakfast-table!" said she. + +Aunt Caroline snorted. For her part, she said, she found train +breakfasts much the same anywhere except near the Great Lakes, where +one might expect better fish. + +It grew very hot. The effortless speed of the train rolled up the +blazing miles and threw them behind, league on league. The sun set and +rose on a level sky. The babies of the rancher's wife grew tired and +sticky. They were almost too much for their equally tired mother, so +half of them sat on Desire's lap most of the time. Desire's half seemed +to bounce a great deal and gave bubbly kisses, but the rings around its +fat wrist and the pink dimples in its fingers were well worth while +keeping clean and cool just to look at. It was true, as Desire reminded +herself, that she did not care for children, but anyone might find a +round, fat one with cooey laughs a pleasant thing to play with! She did +it mostly when Benis was in the smoker with John. + +At Winnipeg the honeymoon couple left them and the old lady from +Golden, much to her disgust, was also compelled to stay over for a day +because her middle-aged daughter was train-sick. Other and less +interesting faces took their places. + +Desire watched them hopefully but the only one who seemed appealing was +a sturdy prairie school teacher going "home." Desire liked the school +teacher. She was so solid, so sure of herself, so wrapped up in and +satisfied with something which she called "education." She asked Desire +where she had been educated. Desire did not seem to know. "Just +anywhere," she said, "when father felt like it and had time. And I +taught myself shorthand." + +"Then you aren't really educated at all?" said the teacher with frank +pity. "What a shame! Education is so important." + +Benis was frankly afraid of her. + +"But you need not be," Desire assured him. "She looks up to you. She +thinks that, being a professor, you have even more education than she +has." + +"God forbid!" said Benis devoutly. + +"Besides, she knows all about you. I found out today that she is an +Ontario girl. And she lives--guess where? In Bainbridge!" + +Aunt Caroline (they were at dinner) looked up from her roast lamb and +remarked "Impossible." + +"But she does, Aunt. She says so." + +Aunt Caroline fancied that probably the young person was mistaken. +"Certainly," she said, "I have never heard of her." + +"She lives," said Desire, "on Barker Street and she took her first +class teacher's certificate at Bainbridge Collegiate Institute." + +Aunt Caroline fancied that they gave almost anyone a certificate there. +All one had to do was to pass the examinations. As to Barker +Street--there was a Barker Street, certainly. And this young person +might live on it. She, herself, was not acquainted with the +neighborhood. + +"But she knows you," Desire persisted. "She said, 'Oh, is Miss Caroline +Campion your Aunt? I remember her from my youth up.'" + +"Very impertinent," said Miss Campion. Her nephew's eyes began to +twinkle. + +"Oh, everyone knows Aunt Caroline," he explained. "But then, everyone +knows the Queen of England." + +Aunt Caroline was mollified. "Of course, in that sense--" She felt able +to go on with her roast lamb. + +Dr. Rogers, who had listened to this interchange with delight, said now +that the young lady had been quite right about her place of residence. +She did live in Bainbridge, on Barker Street. He did not know her +personally but her older sister was a patient of his. The mother and +father were dead. Very nice, quiet people. + +Desire was quite young enough to laugh and to point this with "Dead +ones usually are." + +The school teacher, at another table, heard the laugh and felt a +passing sense of injustice. It seemed unfair that anyone so obviously +without education could feel free to laugh in that satisfying way. It +was plain that young Mrs. Spence scarcely realized her sad deficiency. +And it certainly was a little discouraging that the cleverest men +almost invariably.... + +Fort William came and passed and in the sparkling sunshine of another +morning the train dashed into the wild Superior country where the +wealth lies under the rock instead of above it. To Desire, her first +glimpse of the Great Lake was like a glimpse of home. The coolness of +the air was grateful after prairie heat but, scarcely had she welcomed +back the smell of pine and fir, before it, too, was left behind and +they swung swiftly into a softer land--a land of rolling fields and +fences and farmhouses; of little towns, with tree-lined roads; of +streams less noisy and more disciplined; of fat cows drowsy in the +growing heat. + +"This," said Aunt Caroline with a breath of proprietary satisfaction, +"is Ontario." + +Desire, always literal, pointed out that according to the map in the +time-table, they had been in Ontario for some considerable time. + +Aunt Caroline thought that the map was probably mistaken. "For," she +added with finality, "it was certainly not the Ontario to which I have +been accustomed." + +This settled the matter for any sensible person. + +"We are nearly home now," she went on kindly. "I hope you are not +feeling very nervous, my dear." + +"I am not feeling nervous at all," said Desire with surprise. + +Fortunately Aunt Caroline took this proof of insensibility in a +flattering light. + +"Yes, yes," she said. "It is not, of course, as if you were arriving +alone. You can depend upon me entirely. John, are you sure that your +car will be in waiting?" + +"I wired it to wait," grinned John. "And usually it's a good waiter." + +"Because," said Aunt Caroline, "we do not wish to be delayed at the +station. If Eliza Merry weather is there, the quicker we get away the +better. I am determined that she shall be introduced to Desire exactly +when other people are and not before. Please remember that, Benis. +Introduce Desire to no one at the station. I think, my dear, we may put +on our hats." + +"It's an hour yet, Aunt." + +"I know, but I do not wish to be hurried." + +Desire put on her hat. It was because she was always willing to give +Aunt Caroline her way in small matters that she invariably took her own +in anything that counted. It is a simple recipe and recommended to +anyone with Aunts.... + +"There's Potter's wood!" said Benis, who had been somewhat silent. + +Desire looked out eagerly. But Potter's wood was just like any other +wood and-- + +"There's Sadler's Pond!" said John. + +"They've cut down the old elm!" Aunt Caroline voiced deep displeasure. + +"And put up a bill-board," said Benis. + +Desire felt a trifle lonely. These people, so close to her and yet so +far away, were going home. + +"Oh, how I wish you weren't stopping off," said the rancher's wife, an +actual tear on her flushed cheek. "You've been so kind, Mrs. Spence. +And anyone more understanding with children I never saw. When you've +got a boy like my Sandy for your own--" + +"By jove!" exclaimed Benis. "They're starting to cut down Miller's hill +at last." + +Aunt Caroline rose flutteringly. "There is the water-tank," she +announced in an agitated voice. "Desire, where is your parasol? My +dear, don't kiss that child again, it's sticky. WHERE is my hand-bag? +John, do you see your car?" + +"I don't SEE it," admitted John, "but--" + +"Bainbridge!" shouted the brakeman. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Desire was conscious of a brown and gabled station with a bow-window +and flower-beds, a long platform where baggage trucks lumbered, the +calling of taxi-men, a confused noise of greeting and farewell, and +Aunt Caroline's voice uncomfortably near her ear. + +"There she is!" whispered Aunt Caroline hoarsely. "Be careful! Don't +look!" + +"Who? Where?" asked Desire, wondering. + +"Eliza Merryweather. Second to the left." + +There was another confused impression of curious faces, of one face +especially with eager eyes and bobbing grey curls, and then she was +caught, as it were, in the swirl of Aunt Caroline and deposited, +somewhat breathless, in a car which, providentially, seemed to expect +her. + +Miss Campion was breathing heavily but her face was calm. + +"She nearly got it," she said. "But not quite." + +"Got what?" asked Desire, still wondering. + +"An introduction. Where is Benis? My dear, DON'T LOOK! She is the most +determined person." + +Miss Campion herself was staring straight ahead. Desire, much amused, +endeavored to do the same. + +"Surely it is a trifle!" she murmured. + +But Miss Campion was preoccupied. "Where can Benis be? John, do you +know what is keeping Benis? Oh, here he is," with an exclamation of +relief. "Now we can start. Did I hear you say 'trifle,' my dear? There +are no trifles in Bainbridge. John, I think we might drive home by the +Park." + +They drove home by the Park. It was not a long drive, just a dozen or +so of quiet streets, sentineled by maples; a factory in a hollow; a +church upon a hill; a glimpse of two long rows of prosperous looking +business blocks facing each other across an asphalted pavement; a white +brick school where children shouted; then quiet streets again, the +leisurely rising of a boulevarded slope and--home. + +They turned in at a white gate in the centre of a long fence backed by +trees. The Spences had built their homestead in days when land was +plentiful and, being a liberal-minded race, they had taken of it what +they would. Of all the houses in Bainbridge theirs alone was prodigal +of space. It stood aloof in its own grounds, its face turned +negligently from the street, outside. For the passer-by it had no +welcome; it kept itself, its flowers and its charm, for its own people. + +Desire said "Oh," as she saw it--long and white, with green shutters +and deep verandas and wide, unhurried steps. She had seen many +beautiful homes but she had never seen "home" before. The beauty and +the peace of it caught the breath in her throat. She was glad that +Benis did not speak as he gave her his hand from the car. She was glad +for the volubility of Aunt Caroline and for the preoccupation of Dr. +John with his engine. She was glad that she and Benis stepped info the +cool, dim hall alone. In the dimness she could just see the little, +nervous smile upon his lips and the warm and kindly look in his steady +eyes. + +After that first moment, the picture blurred a little with the bustle +of arrival. Aunt Caroline, large and light in her cream dust-coat, +seemed everywhere. The dimness fled before her and rooms and stairs and +a white-capped maid emerged. The rooms confused Desire, there were so +many of them and all with such a strong family likeness of dark +furniture and chintz. Aunt Caroline called them by their names and, +throwing open their doors, announced them in prideful tones. Desire +felt very diffident, they were such exclusive rooms, so old and settled +and sure of themselves--and she was so new. They might, she felt, +cold-shoulder her entirely. It was touch and go. + +All but one room! + +"This," said her conductor, throwing open a door, "is where Benis does +his work. He calls it his den. But you will agree that library sounds +better." + +Desire went in--with the other rooms she had been content to stand in +the doors--and, as she entered, the room seemed to draw round and +welcome her. It was deeply and happily familiar--that shallow, rounded +window from which one could lean and touch the grass outside, that +dark, old desk with its leather and brass, that blue bowl on the corner +of the mantel-piece, the lazy, yet expectant, chairs; even the beech +tree whose light fingers tapped upon the window glass! It was all part +of her life, past or future--somewhere. + +"You see," said Aunt Caroline in her character of showman, "we have +fireplaces!" + +Desire was so used to fireplaces that this did not seem extraordinary +and yet, from Aunt Caroline's tone, she knew that it must be, and tried +to look impressed. + +"They are dirty," went on Aunt Caroline, "but they are worth it. They +give atmosphere. If you have a house like this, you have to have +fireplaces. That is what I tell my maids when I engage them. So that +they cannot grumble afterwards. Fireplaces are dirty, I tell them, +but--what are you staring at, my dear?" + +"Was I staring? I didn't know. It is just that I seem to know it all." + +Aunt Caroline looked wise. "Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Benis +explains that curious feeling--some-thing about your right sphere or +something being larger than your left, or quicker, I forget which. Not +that I can see any sense in it, anyway. Do you mind if I leave you +here? I want to see if Olive has made the changes I ordered upstairs." + +"Get a hump on!" said a loud, rude voice. + +Aunt Caroline jumped. + +"Oh, my dear! It's that horrible parrot. Benis insists on keeping it. +Some soldier friend of his left it to him. A really terrible bird. And +its language is disgraceful. It doesn't know anything but slang. Not +even 'Polly wants a cracker.' You'll hardly believe me, but it says, +'Gimme the eats!' instead." + +"Can it!" said the parrot. Aunt Caroline fled. + +Desire, to whom a talking bird was a delightful novelty, went over to +the large cage where a beautiful green and yellow parrot swung +mournfully, head down. + +"Pretty Polly," said Desire timidly. + +The bird made a chuckling noise in his throat like a derisive goblin. + +"What is your name, Polly?" + +"Yorick," said Polly unexpectedly. "Alas. Poor Yorick! I knew him well." + +"You'd think it knew what I said!" thought Desire with a start. She +edged away and once more the welcoming spirit of the room rose up to +meet her. She tried first one chair and then another, fingered the +leather on their backs and finally settled on the light, straight one +in the round window. It was as familiar as the glove upon her hand, and +the view from the window--well, the view from the window was partially +blocked by the professor under the beech tree, smoking. + +Seeing her, he discarded his cigar and came nearer, leaning on the sill +of the opened window. + +"You haven't got your hat off yet," he said in a discontented tone. +"Aren't you going to stay?" + +"May not a lady wear her hat in her own house?" + +"Oh, I see. Then I shan't have to butter your fingers?" + +"Do you compare me to a stray cat?" + +"I never compare you to anything." + +Desire wanted terribly to ask why, but an unaccustomed shyness +prevented her. Instead she asked if Yorick were really the parrot's +name. + +"I don't know. But he says it is, so I take his word for it. Do you +want to talk about parrots? Because it's not one of my best subjects. +May I change it?" + +"If you like." + +"Don't say, 'If you like,' say 'Right-o.' I always do when I think of +it. Since the war it is expected of one--a sign of this new fraternity, +you know, between Englishmen and Colonials. Everyone over there is +expected to say 'I guess' for the same reason. Only they don't do it. +How do you like your workroom?" + +"Mine?" + +"I thought you might not like me to say 'Ours.'" + +"Don't be silly!" + +"Well, how do you like it, anyway?" + +Desire's eyes met his for an instant and then fell quickly. But not +before he had seen a mistiness which looked remarkably like--Good +heavens, he might have known that she would be tired and upset! + +"You have noticed, of course," he went on lightly, "that we have +fireplaces? They are very dirty but they provide atmosphere. Almost too +much atmosphere sometimes. There are no dampers and when the wind blows +the wrong way--Oh, my dear child, do cry if you really feel like it." + +"Cry!" indignantly. "I n--never cry." + +"Well, try it for a change. I believe it is strongly recommended +and--don't go away. Please." + +"I had no idea I was going to be silly," said Desire after a moment, in +an annoyed voice. + +"It usually comes unexpectedly. Probably you are tired." + +Desire wiped her eyes with businesslike thoroughness. + +"No. I'm not. I'm suppressed. Do you remember what you said about +suppressed emotion the other day? Well, I'm like that, and it's your +fault. You bring me to this beautiful home and you never, never once, +allow me to thank you properly--oh, I'm not going to do it, so don't +look frightened. But one feels so safe here. Benis, it's years and +years since I felt just safe." + +"I know. I swear every time I think of it" + +"Then you can guess a little of what it means?" + +Their hands were very close upon the window-sill. + +"As a psychologist--" began the professor. + +"Oh--No!" murmured Desire. + +Their hands almost touched. + +And just at that moment Aunt Caroline came in. + +"Are you there, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline unnecessarily. "I wish you +would come in and take--oh, I did not mean you to come in through the +window. If Olive saw you! But a Spence has no idea of dignity. Now that +you are in, I wish you would take Desire up to your room. I wired Olive +to prepare the west room. It is grey and pink, so nice for Desire who +is somewhat pale. The bed is very comfortable, too, and large. But, of +course, if you prefer any other room you will change. Desire, my dear, +it is your home, I do not forget that. I have had your bags carried up. +Benis can manage his own." + +If Desire were pale naturally, she was more than pale now. Her +frightened eyes fluttered to her husband's face and fluttered away +again. Why had she never thought of this! Sheer panic held her quiet in +the straight-backed chair. + +But Spence, without seeming to notice, had seen and understood her +startled eyes. + +"Thanks, Aunt," he said cheerfully. "Of course Desire must make her own +choice. But if she takes my tip she will stay where you've put her. +It's a jolly room. As for me, I'm going up to my old diggings--thought +I'd told you." + +"What!" + +Aunt Caroline's remark was not a question. It was an explosion. + +Spence dropped his bantering manner. + +"My dear Aunt. I hate to disturb your arrangements with my +eccentricities. But insomnia is a hard master. I must sleep in my old +room. We'll consider that settled." + +"Humph!" said Aunt Caroline. + +Like the house, she was somewhat old fashioned. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Tea had been laid on the west lawn under the maples. + +Possibly some time in the past the Spences had been a leisured people. +They had brought from the old country the tradition of afternoon tea. +Many others had, no doubt, done the same but with these others the +tradition had not persisted. In the more crowded life of a new country +they had let it go. The Spences had not let it go. It wasn't their way. +And in time it had assumed the importance of a survival. It stood for +some-thing. Other Bainbridgers had "Teas." The Spences had "tea." + +Desire had been in her new home a month and had just made a remark +which showed her astonished Aunt Caroline that tea was no more of a +surprise to her than fireplaces had been. + +"Do you mean to tell me you have always had tea?" Miss Campion ceased +from pouring in pure surprise. + +"Why, yes." Desire's surprise was even greater than Aunt Caroline's. +"Li Ho never dreamed of forgetting tea. He served it much more +regularly than dinner because sometimes there wasn't any dinner to +serve. It was a great comfort--the tea, I mean." + +"But how extraordinary! And a Chinaman, too." + +"I suppose my mother trained him." + +"And Vancouver isn't Bainbridge," put in Benis lazily. "A great many +people there are more English than they are in England. All the +old-time Chinese 'boys' served tea as a matter of course." + +"Even when no one was calling?" + +"Absolutely sans callers of any kind." + +"Well, I am sure that is very nice." But it was plain from Aunt +Caroline's tone that she thought it a highly impertinent infringement +upon the privileges of a Spence. She poured her nephew's cup in aloof +silence and refreshed herself with a second before re-entering the +conversation. When she did, it was with something of a bounce. + +"Benis," she said abruptly, "can you tell me just exactly what is a +Primitive?" + +"Eh?" The professor had been trying to read the afternoon News-Telegram +and sip tea at the same time. + +Aunt Caroline repeated her question. + +"Certainly," said Spence. "That is to say, I can be fairly exact. Would +you like me to begin now? If you have nothing to do until dinner I can +get you nicely started. And there is a course of reading--" + +Aunt Caroline stopped him with dignity. "Thank you, Benis. I infer that +the subject is a complicated one. Therefore I will word my question +more simply. Would an Indian, for instance, be considered a Primitive?" + +"Um--some Indians might." + +"Oh," thoughtfully, "then I suppose that is what Mrs. Stopford Brown +meant." + +Her delighted listeners exchanged an appreciative glance. + +"Very probably," said Benis, with tact, "were you discussing Primitives +at the Club?" + +"No. Though it might be rather a good idea, don't you think? If, as you +say, there is a course of reading, it would be sufficiently literary, I +suppose? At present we are taking up psycho-analysis--dreams, you know. +It was not my choice. As a subject for club study I consider it too +modern. Besides, I seldom dream. And when I do, my dreams are not +remarkable. However, it seems that all dreams are remarkable. And I +admit that there may be something in it. Take, for instance, a dream +which I had the other night. I dreamed that I was endeavoring to do my +hair and every time I put my hand on a hairpin that horrible parrot of +yours snapped it up and swallowed it. Now, according to +psycho-analysis, that dream has a meaning. Understood rightly it +discloses that I have, in my waking moments, a repressed feeling of +intense dislike for that hateful bird. And it is quite true. I have. So +you can see how useful that kind of thing might be in getting at the +truth in cases of murder. I hope," turning to Desire, "I hope I am not +being too scientific for you, my dear? When the ladies feel that they +know you better you may perhaps join our club, if you care for anything +so serious? May I give you more tea?" + +"Thanks, yes. That would be delightful." + +"Not so delightful, my dear, as educative. But as I was saying, Benis, +it is all your fault that this misconception has got about. I blame you +very much in the matter. It comes naturally from your writing so +continually about Indians and foreigners and Primitives generally. +People come to associate you with them. Still, I think it was extremely +rude of Mrs. Stopford Brown to say it." + +"So do I," said Spence, with conviction. + +"I asked Mrs. Everett, who told me, if anyone else had made remarks +leading up to it. But she says not a word. It was just that Mrs. +Everett said that it was strange that when you had taken so long to +consider marriage you should have made up your mind so quickly in the +end--'Gone off like a sky-rocket!' was her exact wording, and Mrs. +Stopford Brown said, in that frivolous way she has, 'Oh, I suppose he +stumbled across a Primitive.' You will notice, Desire, that Mrs. +Stopford Brown's name is not upon the list for your reception." + +"But--" began Desire, controlling her face with difficulty. + +"No 'buts,' my dear. It may seem severe, but Mrs. Stopford Brown is +quite too careless in her general conversation. It is true that her +remark is directly traceable to my nephew's unfortunate writings, but +she should have investigated her facts before speaking. The result is +that it is all over town that you have Indian blood. They say that, out +there, almost everyone married squaws once and that is why there is no +dower law in British Columbia. Those selfish people did not wish their +Indian wives to wear the family jewels. Benis! You will break that cup +if you balance it so carelessly. What I want to know is, what are you +going to do about it?" + +"Not being a resident of British Columbia, I cannot do anything, Aunt. +But I think you will find that since women got the vote the matter has +been adjusted." + +"I do not understand you. What possible connection has the women's vote +with Mrs. Stopford Brown?" + +"I thought you were speaking of dower laws. As for Mrs. Brown, haven't +you already fitted the punishment to the crime?" + +"Then you will not officially contradict the rumor?" + +"Dear Aunt, I am not an official. And a rumor is of no +importance--until it is contradicted. Surely you are letting yourself +get excited about nothing." + +Aunt Caroline bestowed upon Desire the feminine glance which means, +"What fools men are." + +"That's all very well now," she said. "But it is incredible how rumor +persists. And when you are a father--there! I knew you would end by +breaking that cup." + +"Aren't we being rather absurd?" asked Desire a little later when Aunt +Caroline and the tea tray had departed together. "Besides, you can't +break a cup every time." + +Spence sighed. It was undoubtedly true that cups do come to an end. + +"What we want to do," said Desire, angry at her heightened color, "is +to be sensible." + +"That's what Aunt Caroline is. Do you want us to be like Aunt Caroline?" + +"I want us to face facts without blushing and jumping." + +"I never blush." + +"You jump." + +"Sorry. But give me time. I am new at this yet. Presently I shall be +able to listen to Aunt describing my feelings as a grandfather without +a quiver. Poor Aunt!" + +"Why do you say 'poor Aunt'?" + +"It is going to be rather a blow to her, you know." + +"Do you think we ought to--tell her?" + +"Good heavens, no!" + +"But it seems so mean to let her go on believing things." + +"Not half so mean as taking the belief from her. Besides--" He paused +and Desire felt herself clutch, unaccountably, at the arm of her garden +chair. + +"She wouldn't understand," finished Benis. + +Desire's grasp upon the chair relaxed. + +"Life is like that," he went on slowly. "No matter how careful people +are there is always someone who slips in and gets hurt. Our affairs are +strictly our own affairs and yet--we stumble over Aunt Caroline and +leave her indignant and disappointed and probably blaming Providence +for the whole affair. It is just a curious instance of the intricacy of +human relationships--you're not going in, are you?" + +"There is some typing I want to finish," said Desire. "I have been +letting myself get shamefully behind." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +The weather on the day of Desire's reception could scarcely have been +bettered. Rain had fallen during the night; fallen just sufficiently to +lay the dust on the drive and liberate all the thousand flower scents +in the drowsy garden. It was hot enough for the most summery dresses +and cool enough for a summer fur. What more could be desired? + +Bainbridge was expectant. It was known that Miss Campion was excelling +herself in honor of her nephew's bride, and the bride herself was +alluringly rumored to be a personality. It is doubtful if anyone really +believed the "part Indian" suggestion, but there were those who liked +to dally with it. Its possibility was a taste of lemon on a cloyed +tongue. + +"They say she is part Indian--fancy, a Spence!" + +"Nonsense. I asked Dr. Rogers about it and he made me feel pretty +foolish. The truth is--her parents are both English. The father is a +doctor, at one time a most celebrated physician in London." + +"Physicians who are celebrated in London usually stay there." + +"And I am sure she is dark enough." + +"Not with that skin! And her eyes are grey." + +"Oh, I admit she's pretty--if you like that style. I wonder where she +gets her clothes?" + +"Where they know how to make them, anyway. Did you notice that smoke +colored georgette she wore on Sunday? Not a scrap of relief anywhere. +Not even around the neck." + +"It's the latest. I went right home and ripped the lace off mine. But +it made me look like a skinned rabbit, so I put it back. I don't see +why fashions are always made for sweet and twenty!" + +"Twenty? She's twenty-five if she's a day. For myself I can't say that +I like to see young people so sure of themselves. A bride, too!" + +"They say Mrs. Stopford Brown hasn't had a card for the reception." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Oh, no! But she let it drop that she thought it was on the seventh +instead of the eighth." + +"Plow funny! Serve her right. It's about time she knew she isn't quite +everybody...." + +Desire, herself, was unperturbed. To her direct and unself-conscious +mind there was no reason why she should excite herself. These people, +to whom she was so new, were equally new to her. The interest might be +expected to be mutual. Any picture of herself as affected by their +personal opinions had not obtruded itself. She was prepared to like +them; hoped they would like her, but was not actively concerned with +whether they did or not. She had lived too far away from her kind to +feel the impact of their social aura. Besides, she had other things to +think about. + +First of all, there was Mary. She found that she had to think about +Mary a great deal. She did not want to, but there seemed to be a +compulsion. This may have been partly owing to a change of mind with +regard to Mary as a subject for conversation. She had decided that it +was not good for Benis to talk about Her. Why revive memories that are +best forgotten? She never now disturbed him when he gazed into the +sunset; and when he sighed, as he sometimes did without reason, she did +not ask him why. She had even felt impatient once or twice and, upon +leaving the room abruptly, had banged the door. + +So, because Mary was unavailable for discussion, Desire had to think +about her. She had to wonder whether her hair was really? And whether +her eyes really were? She wanted to know. If she could find someone who +had known Mary, some entirely unprejudiced person who would tell her, +she might be able to dismiss the subject from her mind. And surely, in +Bainbridge, there must be someone? + +But she had been in Bainbridge a month now. People had called. And she +was still as ignorant as ever. She had been so sure that someone would +mention Mary almost at once. She had felt that people would simply not +be able to refrain from hinting to the bride a knowledge of her +husband's unhappy past. There were so many ways in which it might be +done. Someone might say, "When I heard that Professor Spence was +married, I felt sure that the bride would have dark hair because--oh, +what am I saying! Please, may I have more tea?" But no one, not even +the giddiest flapper of them all, had said even that! Perhaps, +incredible as it might seem, Bainbridge did not know about Mary? She +had been, Desire remembered, a visitor there when Benis met her. +Perhaps her stay had been brief. Perhaps the ill-fated courtship had +taken place elsewhere? Even then, it seemed almost unbelievably stupid +of Bainbridge not to have known something. But of course, she had not +met nearly everybody. This fact lent excitement to the idea of the +reception. Something might be said at any moment. + +If not--there was still John. John must know. A man does not keep the +news of a serious love affair from his best friend. Some day, when John +knew her well enough, he might speak, delicately, of that lost romance. +Yes. She would have to cultivate John. + +Luckily, John was easily cultivated. He had been quite charming to her +from the very first. He thought of her comfort continually, almost too +continually--but that, no doubt, was medical fussiness. He insisted, +for instance, upon putting wraps about her shoulders after dewfall and +refused to believe that she never caught cold. Only last night he had +left early saying that she must get her beauty sleep so as to be fresh +for the reception. + +"One would think," she had said, sauntering with him to the gate, "that +the guests might decide to eat me instead of the ices. Why do you all +expect me to quake and shiver? They can't really do anything to me, I +suppose?" + +"Do?" The doctor was absent-minded. "Do? Oh, they can do things all +right. But," with quite unnecessary emphasis, "their worst efforts +won't be a patch on the things you will do to them. Why, you'll add ten +years to the age of everyone over twenty and make the others feel like +babes in arms. You'll raise all their vibrations to boiling point and +remain yourself as cool and pulseless as--as you are now." + +Desire was surprised, but she was reasonable. + +"If you can tell me why my vibrations should raise themselves," she +said, "I will see what can be done." + +The doctor had gone home gloomily. + +"He is really very moody, for a doctor," thought Desire, as she +sauntered back through the dusk. "It seems to me that he needs cheering +up." + +Then she probably forgot him, for certainly no thought of his +gloominess disturbed her beauty sleep. A fresher or more glowing bride +had never gathered flowers for her own reception. She had carried them +into all the rooms; careless for once of their cool aloofness; making +them welcome her whether they would or not. Then, as the stir of +preparation ceased and the house sank into perfumed quiet, she had +slipped back into her own pink and grey room for a breathing space +before it was time to dress. + +At Aunt Caroline's earnest request she had taken Yorick with her. +"For," said Aunt Caroline, "I refuse to receive guests with that bird +within hearing distance. The things he says are bad enough but I have a +feeling that he knows many things which he hasn't said yet. And people +are sensitive. Only the other day when old Mrs. Burton was calling him +'Pretty Pol,' he burst into that dreadful laugh of his and told her to +'Shake a leg'! How the creature happened to know about the scandal of +her early youth I can't say. But it is quite true that she did dance on +the stage. She grew quite purple when that wretched bird threw it up to +her." + +Desire had laughed and promised to sequestrate Yorick for the +afternoon. He had taken the insult badly and was now muttering protests +to himself with throaty noises which exploded occasionally in bursts of +bitter laughter. + +It was too early to dress for another hour but already the dress lay +ready on the bed. Desire had chosen it with care. She had no +wedding-dress. Bridal white would have seemed--well, dangerously near +the humorous. She would have feared that half-smile with which Spence +was wont to appreciate life's pleasantries. But the gown upon the bed +was the last word in smartness and charm. In color it was like pale +sunlight through green water. It was both cool and bright. Against it, +her warm, white skin glowed warmer and whiter; her leaf-brown hair +showed more softly brown. Its skirt was daintily short and beneath it +would show green stockings that shimmered, and slippers that were +vanity. + +Desire sat in the window seat and allowed herself to be quite happy. +"If I could just sit here forever," she mused. "If someone could +enchant me, just as I am, with the sun warm on the tips of my toes and +this little wind, so full of flowers, cool upon my face. If I need +never again hear anything save the drone of sleepy bees, the chirping +of fat robins and the hum of a lawn-mower--" + +She sat up suddenly. Who could be mowing the west lawn in the heat of +the day? Desire, forgetting about the enchantment, leaned out to see. +Surely it couldn't be? And yet it certainly was. The lawn-mower man +displayed the heated countenance of the bridegroom him-self. + +"What is he thinking of?" groaned Desire. "He will make himself a +rag--a perfect rag. I wonder Aunt Caroline allows it." + +But Aunt Caroline was presumably occupied elsewhere. No one came to +prevent the ragmaking of the professor, and Desire, after watching for +a moment, raised her finger and gave the little searching call which +had been their way of finding each other in the woods at Friendly Bay. + +The professor stopped instantly, leaving the lawn-mower exactly where +it was, in the middle of a swath. With an answering wave he crossed to +the west room window and, with an ease which surprised his audience, +drew his long slimness up the pillar of the porch and clambered over +the railing into the small balcony. + +"I can't come in by the front door," he explained, "on account of my +boots. And I can't come in by the back door on account of Extra Help. I +intended getting in eventually by the cellarway, but, if you want me, +that would take too long. Besides, I wanted to show you how neatly I +can shin up a post." + +He smiled at her cheerfully. He was damp and flushed, but much brisker +than Desire had thought. He did not look at all raglike. For the first +time since their homecoming she seemed to see him with clear eyes. And +she found him changed. He was younger. Some of the lines had smoothed +out of his forehead. His face showed its cheekbones less sharply and +his hair dipped charmingly, like an untidy boy's. His shirt was open at +the throat. He did not look like a professor at all. Desire momentarily +experienced what Dr. John had called a "heightening of vibration." + +"Anything that I can do," offered he helpfully. + +"The best thing will be to stop doing," suggested Desire. "Don't you +know that you're accessory to a reception this afternoon? Of course you +are only the host, but it looks better to have the host unwilted." + +"Like the salad? I hadn't thought of that. In fact I'm afraid I haven't +been giving the matter serious attention. I must consult my secretary. +How else should a host look?" + +"He should look happy." + +Benis noted this on his cuff. + +"Yes?" + +Desire's eyes began to sparkle. + +"If he is a bridegroom, as well as a host, he should be careful to look +often at the bride." + +"No chance," said Spence gloomily. "Not with the mob that's coming." + +"Above all, he looks after his least attractive lady guests. And he +never on any account slips away for a smoke with a stray gentleman +friend." + +The professor's gloom lightened. "Is there going to be a stray +gentleman friend? Did old Bones promise?" + +Desire nodded triumphantly. + +"First time in captivity," murmured Spence. "How on earth did you +manage it?" + +"I simply asked him!" + +"As easy as that?" + +They both laughed as happy people laugh at merest nonsense. + +"Ha! Ha! Ha!" shrieked Yorick. "Go to it, give 'em hell!" + +"I don't wonder Aunt Caroline dreads him," said Desire. "His experience +seems to have been lurid." + +"Kiss her, you flat-foot, kiss her," shrieked the ribald Yorick. + +"Sorry, old man," said Spence regretfully. "It's against the rules to +kiss one's secretary." + +Again they both laughed. But was it fancy, or was this laugh a trifle +less spontaneous than the other? "Gracious!" said Desire, suddenly in a +hurry, "I've hardly left myself time to dress." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +It may be said with fairness that the reception given by Miss Campion +for her nephew's bride left Bainbridge thoughtful. They had expected +the bride to be different, and they had found her to be different from +what they had expected. They could not place her; and, in Bainbridge, +everyone is placed. + +"I understood," said Mrs. T. L. Lawson, whose word in intellectual +matters was final, "that young Mrs. Spence was wholly uneducated. A +school teacher who met her on the train told my dressmaker that she had +heard her admit the fact with her own lips. So, naturally, not wishing +to embarrass a newcomer, I confined my remarks to the simplest matters. +She did not say very much but I must confess--you will scarcely believe +it--I actually got the impression that she was accommodating her +conversation to me." + +"Oh, surely not!" from a shocked chorus. + +"It is just a manner she affects," comforted Mrs. Burton Holmes. "Far, +far too assured, in my opinion, for a young bride. I hope it does not +denote a certain lack of fine feeling. In a girl who had been brought +up to an assured social position, such a manner might be understood. +But--well, all I can say is that I heard from my friend Marion Walford +yesterday, and she assured me that Mrs. Spence is quite unknown in +Vancouver society. But, of course, dear Marion knows only the very +smartest people. For myself I do not allow these distinctions to affect +me. If only for dear Miss Campion's sake I determined to be perfectly +friendly. But I felt that, in justice to everybody, it might be well +for her to know that we know. So I asked her, casually, if she were +well acquainted with the Walfords. At first she looked as if she had +never heard of them, and then--'Oh, do you mean the soap people?' she +said. 'I don't know them--but one sees their bill-boards everywhere.' +It was almost as if--" + +"Oh--absurd!" echoed the chorus. "Though if she is really English," +ventured one of them, "she might, you know. The English have such a +horror of trade." + +These social and educational puzzles were as nothing to the religious +problem. Bainbridge, who had seen Desire more or less regularly at +church, had taken for granted that in this respect, at least, she was +even as they were. But, after the reception, Mrs. Pennington thought +not. + +"I felt quite worried about our pretty bride," said Mrs. Pennington. +"You know how we all hoped that when the dear professor married he +would become more orthodox. Science is so unsettling. And married men +so often do. But--" she sighed. + +"Surely not a free thinker?" ventured one in a subdued whisper. + +"Or a Christian Scientist?" with equal horror. + +Mrs. Pennington intimated that she had not yet sufficient data to +decide. "But," she added, solemnly, "she is not a. Presbyterian." + +"She goes to church." + +"Yes. She was quite frank about that. She did not scruple to say that +she goes to please Miss Campion and because 'it is all so new.'" + +"New?" + +"Exactly what I said to her. I said, 'New?' My dear, what you do +mean--new?' And she tipped her eyebrows in that oriental way she has +and said, 'Why, just new. I have never been to church, you know!'" + +"Oh, impossible--in this country!" + +"Yes, imagine it! Perhaps she saw my disapproval for she added, 'We had +a prayer-book in the house, though.' As if it were quite the same +thing." + +One of the more optimistic members of the chorus thought that this +might show some connection with the Church of England. But Mrs. +Pennington shook her head. + +"Hardly, I think. Her language was not such as to encourage such a +hope. The very next thing she said to me was, 'Don't you think the +prayer-book is lovely?'" + +"Oh!--not really?" + +"I admit I was shocked. I am not," said Mrs. Pennington, "a Church of +England woman. But I am broad-minded, I hope. And I have more respect +for ANY sacred work than to speak of it as 'lovely.' In fact, in all +kindness, I must say that I fear the poor child is a veritable heathen." + +This conclusion was felt to be sound, logically, but without great +practical significance. The veritable heathen persisted in church-going +to such an extent that she tired out several of the most orthodox and +it was rumored that she even went so far as to discuss the sermon +afterward. "Just as if," said Mrs. Pennington, "it were a lecture or a +play or something." + +As a matter of fact, Desire was intensely interested in sermons. She +had so seldom heard any that the weekly doling out of truth by the Rev. +Mr. McClintock had all the fascination of a new experience. Mr. +McClintock was of the type which does not falter in its message. He had +no doubts. He had thought out every possible spiritual problem as a +young man and had seen no reason for thinking them out a second time. +What he had accepted at twenty, he believed at sixty, with this +difference that while at twenty some of his conclusions had caused him +sleepless nights, at sixty they were accepted with complacency. No +questioning pierced the hard enamel of his assurance. He saw no second +side to anything because he never turned it over. He had a way of +saying "I believe" which was absolutely final. + +Desire had been collecting Mr. McClintock's beliefs carefully. They +fascinated her. She often woke up in the night thinking of them, +wondering at their strange diversity and speculating as to the ultimate +discovery of some missing piece which might make them all fit in. It +was because she was afraid of missing this master-bit that she went to +church so regularly. + +The Sunday after the reception was exceptionally hot. It was +exceptionally dusty too, for Bainbridge tolerated no water carts on +Sunday. It was one of those Sundays when people have headaches. Aunt +Caroline had a head-ache. She felt that it would be most unwise to +venture out. She even suggested that, no doubt, Desire had a headache, +too. + +"But I haven't," said that downright young person, looking provokingly +cool and energetic. Her husband groaned. + +"Don't look at me," he said hastily. "My excuse is not hallowed by +antiquity like Aunt's but it is equally effective. I have to go down to +the cellar to make ice-cream." + +This, as Desire knew, was perfectly legitimate. No ice-cream of any +kind could be bought in Bainbridge on Sunday. Therefore a certain +proportion of the population had to descend into its cellars and make +it. It was even possible to tell, if one were curious, how many +families were going to have ice-cream for dinner by counting the empty +seats at morning service. Nearly all of the more prominent families +owned freezers while many of those who were freezerless did not go to +church, anyway. From which it would seem that, in Bainbridge at least, +the righteous had prospered. + +On this hot morning, therefore, Desire collected Mr. McClintock's +belief alone. It was an especially puzzling one, having to do with the +origin and meaning of pain and founded upon the text, "Whom the Lord +loveth he chasteneth." + +"There is a tendency among modern translators," began Mr. McClintock, +"a tendency which I deplore, to render the word 'chasteneth' as +'teacheth or directeth.' This rendering, in my opinion, is regrettably +lax. We will therefore confine our attention to the older version. It +is my belief that...." + +Desire listened attentively to a lengthy and blood-curdling exposition +of this belief and was still in the daze which followed the hearty +singing of the doxology on top of it when the assistant Sunday School +Superintendent asked her to take a class. He was a very hot assistant +and a very hurried one. Even while he spoke to Desire his eye wandered +past her to some of his flock who were escaping by the church door. + +"Do take a class, Mrs. Spence," he urged. + +"Do you mean teach one?" asked Desire. "I'm sorry, but I don't know +how." + +"Beg pardon? Oh, but of course you do. It is only for today. We are so +short. You will do splendidly, I'm sure. They are very little girls and +it's in the Old Testament." + +"But I don't--" + +"Oh, that will be quite all right. It's Moses. Quite easy." + +"I have never--" + +"It doesn't matter, really. Just the plain story, you know. I find +myself the best way is to adopt a cheerful, conversational manner and +keep them from asking questions. At that age they never ask the right +ones. Stump you every time if you're not careful. Give them the facts. +They'll understand them later." + +"I don't understand them myself," objected Desire. But by this time the +assistant's eye was quite distracted. + +"So very good of you," he murmured, "if you will come this way--" + +Desire went that way and presently found herself seated in the Sunday +School room in a blazing bar of sunlight and facing a row of small +Bainbridgers, surprisingly brisk and wide-awake considering the weather. + +"We usually have our boys' and girls' classes separate," explained the +assistant. "But this is a mixed class as you see." + +Desire saw that the mixture consisted of a very round boy in a very +stiff sailor suit. + +"Now children, Mrs. Spence is going to tell you about Moses. Mrs. +Spence is a newcomer. We must make her welcome and show her how well +behaved we are." + +"I'm not," volunteered an angel-faced child with an engaging smile. + +"I got a lickin' on Friday," added the round boy, who as sole member of +his sex felt that he must stand up for it. + +The assistant shook a finger at them cheerfully and hurried away. + +Desire became the focus of all eyes and a watchful dumbness settled +down upon them like a pall. Frantically she tried to remember her +instructions. But never had a light conversational manner seemed more +difficult to attain. + +"I hope," she faltered, seeking for a sympathetic entry, "that your +regular teacher is not ill?" + +The row of inquiring eyes showed no intelligence. + +"Is she?" asked Desire, looking directly at the child opposite. + +"Ma says she only thinks she is," said the child. The row rustled +pleasantly. + +"I understand," went on Desire hastily, "that we are to talk about +Moses. How many here can tell me anything about Moses?" + +The row of eyes blinked. But Moses might have been a perfect stranger +for any sign of recognition from their owners. + +"Moses," went on Desire, "was a very remarkable man. In his age he +seems even more remarkable--" + +A small hand shot up and an injured voice inquired: "Please, teacher, +don't we have the Golden Text?" + +"I suppose we do." There was evidently some technique here of which the +hurried assistant had not informed her. "We will have it now. What is +the Golden Text?" + +Nobody seemed to know. + +"I don't see how we can have it, if you don't know it," said Desire +mildly. + +Another hand shot up. "Please teacher, you say it first." + +There was also, then, an established order of precedence. + +"I don't know it, either," said Desire. + +This might have precipitated a deadlock. But, fortunately, the row did +not believe her. They smiled stiffly. Their smile revealed more clearly +than anything else how unthinkable it was for a teacher not to know the +Golden Text. Desire, in desperation, remembered the paper-covered +"Quarterly" which the assistant had put into her hands and, with a +flash of inspiration, decided that what the children wanted was +probably there. She opened it feverishly and was delighted to discover +"Golden Text" in large letters on the first page she looked at. She +read hastily. + +"And thou Bethlehem in the land of Juda--" + +A whole row of hands shot up. "Please teacher, that was last +Christmas!" announced the class reproachfully. + +With shame Desire noticed that the lessons in the Quarterly were dated. +But she was regaining something of her ordinary poise. + +"You ought to know it, even if it is," she remarked firmly. This was +more according to Hoyle. The little boy's hand answered it. + +"'Tain't review Sunday, teacher." + +Teacher decided to ignore this. "Very well," she said. "We will now +have the Golden Text for today. Who will say it first? I will give you +a start--'As Moses--'" + +"As Moses," piped a chorus of small voices. + +"Lifted up," prompted Desire. + +"Lifted up," shrilled the chorus. + +"Yes?" expectantly. + +The chorus was silent. + +"Well, children, go on." + +But nobody went on. + +"You don't know it," declared Desire with mild severity. "Very well. +Learn it for next Sunday. Now I am going to ask you some questions. +First of all--who was Moses?" + +She asked the question generally but her eye fell upon the one male +member who swallowed his Sunday gum-drop with a gulp. + +"Don't know his nother name," said the male member sulkily. + +Desire realized that she didn't know, either. "I did not ask you to +tell his name but something about him. Where he lived, for instance. +Where did Moses live?" Her eye swept down to the mite at the end of the +row. + +"Bulrushes!" said that infant gaspingly. + +"He was hidden among bulrushes," explained Desire, "but he couldn't +exactly live there. Does anyone know what a bulrush is?" + +The row exchanged glances and nudged each other. + +"Things you soak in coal-oil," began one. + +"To make torches at 'lections," added another. + +"Same as cat-tails," volunteered a third condescendingly. + +"Well, even if they were anything like that, he couldn't live in them, +could he?" Desire felt that she had made a point at last. + +"Could if he was a frog," offered the male member after consideration. + +To Desire's surprise the row accepted this seriously. + +"But as he was a baby and not a frog," she went on hurriedly, "he must +have lived with his mother in a house. The name of the country they +lived in was Egypt. And Egypt had a wicked King. This wicked King +ordered all the little boy babies--" She paused, appalled at the +thought of telling these infants of that long-past ruthlessness. But, +again to her surprise, the infants now showed pleasurable interest. An +excited murmur rose. + +"I like that part!" ... "Why didn't he kill the girl babies, too?" +... "Did he cut their heads right off?" ... "Did their mothers +holler?" ... While the male member offered with an air of authority, +"I 'spect he just wrung their necks." + +"Well, well! Getting along nicely, I see," said the assistant, +tiptoeing down the aisle. "I felt sure you would interest them, Mrs. +Spence. You will find our children very intelligent." + +"Very," agreed Desire. + +"They all know the Golden Text, I am sure," he continued with that +delightful manner which children dumbly hate. "Annie, you may begin." + +But Annie refused to avail herself of this privilege. Instead she +showed symptoms of tears. + +"Come, come!" chided the assistant still more delightfully. "We mustn't +be shy! Bessie, let us hear from you. 'As Moses--'" + +"As Moses." + +"Very good. Now, Eddie. 'Lifted up.'" + +"Lifted up." + +"Very good indeed. Mabel, you next. 'The ser-'" + +"I'm scared of snakes," said Mabel unexpectedly. + +"Well, well! But you are not afraid of snakes in Sunday School." + +"I'm s-cared of snakes anywhere!" wailed Mabel. + +"Oh, there is the first bell--excuse me." The relief of the assistant +was a joyful thing. "That means that you have three minutes more, Mrs. +Spence. We usually utilize these last moments for driving home the main +thought of the lesson. Very important, of course, to leave some +concrete idea--sorry, I must hurry." + +Desire felt that she must hurry, too. She hadn't even time to wonder +what a concrete idea might be. One can't wonder about anything in three +minutes. + +"Children," she began. "We haven't learned much about Moses. But the +main idea of this lesson is that he was a very good man and a great +patriot. He had been brought up in a King's palace, yet when the time +came for him to choose, he left the beautiful home of the mother who +had adopted him and went to his own people. His Own People," she +repeated slowly. "Do you understand that?" The class sat stolidly +silent. Desire's eye rested again upon the little girl with the prim +mouth. + +"Ma says 'dopting anyone's a terrible risk," said the prim one. "Like +as not they'll never say thank yuh." ... + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"And that," said Desire later in the day as she related her experiences +to the professor, "that was the idea with which I left them! I shan't +have to teach again, shall I, Benis?" + +Her husband smiled. "No. I should think more would be a superfluity." + +"They'll say I'm a heathen. I know they will. You don't realize how +serious it is. Think how your prestige will suffer." + +"It has suffered already. Only yesterday Mrs. Walkem, the laundress, +told Aunt that your--er--peculiarities were a judgment on me for +'tryin' to find out them things in folkses minds which God has hid away +a-purpose.'" + +"But I'm in earnest, Benis--more or less." + +"Let it be less, then. My dear girl, you don't really think that +Bainbridge disturbs me?" + +"N-no. But it disturbs me. A little. I am so different from all these +people, your friends. And being different is rather--lonely." + +"It is," he agreed. "But it is also stimulating." + +"I used to think," she went on, following her own thought, "that I was +different because my life was different. I thought that if I could ever +live with people, just as we live here, with everything normal and +everyday, the strangeness would drop away. But it hasn't. I am still +outside." + +"Everyone is, though you are young to realize it. Our social life is +very deceiving. Most of us wake up some day to find ourselves alone in +a desert." + +Desire swung the hammock gently with the tip of her shoe. "Is not one +ever a part of a whole?" + +"Socially, yes. Spiritually--I doubt it. It is some-thing which you +will have to decide for yourself." + +"I don't want to be alone," said Desire rebelliously. "It frightens me. +I want to have a place. I want to fit in. But here, it seems as if I +had come too late. Every-one is fitted in already. There isn't a tiny +corner left." + +Spence's grey eyes looked at her with a curious light in their depths. + +"Wait," he said. "You haven't found your corner yet. When you do, the +rest won't matter." + +"But people do not want me. I had a horrid dream last night. I was +wandering all through Bainbridge and all the doors were open so that I +might go in anywhere. I was glad--at first. But I soon saw that my +freedom did not mean anything. No one saw me when I entered or cared +when I went away. I spoke to them and they did not answer. Then I knew +that I was just a ghost." + +"I'm another," said a cheerful voice behind them. "All my 'too, too +solid flesh' is melting rapidly. Only ice-cream can save me now!" Using +his straw hat vigorously as a fan Dr. Rogers dropped limply into an +empty chair. "Tell you a secret," he went on confidentially. "I had two +invitations to Sunday supper but neither included ice-cream. So I came +on here." + +"Very kind, I'm sure," murmured Benis. + +"How did you guess?" began Desire, and then she dimpled. "Oh, of +course,--Benis wasn't in church." + +"How did he know that?" asked Benis sharply. "He wasn't there, was he?" + +The doctor looked conscious. Desire laughed. "His presence did seem to +create a mild sensation," she admitted. + +"Well, you see," he explained, "in the summer I am often very busy--" + +"In the cellar," murmured Benis. + +"But no one happened to need me today and, besides, my freezer is +broken. This, combined with--" + +"An added attraction," sotto voce from the professor. + +"Oh, well--I went, anyway." + +"I saw you there," said Desire, ignoring their banter. "I thought you +might have gone for the sermon. The subject was one of your +specialties, wasn't it?" + +The doctor twirled his hat. + +"Better tell him what the subject was," suggested Benis unkindly. + +"Didn't you listen?" Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. "That's one of +the things I don't understand about people here. Church and church +affairs seem to play such an important part in Bainbridge. Nearly +everyone goes to some church. But no one seems at all disturbed about +what they hear there. Is it because they believe all that the minister +says, or because they don't believe any of it?" + +Her hearers exchanged an alarmed glance. + +"What do you want them to do?" said John uneasily. "Argue about it? +Besides, this morning was very exceptionally hot." + +"I don't want to be any more heathen than I have to be," went on +Desire, "but I must be terribly heathen if what Mr. McClintock said +this morning is right. He was speaking of pain, physical pain, and, he +said God sent it. I always thought," she concluded naively, "that it +came straight from the devil." + +"Healthy chap, McClintock!" said Benis lazily. "Never had anything +worse than measles and doesn't remember them." + +"What I'd like to know," said the doctor, "would be his opinion after +several weeks of--something unpleasant. He might feel more like blaming +the devil. What does he think doctors are fighting? God? By Jove, I +must have this out with McClintock! I know that, for one, I never fight +down pain without a glorious sense of giving Satan his licks." + +"But you did not even listen." + +"I'm listening now." + +"And no one else seemed to object to anything he said. I heard some of +them call it a 'beautiful discourse' and 'so helpful.'" + +Under her perplexed gaze the two Bainbridgers were clearly +uncomfortable. + +"It's because you don't really care what you hear from the pulpit," +said the girl accusingly. "You have your own beliefs and go your own +ways. Another man's views, good or bad, make no difference." + +"S-shish! 'ware Aunt Caroline!" warned the professor, but Desire was +too absorbed to heed. + +"Why, if one actually believed half of what was said this morning," she +went on, "the world would be a beautiful garden with half its lovely +things forbidden. 'Don't touch the flowers' and 'Keep off the grass' +would be everywhere. It seems such a waste, if God made so many happy +things and then doesn't like it if people are too happy." + +"Not many of us suffer from too much happiness," muttered Benis. + +"Or too much health," echoed the doctor. "I'd like to tell McClintock +that if people would expect more health, they'd get more. The ordinary +person expects ill-ness. They have a 'disease complex'--that's in your +line, Benis. But just supposing they could change the idea--Eh? +Supposing everybody began to look for health--just take it, you know, +as a God-intended right? I'd lose half my living in a fortnight." + +"John Rogers!" Aunt Caroline's voice fell with the effect of sizzling +hailstones upon the fire of John's enthusiasm. "If you must talk +heresy, there are other places beside my garden to do it in." + +"I was merely saying--" + +"I heard what you were saying. And although it takes a great deal to +surprise me, I am surprised. Such doctrines I consider most dangerous, +highly so. If you are thinking of setting up as a faith healer, the +sooner we know it the better. Desire, my dear, you might see Olive +about tea. Tell her not to forget the lemon. I do not know what I have +done to deserve a maid called Olive," she sighed, "but the only +alternative was Gladys. And Gladys I could not endure. As for illness, +I am surprised at you, John Rogers. I was not in church owing to a +severe headache, but I know the sermon. It is one of Mr. McClintock's +very best. If you had not gone to sleep in the middle of the first +point you would have heard the mystery of pain beautifully explained. A +wonderful preacher. If he wouldn't click his teeth." + +The professor shuddered. + +"Benis acts so foolishly about it," went on Aunt Caroline. "He insists +that the clicking makes him ill. But why should it? At the same time, +if one of the Elders were to suggest, tactfully, to Mr. McClintock that +he have the upper set tightened it might be well. It would at least" +(with grimness) "do away with the trivial excuses of some people for +not attending Divine service." + +Her graceless nephew was understood to murmur something about "too hot +to fight." + +"As for Mr. McClintock's ideas," pursued Aunt Caroline, "they are quite +beautiful. The first time he gave the deathbed description which +comprises part of this morning's discourse he had us all in tears. I +mean all of us who were sufficiently awake to realize the fact that it +was a deathbed. His description of the last agony has clearly lost +nothing in poignancy, for Desire came home quite pale. I wonder if you +have noticed, Benis, that Desire is looking somewhat less robust? +Doctor, now that she is not here--" + +"Now that she is not here, we will not discuss her," said Spence firmly. + +"Indeed! And may I ask why you wish to stop me, Benis? I am speaking to +a qualified medical man, am I not? But there," with resignation, "I +never can expect to understand the present generation. So lax on one +hand, so squeamish on the other. Surely it is perfectly proper that I, +her Aunt--oh, very well, Benis, if you are determined to be silly." + +"Now with regard to the Rev. McClintock," put in the doctor hastily. +"Do you really think that he is sufficiently in touch with modern views +to--to--oh, dash it! what was I saying?" + +"You were interrupting me when I was telling Benis--" + +"Oh yes. I remember. We were talking about new ideas. And you suggested +heresy. But you must remember that, in my profession, new ideas are not +called heresy--except when they are very new. What would you think of +me if I doctored exactly as my father did before me?" + +"When you are half as capable as your father, young man, I may discuss +that with you." + +"One for you!'' said Benis gleefully. + +"Well, leaving me out then, and speaking generally, why should a +physician search continually for fresh wisdom, while a minister--" + +"Beware, young man!" Aunt Caroline raised an affrighted hand. "Beware +how you compare your case with that of a minister of the Gospel. That +further wisdom is needed in the practice of medicine, anyone who has +ever employed a doctor is well aware. But where is he who dare add one +jot to Divine revelation?" + +"No one is speaking of adding anything. But surely, in the matter of +interpretation, an open mind is a first essential?" + +"In the matter of interpretation," said Aunt Caroline grandly, "we have +our ordained ministers. How do you feel," she added shrewdly, "toward +quacks and healers who, without study or training, call themselves +doctors? Do you say, 'Let us display an open mind'?" + +"Time!" said Benis, who enjoyed his relative hugely--when she was +disciplining someone else. "Here comes Desire with the tea." + +"What I really came out to say, Benis," resumed Aunt Caroline, "is that +I have just had a long distance call--Desire, my dear, cream or +lemon?--a long distance call from Toronto where, I fear, such things +are allowed on Sunday--Doctor, you like lemon, I think?--a call in fact +from Mary Davis. You remember her, Benis? Such a sweet girl. She is +feeling a little tired and would like to run down here for a rest. +Desire, my dear, have you any plans with which this would interfere? I +said that I would consult you and let her know. You are very careless +with your plate, Benis. That Spode can never be replaced." + +Fortunately her anxiety for the family heirloom absorbed Aunt +Caroline's whole attention. If she noticed her nephew's look of +anguished guilt and his friend's politely raised brows she ascribed it +to his carelessness in balancing china. Desire's downcast eyes and +stiffened manner she did not notice at all. + +"Well, my dear, what do you say? Shall we invite Mary?" + +"It depends on Benis, of course," said Desire quietly. + +"Benis? What has Benis to do with it? Not but that he enjoyed having +her here last time well enough. It is the privilege of the mistress of +the house to choose her guests. I hope you will not be slack in +claiming your privileges. They are much harder to obtain than one's +rights. My dear sister was careless. She allowed Benis's father to do +just as he pleased. Be warned in time." + +"Do you wish Miss Davis to visit us, Benis?" Desire's hands were busy +with her teacup. Her eyes were still lowered. + +"I have no wishes whatever in the matter," said the professor with what +might be considered admirable detachment. + +"Tell Miss Davis we shall be delighted, Aunt," said Desire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +Time, in quiet neighborhoods, like water in a pool, slips in and out +leaving the pool but little changed. Only when one is waiting for +something dreaded or desired do the days drag or hasten. Miss Davis was +to arrive upon the Friday following her telephone invitation. That left +Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Desire found them very long. + +Nothing more had been said of the personality of the expected visitor. +Desire did not ask, because she felt sure that, when she had seen, she +would know without asking. At present there was little enough to go +upon. The guest's name was Mary. Her hair was yellow. She had visited +in Bainbridge before. She and Benis had been friends. Beyond this there +was nothing save the professor's carelessness with the family Spode--an +annoying device for diverting attention in moments of embarrassment. + +Against this circumstantial evidence there was the common-sense +argument that the real Mary of the professor's romance would hardly be +likely, under the circumstances, to propose herself as his aunt's guest. + +Desire was inclined to take the common-sense view. Especially as just +about this time she came upon the track of another Mary, also with +yellow hair, who presented possibilities. The most suspicious thing +about this second Mary was that neither the professor nor his friend +Dr. Rogers had been able to tell Desire her first name. Now in +Bainbridge everyone knows the first name of everyone else. One does not +use it, necessarily, but one knows it. So that when Desire, having one +day noticed a gleam of particularly golden hair, asked innocently to +"whom it might belong" and was met by a plain surname prefixed merely +by "Miss," she became instantly curious. From other sources she learned +that the golden-haired Miss Watkins had been employed as a nurse in Dr. +Rogers' office for several months and that her Christian name was Mary +Sophia. + +This also, you will see, was not much to build upon. But Desire felt +that she must neglect nothing. The menace of the unseen, unknown Mary +was beginning seriously to disturb her peace of mind. She determined to +see the doctor's pretty nurse at the earliest opportunity. + +The comradeship between herself and Rogers had prospered amazingly. She +had liked the young doctor at first sight; had discerned in him +something charmingly boylike and appealing. And Desire had never had +boy friends. The utter frankness of her friendship was undisturbed by +overmuch knowledge of her own attractions, and the possibility of less +contentment on his side did not occur to her. Feeling herself so much +older, in reality, than he, she assumed with delicious naivete, the +role of confidant and general adviser. What time she could spare from +Benis and the great Book she bestowed most generously upon his friend. + +During the four dragging days of waiting the appearance of Miss Davis, +she had found the distraction of Dr. John's company particularly +helpful. And then, after all, Miss Davis did not arrive. Instead, there +came a note regretting a very bad cold and postponing the visit until +its indefinite recovery. The news came at the breakfast table. + +"How long," asked Desire thoughtfully, "does a bad cold usually last?" + +"Not long--if it's just a cold," answered Benis with some gloom. "But," +more hopefully, "if it is tonsillitis it lasts weeks and if pneumonia +sets in you have to stay indoors for months." + +Aunt Caroline looked over her spectacles. + +"You sound," she said, "as if you wish it were pneumonia." + +But in this she was, perhaps, severe. Her nephew was really not capable +of wishing pneumonia for anyone, not even a possible Nemesis by the +name of Mary. He merely felt that if such a complication should +supervene he would bear the news with fortitude. For, speaking +colloquially, the professor was finding himself very much "in the air." +Desire's mind upon the subject of this guest in particular and of Marys +in general, had become clouded to his psychological gaze. He had +thought at first that his young secretary was jealous with that +harmless sex jealousy which may almost as well be described as "pique." +But, of late, he had not felt so sure about it. He did not, in fact, +feel quite so sure about any-thing. + +Desire was changing. He had expected her to change, but the rapidity of +it was somewhat breath-taking. In appearance she had become noticeably +younger. The firm line of her lips had taken on softer curves; the warm +white of her skin was bloomy like a healthy child's; shadow after +shadow had lifted from her deep grey eyes. But it was in her manner +that the most significant difference lay. Spence sometimes wondered if +he had dreamed the silent Desire of the mountain cottage. That Desire +had stood coldly alone; had listened and weighed and gone her own way +with the hard confidence of too early maturity. This Desire listened +and weighed still, but her confidence was often now replaced by +questioning. In this new and more normal world, her unserved, +unsatisfied youth was breaking through. + +But, if she were younger, she was certainly not more simple. If the +grey eyes were less shadowed, they were no less inscrutable. If the +lips were softer, their serenity was as baffling as their sternness had +been. If she seemed more plastic she was not less illusive. Nimble as +were his mental processes, the professor was discomfited to find that +hers were still more nimble. + +Meanwhile the Book was getting on. No excursions into the land of youth +were allowed to interfere with Desire's idea of her secretarial duties. +If anyone shirked, it was the author; if anyone wanted holidays it was +he. If he were lazy, Desire found ways of making progress without him; +if he grumbled, she laughed. + +The day set apart for the arrival of Miss Davis had been voted a +holiday and the professor hoped that her non-appearance would not +interfere with so pleasant an arrangement. But Desire's ideas were +quite otherwise. Sharply on time she descended to the library with her +note-book ready. The professor felt injured. + +"Must we really?" he said. "Yes. I see we must. But mind! I know why +you are doing it. I thought of your reason in the night when I was +unable to sleep from overwork. You are hurrying to get through so that +we may leave this sleepy town. Insatiable window-gazer! You wish to +look in bigger windows." + +"Do I?" Desire turned limpid eyes upon him and tapped her note-book. +"Then the sooner we get on with this chapter on 'The Significance of +the Totem' the better. But, if you can excuse me this afternoon, Dr. +John has just 'phoned to ask me if I can call on the eldest Miss +Martin. He says that her state of mind is her greatest trouble. And it +does not react to medicine." + +The professor looked still more injured. + +"We can't begin the totem chapter unless we are going to go on with +it," he objected. "I don't see why John doesn't get a secretary of his +own." + +"He has a nurse," said Desire smoothly. + +"Er--oh yes, of course. Well, perhaps we had better begin--but why does +he want you to call on Miss Martin?" + +Desire looked self-conscious, a rare thing for her. "Well, you see, I +have an idea about Miss Martin. It may be entirely wrong but John +thinks it worth trying. You knew that her fiance was killed just before +the armistice, didn't you? John says she seemed stunned at the time but +kept on, the way most women did. She helped him fight the 'flu' all +that winter without taking it her-self. But she was one of the first to +come down with it when it returned this Spring. She got through the +worst--and there she stays. John says that if she doesn't begin to pick +up soon there won't be enough of her left to bother about." + +"And your idea?" + +"You might laugh," said Desire with sudden shyness. + +The professor promised not to laugh. + +"My idea is this. To find out the real reason for her not getting +better and treat that." + +"Very simple." + +"Yes, because John already knows the real cause. He says she doesn't +get well because she doesn't want to. In the old days people would say +her heart was broken. And it seems such a pity, because, if what +everyone says is true, she would have been frightfully unhappy if she +had married him. (Desire became slightly incoherent here.) They weren't +suited at all. He was a musician, a derelict who hadn't a thought in +the world for anything but his violin. Aunt Caroline says the +engagement was a mystery to everyone. She says that probably Miss +Martin just offered to take him in hand and look after him (she used to +be very capable) and he hadn't backbone enough to say she couldn't. +They say that the only time anyone ever saw a gleam in his face was the +day he went away to the war. Then he was killed. And now she won't get +well because she can't forget him." + +"And that is what you call a 'pity'?" + +"Well, not exactly that." She hesitated. "If he had cared for her as +she thought he did, it wouldn't seem such a waste. But he didn't. +Everybody knew it--except herself." + +"Everybody may have been wrong." + +"Yes. But that is just the point. They weren't. He died as he had lived +without a thought for anything but music. I happened to hear a rather +wonderful story about his dying. Sergeant Timms, who drives the baker's +cart, was in the next cot to his, in the hospital. And my idea is that +if he could just tell her the story--just let her see that he went away +without a thought--she might get things in proportion again and let +herself get well." + +"I see. Well, my dear, it is your idea. Is John going to drive you out?" + +"No. He wanted to. But I'll have to find the Sergeant and take him with +me." + +"In the baker's cart?" + +"What a good idea! I would never have thought of that. And I've always +wanted to ride in a baker's cart. They smell so crusty." + +So it was really the professor's fault that Bainbridge was scandalized +by the sight of young Mrs. Spence jogging comfortably along through the +outskirts in a bread cart driven by the one-time Sergeant Edward Timms. + +"And him so silly with havin' her," said Mrs. Beatty (who first noticed +them), "that he didn't know a French roll from a currant bun." + +Indeed we may as well admit that the gallant Sergeant confused more +things that day than rolls and buns. The latter part of his orderly +bread route was strewn thickly with indignant customers. For the +Sergeant was a thoroughgoing fellow quite incapable of a divided +interest. + +"You can tell me the details of the story as we go along," Desire said, +"so that I shan't be interrupting your work at all." + +The dazzled Sergeant agreed and immediately delivered two whites +instead of one brown and forgot the tickets. + +"Well, you see," he said, "it was this way. We went over there +together, him and me. And we hadn't known each other, so to speak, not +intimate. You didn't know him yourself at all, did you?" + +Desire shook her head. + +"He was a queer one. Willin' as could be to do what he was told, but +forgettin' what it was, regular. Just naturally no good, like, except +with the fiddle. I will say, that with that there instrument he was a +Paderwooski--yes, mam! By the time our outfit got into them trenches +the boys was just clean dippy about him. They kind of took turns +dry-nursin' him and remindin' him of the things he'd got to do, and +doin' them for him when they could put it over. I'll tell you +this--it's my private suspicion that more than one chap went west +tryin' to keep the bullets offen him! Not that they were crazy about +him exactly, but that fiddle of his had got them goin'. 'Twasn't only +the fiddle he played on, either. Anything would do. That there chap +could play you into any kind of dashed mood he liked and out of it +again. Put more pep into you with a penny whistle than Sousy's band or +a bottle of rum. Ring you out like a dishrag, he could, and hang you +out to dry. Gee! He could do anything--just anything!" + +(It was here that the bun episode occurred.) + +"Well,--he got buried. Parapet blown in. And when they got him out he +was--hurt some." (The Sergeant remembered that one must not shock the +ladies.) + +"That was all I would have known about it," he went on, "only we happen +to turn up in hospital together. I wakes up one mornin' and finds him +in the next cot. He was supposed to be recoverin' but was somehow +botchin' the job. + +"'Where's the fiddle?' I says to him one day when I was feelin' social. +And then, all of a minute, I guessed why he wasn't patchin' up like +what was his duty. You see, that b-blessed parapet hadn't had any more +sense than to go and spoil his right arm for him--the one he fiddled +with, see?" + +(Here the Sergeant delivered one brick loaf instead of two sandwich +ditto.) + +"Well, they kept sayin' there weren't any reason he shouldn't mend up. +But he didn't. And one night--" the Sergeant pulled up the cart so +quickly that Desire almost fell out of it. "You won't believe this +part," he said in a kind of shamefaced way. + +"Try me." + +"Well then, one night he called to me in a kind of clear whisper. +'Bob!' he says, 'I've got my fiddle!' + +"'Sure you have, old cock,' says I. + +"'And my arm's as good as ever,' says he. + +"'Sure it is! Better,' says I. + +"'Listen!' says he. + +"And I listened and--but you won't believe this part--" + +"I will." + +"Well, I heared him playin'! Not loud--not very near but so clear not +one of the littlest, tinkly notes was lost. I never heard playin' like +that--no, mam! And the ward was still. I never heard the ward still, +like that. I think I went to sleep listenin'. I don't know." + +The Sergeant broke off here long enough to deliver several orders--all +wrong. Desire waited quietly and presently he finished with a jerk. + +"When I woke up in the mornin', I was feelin' fine--fine. The first +thing I did was to look over to the next cot. But there was a screen +around it.... I ain't told the story to his folks because he hasn't +got any," he added after a pause. "And I kind of thought it mightn't +comfort his fiancy any--it not bein' personal, so to speak." + +Desire frankly wiped her eyes. (It was fortunate that no one saw her do +this.) + +"It's a beautiful story," she said. + +"Well, if you think I ought to tell, I will. But if his fiancy says, +'Was there any message?' hadn't I best put in a little one--somethin' +comforting?" + +"Oh--no." + +"All right. Couldn't I just say that at the end he called out +'Amelia!'?" + +"Oh, Mr. Timms!" + +"Not quite playin' the game, eh? Well, then I won't. But it does seem +kind of skimp like.... There's the doctor waitin' at the gate." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +It seemed to Desire, waiting in the garden, that the Sergeant was +taking an unnecessarily long time in telling his story. She had thought +it best that he should be left alone to tell it, so the doctor had gone +on to visit another patient, promising to call for her as he came back. + +Desire waited. And, as she waited, she thought. And, as she thought, +she questioned. What had Benis meant when he had said, in that +whimsical way of his, "Well, my dear, it is your idea"? If he had not +approved of it, why hadn't he said so? It had seemed such a sensible +idea. An idea of which anyone might approve.... Why also had +Sergeant Timms been so reluctant to approach Miss Martin with the bare +(and, Desire thought, beautiful) truth? Because he feared it would rob +her of an illusion? But illusions are surely something which people are +better without?--aren't they? + +The Sergeant came at last, twirling his cap and looking hot. + +"Well?" asked Desire nervously. + +"She'd like you to go in, Mrs. Spence, if you can spare the time. She +took it quite quiet. 'Thank you, Sergeant,' says she. And never a +question." + +The two looked at each other and Desire saw her own doubt plainly +reflected upon the honest gaze of Robert Timms. + +"I'll go in," she said. "The doctor will take me home." + +In the invalid's room there was only quietness. Miss Martin sat in her +chair by the window; her plain, thin face had not sought to turn from +the searching light. Desire felt her heart begin to beat with the +beginnings of an understanding as new as it was revealing. + +"Don't be sorry," Miss Martin's reassurance was instant. "I am glad to +know.... I always did know, anyway ... and it did not make any +difference ... If you can understand." + +Desire nodded. "He must have been very wonderful," she said. In that +new and nameless understanding she forgot that only that morning she +had referred to the dead musician as a "derelict" and "no good for +anything." + +"Yes," said the invalid musing. "Not quite like the rest of us. And I +see now that he never would have been. I used to think--but the +difference was too deep. It was fundamental.... I feel ... as if +he knew it ... and just wandered on." + +"But you?" Desire ventured this almost timidly. The quietness seemed to +intensify in the room. Then the invalid's voice, serene, distant. + +"I? ... There is no hurry.... He has his fiddle, you see...." +Miss Martin smiled and the smile held no bitterness. So might a mother +have smiled over a thoughtless child who turns away from a love he is +too young to value. + +Desire was silent. + +"I did not know love was like that," she said after a long pause. "But +perhaps I do not know anything about love at all." + +The older woman looked at her with quiet scrutiny. + +"You will," she said. + +After that they talked of other things until the doctor came to take +Desire home. + +"Queer thing," he said as he threw in the clutch, "I believe she looks +a little better already. That was an excellent idea of yours." + +"It was anything but an excellent idea." Desire's tone was taut with +emotional reaction. "Fortunately, it did no harm. But I don't know what +you were thinking of to allow it." + +"Allow it?" In surprised injury. + +Desire did not take up the challenge. She was looking, he thought, +unusually excited. There was faint color on her cheek. Her hands, +generally so quiet, clasped and unclasped her handbag with an +irritating click. Being a wise man, Rogers waited until the clicking +had subsided. Then, "What's the matter?" he asked mildly. + +"John," said Desire, "do you know anything about love?" + +"I see you do," she added as the car leapt forward, narrowly missing a +surprised cow. "So perhaps you will laugh at my new wisdom. I learned +something to-day." + +The car was giving trouble. For a few moments its eccentricities +required its driver's undivided attention. Even when it was running +smoothly again, he appeared preoccupied. But Desire was seldom in a +hurry. She waited until he was quite ready. + +"You learned something--about love?" asked John gruffly. + +"Yes. Have you a sore throat? Your voice sounds all dusty. I used to +think," she went on dreamily, "that love was something that came from +outside. That it depended on things. But it doesn't depend on anything +and it's not outside at all." + +"And you found this out, today?" + +"Yes. I saw it, in Miss Martin. It was quite plain. What idiots we were +to pity her!" + +"Did we pity her?" + +The question was mechanical. John was not thinking of Miss Martin. He +was thinking of the faint rose upon Desire's half-turned cheek. Desire +blushing! + +"Of course we did. And we had no right. And there is no need." + +"Don't let's do it, then," said John. Out of the corner of his eye he +saw, with a quickening of his pulse, how stirred she was. And his +wonder mounted. That Desire, of the cool, grey eyes and unwarmed smile, +should speak of love at all was sufficiently amazing, but that she +should speak of it with tinted cheek was a miracle. + +Yet this, he quickly remembered, was something which he had himself +foreseen. He had never really accepted Spence's theory that early +disillusion had seriously poisoned the lifesprings natural to her age. +Her awakening had been certain. He had warned Spence that she would +wake! He felt all the exultation of a prophet who sees his prophecy +fulfilled. But common sense urged caution. To frighten her now might be +fatal. He tried to bring his mind back to Miss Martin. + +"At least," he said, "our intentions were admirable. We were trying to +help her." + +"We were being very impertinent," affirmed Desire. "Benis told me so +this morning." + +"Benis told you?" in surprise. + +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me. But I am sure he wanted to." + +This was too subtle for the doctor. There were times when he frankly +admitted his inability to bridge Desire's conversational chasms. He was +often puzzled by the things she did not say. + +"What was Benis thinking of," he said irritably, "to let you come out +in that bread cart?" + +Desire laughed. "I hope he was thinking of the Significance of the +Totem. But I'm almost sure he wasn't." + +"Does he ever think of anything but that blessed book of his?" + +"I'm afraid he does--occasionally." + +"You mean," with sharpened interest, "that he isn't quite as keen on it +as he used to be?" + +"I mean that he doesn't like me to work too hard." + +"Oh, I see. Perhaps he does not wish you to work too hard for me, +either?" + +Desire folded her hands upon her bag and looked primly into space. + +"He is a very considerate employer," she remarked mildly. "Take +care--you nearly hit that hen!" + +"Oh, d--bother the hen!" + +"And he never swears," added Desire with gentle dignity. + +They drove for a mile or so without remark and then, Desire, who had +something to say, reopened the conversation without rancour. + +"Don't be cross," she said. "As a matter of fact Benis does swear +sometimes. He is nervous, you know. I sometimes wonder if it is all due +to shell shock, or whether it is a result of his--er--other experience." + +For the second time that day the car skidded. And for the second time, +its unfortunate driver was called upon to give it his whole attention. +Desire waited. + +"I mean his former love affair," said she when conversation was again +possible. + +"His--I don't know," said John weakly. + +Desire looked sceptical. + +"Don't fancy I want to question you," she said with haughtiness. "But I +don't see how you can help knowing. You are his doctor. And his friend, +too. He must have told you. Didn't he?" + +"He mentioned something--er--that is to say--" + +"Oh, don't hesitate! Don't fancy that I mind. I don't, of course. And I +am not curious. Although any-one might be curious. I won't ask you +questions. I am only mildly interested. It is entirely for his own good +that I should like to know if she is quite as wonderful as he thinks. +Is she, John?" + +"I--I don't know," stammered the wretched John. + +Desire nodded patiently. + +"You mean you don't know how wonderful he thought her? But did you +think her very wonderful, John?" + +"No, I didn't" + +"You thought her plain?" + +"No, I--I didn't think of her at all." + +"You mean that you found her insignificant?" + +The doctor made a sound which Desire was pleased to interpret as assent. + +"I'm not surprised," said she earnestly. "Because, from the description +Benis gave, I felt sure he was exaggerating. Not that it makes any +difference, because, if he thought she was like that, what she really +was like didn't matter. That," with plaintive triumph, "is one of the +things I learned today." + +The doctor said nothing. It was the only thing which he felt it safe to +say. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +The professor was smoking under the maples by the front steps when the +car drove up. He looked very cool, very comfortable and very sure of +himself--entirely too sure of himself, in John's opinion. John, who at +the moment, felt neither cool nor comfortable, and anything but sure, +observed him with envy and pity. Envy for so obvious a content, pity +for an ignorance which made content possible. + +Spence, on his part, seemed unaware of a certain tenseness in the +attitude of both Desire and John, a symptom which might have suggested +many things to a reflective mind. + +"You look frightfully 'het up,' Bones," he said. "And your collar is +wilting. Better pause in your mad career and have some tea." + +"Thanks, can't. Office hours--see you later," jerked the doctor rapidly +as he turned his car. + +"What have you been doing to John to bring on an attack of 'office +hours' at this time of day?" asked Spence as he and Desire crossed the +lawn together. "Wasn't the great idea a success?" + +"John thinks it was." + +It was so unlike Desire to give someone else's opinion when asked for +her own that the professor said "um." + +"I suppose," she added stiffly, "it is a question of values." + +"Something for something--and a doubt as to whether one pays too dear +for the whistle? Well, don't worry about it. If you could not help, you +probably could not hurt, either.... I had a letter from Li Ho this +afternoon." + +"A letter!" Desire's swift step halted. Her eyes, wide and startled, +questioned him. "A letter from Li Ho? But Li Ho can't write--in +English." + +"Can't he? Wait until you've read it. But I shan't let you read it, if +you look like that." + +"Like what? Frightened? But I am frightened. I can't help it. I know +it's foolish. But the more I forget--the worse it is when I remember." + +"You must get over that. Sit here while I fetch the letter. Aunt is +out. I'll tell Olive to bring tea." + +Desire sat where he placed her. It was very pleasant there with the +green slope of the lawn and the cool shadow of trees. But her widely +opened eyes saw nothing of its homely peace. They saw, instead, a +curving stretch of moonlit beach and a trail which wound upwards into +thick darkness. Ever since she had broken away, that vision had haunted +her, now near and menacing, now dimmer and farther off, but always +there like a spectre of the past. + +"It hasn't let me go--it is there always--waiting," thought Desire. And +in the still warmth of the garden she shivered. + +The sense of Self, which is our proudest possession, receives some +curious shocks at times. Before the mystery of its own strange changing +the personality stands appalled. The world swings round in chaos before +the startled question, "Who am I--where is that other Self that once +was I?" + +Only a few months separated Desire from her old life in the mountain +cottage and already the mental and spiritual separation seemed +infinite. But was it? Was there any real separation at all? That ghost +of herself, which she had left behind on the moonlit beach, was it not +still as much herself as ever it had been? Behind the shrouding veil of +the present might not the old life still live, and the old Self wander, +fixed and changeless? It was a fantastic idea of Desire's that the girl +she had been was still where she had left her, working about the +log-walled rooms, or wandering alone by the shining water. This Self +knew no other life, would never know it--had no lot or part in the new +life of the new Desire. Yet in its background she was always there, a +figure of fate, waiting. Through the pleasant, busy days Desire forgot +her--almost. But never was she quite free from the pull of that +unsevered bond. + +Until today there had been no actual word from the discarded past. Dr. +Farr had not replied to Desire's brief announcement of her marriage. +She had not expected that he would. And for the rest, Spence had +arranged with Li Ho for news of anything which might concern the old +man's welfare. + +"Here is the letter," said Benis, breaking in upon her musing. "You +will see that, if the clear expression of thought constitutes good +English, Li Ho's English is excellent." + +He handed her a single sheet of blue note paper, beautiful with a +narrow purple border and the very last word in "chaste and distinctive" +stationery. + +"Honorable Spence and Respected Sir"--wrote Li Ho--"I address husband +as is propriety but include to Missy wishes of much happiness. +Honorable Boss and father is as per accustomed but no different. +Admirable Sami child also of strong appetite when last observed. +Departure of Missy is well to remain so. Moon-devil not say when, but +arrive spontaneous. This insignificant advise from worthless personage +Li Ho." + +Desire handed back the letter with a hand that was not quite steady. +The professor frowned. He had hoped that she was beginning to forget. +But, with one so unused to self-revelation as Desire, it had been +difficult to tell. He had thought it unwise to question and he had +never pressed any comparison between her life as it was and as it had +been. Better, he thought, to let all the old memories die. They were, +he fancied, not very tellable memories, being compounded not so much of +word and deed as of those more subtle things without voice or being +which are no less terribly, evilly, real and whose mark remains longest +upon the soul. Even complete understanding would not help him to rub +out these markings. Only that slow over-growing of life, which we call +forgetfulness, could do that. She was so young, there was still an +infinite impulse of growth within her and in the new growth old scars +might pass away. + +Desire noticing the new seriousness of his face was conscious of a pang +of guilt. It seems such crass ingratitude to doubt for one instant the +stability of the happiness he had given her. Had he not done more than +it had seemed possible for anyone to do? From the first she had +overflowed with silent gratitude to him. There was wonder yet in the +apparent ease with which he had sauntered into the prison of her life +and, with a laugh and jest, set her free. He had shown her, for the +first time in her life, the blessedness of receiving. Those whose +nature it is to give greatly are not ungenerous to the giving of +others. It is a small and selfish mind which fears to take, and Desire +was neither small nor selfish. She had hidden the thanks she could not +speak deep in her heart, letting them lie there, a core of sweetness, +sweeter for its silence. + +Who shall say when in this secret core a wonderful something began to +quicken and to grow? So fine were its beginnings that Desire herself +knew them only as new bloom and color, 'violets sweeter, the blue sky +bluer'--the old eternal miracle of a new-made earth. + +She had called this new thing friendship and had been content. Only +today, when she had for an instant glimpsed life through the eyes of +Agnes Martin, had there seemed possible a greater word. In that quiet +room another name had whispered around her heart like the first breath +of a rising wind. She had not dared to listen. Yet, without listening, +she heard. And now, through Li Ho's letter, that other Self who would +have none of love, stretched out a phantom hand and beckoned. + +The professor took the letter from her gravely, retaining, for an +instant the unsteady hand that gave it. + +"Aren't you able to get away from it yet?" he asked kindly. + +"No. Perhaps I never shall. When the memory comes back I feel--sick. It +is even worse in retrospect. When it was my daily life, I lived it. But +now it seems impossible. Am I getting more cowardly, do you think?" + +Spence smiled. "I hope you are," he told her. "When you lived under a +daily strain you were probably keyed to a sort of harmony with it. Now +you are getting more normal. Life is a thing of infinite adjustment." + +"You think I could get 'adjusted' again if I had to?" + +"You won't have to. Why discuss it?" + +"Because it puzzles me. Why do I mind things more now than I did? I +used to feel quite casual about father's oddities. They never seemed to +exactly matter. But now," naively, "I would so much like to have a +father like other people." + +"That is more normal, too." + +"I suppose," she went on, as if following her own thoughts, "what Li Ho +calls the moon-devil is really a disease. Have you ever told Dr. John +about father, Benis? What did he say?" The professor fidgeted. "Oh, +nothing much. He couldn't, you know, without more data. But he thinks +his periodical spells may be a kind of masked epilepsy. There are some +symptoms which look like it. The way the attacks come on, with +restlessness and that peculiar steely look in the eye, the unreasoning +anger and especially the--er--general indications." The professor came +to a stammering end, suddenly remembering that she did not know that +last and worst of the moon-devil symptoms. + +"It is hereditary, of course," said Desire calmly. + +The professor jumped. + +"My dear girl! What an idea." + +"An idea which I could not very well escape. All these things tend to +transmit themselves, do they not? Only not necessarily so. I seem to +have escaped." + +"Yes," shortly. "Surely you have never supposed--" + +"No. I haven't. That's the odd part of it. I have never been the least +bit afraid. Perhaps it's because I have never felt that I have anything +at all in common with father. Or it may be because I have never faced +facts. I don't know. Even now, when I am facing facts, they do not seem +really to touch me. I never pretended to understand father. He seemed +like two or three people, all strangers. Sometimes he was just a rather +sly old man full of schemes for getting money without working for it, +and very clever and astute. Sometimes he seemed a student and a +scholar--this was his best mood. It was during this phase that he wrote +his scientific articles and taught me all that I know. His own +knowledge seemed to be an orderly confusion o>f all kinds of things. +And he could be intensely interesting when he chose. In those moods he +treated me with a certain courtesy which may have been a remnant of an +earlier manner. But it never lasted long." + +"And the other mood--the third one?" + +"Oh, that Well, that was the bad mood. If it is a disease he was not +responsible. So' we won't talk of it." Desire's lips tightened. "He +usually went away in the hills when the restlessness came on. And I +fancy Li Ho--watched." + +"Good old Li Ho!" + +Desire nodded. "I think now that perhaps I did not quite appreciate Li +Ho. I should like to know--but what is the use? We shall never know +more than we do." + +"Not about Li Ho'. He is the eternal Sphinx wrapped in an everlasting +yesterday. I suppose he did not have even a beginning?" + +Desire smiled. "No. He was always there. He is one of my first +memories. A kind of family familiar. Sometimes I think that if he had +not been away the night my mother died she might have been alive still." + +Spence hesitated. "You have never told me about your mother's death, +you know," he reminded her gently. + +"Haven't I?" Desire was plainly surprised. "Why--I thought you knew. +That is a queer thing about you," she went on musingly, "I am always +thinking that you know things which you don't. Perhaps it's because you +guess so much without being told. My mother died suddenly--of shock. +Her heart was never strong and the fright of waking to find a thief in +her room proved fatal. It happened one night when Li Ho was away. We +lived in Vancouver at the time and Li Ho often disappeared into +Chinatown. He had all the Oriental passion for fan-tan. That night +there was a police raid on his favorite gambling place and Li Ho was +held till morning. It was always he who locked the doors and attended +to everything at night. Perhaps it was known that he was away. But just +what happened was never settled, for my father was found unconscious on +the floor of the passage outside my mother's door. He couldn't remember +anything clearly. The fact that there had been several previous +burglaries in town and that there were valuables missing offered the +only explanation." + +The professor was silent so long that Desire added: "I'm sorry. I +should have told you before." + +"What difference would it have made?" He roused himself. "Tell me the +rest of it. Did Li Ho think that your mother had been frightened by +a--thief?" + +"I suppose so," in surprise. "Li Ho blamed himself terribly. He said it +was his fault. If they hadn't known he was in the cells all night they +might have suspected him. He acted so queerly. But of course what he +meant was that if he had been at home the thief would not have broken +in." + +"There were evidences of his having broken in?" + +"There was a window open." + +"And were any of the stolen things recovered." + +"Not that I ever heard of. And yet, I think perhaps some of them were. +I remember--" Desire paused and a painful flush crept into her cheek. + +"Yes?" prompted Spence gently. + +"One of the lost things was an old-fashioned watch belonging to mother. +I used to listen to it ticking. And once, years after, I saw it. Father +had given it to--a friend of his. So, you see, he must have got it +back." + +"I see." The professor was aware of a pricking along his spine. He +looked at the unconscious face of the girl and ventured another +question. + +"Was your father injured at all?" + +"His head was hurt. They did not know whether the thief had struck him +or whether it was the fall. He had fallen just at the foot of the +stairs. We lived in a bungalow, then, and as I was asleep in my little +room under the eaves, it was thought that he had been trying to reach +me--what is the matter?" + +The professor had been unable to control an involuntary shudder. + +"Nothing," he said. "Just nerves." + +Desire's smile was wistful. "It isn't a pretty story," she said. "None +of the stories I can tell are pretty. That's why I am different from +other people. But I am trying. Perhaps I shall get to be more like them +presently." + +The professor banished his dark thoughts with an effort. "God forbid!" +he said cheerfully. "And here comes tea!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +One wonders what would happen to our admirable muddle of a world, if +even a minority of its inhabitants were suddenly to embrace +consistency. It would, presumably, be a world still, but so changed +that its best friends would not know it. It is because every-body, +everywhere and at all times, acts as they could not logically be +expected to act, that our dear familiar chaos of you-never-can-tell +continues to entertain us. + +Had Desire possessed consistency, this quality so jewel-like in its +rarity, she would have realized that, having voluntarily stepped aside +from woman's natural destiny, she should also have ceased to trouble +herself with those feminine doubts and hopes which are peculiar to it. +She would have known that the position of secretary to a professional +man does not logically include heart-burnings and questionings +concerning that gentleman's love affairs, past or present. She would +have refused to consider Mary. She would have been quite happy in the +position she had deliberately made for herself. + +Much as we would like to present Desire in this thoroughly sensible +light, we fear that her action on the morning following her visit to +the invalid Miss Martin would not bear us out in so doing. For on that +morning, with all facts of the situation freshly in her mind, she went +down-town to Dr. Rogers' office for no other purpose than to see and +talk to Dr. Rogers' yellow-haired nurse. + +"When I see her and hear her," said Desire to her-self, "I shall know. +And it will be so comfortable to know." Never a word, mind you, about +the inconsistency of being uncomfortable through not knowing. + +No attempt at reminding herself that knowledge was none of her +business. No arguing out of the matter at all. Merely the following of +a blind impulse to find Mary if Mary were to be found. + +This impulse, which was wholly foreign to her natural habit of mind, +she justified to herself under the guise of "natural curiosity." All +she had to do was to make the call seem sufficiently casual and to time +her arrival at the doctor's office at an hour when he could not +possibly be in it. As a newcomer, such a mistake would seem quite +plausible and could be passed over easily with "How stupid of me! I +should have known." After that the nurse would probably invite her to +wait. And, even if she did not, the mere exchange of question and +answer would probably be sufficiently revealing. + +This small program proceeded exactly as planned and Desire, in her most +becoming frock, learned of the absence of Dr. Rogers with exactly the +right degree of impatience and regret. + +"Please come in," said Dr. Rogers' nurse in somewhat drawling accents. +"Doctor may be back any minute." Being a nurse she always predicted the +doctor's arrival no matter how certain she might be that he would not +arrive. + +Desire hesitated, glanced quite naturally at her watch and decided to +wait. "If you are sure the doctor won't be long--?" The nurse was sure +that he wouldn't be long. + +Here her interest in the caller seemed to cease and she became very +much occupied with a business-like addressing of envelopes at a desk in +the corner. + +Desire looked around the cool and pleasant room. It was not like her +idea of a doctor's office, save perhaps for a faint clean smell of +drugs. There were comfortable chairs, flowers in a window-box, a table +with a book or two and some magazines. Through a half-open door, an +inner office showed--all very different from the picture her memory +showed her of the musty, cumbered room in which her father had received +his dwindling patients. As a child she had hated that room, hated the +hideous charts of "people with their skins off," the ponderous books +with their horrific and highly colored plates, the "patients' chair" +with its clinging odor of plush and ether, the untidy desk, the dust on +everything! + +But she had not come to Dr. Rogers' office to indulge in memory. She +had come to see the lady who was so busily addressing envelopes and, +after a decent interval of polite abstraction, she devoted herself +cautiously to this purpose. + +Nurse Watkins, before Desire's entrance, had not been addressing +envelopes. She had been reading. Her book lay open upon the window-sill +and Desire, having good eyes, could read its title upside down. It was +not a title which she knew, nor, if titles tell anything, did it belong +to a book which invited knowing. Desire felt almost certain that it was +not a book which Mary would care to read. Still, one never could tell. +The professor had said nothing whatever about Mary's literary taste. + +Desire's eyes strayed, vaguely, from the book to its owner. Only Miss +Watkins' profile was visible but it was a profile well worth attention. +People who cannot choose their literature are often quite successful +with their caps. Miss Watkins' cap was just right. And her hair was +certainly yellow. Desire frowned. + +Miss Watkins, looking up, caught the frown. + +"Doctor really can't be long now," she drawled sympathetically. Desire +felt that the sympathy, like the assurance, was professional--an +afterglow, perhaps of sympathy which had existed once, before life had +overdrawn its account. She felt, also, that Miss Watkins' nose was +decidedly good. It was straight, with the nicest little blunt point; +and her eyes were blue--not misty blue, like the hills, but a passable +blue for all that. Her expression was cold and eminently superior. +("Frightfully nursey" was what Desire called it to herself.) Her voice +was thin. (Desire was glad of that.) + +"Doctor must have been kept somewhere," said the nurse pursuing her +formula. "Won't you sit near the window? There's a breeze." + +"Thank you." Desire moved to the window. "You must find it very +peaceful here--after nursing overseas." + +Nurse Watkins tapped her full upper lip with her pen. "Yes," she said. +"It's very dull." Desire smiled. Her spirits had been rising ever since +her entrance and she was now quite cheerful. Pretty as Miss Mary +Watkins undoubtedly was, there was a some-thing--could it be possible +that she chewed gum? No, of course she could not chew gum. And yet +there was an impression of gum somewhere--an insinuating certainty that +she might chew gum on a dark night when no one was looking. Desire +heaved a little sigh of satisfaction and, leaning out, appeared to +occupy herself with the passers-by. + +"Aren't Bainbridge streets wonderful?" she said. + +Nurse Watkins' mouth took on a discontented droop. "The streets are all +right," she said, "only they don't go anywhere." + +Desire laughed. "Are you as bored as that?" she asked. + +"Worse. I wouldn't stay here a minute if it weren't--I mean, if I +hadn't been advised to rest up a bit." + +Desire looked at her watch, and rose. Now that her curiosity had been +amply satisfied, she began to realize that curiosity is an undignified +thing. And also that she had not been the only person present to give +way to it. + +The somewhat drawling tones of Miss Watkins' voice were not at all in +keeping with the activity of her wide-awake blue eyes. A sense of this +nurse's speculation as to her presence there flicked Desire with little +whips of irritation. It is one thing to observe and quite another to +render oneself observable. She felt the blood flow hotly to her cheek. +Why had she come? How could she have so far forgotten her natural +reserve, her instinctive dislike of intrusion? Desire saw plainly that +she had allowed a regrettable sentiment to trick her into a ridiculous +situation. Satisfied curiosity is usually ashamed of itself. + +And how absurd to have fancied for a moment that this blond prettiness +could be Mary! + +"I am afraid I cannot wait longer," she murmured with polite regret. + +"If there is any message--" + +"None, I think. Thank you so much." + +With the departure of her caller, Miss Watkins' manner underwent a +remarkable change. Professional coolness deserted her. She stamped her +foot and, from the safe concealment of the window curtain, she watched +Desire's unhurried progress down the street with eyes in which the blue +grew clouded and opaque. They brightened again as she noticed Professor +Spence passing on the opposite side of the street, and became quite +snappy with interest as she saw him pause as if to call to his wife, +then, after a swift and hesitating glance at the door from which she +had emerged, pass on without attracting her attention. + +As a bit of pure pantomime, these expressions of feeling on Miss +Watkins' part might be misleading with-out the added comment of a +letter which she wrote that night. + + +"I'm going to cut it, Flossy old girl," wrote Miss Watkins. "If you +know of anything near you that would suit me, pass it on. I think I'm +about due to get out of here. You know why I've stayed so long. At +first, I thought if we were together enough he might get to care. +People say I'm not bad for the eyes. And I don't use peroxide. Well, +I've made myself useful--he'll miss me anyway! + +"It's kind of hard to give up. But I don't believe it's a bit of use. +I've noticed a difference in him ever since he came back from that +western trip. He doesn't seem to see me anymore. And there's something +else, a look in his eyes and a line along his mouth that were never +there before. I knew something had happened. And now I know what it +was. Another girl, of course. + +"And this girl is married! + +"You might think this would make things hopeful for me. But it doesn't. +Doctor's just the kind that would go on loving her if she had a +thousand husbands. So here's where I hook it. No use wasting myself, +honey. Maybe I'll get over it. They say everyone does. + +"Funny thing--she's just the kind I'd think he'd go dippy over, dark +and still, with a lovely, wide mouth and skin like lilies. She is +young, younger than I am. But, believe me, she isn't a kid. Those eyes +of hers have seen things. They're the kind of eyes that I'd go wild +over if I were a man. So I'm not blaming Doctor. He can't help it. + +"She came into the office today, just like an ordinary patient. But I +knew right off that she'd come for some-thing. Don't know yet what she +came for. She doesn't give herself away, that one! Didn't seem to look +around, didn't ask questions and only stayed a few minutes. Do you +suppose she could have come to see me? Because, if she did--Well, that +shows where her interest is. + +"Another odd thing--as she went out, I saw her husband. (I'll tell you, +in strict confidence, that her husband is Professor Spence. They are +well known people here. He used to be a sort of recluse. A queer chap. +Deep as a judge.) Well, I saw him pass, on the opposite side of the +road. He saw her and was just going to call, when it seemed to strike +him where she had come from. I couldn't see very well across the road, +but he looked as if someone had hit him. And he went on without saying +a word. Now that looked queer to me. + +"Don't write and say that I'm only guessing at things. I may be +mistaken, of course, but I know I'm not. And I'm not a Pharisee (or +whoever it was that threw stones). If she cares for Doctor, I suppose +she can't help it. Some people think her husband handsome but I don't. +He's too thin and he has the oddest little smile. It slips out and +slips in like a mouse. When Dr. John smiles, he smiles all over. + +"Well, I'll wait a week or so to make sure. Although I'm sure now. If I +ever see Doctor look at her, I'll know. You see, I know how he'd look +if he looked that way. I've kept hoping--but I guess I'd better take my +ticket, Yours, + +"MARY." + + +This letter satisfactorily explains the loss, some weeks later, of Dr. +Rogers' capable nurse--a matter which he, himself, could never +understand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Desire was smiling as she left Dr. Rogers' office. It was a smile +compounded of derision and relief--a shamefaced smile which admitted an +opinion of herself very far from flattering. + +So occupied was she with her mental reactions that she had no attention +to spare for the opposite side of the street and therefore missed the +slightly peculiar action of her husband-by-courtesy. Professor Spence, +when he had first caught sight of his wife had automatically paused, as +if to call or cross over. It had become their friendly habit to inform +each other of their daily plans and a cheery "whither away?" had risen +naturally to the professor's lips. It rose to them, but did not leave +them, for, in the intervening instant, he had grasped the fact of +Desire's smiling abstraction and had sought its explanation in the +place from which she had come. Desire calling at old Bones' office at +this hour of the morning? Before he had recovered from the surprise of +it, she had passed. + +Time, which seems so mighty, is sometimes quite negligible. The most +amazing mental illuminations may occupy only the fraction of a second. +A light flashes and is gone--but meanwhile one has seen. + +The professor's pause was hardly noticeable. He walked on at once. But +years could not have instructed him more thoroughly than that one +second. He had received a revelation. Like all revelations, he received +it in its entirety and realized it piecemeal. His thoughts stumbled +over each other in confusion.... Desire at John's office at this +unusual hour? ... Desire in her prettiest frock and smiling ... +smiling, and so lost in her own thoughts that she saw no one ... +Desire ... John? ... What the devil! + +Spence had a finicky dislike of strong language. He thought it savored +of weakness, yet he found himself swearing heartily as he hurried +on--meaningless swears which by their very childishness brought him +back to common sense. His step slowed, he forced himself to be +reasonable. He took a brief against his own unwarranted disturbance of +mind and reduced it to argument. There was nothing at all strange, he +pointed out, in Desire having called at old Bones' office at this, or +any other, time of day (but what under heaven did she do it for?). She +might easily have forgotten to tell the doctor some-thing. (What in +thunder would she have to tell him?) She might have dropped in, in +passing (at that hour of the morning?) merely to ask him over for some +tennis (was the dashed telephone out of order?). Or she might have felt +a trifle seedy (pshaw! her health was perfect--idiot!). Anyway she had +a perfect right to see Dr. Rogers at any time and for any reason she +might choose. (Yes, she had--that was the devil of it!) + +At this point of his argument the professor was nearly-run down by a +delivery boy on a bicycle and saved himself only by a sharp collision +with a telegraph pole. This served to clear his brain somewhat. His +confusion of thought dropped away. He began to look his revelation in +the face-- + +"Desire--John?" + +It was certainly possible! Why had he never seen it before? ... He +had been warned. John himself had warned him--Old John who had been so +palpably "hit" when he had first seen Desire at Friendly Bay. But he, +Benis Spence, had laughed. Honestly laughed. No possibility of this +possibility had troubled him. He simply had not seen it. And now--he +saw. The thing italicised itself on his brain. + +Granted that Desire might love, there was no reason on earth why she +should not love John. + +The conclusion seemed childishly simple and yet he had never seriously +considered it. Why? Relentlessly he forced himself to answer why. It +was because he had believed that when Desire woke to love, if she +should so wake, she would wake to love for him! He tore this admission +out of a shrinking heart and laughed at it. It was funny, quite funny +in its ridiculous conceit.... But it hadn't been conceit, it had +been assurance. Impossible to account for, and absurd as it seemed now, +it was some-thing higher than vanity which had hidden in his heart that +happy sense of kinship with Desire which had made John's warning seem +an emptiness of words. + +It was gone now, that wonderful sense of "belonging," swept away in the +swift rush of startled doubt. Searching as it might, his mind could not +find anywhere the faintest foothold for a belief that Desire, free to +choose, should turn to him and not to another. + +"I had better go and sleep this off somewhere," murmured the professor +with a wry smile. "Mustn't let it get ahead of me. Mustn't make any +more mistakes. This needs thinking out--steady now!" + +He tried to forget his own problem in thinking of hers. It couldn't be +very pleasant for her--this. And yet she had been smiling as she came +out of John's office. Perhaps she did not know yet? On second thoughts, +he felt sure that she did not know. He recognized the essentials of +Desire. She was loyalty itself. And had he not reason to know from his +own present experience that the beginnings of love can be very blind. + +John, too--but with John it was different. John had given his warning. +If the warning were to be justified he could not blame John. He could +not blame anyone save his own too confident self. Why, oh why, had he +been so sure? Had he not known that love is the most unaccountable of +all the passions? How had he dared to build security on that subtle +thing within himself which, without cause or reason, had claimed as his +the unstirred heart of the girl he had married. + +Spence returned home with lagging step. The old distaste for familiar +things, which he thought had gone with the coming of Desire, was heavy +upon him. The gate of his pleasant home shut behind him like a prison +gate. In short, Benis Spence paid for a moment's enlightenment with a +bad day and a night that was no better. + +By the morning he had won through. One must carry on. And the advantage +of a quiet manner is that no one notices when it grows more quiet. + +Desire was already in the library when he entered it. She looked very +crisp and cool. It struck Spence for the first time that she was +dressing her part--the neat, dark skirt and laundered blouse, +blackbowed at the neck in a perfect orgy of simplicity, were eminently +secretarial. How beautifully young she was! + +Desire looked up from her note-book with business-like promptitude. + +"I think," she said, "that we are quite ready to go on with the +thirteenth chapter." + +"But I think," said Benis, "that it would be much nicer to go fishing." + +"Why?" + +"Well, it's Friday, for one thing. Do you really think it safe to begin +the thirteenth chapter on a Friday?" + +His secretary's smile was dutiful, but her lips were firm. "We didn't +do a thing-yesterday," she reminded him. "I couldn't find you anywhere +and no one knew where you were." + +"I was--just around," vaguely. + +"Not around here," Desire was uncompromising. "Benis, I think we should +really be more businesslike. We should have talked this thirteenth +chapter over yesterday. I see you have a note here for some opening +paragraphs on The Apprehension of Color in Primitive Minds--" + +A cascade of goblin laughter from Yorick interrupted her. + +"Yorick is amused," said Benis. "He knows all about the apprehension of +color in primitive minds. He advises us to go fishing." + +Desire watched him stroke the bird's bent head with a puzzled frown. + +"I wish you wouldn't joke about--this," she said slowly. "You don't +want that habit of mind to affect your serious work." + +Spence looked up surprised. + +"The whole character of the book is changing," went on Desire +resolutely. "It will all have to be revised and brought into harmony. +I'm sure you've felt it yourself. In a book like this the treatment +must be the same throughout. I've heard you say that a hundred times. +It doesn't matter what the treatment is, the necessary thing is that it +be consistent. Isn't that right?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well--yours isn't!" + +Spence forgot the parrot (who immediately pecked his finger). He almost +forgot that he had suffered an awakening and had passed a bad night. +Desire interested him in the present moment as she always did. She +was--what was she? "Satisfying" was perhaps the best word for it. Just +to be with her seemed to round out life. + +"Prove it!" said he with some heat. + +For half an hour he listened while she proved it with great energy and +a thorough knowledge of her facts. He listened because he liked to +listen and not because she was telling him anything new. He knew just +where his "treatment" of his material had changed, and he knew, as +Desire did not, what had changed it. For the change was not really in +the treatment at all, but in himself. + +This book had been his earliest ambition. It had been the sole +companion of his thoughts for years. It had been the little idol which +must be served. Without a word of it being written, it had grown with +his growth. His notes for it comprised all that he had filched from +life. He had not hurried. He was leisurely by nature. Then had come the +war, lifting him out of all the things he knew. And, after the war, its +great weariness. Not until he had met Desire and found, in her fresh +interest, something of his own lost enthusiasm, had he been able to +work again. Then, in a glow of recovered energy, the book had been +begun. And all had gone well until the book's inspirer had begun to +usurp the place of the book itself. (Spence smiled as he realized that +Desire was painstakingly tracing the course of her self-caused +destruction.) How could he think of the book when he wanted only to +think of her? Insensibly, his gathered facts had begun to lose their +prime importance, his deductions had lost their sense of weight, all +that he had done seemed strangely insignificant--it was like looking at +something through the wrong end of a telescope. The great book was a +star which grew steadily smaller. + +The proportion was wrong. He knew that. But at present he could do +nothing to readjust it. Two interests cannot occupy the same space at +the same time. The book interest had simply succumbed to an interest +older and more potent. + +"In this chapter, the Sixth," Desire was saying, "you seem to lose some +of the serious purpose which is a prominent note in the opening +chapters. You begin to treat things casually. You almost allow yourself +to be humorous. Now is this supposed to be a humorous book, or is it +not?" + +"Oh--not. Distinctly not." + +"Well then, don't you see? If you had treated the thing in that +semi-humorous manner all through and continued in that vein you would +produce a certain definite type of book. The critics would probably +say--" + +"I know, spare me!" + +"They would say," sternly, "that 'Professor Spence has a light touch.' +That 'he has treated his subject in a popular manner.'" (The professor +groaned.) "But that isn't a patch upon what they will say if you mix up +your styles as you are doing at present." + +"But--well, what do you advise?" + +Desire sucked her pencil. (He had given up trying to cure her of this +poisonous habit.) + +"I've thought about that. If you were not so--so temperamental, I would +say go back and begin again. But that is risky. It will be better to go +on, I think, trying to recapture the more serious style, until the +whole book it at least in some form. Then you will know exactly where +you are and what is necessary to harmonize the whole. You can then +rewrite the 'off' chapters, bringing them into line. This is a +recognized literary method, I believe." + +"Is it? Good heavens!" + +"I read it in a book." + +"Then it must be literary. All right. I'm agreeable. But at present--" + +"At present," firmly, "the main thing is to go on." + +"This morning?" + +"Certainly." + +"But I don't want to go on this morning. That is the flaw in your +literary method. It makes me go on whether I want to or not. Now the +really top-notchers never do that. They are as full of stoppages as a +freight train. Fact. They only create when the spirit moves them." + +"Aren't you thinking of Quakers?" suggested Desire sweetly. "Besides +you are not creating. You are compiling--a very different thing." + +"But what is the use of compiling an off chapter when I know it is +going to be an off one?" + +Desire threw down her pencil. + +"Oh, Benis," she said. "I don't like this. Don't let us play with +words. Surely you are not getting tired--you can't be." + +Her eyes, urgent and truth-compelling, forced an answer. + +"I don't quite know," he said. "But I am certainly off work at present. +There may be all kinds of reasons. You will have to be patient, Desire." + +"Then," in a low voice, "it isn't only indolence?" + +He was moved to candor. "It isn't indolence at all. I have always been +a fairly good worker, and will be again. But the driving force has +shifted. I have not been doing good work and I know it. The more I know +it the worse the work will become.... It doesn't matter, really, +child," he added gently, seeing that she had turned away. "The world +can wait for the bit of knowledge I can give it." + +Desire, whose face was invisible, took a moment to answer this. When +she did her voice was carefully with-out expression. + +"Then this ends my usefulness. You will not need me any more." + +The professor, who had been nursing his knee on the corner of the desk, +straightened up so suddenly that he heard his spine click. + +"What's this?" he said. (Good heavens--the girl was as full of +surprises as a grab-bag!) + +"It was for the book you needed me, was it not? That was my share of +our partnership." + +("Now you've done it!" shouted an exultant voice in the professor's +brain. "Oh, you are an ass!") + +"Shut up!" said Spence irritably. "I wasn't talking to you," he +explained apologetically. "It's just a horrid little devil I converse +with sometimes. What I meant was--" He did not seem to know what he +meant and looked rather helplessly out of the window. "Oh, I say," he +said presently, "you are not going to--to act like that, are you? +Agitation's so frightfully bad for me. Ask old Bones." + +"You are not agitated," said Desire coldly. "Please be serious." + +"I am. Deuced serious. And agitated too. You ought to think twice +before you startle me like that--just when everything was going along +so nicely." + +"I am only reminding you of your own agreement," stubbornly. "I want to +be of use." + +"Very selfish of you. Can't you think of someone else once in a while?" + +"Selfish? Because I want to help?" + +"Certainly. I wonder you don't see it! Think of the mornings I've put +in on this dashed book just because you wanted to help. I have to be +polite, haven't I?--up to a point. But when you begin to blame me for +doing poorly what I do not want to do at all I begin to see that my +self-sacrifice is not appreciated." + +"You are talking nonsense." + +"Perhaps I am. But it was you who started it. When you said I did not +need you, you said a very nonsensical thing. And a very unkind thing, +too. A man does not like to talk of--his need. But, now that we have +come to just this point, let us have it out. Surely our partnership was +not quite as narrow as you suggest? The book is a detail. It is L. part +of life which will fit in somewhere--an important part in its right +place--but it isn't the whole pattern." He smiled whimsically. "Do not +think of me as just an animated book, my dear--if you can help it. And +remember, no matter how we choose to interpret our marriage, you are my +wife. And my very good comrade. The one thing which could ever change +my need of you is your greater need of--of someone else." + +The last words were casual enough but the look which accompanied them +was keen, and a sense of relief rose gratefully in the professor as no +sign of disturbance appeared upon the thoughtful face of his hearer. + +"Is Benis here, my dear?" asked Aunt Caroline opening the door. "Oh +yes, I see that he is. Benis, you are wanted on the 'phone. If you +would take my advice, which you never do, you would have an extension +placed in this room. Then you could always just answer and save Olive a +great deal of bother. Not that I think maids ought to mind being +bothered. They never did in my time. But it would be quite simple for +you, when you are writing here, to attend to the 'phone. Perhaps if the +butcher heard a man's voice occasionally he might be more respectful. I +do not expect much of tradespeople, as you know, but if the butcher--" + +"Is it the butcher who wishes to speak to me, Aunt?" + +"Good gracious, no. It's long distance. Why don't you hurry? ... Men +have no idea of the value of time," she added as the professor +vanished. "My dear you must not let Benis overwork you. He doesn't +intend to be unkind, but men never think." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +Desire turned back to her papers as the door closed. But her manner was +no longer brisk and business-like. There was a small, hot lump in her +throat. + +"It isn't fair," she thought passionately. "It's all very well to talk, +but it does make a difference--it does. If I'm not his secretary what +am I?" A hot blush crimsoned her white skin and she stamped her foot. +"I'm not his wife. I'm not! I'm not!" she said defiantly. + +There was no one to contradict her. Even Yorick was silent. And, as +contradiction is really necessary to belligerency, some of the fire +died out of her stormy eyes. But it flared again as thought flung +thought upon the embers. + +"Wife!" How dared he use the word? And in that tone! A word that meant +nothing to him. Nothing, save a cold, calm statement of claim.... +Not that she wanted it to mean anything else. Had she not, herself, +arranged a most satisfactory basis of coolness and calmness? (Reason +insisted upon reminding her of this.) And a strict recognition of this +basis was precisely what she wanted, of course. Only she wanted it as a +secretary and not as a--not as anything else. + +"What's in a word?" asked Reason mildly. "Words mean only what you mean +by them. Wife or secretary, if they mean the same--" + +Desire flung her note-books viciously into a drawer and banged it shut. + +Why did things insist upon changing anyway? She had been content--well, +almost. She had not asked for more than she had. Why, then, should a +cross-grained fate insist upon her getting less? Since yesterday she +had not troubled even about Mary. Her self-ridicule at the absurdity of +her mistake regarding Dr. Rogers' pretty nurse had had a salutary +effect. And now--just when everything promised so well (self-pity began +to cool the hot lump in her throat). And just when she had made up her +mind that, however small her portion of her husband's thought might be, +it would be enough--well, almost enough-- + +A screech from Yorick made her start nervously. + +"Cats!" said Yorick. "Oh the devil--cats!" + +Desire laughed and firmly dislodged Aunt Caroline's big Maltese cat +from its place of vantage on the window-sill. The laughter dissolved +the last of the troublesome lump and she began to feel better. After +all, the book-weariness of which Benis had spoken would probably be a +passing phase. If she allowed herself to go on creating mountains out +of molehills she would soon have a whole range upon her hands. + +And he had said he needed her! + +Mechanically, she began to straighten the desk, restoring the +professor's notes to their proper places. She was feeling almost +sanguine again when her hand fell upon the photograph. + +We say "the" photograph because, of all photographs in the world, this +one was the one most fatal to Desire's new content. She picked it up +casually. Photographs have no proper place amongst notes of research. +Desire, frowning her secretarial frown, lifted the intruder to remove +it and, lifting, naturally looked at it. Having looked, she continued +looking. + +It was an arresting photograph. Desire had not seen it before. That in +itself was surprising, since one of Aunt Caroline's hardest-to-bear +social graces was the showing of photographs. She had quantities of +them--tons, Desire sometimes thought. They lived in boxes in different +parts of the house, and were produced upon most unlikely occasions. One +was never quite safe from them. Even the spare room had its own box, +appropriately covered with chintz to match the curtains. + +This photograph, Desire saw at once, would not fit into Aunt Caroline's +boxes. It was too big. And it was very modern. Most of Aunt Caroline's +collection dated from the "background" period of photographic art. But +this one was all person. And a very charming person too. + +Photographs are often deceiving. But one can usually catch them at it. +Desire perceived at once that this photograph's nose had been +artistically rounded and that its flawlessness of line and texture owed +something to retoucher's lead. But looking through and behind all this, +there was enough--oh, more than enough! + +With instant disfavor, Desire noted the perfect arrangement of the +hair, the delicate slope of the shoulder, the lifted chin, the tip of a +hidden ear, the slightly mocking, but very alluring, glance of long, +fawn-like eyes. + +"Another molehill," thought Desire. And, virtuously disregarding the +instinct leaping in her heart, she turned the fascinating thing face +downwards. Probably fate laughed then. For written large and in very +black ink across the back was the admirably restrained autograph, +"Benis, from Mary" ... + +Well, she knew now! + +A very different person, this, from the blond Miss Watkins with her +hard blue eyes and too, too dewy lips! Here was a woman of character +and charm. A woman fully armed with all the witchery of sex. A woman +any man might love--even Benis. + +Desire did not struggle against her certainty. Her acceptance of it was +as sudden as it was complete. Huddling back in her chair, with the +tell-tale photo in her hands, she felt cold. Certainty is a chill +thing. We all seek certainty but, when we get it, we shiver. The proper +place for certainty is just ahead, that we may warm our blood in the +pursuit of it. Certainty stands at the end of things and human nature +shrinks from endings. + +Only that morning, Desire had qualified the good of her present state +by the "if" of "if I only knew." And, now that she did know, the only +unqualified thing was her sense of desolation. The most disturbing of +her speculations had been as nothing to this relentless knowledge. Not +until she had found certainty did she realize how she had clung to hope. + +She did not know that she was crying until a tear splashed hot upon her +hand. She did not hear the door open as Benis reentered the room, but +she sprang to her feet, alert and defensive, at the sound of his voice. + +"Crying?" said Benis. + +It was hardly a question. He had, in fact, seen the tear. But there was +nothing in his manner to indicate more than ordinary concern. + +"Certainly not," said Desire. + +"My mistake. But what is it you are hiding so carefully behind you? +Mayn't I see?" + +Desire thought quickly. Her denial of tears had been, she knew, quite +useless. Besides, she had heard that note of dry patience in the +professor's voice before. It came when he wanted something and intended +to get it. And he wanted now to know the cause of her tears. Well, he +would never know it--never. It was the one impossible thing. Desire's +pride flamed in her, a white fire which would consume her utterly--if +he knew. + +"It is a personal matter," she said. (This was merely to gain time.) + +"It is personal to me also." + +"I do not wish to show it to you." + +"No. But--do not force me to insist." + +These two wasted but few words upon each other. It was not necessary. +Desire took a quick step backward. And, as she did so, the desired +inspiration came. Directly behind her stood the table on which lay Aunt +Caroline's box of photographs. If she could, without turning, +substitute one of them for the tell-tale picture in her hand-- + +"You will hardly insist, I think." Her eyes were on him, cool and wary. +She took another step backward. He did not follow her. There was a +faint smile on his lips but his face, she noticed with perturbation, +had gone very pale. His eyes were shining and chill, like water under +grey skies. + +"Please," he said, holding out his hand. + +Desire let her glance go past him. "The door!" she murmured. He turned +to close it. It gave her only a moment. But a moment was all she needed. + +"Surely we are making a fuss over nothing." With difficulty she kept a +too obvious relief out of her voice. He must not find her opposition +weakened. + +"Perhaps. But--let me decide, Desire." + +"Shan't!" said Desire, like a naughty child. + +Fire leapt from the chill grey of his eyes. + +"Very well, then--" + +He took it so quickly that Desire gasped. Then she laughed. She had +never had anything taken from her by force since her childhood and it +was an astonishing experience. Also, she had not dreamed that Benis was +so strong. It hadn't been at all difficult. And this in spite of the +fact that she had clung to the substituted photo-graph with convincing +stubbornness. + +"Well--now you've got it, I hope you like it," she said a little +breathlessly. Her eyes were sparkling. She did not know what photo she +had picked up when she dropped the real one. 'Probably it was a picture +of Aunt Caroline herself or of some dear and departed Spence. Benis +would have some difficulty in tracing the cause of the tears he had +surprised. Fortunately he could always see a joke on himself. It would +be funny ... + +But it did not seem to be funny. Benis was not laughing. He had gone +quite grey. + +"What is it, Benis?" in a startled tone. "You see it was just a +mistake? I was crying because--because I was sorry you were not going +on with the book. I just happened to have a photograph--" The look in +his eyes stopped her. + +"Please don't," he said. + +She took the card he held out to her, glanced at it, and choked back a +spasm of hysterical laughter. For it wasn't a picture of Aunt Caroline, +or even of a departed Spence--it was a picture of Dr. John Rogers! + +"Gracious!" said Desire. There seemed to be nothing else to say. +"Well," she ventured after a perplexed pause, "you can see that I +couldn't be crying over John, can't you?" + +"I can see--no need why you should;" said Benis slowly. "I'm afraid I +have been very blind." + +The girl's complete bewilderment at this was plain to anyone of +unbiased judgment. But Spence's judgment was not at present unbiased. +He went on painfully. + +"I owe you an apology for my very primitive method of obtaining your +confidence. But it is better that I should know--" + +"Know what? You don't know. I don't know myself. I did not even know +whose the photograph was until--" She hesitated at the look of hurt +wonder in his eyes. "You think I am lying?" she finished angrily. + +"I think you are making things unnecessarily difficult. There is no +need for you to explain--anything." + +Desire was furious. And helpless. She remembered now that when he had +entered the room he had certainly seen her bending over a photograph. +No wonder her statement that she did not know whose photograph it was +seemed uniquely absurd. There was only one adequate explanation. And +that explanation she wouldn't and couldn't make. + +"Very well then," she said loftily. "I shall not explain." + +He did not look at her. He had not looked at her since handing her back +John's picture. But he had himself well in hand now. Desire wondered if +she had imagined that greyish pallor, that sudden look of a man struck +down. What possible reason had there been for such an effect anyway? +Desire could see none. + +"I came to tell you," he said in his ordinary voice, "that the long +distance call came from Miss Davis. If it is convenient for you and +Aunt, she plans to come along on the evening train. Her cold is quite +better." + +"The evening train, tonight?" + +"Yes." He smiled. "She is a sudden person. Gone today and here +tomorrow. But you will like her. And you will adore her clothes." + +"Are they the very latest?" + +"Later than that. Mary always buys yesterday what most women buy +tomorrow." + +"Oh," said Desire. "And what does this futurist lady look like?" + +Benis considered. "I can't think of anything that she looks like," he +concluded. "She doesn't go in for resemblances. Futurists don't, you +know!" + +"Isn't it odd?" said Desire in what she hoped was a casual voice. "So +many of your friends seem to be named Mary." + +"I've noticed that myself--lately." + +"There are--" + +"'Mary Seaton and Mary Beaton and Mary Carmichael and me,'" quoted +Benis gravely. + +Desire permitted herself to smile and turning, still smiling, faced +Aunt Caroline; who, for her part, was in anything but a smiling humor. + +"I'm glad you take it good-naturedly, Desire," said Aunt Caroline +acidly. "But people who arrive at a moment's warning always annoy me. I +do not require much, but a few days' notice at the least--have you seen +a photograph anywhere about?" + +Desire bit her lips. "Whose photograph was it, Aunt?" + +"Why, Mary Davis' photograph, of course. The one she gave to Benis when +she was last here. I hope you do not mind my taking it from your room, +Benis? My intention was to have it framed. People do like to see +themselves framed. I thought it might be a delicate little attention. +But if she is coming tonight, it is too late now. Still, we might put +it in place of Cousin Amelia Spence on the drawing-room mantel. What do +you think, my dear?" + +"I think we might," said Desire. Her tone was admirably judicial but +her thoughts were not.... If the Mary of the visit were no other +than the Mary of the faun-eyed photograph, why then-- + +Why then, no wonder that Benis had lost interest in the great Book! + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +To give exhaustive reasons for the impulse which brought Miss Mary +Davis to Bainbridge at this particular time would be to delve too +deeply into the complex psychology of that lady. But we shall not be +far wrong if we sum up the determining impulse in one word--curiosity. + +The news of Benis Spence's unexpected marriage had been something of a +shock to more than one of his friends. But especially so to Mary Davis. +Upon a certain interesting list, which Miss Davis kept in her +well-ordered mind, the name of this agreeable bachelor had been +distinctly labelled "possible." To have a possibility snatched from +under one's nose without warning is annoying, especially if the season +in possibilities threatens to be poor. The war had sadly depleted Miss +Davis' once lengthy list. And she, herself, was five years older. It +would be interesting, and perhaps instructive, to see the young person +from nowhere who had still further narrowed her personal territory. + +"It does seem rather a shame," she confided to a select friend or two, +"that clever men who have escaped the perils of early matrimony should +in maturity turn back to the very thing which constituted that peril." + +"You mean men like them young?" said a select friend with brutal candor. + +"I mean they like them too young. In the case I'm thinking of, the girl +is a mere child. And quite uncultured. What possibility of intellectual +companionship could the most sanguine man expect?" + +"None. But they don't want intellectual companionship." Another select +friend spoke bitterly. "I used to think they did. It seemed reasonable. +As the basis for a whole lifetime, it seemed the only possible thing. +But what's the use of insisting on a theory, no matter how abstractly +sound, if it is disproved in practice every day? Remember Bobby Wells? +He is quite famous now; knows more about biology than any man on this +side of the water. He married last week. His wife is a pretty little +creature who thinks protoplasm another name for appendicitis." + +There was a sympathetic pause. + +"And biology was always such a fad of yours," sighed Mary thoughtfully. +"Never mind! They are sure to be frightfully unhappy." + +"No, they won't. That's it. That's the point I am making. They'll be as +cozy as possible." + +Miss Davis thought this point over after the select friend who made it +had gone. She did not wish to believe that its implication was a true +one. But, if it were, if youth, just youth, were the thing of power, +then it were wise that she should realize it before it was too late. +Her own share of the magic thing was swiftly passing. + +From a drawer of her desk she took a recent letter from a Bainbridge +correspondent and re-read the part referring to the Spence reception. + +"Really, it was quite well done," she read. "Old Miss Campion has a +'flair' for the suitabilities, and now that so many are trying to be +smart or bizarre, it is a relief to come back to the old pleasant +suitable things--you know what I mean. And the old lady has an air. How +she gets it, I don't know, for the dear Queen is her idea of style. +Perhaps there is something in the 'aura' theory. If so, Miss Campion's +aura is the very glass of fashion. + +"And the bride! But I hear you are coming down, so you will see the +bride for yourself. There was a silly rumor about her being part +Indian. Well, if Indian blood can give one a skin like hers, I could do +with an off-side ancestor myself! She is even younger than report +predicted. But not sweet or coy (Heavens, how one wearies of that +type!) And Benis Spence, as a bride-groom, has lost something of his +'moony' air. He is quite attractive in an odd way. All the same, I +can't help feeling (and others agree with me) that there is something +odd about that marriage. My dear, they do not act like married people. +The girl is as cool as a princess (I suppose princesses are). And the +professor's attitude is so--so casual. Even John Rogers' manner to the +bride is more marked than the bridegroom's. But you know I never repeat +gossip. It isn't kind. And any-way it may not be true that he drops in +for tea nearly every day." + +Miss Davis replaced the letter with a musing smile. And the next +morning she called up on long distance. A visit to Bainbridge, she +felt, might be quite stimulating.... + +Observe her, then, on the morning of her arrival having breakfast in +bed. Breakfast in bed is always offered to travellers at the Spence +home--a courtesy based upon the tradition of an age which travelled +hard and seldom. Miss Davis quite approved of the custom. She had not +neglected to bring "matinees" in which she looked most charming. +Negligee became her. She openly envied Margot Asquith her bedroom +receptions. + +Young Mrs. Spence, inquiring with true western hospitality, whether the +breakfast had been all that could be desired, was conscious of a pang, +successfully repressed, at the sight of that matinee. She saw at once +that she had never realized possibilities in this direction. Her +night-gowns (even the new ones) were merely night-gowns and her kimonas +were garments which could still be recognized under that name. + +"It is rather a duck," said Mary, reading Desire's admiring glance. +"Quite French, I think. But of course, as a bride, you will have oceans +of lovely things. I adore trousseaux. Perhaps you will show me some of +your pretties?" (The bride's gowns, she admitted, might be passable but +what really tells the tale is the underneaths.) + +"Oh, with pleasure." Desire's assent was instant and warm. "I shall +love to let you see my things." + +It was risky--but effective. Mary's desire to see the trousseau +evaporated on the instant. No girl would be so eager to show things +which were not worth showing. And Mary was no altruist to rejoice over +other people's Paris follies. + +After all, she really knew very little about Benis's wife. And you +never can tell. She began to wish that she had brought down with her +some very special glories--things she had decided not to waste on +Bainbridge. Her young hostess had eyes which were coolly, almost +humorously, critical. "Absurd in a girl who simply can't have any +proper criteria!" thought Miss Davis crossly. + +"When you are quite rested," said Desire kindly, "you will find us on +the west lawn. The sun is never too hot there in the morning." + +"Yes--I remember that." The faintest sigh disturbed the laces of Mary's +matinee. Her faun-like eyes looked wistful. "But if you do not mind, I +think I shall be really lazy--these colds do leave one so wretched." + +Desire agreed that colds were annoying. She had not missed the sigh +which accompanied Mary's memory of the west lawn and very naturally +misread it. Mary's regretful decision to challenge no morning +comparison in the sunlight on any lawn was interpreted as regret of a +much more tender nature. Desire's eyes grew cold and dark with shadow +as she left her charming visitor to her wistful rest. + +That Mary Davis was the lady of her husband's one romance, she had no +longer any doubt. Anyone, that is, any man, might love deeply and +hopelessly a woman of such rare and subtle charm. Possessing youth in +glorious measure herself, Desire naturally discounted her rival's lack +of it. With her, the slight blurring of Mary's carefully tended +"lines," the tired look around her eyes, the somewhat cold-creamy +texture of her delicate skin, weighed nothing against the exquisite +finish and fine sophistication which had been the gift of the added +years. + +In age, she thought, Mary and Benis would rank each other. They were +also essentially of the same world. Neither had ever gazed through +windows. Both had been free of life from its beginning. Love between +them might well have been a fitting progression. + +The one fact which did not fit in here was this--in the story as told +by Benis the affair had been one of unreciprocated affection. This +presupposed a blindness on the lady's part which Desire began +increasingly to doubt. She had already reached the point when it seemed +impossible that anyone should not admire what to her was entirely +admirable. Even the explanation of a prior attachment (the "Someone +Else" of the professor's story), did not carry conviction. Who else +could there be--compared with Benis? + +No. It looked, upon the face of it, as if there had been a mistake +somewhere. Benis had despaired too soon! + +This fateful thought had been crouching at the door of Desire's mind +ever since Mary had ceased to be an abstraction. She had kept it out. +She had refused to know that it was there. She had been happy in spite +of it. But now, when its time was fully come, it made small work of her +frail barriers. It blundered in, leering and triumphant. + +Men have been mistaken before now. Men have turned aside in the very +moment of victory. And Benis Spence was not a man who would beg or +importune. How easily he might have taken for refusal what was, in +effect, mere withdrawal. Had Mary retreated only that he might pursue? +And had the Someone Else been No One Else at all? + +If this were so, and it seemed at least possible, the retreating lady +had been smartly punished. Serve her right--oh, serve her right a +thousand times for having dared to trifle! Desire wasted no pity on +her. But what of him? With merciless lucidity Desire's busy brain +created the missing acts which might have brought the professor's +tragedy of errors to a happy ending. It would have been so simple--if +Benis had only waited. Even pursuit would not have been required of +him. Mary, unpursued, would have come back; unasked, she might have +offered. But Benis had not waited. + +Desire saw all this in the time that it took her to go down-stairs. At +the bottom of the stairs she faced its unescapable logic: if he were +free now, he might be happy yet. + +How blind they had both been! He to believe that love had passed; she +to believe that love would never come. Desire paused with her hand upon +the library door. He was there. She could hear him talking to Yorick. +She had only to open the door ... but she did not open it. Yesterday +the library had been her kingdom, the heart of her widening world. Now +it was only a room in someone else's house. Yesterday she would have +gone in swiftly--hiding her gladness in a little net of everyday words. +But today she had no gladness and no words. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Miss Davis had been in Bainbridge a week. Her cold was entirely better +and her nerves, she said, much rested. "This is such a restful place," +murmured Miss Davis, selecting her breakfast toast with care. + +"I'm glad you find it so," said Aunt Caroline. "Though, with the club +elections coming on next week--" she broke off to ask if Desire would +have more coffee. + +Desire would have no more, thanks. Miss Campion, looking over her +spectacles, frowned faintly and took a second cup herself--an +indulgence which showed that she had something on her mind. Her nephew, +knowing this symptom, was not surprised when later she joined him on +the side veranda. Being a prompt person she began at once. + +"Benis," she said, "I have a feeling--I am not at all satisfied about +Desire. If you know what is the matter with her I wish you would tell +me. I am not curious. I expect no one's confidence, nor do I ask for +it. But I have a right to object to mysteries, I think." + +As Aunt Caroline spoke, she looked sternly at the smoke of the +professor's after-breakfast cigarette, the blue haze of which +temporarily clouded his expression. Benis took his time in answering. + +"You think there is something the matter besides the heat?" he inquired +mildly. + +"Heat! It is only ordinary summer weather." + +"But Desire is not used to ordinary summer, in Ontario." + +"Nonsense. It can't be much cooler on the coast. Although I have heard +people say that they felt quite chilly there. It isn't that." + +"What is it, then?" + +Not noticing that she was being asked to answer her own question, Aunt +Caroline considered. Then, with a flash of shrewd insight, "Well," she +said, "if there were any possible excuse for it, I should say that it +is Mary Davis." + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"You asked me, Benis. And I have told you what I think. Desire has +changed since Mary came. Before that she seemed happy. There was +something about her--well, I admit I liked to look at her. And she +seemed to love this place. Even that Yorick bird pleased her, a taste +which I admit I could never understand. Now she looks around and sees +nothing. The girl has some-thing on her mind, Benis. She's thinking." + +"With some people thought is not fatal." + +"I am serious, Benis." + +"So am I." + +"What I should like to know is--have you, by any chance, been flirting +with Mary?" + +"What?" + +"Don't shout. You heard what I said perfectly. I do not wish to +interfere. It is against my nature. But if you had been flirting with +Mary, that might account for it. I don't believe Desire would +understand. She might take it seriously. As for Mary--I am ashamed of +her. I shall not invite her here again." + +"This is nonsense, Aunt." + +"Excuse me, Benis. The nonsense is on your side. I know what I am +talking about, and I know Mary Davis. She is one of those women for +whom a man obscures the landscape. She will flirt on her deathbed, or +any-body else's deathbed, which is worse. Come now, be honest. She has +been doing it, hasn't she?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I suppose you have to say that. I'll put it in another way. What is +your opinion of Mary?" + +"She is an interesting woman." + +"You find her more interesting than you did upon her former visit?" + +"I hardly remember her former visit. I never really knew her before." + +"And you know her now?" + +"She has honored me with a certain amount of confidence." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. "I thought so. Well, she doesn't need to honor +me with her confidence because I know her without it. Was she honoring +you that way last night when you stayed out in the garden until +mid-night?" + +"We were talking, naturally." + +"And--your wife?" + +There was a moment's pause while the cigarette smoke grew bluer. "My +wife," said Benis, "was very well occupied." + +"You mean that when Dr. John saw how distrait and pale she was, he took +her for a run in his car? Now admit, Benis, that you made it plain that +you wished her to go." + +"Did I?" + +"Yes," significantly, "too plain. Mary saw it--and John. You are acting +strangely, Benis. I don't like it, that's flat. Desire is too much with +John. And you are too much with Mary. It is not a natural arrangement. +And it is largely your fault. It is almost as if you were acting with +some purpose. But I'll tell you this--whatever your purpose may be--you +have no right to expose your wife to comment." + +She had his full attention now. The cigarette haze drifted away. + +"Comment?" slowly. "You mean that people--but of course people always +do. I hadn't allowed for that. Which shows how impossible it is to +think of everything. I'm sorry." + +"I do not pretend to understand you, Benis. But then, I never did. Your +private affairs are your own, also your motives. And I never meddle, as +you know. I think though, that I may be permitted a straight question. +Has your feeling toward Desire changed?" + +"Neither changed nor likely to change." + +Miss Campion's expression softened. + +"Are you sure that she knows it?" + +"I am not sure of anything with regard to Desire." + +"Then you ought to be. Don't shilly-shally, Benis. It is a habit of +yours. All of the Spences shilly-shally. Make certain that Desire is +aware of your--er--affection. Mark my words--I have a feeling. She is +fretting over Mary." + +"I happen to know that she is not." + +Small red flags began to fly from Miss Campion's prominent cheek-bones. + +"We shall quarrel in a moment, Benis. You are pig-headed. Exactly as +your father was, and without his common sense. I know you think me an +interfering old maid. But I like Desire, and I won't have her made +miserable. I want--" + +"Hush--here she comes." + +"Ill leave you then," in a sepulchral whisper. "And for goodness' sake, +Benis, do something! ... Were you looking for me, my dear?" added +Aunt Caroline innocently as Desire came slowly toward them. "Do not try +to be energetic this morning. It is so very hot. Sit here. I'll send +Olive out with something cool. I'd like you both to try the new +raspberry vinegar." + +Greatly pleased with her simple stratagem the good soul bustled away. +Desire looked after her with a grateful smile. + +"I believe Aunt Caroline likes me," she said with a note of faint +surprise. + +"Is that very wonderful?" + +"Yes." + +Benis looked at her quickly and looked away. She was certainly paler. +She held her head as if its crown of hair were heavy. + +"It does not seem wonderful to other people who also--like you." + +Her eyes turned to him almost timidly. It hurt him to notice that the +old frank openness of glance was gone. Good heavens! was the child +afraid of him? Did she think that he blamed her? That he did not +understand how helpless she was before her awakening womanhood? He +forgot how difficult speech was in the overpowering impulse to reassure +her. + +"I wish you could be happy; my dear," he said. "You are so young. Can't +you be a little patient? Can't you be content as things are--for a +while?" + +Even Spence, blinded as he was by the bitterness of his own struggle, +noticed the strangeness of her look. + +"You want things to go on--as they are?" + +"Yes. For a time. We had better be quite sure. We do not want a second +mistake." + +"You see that there has been a mistake?" + +"Can I help seeing it, Desire?" + +"No, I suppose not.... And when you are sure?" Her voice was very +low. + +"When I--when we are both sure, I shall act. There are ways out. It +ought not to be difficult." + +"No, quite easy, I think. I hope it will not be long." + +His mask of reasonable acquiescence slipped a little at the wistfulness +of her voice. + +"Don't speak like that!" he said sharply. "No man is worth it." + +Desire smiled. It was such a sure, secret little smile, that it +maddened him. + +"You can't--you can't care like that!" he said in a low, furious tone. +"You said you never could!" + +"I do," said Desire. + +It was the avowal which she had sworn she would never make. Yet she +made it without shame. Love had taught Desire much since the day of the +episode of the photograph. And one of its teachings had to do with the +comparative insignificance of pride. Why should he not know that she +loved him? Of what use a gift that is never given? Besides, as this +leaden week had passed, she knew that, more than anything else, she +wanted truth between them. Now, when he asked it of her, she gave him +truth. + +"It is breaking our bargain," she went on with a wavering smile. "But I +was so sure! I cannot even blame myself. It must be possible to be +quite sure and quite wrong at the same time." + +"Yes. There is no blame, anywhere. I--I didn't think of what I was +saying." + +"Well, then--you will guess that it isn't exactly easy. But I will wait +as you ask me. When you are quite sure--you will let me go?" + +"Yes," he said. + +Neither of them looked at the other. + +Does Jove indeed laugh at lover's perjuries? Even more at their +stupidities, perhaps! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +For they really were stupid! Looking on, we can see so plainly what +they should have seen, and didn't. + +If thoughts are things (and Professor Spence continues to argue that +they are) a mistaken thought is quite as powerful a reality as the +other kind. Only let it be conceived with sufficient force and +nourished by continual attention and it will grow into a veritable +highwayman of the mind--a thievish tyrant of one's mental roads, +holding their more legitimate travellers at the stand and deliver. + +Desire, usually so clearsighted, ought to have seen that the attentions +of Benis to the too-sympathetic Mary were hollow at the core. But this, +her mistaken Thought would by no means allow. Ceaselessly on the watch, +it leapt upon every unprejudiced deduction and turned it to the +strengthening of its own mistaken self. What might have seemed merely +boredom on the professor's part was twisted by the Thought to appear an +anguished effort after self-control. Any avoidance of Mary's society +was attributed to fear rather than to indifference. And so on and so on. + +Spence, too, a man learned in the byways of the mind, ought to have +known that, to Desire, John was a refuge merely, and Mary the real lion +in the way. But his mistaken Thought, born of a smile and a photograph, +grew steadily stronger and waxed fat upon the everyday trivialities +which should have slain it. So powerful had it become that, by the time +of Desire's arrival on the veranda, it had closed every road of +interpretation save its own. + +Nor was John in more reasonable case. His mistaken Thought was +different in action but equally successful in effect. Born of an +insistent desire, and nursed by half fearful hope, it stood a beggar at +the door of life, snatching from every passing circumstance the crumbs +by which it lived. Did Desire smile--how eagerly John's famished +Thought would claim it for his own. Did she frown--how quick it was to +find some foreign cause for frowning. And, as Desire woke to love under +his eyes, how ceaselessly it worked to add belief to hope. How +plausibly it reasoned, how cleverly it justified! That Spence loved his +wife, the Thought would not accept as possible. All John's actual +knowledge of the depth and steadfastness of his friend's nature was +pooh-poohed or ignored. Benis, dear old chap, cared nothing for women. +Hadn't he always shunned them in his quiet way? And hadn't he, John, +warned Benis, anyway? The Thought insisted upon the warning with +virtuous emphasis. It pointed out that Benis had laughed at the +warning. Even if--but we need not follow John's excursions further. +They all led through devious ways to the old, old justification of +everything in love and war. + +As time went on, the thing which fed the mistaken thoughts of both +Benis and John was the change in Desire herself. That she was +increasingly unhappy was evident to both. And why should she be +unhappy--unless? + +To John Rogers, that summer remained the most distracting summer of his +life. Desire should have seen this--would have seen it had her +mind-roads not been closed by their own obsession. The probability is +that she did not consciously think of John at all. He was there and he +was kind. She saw nothing farther than that. + +The relationship between the two men remained apparently the same and +indeed it is likely that, in the main, their conception one of the +other did not change. To Benis, John's virtues were still as real and +admirable as ever. To John, Benis was still a bit of a mystery and a +bit of a hero>. (There were war stories which John knew but had never +dared to tell, lest vengeance befall him.) But, these basic things +aside, there were new points of view. Seen as a possible mate for +Desire, Benis found John most lamentably lacking. Seen in the same +light, Benis to John was undesirable in the extreme. "If it could only +be someone more subtle than John," thought Benis. And, "If only old +Benis were a bit more stable," thought John. Both were insincere, since +no possible combination of qualities would have satisfied either. + +Of this fatally misled quartette, Mary Davis was perhaps the one most +open to reason. And yet not altogether so, for the thought of Benis +Spence as eternally escaped was not a welcome one. She realized now +that she might have liked the elusive professor more than a little. +They would have been, she thought, admirably suited. At the worst, +neither would have bored the other. And the Spence home was quite +possible--as a home for part of the year at least. It was certainly +annoying that fate should have cut in so unexpectedly. And for what? +Apparently for nothing but that a girl with grey, enigmatic eyes and +close-shut lips should keep from Mary a position which she did not want +herself. For Mary, captive of her Thought, was more than ready to +believe that Desire's hidden preference was for John. She naturally +could not grant her rival a share of her own discriminating taste in +loving. + +"I suppose," thought Mary, "it is her immaturity which makes her prefer +the doctor person to one who so far outranks him. She admires sleek +hair and a straight nose. The finer fascinations of Benis escape her." + +Meanwhile she stayed on. + +"I know I should come home," she wrote the most select of the select +friends. "And I know dear Miss Campion thinks so! But the situation +here is too absorbing. And, as my invitation was indefinite, I can +hardly be accused of outstaying it. I can't be supposed to know that +I'm not wanted. I justify myself by the knowledge that I am of some use +to Benis. You know I can interest most men when I try, and this time my +'heart is in it'--like Sentimental Tommy. I am even teaching a +perfectly dear parrot they have here to sing, 'Oh, What a Pal was +Mary.' Will you run over to my rooms and send down that London smoke +chiffon frock with the silver underslip? Stockings and slippers to +match in a box in the bottom drawer. I am contemplating a moon-light +mood and must have the accessories. One loses half the effect if one +does not dress the part. Madam Enigma never dresses in character. +Because she never assumes one. So dull to be always just oneself, don't +you think? Even if one knew what one's real self is, which I am sure I +do not. + +"This girl annoys me. How she can be so simple and yet so complex I +can't understand. I thought perhaps a dash of jealousy might be +revealing. But she hasn't turned a hair. I have my emotions pretty well +in hand myself but even if I didn't adore my husband, I'd see that no +one else appropriated him. But as far as Madam Coolness is concerned it +looks as if I might put her husband in my pocket and keep him there +indefinitely. + +"I told you in my last about the good-looking doctor. What she sees in +him puzzles me. He is handsome but as dull as all the proverbs. Can't +be original even in his love affairs--otherwise he would hardly select +his best friend's bride--so bookish! Why doesn't someone fall in love +with the wife of his enemy? It seems to have gone out since Romeo's +time. (Now don't write and tell me that Juliet wasn't married.) + +"Another thing which I find odd, is the attitude of Benis himself. He +is quite alive, painfully so, to the drift of the thing. Yet he does +nothing. And this is not in keeping with his character. He is the type +of man who, in spite of an unassertive manner, holds what he has with +no uncertain grasp. Why, then, does he let this one thing go? The +logical deduction is that he knows that he never had it. All of which, +being interpreted, means that things may happen here through the sheer +inertia of other things. Almost every day I think, 'Something ought to +be done.' But I know I shall never do it. I am not the novelist's +villainess who arranges a compromising situation and produces the +surprised husband from behind a door. Neither am I a peacemaker or an +altruist. I am not selfish enough in one way nor un-selfish enough in +another. (Probably that is why life has lost interest in my special +case.) Even my emotions are hopelessly mixed. There are times when I +find myself viciously hoping that Madam Composure will go the limit and +that right quickly. And there are other times when I feel I should like +to choke her into a proper realization of what she is risking. Not for +her sake--I'm far too feminine for that--but because I hate to see her +play with this man (whom I like myself) and get away with it." + +It is worth while remembering the closing sentences of this letter. +They explain, or partially explain, a certain future action on the part +of the writer, which might otherwise seem out of keeping with her well +defined attitude of "Mary first." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +"There is one thing which I simply do not understand." Miss Davis dug +the point of a destructive parasol into the well-kept gravel of the +drive and allowed a glance of deep seriousness to drift from under the +shadow of her hat. Unfortunately, her companion was not attending. + +It was the day of Mrs. Burton Jones' garden party, the Bainbridge event +for which Miss Davis was, presumably, staying over. Mary, in a new +frock of sheerest grey and most diaphanous white, and a hat which lay +like a breath of mist against the gold of her hair, had come down +early. In the course of an observant career, she had learned that, in +one respect at least, men are like worms. They are inclined to be +early. Mary had often profited by this bit of wisdom, and was glad that +so few other women seemed to realize its importance. One can do much +with ten or fifteen uninterrupted minutes. + +But today Mary had not done much. She had found Benis, as she expected, +on the front steps. They had talked for quite ten minutes without an +interruption--but also without any reason to deplore one. + +This was failure. And Mary, whose love of the chase grew as the quarry +proved shy, was beginning to be seriously annoyed with Benis. He might +at least play up! Even now he was not looking at her, and he did not +ask her what it was that she simply did not understand. Mary decided +that he deserved something--a pin-prick at least. + +"Why don't you get a car, Benis?" she asked inconsequently. "If you had +one, Desire might ride in it some-times, instead of always in Dr. +Rogers'. Can't you see that it's dangerous?" + +"One has to take risks," said Spence plaintively. "John is careless. +But he has never killed anyone yet." + +"You're impossible, Benis." + +"Yes, I know. But particularly impossible as a chauffeur. That's why I +haven't a car. What would I do with a driver when I wasn't using him? +Desire will have a car of her own as soon as she likes to try it. Aunt +won't drive and I--don't." + +This was the first approach to a personal remark the professor had +made. No one was in sight yet and Mary began to hope again. Once more +she tried the gently serious gaze. + +"Why not?" she asked, not too eagerly. + +Yorick, sunning himself by the door, gave vent to a goblin chuckle. +"Oh, what a pal was M-Mary! Oh, what a pal--Nothing doing!" he finished +with a shriek and began to flap his wings. + +The professor laughed. "Yorick gets his lessons mixed," he said. "But +isn't he a wonder? Did you ever know a bird who could learn so quickly?" + +Mary did not want to talk about birds. "Do tell me why you dislike +driving?" she asked with gentle insistence. + +"Oh, I like it.-It's not that. I used to drive like Jehu, or John. +Never had an accident. But when I came back from overseas I found I +couldn't trust my nerve--no quick judgment, no instinctive +reaction--all gone to pieces. Rather rotten." + +With unerring intuition Mary knew this for a real confidence. +Fortunately she was an expert with shy game. + +"Quite rotten," she said soberly. He went on. + +"It's little things like that that hit hard. Not to be One's own man in +a crisis--d'y' see?" + +Mary nodded. + +"But it's only temporary," he continued more cheer-fully. "I'll try +myself out one of these days. Only, of course, arranged tests are never +real ones. The crisis must leap on one to be of any use. Some little +time ago, when I was at the coast, an incident happened--a kind of +unexpected emergency"--he paused thoughtfully as a sudden vision of a +moon-lit room flashed before him--"I got through that all right," he +added, "so I'm hopeful." + +"How thrilling," said Mary. "Won't you tell me what it was?" + +His eyes met hers with a placidity for which she could have shaken him. + +"It wouldn't interest you," he said. "I hear Aunt coming at last." + +Miss Campion's voice had indeed preceded her. + +"Oh, there you are, Mary," she said with some acidity. "I told Desire +you were sure to be down first." + +"I try to be prompt," said Mary meekly. "I have been keeping Benis +company until you were ready." She spoke to Miss Campion but her +slightly mocking eyes watched for some change upon the face of her +young hostess. Desire, as usual, was serene. + +"Mary thinks we are all heathens not to have a car," said Benis. "When +are you going to choose yours, Desire?" + +"Not at all, I think," said Desire. + +Men, even clever men, are like that. The professor had seen no possible +sting in his idly spoken words. But the sore, hot spot, which now +seemed ever present in Desire's heart, grew sorer and hotter. To owe a +car to the reminder of another woman! Naturally, Desire could do very +well without it. + +"But don't you miss a car terribly?" asked Mary with kind concern. + +"I cannot miss what I have never had." + +"Oh, in the west, I suppose one does have horses still." + +"There may be a few left, I think." Desire's slow smile crept out as +memory brought the asthmatic "chug" of the "Tillicum." "My father and I +used a launch almost exclusively." In spite of herself she could not +resist a glance at the professor. His eyes met hers with a ghost of +their old twinkle. + +"A launch?" Mary's surprise was patent. "Did you run it yourself?" + +"We had a Chinese engineer," said Desire demurely. "But I could manage +it if necessary." + +Further conversation upon modes of locomotion on the coast was cut off +by the precipitate arrival of John who, coming up the drive in his best +manner, narrowly escaped a triple fatality at the steps. + +"You people are careless!" he exclaimed indignantly. "What do you mean +by standing on the drive? Some-one might have been hurt! Anyone here +like to get driven to the garden party?" + +"Do doctors find time for garden parties in Bainbridge?" asked Mary in +mock surprise. + +"Healthiest place you ever saw!" declared Dr. John gloomily. "And +anyway, this garden party is a prescription of mine. Naturally I am +expected to take my own medicine. I said to Mrs. B. Jones, 'What you +need, dear Mrs. Jones, is a little gentle excitement combined with +fresh air, complete absence of mental strain and plenty of cooling +nourishment.' Did you ever hear a garden party more delicately +suggested? Desire, will you sit in front?" + +"Husbands first," said Benis. "In the case of a head-on collision, I +claim the post of honorable danger." + +It was surely a natural and a harmless speech. But instantly the +various mistaken thoughts of his hearers turned it to their will. +Desire's eyes grew still more clouded under their lowered lids. "He +does not dare to sit beside Mary," whispered her particular mental +highwayman. "Oho, he is beginning to show human jealousy at last," +thought Mary. "He has noticed that she likes to sit beside me," exulted +John. Of them all, only Aunt Caroline was anywhere near the truth. "He +has taken my warning to heart," thought she. "But then, I always knew I +could manage men if I had a chance." + +A garden party in Bainbridge is not exciting, in itself. In themselves, +no garden parties are exciting. As mere garden parties they partake +somewhat of the slow and awful calm of undisturbed nature. One could +see the grass grow at a garden party, if so many people were not +trampling on it. So it is possible that there were those in Mrs. Burton +Jones' grounds that afternoon who, bringing no personal drama with +them, had rather a dull time. For others it was a fateful day. There +were psychic milestones on Mrs. Burton Jones' smooth lawn that +afternoon. + +It was there, for instance, that the youngest Miss Keith (the pretty +one) decided to marry Jerry Clarkson, junior (and regretted it all her +life). It was there that Mrs. Keene first suspected the new principal +of the Collegiate Institute of Bolshevik tendencies. (He had said that, +in his opinion, kings were bound to go.) And it was there that Miss +Ellis spoke to Miss Sutherland for the first time in three years. (She +asked her if she would have lemon or chocolate cake--a clear matter of +social duty.) It was there also that Miss Mary Sophia Watkins, Dr. +Rogers' capable nurse, decided finally that a longer stay in Bainbridge +would be wasted time. It was the first time she had actually seen her +admired doctor and the object of his supposed regard together, and a +certain look which she surprised on Dr. John's face as his eyes +followed Desire across the lawn, convinced her so thoroughly that, like +a sensible girl, she packed up that night and went back to the city. + +Perhaps it was that very look which also decided Spence. For decide he +did. There was no excuse for waiting longer. He must "have it out" with +John. Desire must be given her freedom. Of John's attitude he had small +doubt. His infatuation for Desire had been plain from the beginning. +Time had served only to centre and strengthen it. He could not in +justice blame John. He didn't blame John. That is to say, he would not +officially permit himself to blame John, though he knew very well that +he did blame him. A sense of the rights of other people as opposed to +one's own rights has been hardly gained by the Race, and is by no means +firmly seated yet. Let primitive passions slip control for an instant +and presto! good-bye to the rights of other people! The primitive man +in Spence would not have argued the matter. Having obtained his mate by +any means at all, it would have gone hard with anyone who, however +justly, attempted to take her from him. Today, at Mrs. Burton-Jones' +garden party, the acquired restraints of character seemed wearing thin. +The professor decided that it might be advisable to go home. + +Desire and Mary noticed his absence at about the same time. And both +lost interest in the party with the suddenness of a light blown out. + +"Things are moving," thought Mary with a thrill of triumph. But in +spite of her triumph she was angry. It is not pleasant to have the +power of one's rival so starkly revealed. Malice crept into her +faun-like eyes as she looked across to where Desire sat, a composed +young figure, listening with apparent interest to the biggest bore in +Bainbridge. What right had she to hold a man's hot heart between her +placid hands! Mary ground her parasol into Mrs. Burton-Jones' best sod +and her small white teeth shut grindingly behind her lips. + +Desire was trying to listen to the little man with the enlarged ego who +attempted to entertain her. But she was very much aware of Mary and all +her moods. "She is selfish. She will make him miserable," thought +Desire. "But she will make him happy first. And, in any case, he must +be free." + +"Yes, Mrs. Spence," the little man beside her was saying, "a man like +myself, however diffident, must be ready to do his full duty by the +community in which he lives. That is why I feel I must accept the +nomination for mayor of this town--if I am offered it. My friends say +to me, 'Miller, you are a man, and we need a man. Bainbridge needs a +man.' What am I to do under such circumstances? If there is no man--" + +"You might try a woman," said Desire, suddenly losing patience. The +garden party was stupid. The egotist was stupid. She was probably +stupid too, because she knew that a few weeks ago she would have found +both the party and the egotist entertaining. She would have been +delighted to peep in at a window where every-thing was labelled "Big +I." She would have enjoyed Mrs. Burton-Jones' windows immensely--but +now, windows bored her. In the only window that mattered the blinds +were down. Desire's life had narrowed as it broadened. It wasn't life +that she wanted any more--it was the one thing which could have made +life dear. + +A great impatience of trivialities came upon her. She hardly heard the +injured tones of the little man who had embarked upon a heated +repudiation of a feminine mayoralty. It did not amuse her even when he +proved logically that women could never be anything because they were +always something else. Instead she looked to Dr. John for rescue, and +Dr. John, most observant of knights, immediately rescued her. + +"Did you see that?" asked Mrs. Keene (the same who discovered the +Bolshevik principal). She touched Miss Davis significantly on the arm. + +Mary, who had seen perfectly well, looked blank. + +"Of course you are not one of us," went on Mrs. Keene. "So you can +scarcely be expected.... Still, living in the same house ... and +knowing the dear professor so well." + +"Did you wish to speak to him? He has gone home, I think," said Mary, +innocently. "I fancy he doesn't suffer garden parties gladly." + +"No--such a pity! With a wife so young and, if I may say so, so +different. One feels that she has not been brought up amongst us. So +sad. I always say 'Let our young men marry at home.' So sensible. One +knows where one is then, don't you think?" + +Mary agreed that, in such a position, one might know where one was. + +"And book writing," said Mrs. Keene, "so fatiguing! So liable to occupy +one's attention--to the exclusion of other matters.... The dear +professor.... So bound up in the marvels of the human brain!" + +"Not brain, mind," corrected Mary gently. "The professor is a +psychologist." + +"Well, of course if you wish to separate them, in a scriptural sense. +But what I mean is that such biological studies are dangerous. So +absorbing. When one examines things through a microscope--" + +"One doesn't--in psychology." + +"Well, perhaps not so much as formerly, especially since vivisection is +so looked down upon. But it is terribly absorbing, as I say. And one +can hardly expect an absorbed man to see things. And yet--" + +"What is it," asked Mary bluntly, "that you think Professor Spence +ought to see?" + +This was entirely too blunt for Mrs. Keene. She, in her turn, looked +blank. What did Miss Davis mean? She was not aware that she had +suggested the professor's seeing anything. Probably there was nothing +at all to see. Young people have such latitude nowadays. She herself +was not a gossip. She despised gossip. "What I always say," declared +she, virtuously, "is 'do not hint thing's.' Say them right out and then +we shall know where we are. Don't you think so?" + +Mary agreed that, under these conditions also, one might be fairly sure +of one's position in space. "Unless," she concluded maliciously, "there +is anything in the Einstein theory." + +This latter shot had the effect intended, for Mrs. Keene said +hurriedly, "Oh, of course in that case--" and moved away. + +"I'm going home, Mary," said Aunt Caroline, coming up. Aunt Caroline +had had enough garden party. She had noticed both the rescue of Desire +by John, and the conversation of Mary with Mrs. Keene--the "worst old +gossip in Bainbridge." + +Desire was quite ready to go. So was Mary. The centre of attraction for +them both had shifted itself. John too, felt that he ought to turn up +at the office. But all three ladies politely declined a lift home in +his car. + +"It is so hot," he pleaded. + +"It is not hot," said Aunt Caroline. + +Mary smiled mockingly and murmured something about the great distances +of small towns. Desire said, "No, thank you, John," in her detached +way--a way which drove him mad even while he adored it. + +So the Burton-Jones garden party faded into history. But +history-in-the-making caught up its effects and carried them on.... + +It was a lovely night. But indoors it was hot with the accumulated heat +of the day. Instead of going to bed, Mary slipped out into the garden. +It was fresher there, and she was restless. The front of the house lay +in darkness, but, from the library window at the side, stretched a +ribbon of light. Benis must be still at work. With slippers which made +no sound upon the grass, Mary crossed over to the window and looked in. + +What she saw there stung her already fretted soul to unreasoning anger, +and for once the circumspect Miss Davis acted upon impulse undeterred +by thought. Entering the house softly, she ran upstairs to the west +room which she entered without knocking. + +Desire, seated at the dressing table, turned in surprise. She was ready +for bed, but lingered over the brushing of her hair. With another spasm +of anger, Mary noticed the hair she brushed--hair long and lustrous and +lifted in soft waves. A pink kimona lay across the back of her chair, a +pretty thing--but not at all French. + +"Put it on," said Mary, "and come here. I want to show you something." + +Desire did not ask "What?" Nor did she keep Mary waiting. Pleasant or +unpleasant, it was not Desire's way to delay revelation. Together the +two girls hurried out into the dew-sweet garden. As they went, Mary +spoke in gusty sentences. + +"I don't care what you do." (She was almost sobbing in her anger.) "I +don't understand you.... I don't want to.... But you're not going +to get away with it ... that cool air of yours ... pretending not +to see.... If you are human at all you'll see ... and remember all +your life." + +They were close to the library window now. Desire looked in. + +She looked so long and stood so still that Mary had time to get back a +little of her breath and something of her common sense. An instinct +which her selfish life had pretty well buried began to stir. + +"Come away," she whispered, "I shouldn't have ... it wasn't fair +... he would never forgive us if he knew we had seen him like this!" + +Desire drew back instantly. + +"No," she said. Her voice was toneless. Her face in the darkness +gleamed wedge-shaped and unfamiliar between the falling waves of her +hair. + +"I'm sorry," said Mary sulkily. "But I thought you ought to know what +you are doing. It takes a lot to break up a man like that." + +"Yes," said Desire. "All the same I had no right--" + +"You will have," said Desire evenly. + +They were at her door now. She paused with her hand on the knob. + +"I knew he cared," she said in the same level voice, "but I didn't know +that he cared like that." + +"You know now," said Mary. Her irritation was returning. + +"Yes," said Desire. "Good-night." + +She opened the door and went in. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +It seems incredible and yet it is a fact that Bainbridge never knew +that young Mrs. Spence had run away. Full credit for this must be given +to Miss Caroline Campion, who never really believed it herself--a +mental limitation which lent the necessary air of unemphasized truth to +her statement that Desire had been summoned suddenly to her father. + +Miss Campion had, in her own mind, built up an imaginary Dr. Farr in +every way suited to be the father-in-law of a Spence. This creation she +passed on to Bainbridge as Desire's father. "Such a fine old +gentleman," she would say. "And so devoted to his only daughter. Quite +a recluse, though, my nephew tells me. And not at all strong." This +idea of delicacy, which Miss Campion had added to the picture from a +sense of the fitness of things, proved useful now. An only daughter may +be summoned to attend a delicate father at a moment's notice, without +unduly straining credulity. + +One feels almost sorry for Bainbridge. It would have enjoyed the truth +so much! + +"Is Desire going to have no breakfast at all?" asked Aunt Caroline, +from behind the coffee-urn on the morning following the garden-party. +It was an invariable custom of hers to pretend that her nephew was +fully conversant with his wife's intentions. + +"She may be tired," said Benis. + +"No. She has been up some time. The door of her room was open when I +came down." + +"Then she is probably in the garden. I'll ask Olive to call her." + +"Why not call her yourself? I have a feeling--" + +The professor rose from his untasted coffee. When Aunt Caroline "had a +feeling" it was useless to argue. + +"Are you sleeping badly again, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline. "Your eyes +look like burnt holes in a blanket." + +"Nothing to bother about, Aunt." He stepped out quickly into the sunny +garden. But Desire was not among the flowers, neither was she on the +lawn nor in the shrubbery. A few moments' search proved that she was +not out of doors at all. Benis returned to his coffee. He found it +quite cold and no waiting Aunt Caroline to pour him another cup. "I +wonder," he pondered idly, "why, when one really wants coffee, it is +always cold." + +Then he forgot about coffee suddenly and completely, for Aunt Caroline +came in with the news that Desire was gone. + +"Gone where?" asked Spence stupidly. + +"That," said Aunt Caroline, "she leaves you to inform me." + +With the feeling of being someone else and acting under compulsion he +took the few written lines which she held out to him. "Dear Aunt +Caroline," he read, "Benis will tell you why I am going. But I cannot +go without thanking you. I'll never forget how good you have +been--Desire." + +"I had a feeling," said Aunt Caroline with mournful triumph. "It never +deceives me, never! As I passed our dear girl's room this morning, I +said, 'She is not there'--and she wasn't!" + +"I think you mentioned that the door was open." + +"That has nothing to do with it. I--" + +"Where did you find this note?" + +"On her dressing table. When you went into the gar-den, I went +upstairs. I had a feeling--" + +"Was there nothing else? No note for me?" + +"No," in surprise. "She says you know all about it. Don't you?" + +"Something, not all." + +Aunt Caroline was, upon occasion, quite capable of meeting a crisis. +Remembering the neglected coffee, she poured a cup for each of them. + +"Here," said she, "drink this. You look as if you needed it. I must +say, Benis, that you don't act as if you knew anything, but if you do, +you'd better tell me. Where is Desire?" + +"I don't know." + +"Umph! Then what you do know won't help us to find her. Finding her is +the first thing. I wonder," thoughtfully, "if she told John?" + +A wintry smile passed over the professor's lips. + +"I shall ask him," he said. + +Aunt Caroline proceeded with her own deducing. "There is no one else +she could have told," she reasoned. "She did not tell you. She did not +tell me. Naturally, she would not tell Mary. And a girl nearly always +tells somebody. So it must be John. I hope you are sufficiently ashamed +of yourself, Benis? I told you Desire wouldn't understand your +attentions to Mary. Though I admit I did not dream she would take them +quite so seriously. I don't envy you your explanations." + +"Aunt--" + +"Wait a moment, Benis. On second thought, if I were you I would not +explain at all. Simply tell her she is mistaken and stick to that. She +may believe you. Promise her that you will never see Mary again--and +you won't" (grimly) "if I have anything to say about it. Desire will +come around. I have a feeling--" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"Let me proceed, Benis. I have a feeling that she will forgive +you--once. But let this be a lesson. Desire is not a girl who will +forgive twice." + +"You are all wrong, Aunt," with weary patience. "But it doesn't matter. +Say nothing about this. I am going to see John." + +"Not before you drink that coffee." + +Benis obediently drank. Hurry would not mend what had happened. + +"She has taken her travelling coat and hat," pursued Aunt Caroline. +"Her train slippers, that taupe jersey-cloth suit, some fresh blouses, +her dressing case, her night things and your photo off the dressing +table." + +Benis smiled, a wry smile, and pushed back his cup. + +"You don't look fit to go anywhere," said Aunt Caroline irritably. "Why +can't you call John on the 'phone?" + +"That would be quite modern," said Benis. "But--I think I'll see him. I +shan't be long." + +It never once occurred to the professor, you will notice, that he might +find John vanished also. His obsessing thought had not been able to +change his essential knowledge of either Desire or John. If Desire had +gone, she had gone because she could not stay. But she had gone alone. +Just what determining thing had happened to make her flight imperative, +Benis could not guess. But he would not have been human if he had not +blamed the other man. "The fool has bungled it!" he thought. "Lost +control of his precious feelings, perhaps--broken through--said +something--frightened her." We may be sure that he cursed John in his +heart very completely. + +But when he entered John's office and saw John he began to doubt even +this. There was no guilt on the doctor's face--no sign of apprehension +or regret, no tremor of knowledge. An angry-eyed young man looked up +from a letter he was reading with nothing more serious than injured +wonder in his gaze. + +"Can you beat it?" asked John disgustedly, waving the letter. "Aren't +women the limit? Here's this one going off without a word, or an +excuse, or anything. Just gone! And a silly note thrown on my desk. I +tell you women have absolutely no sense of business +obligation--positively not!" + +Spence restrained himself. + +"You are speaking of--?" + +"That nurse of mine, Miss Watkins. Never a word about leaving +yesterday, and today vanished--vamoosed--simply non est! Look at what +she says.--" + +Spence pushed the letter aside. + +"There is something more important than that, John," he said quietly, +"Desire has left me." + +The two men stared at each other. Spence was the first to speak. + +"There is no doubt about it. She is gone. She has not told us where. I +see that you do not know." + +John shook his head. + +"There may be a note for you in the morning's mail." Benis was coldly +brief. "I must know where she is. If you can help me, let me know." He +turned to the door. + +With difficulty John found his voice. + +"I knew nothing of this, Benis." + +"I realize that," dryly. "But you may be responsible for it. She had no +idea of leaving yesterday." + +"Benis, I swear--" + +"It is not necessary. Besides," bitterly, "you could afford to be +patient. You felt fairly--sure, didn't you?" + +"Sure! No, I--" + +"You mean you merely hoped?" + +"Oh--damn!" + +"Quite so. There is nothing to say. Not being a sentimentalist, I +shan't pretend to love you, John. But I gambled and I've lost. I have +always admired a good loser." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Upon reaching home Benis found Aunt Caroline waiting for him just +inside the outer gate. + +"I thought," she explained, "that we might talk while strolling up the +drive. Then Olive would not overhear." + +The professor had quite neglected to consider Olive. + +"I have told Olive," went on Aunt Caroline, "that Mrs. Spence had +received news of her father which was far from satisfactory and that +she had left for Vancouver by the early morning train. The morning +train is the only one she could have left by, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"Then that's all right. I also let Olive know, indirectly, that you +were remaining behind to attend to a few matters. After which you would +follow." + +Admiration for this generalship pierced even the deep depression of the +professor. + +"Does John know where she is?" pursued Aunt Caroline. + +"No." + +"Then she has gone home to her father. She said something the other day +which puzzled me. I can't remember just what it was but she seemed to +have some fatalistic idea, about her old life having a hold upon her +which she couldn't shake off. Pure morbidity, as I pointed out. But she +has gone back. I have a feeling that she has." + +"You may be right, Aunt. It will be easy to find out. If I can make the +necessary inquiries without arousing gossip. There was nothing in the +mail--for me?" + +"No. The man has just been. But there is something for Desire, an odd +looking package done up in foreign paper. I have it here." + +Spence took from her hand a slim, yellowish packet, directed in the +crabbed writing of Li Ho. + +"I can't make out whether it is 'Hon. Mrs. Professor Spence' or whether +the 'Mrs.' is 'Mr.' Perhaps you had better open it, Benis." + +"Perhaps, later." Spence slipped the packet into his pocket. "It 'can't +have anything to do with our present problem.... I must make some +telephone inquiries. But if Desire has gone, Aunt, we may as well face +facts. She does not want me to follow her." + +"Doesn't she?" Aunt Caroline surveyed him with a pitying smile. "How +stupid men are! But go along to the library. You've had no decent +breakfast. I'll send you in something to eat. As for Bainbridge--leave +that to me." ... + +How curiously does a room change with the changing mind of its +occupant. Benis Spence had known his library in many moods. It had been +a refuge; it had been a prison; it had been a place of dreams. He had +liked to fancy that something of himself stayed there--something which +met him, warm and welcoming, when he came in at the door. He had liked +to play that the room had a soul. And, after he had brought Desire +home, the idea had grown until he had seemed to feel an actual presence +in its cool seclusion. But if presence there had been, it was gone now. +The place was empty. The air hung dull and lifeless. The chairs stood +stiff against the wall, the watching books had no greeting. Only Yorick +swung and flapped in his cage, his throat full of mutterings. + +It is all very well to be a good loser. But loss is bitter. Here was +loss, stark and staring. + +Spence walked over to the neatly tidied desk and there, for an instant, +the cold finger lifted from his heart. A letter was lying on the clean +blotter--she had not gone without a word, then! She had slipped in here +to say good-bye.... A very little is much to him who has nothing. + +The letter was brief. Only a few words written hurriedly with a +spluttering pen: + +"I am going, Ben-is. I think we are both sure now. But please--please +do not pity me. Love is too big for pity. You have given me so much, +give me this one thing more--the understanding that can believe me when +I say that I, too, am glad to give. + +"Desire." + +Benis laid the letter softly down upon the ordered desk. No, he need +not pity her. She had had the courage to let little things go. She, who +had demanded so royally of life, now made no outcry that the price was +high. Well, ... it need not be so high, perhaps. He would make it as +easy as might be. + +The parrot was trying to attract him with his usual goblin croaks. +Benis rubbed its bent, green head. + +"You'll miss her, too, old chap," he said, adding angrily, "dashed +sentimentality!" + +The sound of his own voice steadied him. He must be careful. Above all, +he must not sink into self-pity. He must go back to his work. It had +meant everything to him once. It must mean everything to him again. If +he were a man at all he must fight through this inertia. Life had +tumbled him out of his shell, played with him for an hour, and now +would tumble him back again--no, by Jove, he refused to be tumbled +back! He would fight through. He would come out somewhere, some-time. + +It occurred to him that he ought to be thankful that Desire at least +was going to be happy. But he did not feel glad. He was not even sure +that she was going to be happy. Something kept stubbornly insisting +that she would have been much happier with him. Quite with-out +prejudice, had they not been extraordinarily well suited? He put the +question up to fate. The hardest thing about the whole hard matter was +the insistent feeling that a second mistake had been made. John and +Desire--his mind refused to see any fitness in the mating. Yet this +very perversity of love was something which he had long recognized with +the complacence of assured psychology. + +He heard Mary's voice in the hall. He had forgotten Mary. He hoped she +would not tap upon the library door--as she sometimes did. No, thank +heaven, she had gone upstairs! That was an odd idea of Aunt Caroline's. +If he had felt like smiling he would have smiled at it. Desire jealous +of Mary? Ridiculous.... + +"Here comes old Bones," said Yorick conversationally. + +The professor started. It was a phrase he had him-self taught the bird +during that time of illness when John's visit had been the bright spot +in long dull days. It had amused them both that the parrot seldom made +a mistake, seeming to know, long before his master, when the doctor was +near. + +But today? Surely Yorick was wrong today. John would not come today. +Would never come again--but did anyone save John race up the drive in +that abandoned manner? Benis frowned. He did not want to see John. He +would not see him! But as he went to leave the library by one door John +threw open the other and stood for an instant blinded by the +comparative dimness within. + +"Where are you, Benis?" + +"Here." + +Spence closed the door. His brief anger was swallowed up in something +else. Never, even in France, had he seen John look like this. + +"We're a precious pair of dupes!" began John in a high voice and +without preliminaries. "Prize idiots--imbeciles!" + +"Very likely," said Benis. "But you're not talking to New York." + +He made no move to take the paper which John held out in a shaking hand. + +"What is the matter with you?" he asked sternly. + +"What's the matter with me? Oh, nothing. What's the matter with all of +us? Crazy--that's all! Here--read it! It's from Desire. Must have +posted it last night." + +Spence put the letter aside. + +"If you have news, you had better tell it. That is if you can talk in +an ordinary voice." + +John laughed harshly. "My voice is all right. Not so dashed cool as +yours. Read it!" + +Spence took the sheet held out to him; but he had no wish to> read +Desire's words to John. + +"If it is a private letter--" he began. + +"Oh, don't be a bigger fool than you have been! Unless," with sudden +suspicion, "you've known all along? Perhaps you have. Even you could +hardly have been so completely duped." + +"If you will tell me what you are talking about--" + +"Read it. It is plain enough." + +The professor slowly opened the folded sheet. It was a longer note than +the one she had left for him. + +"Dear John," he read, "if I I'd known yesterday that I would leave so +soon I could have said good-bye. But my decision was made suddenly. I +think you must have seen how it is with Benis and Mary and I can't go +without telling you that I knew about it from the first. I don't want +you to blame Benis. He told me about it before we were married, and I +took the risk with my eyes open. How could he, or I, have guessed that +he had given up hope too soon?--and anyway, it wasn't in the bargain +that I should love him.--It just happened.--He is desperately unhappy. +Help him if you can.--Your affectionate Desire." + +"My affectionate Desire!" mocked John, still in that high, strained +voice which now was perilously near a sob. "That--that is what I was to +her, a convenient friend! You--you had it all. And let it go, for the +sake of that blond-haired, deer-eyed, fashion plate--" + +"That's enough! You are not an hysterical girl. Sit down.... I can't +understand this, John. I thought--" + +The two men looked at each other, a long look in which distrust at +least was faced and ended. The excited flush, died out of John's cheek. +He looked weary and shame-faced. + +"I thought she loved you," said Spence simply. + +The doctor's eyes fell. It was his honest admission that he, too, had +thought this possible. + +"Even now," went on the professor haltingly, "I can-not believe ... +it doesn't seem possible ... me? ... John, does the letter mean +that Desire loves me?" + +John Rogers nodded, turning away. + +Silence fell between them. + +"What will you do--about the other?" asked the doctor presently. + +"What other? There is no other. I loved Desire from the very first +night I saw her. I didn't know it, then. It was all new. And," with a +bitter smile, "so different from what one expects. Mary was never +any-thing but the figure of straw I told you of. I thought," naively, +"that Desire had forgotten Mary." + +"Did you?" said John. "Why man, the woman doesn't live who would +forget! And Miss Davis filled the bill to the last item--even the name +'Mary'." + +"Oh what a pal was M-Mary!" croaked Yorick obligingly. + +"The bird, too!" said John. "Everyone doing his little best to sustain +the illusion--even, if I am any judge, the lady herself." + +But Benis Spence had never wasted time upon the lady herself. And he +did not begin now. With a face which had suddenly become years younger +he was searching frantically in his desk for the transcontinental +time-table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +The train crawled. + +Although it was a fast express whose speed might well provoke the +admiration of travellers, in one traveller it provoked nothing save +grim endurance. Beside the consuming impatience of Benis Hamilton +Spence, its best effort was a little thing. When it slowed, he +fidgeted, when it stopped he fumed. He wanted to get out and push it. + +Five days--four--three--two--a day and a half--the vastness of the +spaces over which it must carry him grew endless as his mind +continually tried to span them. He felt a distinct grievance that any +country should be so wide. + +"Making good time!" said a genial person, travelling in the tobacco +trade. The professor eyed him with suspicion, as a man deranged by +optimism. + +The train crawled. + +Spence removed his eyes from the passing landscape and tried to forget +how slowly it was passing. He saw himself at the end of his journey. He +saw Desire. He saw a grudging moment, or second perhaps, devoted to +explanation. And then--How happy they were going to be! (If the train +would only forget to stop at stations it might get somewhere.) How +wonderful it would be to feel the empty world grow full again! To raise +one's eyes, just casually, and to see--Desire. To speak, in just one's +ordinary voice, and to know she heard. To stretch out one's hand and +feel that she was there. (What were they doing now? Putting on more +cars? Outrageous!) He would even write that book presently, when he got +around to it. (When one felt sure one could write.) But first they +would go away, just he and she, east of the sun and west of the moon. +They would sit together somewhere, as they used to sit on the +sun-warmed grass at Friendly Bay, and say nothing at all.... How +nearly they had missed it ... but it would be all right now. Love, +whom they had both denied, had both given and forgiven. It would be all +right, it must be all right, now! (But how the train crawled.) + +Poor John, poor old Bones! What a blow it had been for him. Although he +should certainly have had more sense than to fancy--Well, of course, a +man can fancy anything it he wants it badly enough. Spence was honestly +sorry for John--that is, he would be when he had time to consider +John's case. But John, too, would be all right presently. (Why under +heaven do trains need to wait ten minutes while silly people walk on +platforms without hats?) John would marry a nice girl. Not a girl like +Desire--not that type of girl at all. Someone quite different, but +nice. A fair girl, like that nurse he had had in his office. John might +be very happy with a wife like that ... + + * * * * * + +It was not until the fourth night out that the professor remembered the +packet from Li Ho. It had loomed so small among the events of that day +fof revelations that he had completely forgotten it. He did not even +remember putting it in his pocket--but there it was, still unopened, +and promising some slight distraction from the wearying contemplation +of the crawling train. It would shut out, too, the annoyance of the +tobacco traveller, smoking with an offensive leisureliness, and +declaring, in defiance of all feeling, that they were "Sharp on time +and going some!" + +With a reviving interest in something outside the time-table, Spence +cut the string and opened the yellow packet. A small note-book fell out +and a letter--two letters, and one of them in the unmistakable writing +of Li Ho him-self. This latter, the professor opened first. + +"Honorable Spence and Esteemed Professor, dear Sir," wrote Li Ho. +"Permit felicity to include book belong departed parent of valued wife. +Deceased lady write as per day. Li Ho extract and think proper missy to +know. Honorable Boss head much loony. Secure that missy remain removed +if desiring safety. Belong much danger here since married as per also +enclosed. Exalted self be insignificantly warned by person of no +intelligence, Li Ho." + +Farther down, in a corner of the sheet was this sentence: + +"Permit to notably add that respected lady departed life Jan. 14." + +Li Ho had certainly surpassed himself. The bewildered professor forgot +about the time-table entirely. What Chinese meaning lay behind this +jumble of dictionary words? That they were not used at haphazard Spence +knew. Li Ho had some distinct meaning to convey--had indeed already +conveyed it in the one outstanding word "danger." For an instant the +professor's mind sickened with that weakness which had been his +dreadful legacy of war. But it passed immediately. Something stronger, +deeper in, took quiet command. Desire was in danger! Shock has a way at +times of giving back what shock has taken.--Spence became his own man +once more--cool, ready. + +With infinite care he went over the Chinaman's disjointed sentences. +They had been written under stress. + +That much presented no difficulty. Li Ho, the imperturbable, had +permitted himself a fit of nerves ... Something must have happened. +Something new. Something which threatened a danger not sufficiently +emphasized before. In his former letter Li Ho had indeed intimated that +a return was not desirable, but it had been an intimation based on +general principles only. This was different. This had all the marks of +urgent warning. "No more safe being married as per inclosed." This +cryptic remark might mean that further enlightenment was to be sought +in the enclosures. + +Spence picked up the second letter. It was addressed to Dr. Herbert +Farr at Vancouver, and was merely a formal notice from a firm of +English solicitors--post-marked London--a well-known firm, probably, +from the address on their letterhead. + + +"Dr. Herbert Farr, + Vancouver, B. C. + +Dear Sir: + +As executors in the estate of Mrs. Henry Strangeways we beg to inform +you that the allowance paid to you for the maintenance of Miss Desire +Farr is hereby discontinued. This action is taken under the terms of +our late clients will,--whereby such allowance ceases upon the marriage +of the said Desire Farr or her voluntary removal from your roof and +care. + +Obediently yours, + Hervey & Ellis." + + +The professor whistled. Here was enlightenment indeed! A very +sufficient explanation of the old man's grim determination to block any +self-dependence on Desire's part which would mean "removal from" his +"care." Here was someone paying a steady (and perhaps a fat) allowance +for the young girl's maintenance--someone of whom she herself had +certainly never heard and of whose bounty she remained completely +ignorant. It was easy enough now to follow Li Ho's reasoning. If it was +for this allowance, and this alone, that the old doctor had kept Desire +with him, long after her presence had become a matter of indifference +or even of distaste, the ending of the allowance meant also the ending +of his tolerance. "No more safe, being married." The difference, in Li +Ho's opinion, was all the difference between comparative safety and +real danger. Money! As long as Desire had meant money there had been an +instinct in the old scoundrel which, even in his moon-devil fits, had +protected the goose which laid the golden eggs. But now--now this +inhibition was removed, Desire, no longer valuable, was no longer +safeguarded. And who could tell what added grudge of rage and vengeance +might be darkly harbored in the depths of that crafty and unbalanced +mind? + +And Desire, unwarned, was even now almost within the madman's reach.... +Spence sternly refused to think of this ... there was time yet ... +plenty of time.... The thing to do was to keep cool ... steady +now! + +"Kind of pretty, going through these here mountains by moonlight," +observed the tobacco traveller, inclined to be genial even under +difficulties. "She'll be full tomorrow night. Queer thing that them +there prohibitionists can't keep the moon from getting full!" He +laughed in hearty appreciation of his own cleverness. + +The professor, a polite man, tried to smile. And then, suddenly, the +meaning of what had been said came home to him. + +Tomorrow night would be full moon! + +He had forgotten about the moon. + +"Queer cuss," thought the travelling man. "Stares at you polite enough +but never says anything. No conversation. Just about as lively as an +undertaker." + +But if Benis had forgotten to remove his eyes from the travelling man, +he did not know it. He did not see him. He saw nothing but +moonlight--moonlight across an uncovered floor and the white dimness of +a bed in the shadow! ... But he must keep cool ... was there time +to stop Desire with a telegram? She was only a day ahead ... no--he +was just too late for that. He knew the time-table by heart. Her train +was already in ... impossible to reach her now! + +Fear having reached its limit, his mind swung slowly back to reason.... +There was, he told himself, no occasion for panic. Li Ho might have +exaggerated. Besides, a danger known is almost a danger met And Li Ho +knew. Li Ho would be there. When, Desire came he would guard her.... +A few hours only ... until he could get to her.... She was safe +for tonight at least. She would not attempt to cross the Inlet, until +the morning. She would have to hire a launch--a thing no woman would +attempt to do at that hour of night. She was in no hurry. She would +stay somewhere in the city and get herself taken to Farr's Landing in +the morning.... Through the day, too, she would be safe ... and, +to-morrow night, he, Benis, would be there.... But not until late +... not until after the moon ... better not think of the moon ... +think of Li Ho ... Li Ho would surely watch ... + +He lay in his berth and told himself this over and over. The train +swung on. The cool, high air of the mountains crept through the +screened window. They were swinging through a land of awful and +gigantic beauty. The white moon turned the snow peaks into glittering +fountains from which pure light cascaded down, down into the blackness +at their base ... one more morning ... one more day ... Vancouver +at night ... a launch ... Desire! + +Meanwhile one must keep steady. The professor drew from its yellow +wrapping the little note-book which had been the second of Li Ho's +enclosures. It had belonged, if Li Ho's information were correct, to +Desire's mother--a diary, probably. "Deceased lady write as per day." +Spence hesitated. It was Desire's property. He felt a delicacy in +examining it. But so many mistakes had already been made through want +of knowledge, he dared not risk another one. And Li Ho had probably +other than sentimental reasons for sending the book. + +He shut out the mountains and the moonlight, and clicking on the +berth-light, turned the dog-eared pages reverently. Only a few were +written upon. It was a diary, as he had guessed, or rather brief bits +of one. The writing was small but very clear in spite of the fading +ink. The entries began abruptly. It was plain that there had been +another book of which this was a continuation. + +The first date was November 1st--no year given. + +"It is raining. The Indians say the winter will be very wet. Desire +plays in the rain and thrives. She is a lovely child, +high-spirited--not like me." + +"November 10th--He was worse this month. I think he gets steadily a +little worse. I dare not say what I think. He would say that I had +fancies. No one else sees anything save harmless eccentricity,--except +perhaps Li Ho. But I am terrified. + +"December 7th--I tried once more to get away. He found me quickly. It +isn't easy for a woman with a child to hide--without money. For myself +I can stand it--my own fault! But--my little girl! + +"December 15th--I have been ill. Such a terrible experience. My one +thought was the dread of dying. I must live. I cannot leave +Desire--here. + +"December 20th--He bought Desire new shoes and a frock today. It is +strange, but he seems to take a certain care of her. Why? I do not +know. I have wondered about his motives until I fancy things. What +motive could he have ... except that maybe he is not all evil? Maybe +be cares for the child. She is so sweet--No. I must not deceive myself. +Whatever his reason is, I know that it is not that. + +"January 9th--A strange thing happened today. I found a torn envelope +bearing the name of Harry's English lawyers. I have seen the same kind +of envelope in Harry's hands more than once. They used to send him his +remittance, I think. What can this man have to do with English lawyers? +I am frightened. But for once I am more angry than afraid. I must +watch. If he has dared to write to Harry's people--" + +The writing of the next entry had lost its clearness. It was almost +illegible. + +"January 13th--How could he! How could he sink so low! I have seen the +lawyer's letter. He has taken money. From Harry's mother--for Desire. +And this began within a month of our marriage. It shames me so that I +cannot live. Yet I must live. I can't leave the child. But I can stop +this hateful traffic in a dead man's honor. I will write myself to +England." + +This was the last fragment. Spence looked again at the almost erased +date--January 13th. He felt the sweat on his forehead for, beside that +date, the unexplained postscript of Li Ho's letter took on a ghastly +significance. + +"Respected lady depart life on January 14th." + +She had not lived to write to England! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +It seemed to Benis Spence afterward that during that last day, while +the train plunged steadily down to sea level, he passed every boundary +ever set for the patience of man. It was a lovely, sparkling day. The +rivers leaped and danced in sunshine. Long shadows swept like beating +wings along the mountain sides. The air blew cool and sweet upon his +lips. But for once he was deaf and blind and heedless of it all. He +thought only of the night--of the night and the moon. + +It came at last--a night as lovely as the day. Benis sat with his hand +upon his watch. They were running sharp on time. There could be nothing +to delay them now--barring an accident. Instantly his mind created an +accident, providing all the ghastly details. He saw himself helpless, +pinned down, while the full moon climbed and sailed across the skies.... + +But there was no accident. A cheery bustle soon began in the car. +Suitcases were lifted up, unstrapped and strapped again. Women took +their hats from the big paper bags which hung like balloons between the +windows. There was a general shaking and fixing and sorting of +possessions. Only the porter remained serene. He knew exactly how long +it would take him to brush his car and did not believe in beginning too +soon. Benis kept his eye on the porter. He stirred at last. + +"Bresh yo' coat, Suh?" + +The professor allowed himself to be brushed and even proffered the +usual tip, so powerful is the push of habit. In the narrow corridor by +the door he waited politely while the lady who wouldn't trust her +suitcase to the porter got stuck sideways and had to be pried out. But +when once his foot descended upon the station platform, he was a man +again. The killing inaction was over. + +With the quiet speed of one who knows that hurry defeats haste, he set +about materializing the plans which he had made upon the train. And +circumstance, repentant of former caprice, seemed willing to serve. The +very first taxi-man he questioned was an intelligent fellow who knew +more about Vancouver than its various hotels. A launch? Yes, he knew +where a launch might be hired, also a man who could run it. Provided, +of course-- + +Spence produced an inspiring roll of bills. The taxi-man grinned. + +"Sure, if you've got the oof it's easy enough," he assured him. "Wake +up the whole town and charter a steamer if you don't care what they +soak you." He considered a moment. "'Tisn't a dope job, is it?" + +Spence looked blank. + +"What I mean to say is, what kind of man do you want?" + +"Any man who will take me where I want to go." + +The taxi-man nodded. "All right. That's easy." + +In less time than even to the professor seemed possible the required +boat-man was produced and bargained with. That is to say he was +requested to mention his terms and produce his launch, both of which he +did without hesitancy. And again circumstance was kind. + +"If it's Farr's Landing you want," said the boat-man, leading a +precarious way down a dark wharf, "I guess you've come to the right +party. 'Taint a place many folks know. But I ran in there once to +borrow some gas. Queer gink that there Chinaman! Anyone know you're +coming? Anyone likely to show a light or anything?" + +The professor said that his visit was unexpected. They would have to +manage without a light. + +The boat-man feared that, in that case, the terms might "run to" a bit +more. But, upon receiving a wink from the taxi-man, did not waste time +in stating how far they might run, but devoted himself to the +encouragement of a cold engine and the business of getting under way. + +Once more Spence was reduced to passive waiting. But the taste of the +salt and the smell of it brought back the picture of Desire as he had +seen her first--strong, self-confident. He had thought these qualities +ungirlish at the time; now he thanked God for the memory of them. + +It had been dark enough when they left the wharf but soon a soft +brightness grew. + +"Here she comes!" said his pilot with satisfaction. "Some moon, ain't +she?" + +"Hurry!" There was an urge in the professor's voice which fitted in but +poorly with the magic of the night. The boat-man felt it and wondered. +He tried a little conversation. + +"Know the old Doc. well?" he inquired. "Queer old duck, eh? And that Li +Ho is about the most Chinky Chinaman I ever seen. Come to think of it, +I never paid him back that gas I borrowed." + +"Hasn't he been across lately?" asked Spence, controlling his voice. + +"Haven't seen him. But then 'tisn't as if I was out looking for him. +Used to be a right pretty girl come over sometimes, the old Doc's +daughter. Hasn't been around for a long time. Maybe you're a relative +or some-thing?" + +"See here," said Spence. "It's on account of the young lady that I am +going there tonight. I have reason to fear that she may be in danger." + +"That so?" The boat-man's comfortably slouched shoulders squared. He +leaned over and did something to his engine. "In that case we'll take a +chance or two. Hold tight, we're bucking the tide-rip. Lucky we've got +the moon!" + +Yes, they had the moon! With growing despair the professor watched her +white loveliness drag a slipping mantle over the dark water. The same +light must lie upon the clearing on the mountain ... where was Li Ho? +Was he awake--and watching? Had he warned the girl? Or was she +sleeping, weary with the journey, while only one frail old Chinaman +stood between her and a terror too grim to guess ... + +A long interval ... the sailing moon ... the swish of parting water +as the launch cut through ... + +"Must be thereabouts now," said the boat-man suddenly. "I'll slow her +down. Keep your eye skinned for the landing." + +A period of endless waiting, while the launch crept cautiously along +the rocky shore--then a darker shadow in the shadows and the boat-man's +excited "Got it!" The launch slipped neatly in beside the float. + +"Want any help?" asked the boat-man curiously as his passenger sprang +from the moving launch. + +Spence did not hear him. He was already across the sodden planks. Only +the up-trail now lay between him and the end--or the beginning. The +shadows of the trees stretched waving arms. He felt strong as steel, +light as air as he sprang up the wooded path.... + +It was just as he had pictured it--the cottage in its square of silver +... the sailing moon! + +But the cottage was empty. + +He knew at once that it was empty. He dared not let himself know it. +With a doggedness which defied conviction, he dragged his feet, +suddenly heavy, across the rough grass. The door on the veranda was +open. Why not?--the door of an empty house.... He went in. + +The moonlight showed the old familiar things, the chinks in the wall, +the rickety table, the couch, the stairway! ... He stumbled to the +stairway. He forced his leaden feet to mount it.... It was pitch +dark there. The upper doors were shut.... "Her door--on the right." +He said this to himself as if prompting a stupid little boy with a +lesson ... In the darkness his hand felt for the door-knob ... but +why open the door? ... There was no life behind it. He knew that.... +There was no life anywhere in this horrible emptiness.... "Death, +then." He muttered, as he flung back the door. + +There was nothing there ... only moonlight ... nothing ... yes, +something on the floor ... some-thing light and lacy, crushed into +shapelessness ... Desire's hat. + +He picked it up. The wires of its chiffon frame, broken and twisted, +fell limp in his hand. + +There was no other sign in the room. The bed was untouched. The Thing +which had wrecked its insatiate rage upon the hat had not lingered. +Spence went out slowly. There would be time for everything now--since +time had ceased to matter. He laid the hat aside gently. There might be +work for his hands to do. + +With mechanical care he searched the cottage. No trace of disturbance +met him anywhere until he reached the kitchen. Something had happened +there Over-turned chairs and broken table--a door half off its hinge. +Someone had fled from the house this way ... fled where? + +There were so many places! + +In his mind's eye Spence saw them ... the steep and slippery cliff, +with shingle far below ... the clumps of dense bracken ... the +deep, dark crevices where water splashed! ... + +He went outside. It was not so bright now. There were clouds on the +moon. One side of the clearing lay wholly in shadow. He waited and, as +the light brightened, he saw the thing he sought--trampled bracken, a +broken bush.... He followed the trail with a slow certitude of which +ordinarily he would have been incapable.... It did not lead very +far. The trees thinned abruptly. A rounded moss-covered rock rose up +between him and the moon ... and on the rock, grotesque and darkly +clear, a crouching figure--looking down.... + +A curious sound broke from Spence's throat. He stooped and sprang. But +quick as he was, the figure on the rock was quicker. It slipped aside. +Spence heard a guttural exclamation and caught a glimpse of a yellow +face. + +"Li Ho!" + +The Chinaman pulled him firmly back from the edge of the moss-covered +rock. + +"All same Li Ho," he said. "You come click--but not too dam click." + +"I know. Where is he?" + +It was the one thing which held interest for Bern's Spence now. + +Li Ho stepped gingerly to the edge of the rounded rock. In the clear +light, Spence could see how the moss had been scraped from the margin. + +"Him down there," said Li Ho. "Moon-devil push 'um. Plenty stlong +devil!" Li Ho shrugged. + +Spence's clenched hands relaxed. + +"Dead?" he asked dully. + +"Heap much dead," said Li Ho. "Oh, too much squash!" He made a gesture. + +Benis was not quite sure what happened then. He remembers leaning +against a tree. Presently he was aware of a horrible smell--the smell +of some object which Li Ho held to his nostrils. + +"Plenty big smell," said Li Ho. "Make 'urn sit up." + +Benis sat up. + +"Where is--" he began. But his throat closed upon the question. He +could not ask. + +"Missy in tent," said Li Ho stolidly. "Missy plenty tired. Sleep velly +good." + +Spence tried to take this in ... tent ... sleep ... + +"Li Ho tell missy house no so-so," went on the China-man, pressing his +evil-smelling salts closer to his victim's face. "Missy say 'all +light'--sleep plenty well in tent; velly fine night." + +Benis tried feebly to push the abomination away from his nose. + +"Desire ... alive?" he whispered. + +"Oh elite so. Velly much. Moon-devil velly smart but Li Ho much more +clever. Missy she no savey--all light." + +Spence began to laugh. It was dangerous laughter--or so at least Li Ho +thought, for he promptly smothered it with his "velly big smell." The +measure proved effective. The professor decided not to laugh. He held +himself quiet until control came back and then stood up. + +"I thought she was dead, Li Ho," he said. + +In the half light the inscrutable face changed ever so little. + +"Li Ho no let," said the Chinaman simply. "You better now, p'laps?" he +went on. "We go catch honor-able Boss before missy wake." Spence +nodded. He felt extraordinarily tired. But it seemed that tiredness did +not matter, would never matter. The empty world had become warm and +small again. Desire was safe. + +Together he and Li Ho slid and scrambled down the mountain's face, by +ways known only to Li Ho. And there, on a strip of beach left clean and +wet by the receding tide, they found the dead man. Beside him, and +twisted beneath, lay the green umbrella. + +"How did it really happen, Li Ho?" asked Spence. Not that he expected +any information. + +"Moon-devil velly mad," said Li Ho. "Honorable Boss no watch step. +Moon-devil push--too bad!" + +"And the fight in the kitchen? And on the trail?" + +Li Ho shook his head. + +"No fight anywhere," he said blandly. + +"And this long rip in your coat?" + +"Too much old coat--catch 'um in bush," said Li Ho. + +So when they lifted the body and it was found that the arm beneath the +torn coat was useless, Spence said nothing. And somehow they managed to +carry the dead man home. + +It was dawn when they laid him down. Birds were already beginning to +twitter in the trees. Desire would be waking soon. The world was going +to begin all over presently. Spence laid his hand gently on the +Chinaman's injured arm. + +"You saved her, Li Ho," he said. "It is a big debt for one man to owe +another." + +The Chinaman said nothing. He was looking at the dead face--a curious +lost look. + +"He velly good man one time," said Li Ho. "All same before moon-devil +catch 'um." + +"You stayed with him a long time, Li Ho. You were a good friend." + +Li Ho blinked rapidly, but made no reply. + +"Will you come with us, Li Ho?" The inscrutable, oriental eyes looked +for a moment into the frank eyes of the white man and then passed by +them to the open door--to the dawn just turning gold above the sea. The +uninjured hand rose and fell in an indescribable gesture. + +"Li Ho go home now!" + +The words seemed to flutter out like birds into some vast ocean of +content. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +Desire was waking. She had slept without a dream and woke wonderingly +to the shadows of dancing leaves upon the white canvas above her. It +was a long time since she had slept in a tent--a lifetime. She felt +very drowsy and stupid. The brooding sense of fatality which had made +her return so dreamlike still numbed her senses. She had come back to +the mountain, as she had known she must come. And, curiously enough, in +returning she had freed herself. In coming back to what she had hated +and feared she had faced a bogie. It would trouble her no more. For all +that she had lost she had gained one thing, Freedom. But even freedom +did not thrill her. She was too horribly tired. + +Idly she let her thought drift over the details of her home-coming. Li +Ho had been so surprised. His consternation at seeing her had been +comic. But he had asked no questions, and had given her breakfast in +hospitable haste. In the cottage nothing was altered. It was as if she +had been away overnight. And against this changelessness she knew +herself changed. She was outside of it now. It could never prison her +again. + +While she drank Li Ho's coffee, Dr. Farr had come in. He had been told, +she supposed, of her return, for he showed no surprise at seeing +her--had greeted her absently--and sat for a time without speaking, his +long hands folded about the green umbrella. This, too, was familiar and +added to the "yesterday" feeling. He had not changed. It was her +attitude toward him which was different. The curious fear of him, which +she had hidden under a mask of indifference, was no longer there to +hide. Even the fact of his relationship had lost its sharp +significance. She was done with the thing which had made it poignant. +Parentage no longer mattered. So little mattered now. + +She had spoken to him cheerfully, ignoring his mood, and he had replied +irritably, like a bad-tempered child who resents some unnecessary claim +upon its attention. But she did not observe him closely. Had she done +so, she might have noticed a curious glazing of the eyes as they lifted +to follow her--shining and depthless like blue steel. + +"I do not expect to stay long, father," she told him. "Only until I +find something to do. I am a woman now, you know, and must support +myself." + +She spoke as one might speak to a child, and he had nodded and mumbled: +"Yes, yes ... a woman now ... certainly." Then he had begun to +laugh. She had always hated this silent, shaking laugh of his. Even now +it stirred something in her, something urgent and afraid. But she was +too tired to be urged or frightened. She refused to listen. + +In the afternoon she had sat out in the sun, not thinking, willing to +be rested by the quiet and drugged by the scent of pine and sea. To her +had come Sami, appearing out of nothing as by magic, his butter-colored +face aglow with joy. Sami had almost broken up her weary calm. He was +so glad, so warm, so alive, so little! But even while he snuggled +against her side, her Self had drifted away. It would not feel or know. +It was not ready yet for anything save rest. + +Li Ho had made luncheon, Li Ho had brought tea. Otherwise Li Ho had +left her alone. About one thing only had he been fussy. She must not +sleep in her old room. It was not aired. It needed "heap scrub." He had +arranged, he said, a little tent "all velly fine." Desire was passive. +She did not care where she slept. + +When bedtime had come, Li Ho had taken her to the tent. It was cozily +hidden in the bush and, as he had promised, quite comfortable. But she +thought his manner odd. "Are you nervous, Li Ho?" she asked with a +smile. + +The Chinaman blinked rapidly, disdaining reply. But in his turn asked a +question--his first since her arrival. Had the honorable Professor +Spence received an insignificant parcel? Desire replied vaguely that +she did not know. What was in the parcel? + +"Velly implotant plasel," said Li Ho gravely. "Honorable husband arrive +plenty click when read um insides." + +There had seemed no sense to this. But Desire did not argue. She did +not even attend very carefully when Li Ho added certain explanations. +He had found, it appeared, some papers which had belonged to her mother +and had felt it his duty to send them on. + +"Where did you find them, Li Ho?" + +Instead of answering this, Li Ho, after a moment's hesitation, had +produced from some recess of his old blue coat an envelope which he +handled with an air of awed respect. + +"Li Ho find more plasel too. Pletty soon put um back. Honorable Boss +indulge in fit if missing." + +"Which means that it belongs to father and that you have--borrowed it?" +suggested she, delicately. + +"No b'long him. B'long you," said Li Ho, thrusting the packet into her +hand. And, as if fearful of being questioned further, he had taken the +candle and departed. + +"Leave me the candle, Li Ho," she had called to him. But he had not +returned. And a candle is a small matter. She was used to undressing in +the dusk. Almost at once she had fallen asleep. + +Now in the morning, as she lay and watched the shadows of the leaves, +she remembered that, though he had taken the candle, he had left the +letter. It lay there on the strip of old carpet beside her cot. Desire +withdrew her attention from the leaves and picked it up. With a little +thrill she saw that Li Ho had been right. It was her own name which was +written across the envelope ... + +Her own name, faded yet clear on a wrinkled envelope yellowed at the +edges. The seal of the envelope had been broken.... + +Sometime in her childhood Desire must have seen her mother's writing. +Conscious memory of it was gone, but in the deeper recesses of her mind +there must have lingered some recognition which quickened her heart at +sight of it. + +A letter from the dead? No wonder Li Ho had handled it with reverence. +With trembling fingers the girl drew it from its violated covering. + +"Little Desire"--the name lay like a caress--"if you read this it will +be because I am not here to tell you. And, there is no one else. My +great dread is the dread of leaving you. If I could only look into the +future for one moment, and see you in it, safe and happy, nothing else +would matter. But I am afraid. I have always been too much afraid. You +are not like me. I try to remember that. You are like your grandfather. +He was a brave man. His eyes were grey like yours. He died before you +were born and he never knew that Harry was not really my husband. I did +not know it either, then. You see, he had a wife in England. I suppose +he thought it did not matter. But when he died, it did matter. There +was no one then on whom either you or I had any claim. I should have +been brave enough to go on by myself. But I was never brave. + +"It was then that Dr. Farr, who had been kind through Harry's illness, +asked me to marry him. He was a middle-aged man. He said he would take +care of w both. You were just three months old. + +"I know now that I made a terrible mistake. He is not kind. He is not +good. I am terrified of him. But the fear which makes me brave against +other fears is the thought of leaving you. I try to remember my father. +If I had been like him I could have worked for you and we might have +been happy. Perhaps my mother was timid. I don't remember her. + +"I don't know what to put in this letter, or how to make you +understand. I loved your father. He was not a bad man. I am sure he +never harmed anyone. He would have taken care of me all his life. But +he didn't live. It was Dr. Farr who found out about the English wife. +He pointed out that you would have no name and offered to give you his. + +"I did you a great wrong. His name--better far to have no name than +his! I am sure it is a wicked name. So I want you to know that it is +not yours. You have no name by law, but I think, now, that there are +worse things. Your father's name was Harry Strangeways. His people are +English, a good family but very strict. I could not let them know about +us. They would never have forgiven Harry. It would have been like +slandering the dead. Do not blame him, little Desire, for I am sure he +meant to do right. He was always light-hearted. And kind--always kind. +Your laugh is just like his. Think of us both, if you can, with +kindness--your unhappy Mother." + +Long before Desire came to the end of the crumpled sheets her tears +were falling hot and thick upon them. Tears which she had not been able +to shed for her own broken hope came easily now for this long vanished +sorrow. Her mother! How pitifully bare lay the shortened story of that +smothered life. Desire's heart, so much stronger than the heart of her +who gave it birth, filled with a great tenderness. She saw herself once +more a little frightened child. She felt again that sense of Presence +in the room. And knew that, for a child's sake, a gentle soul had not +made haste to happiness. + +For that gay scamp, her father, Desire had no tear. And no +condemnation. Her mother had loved him. Her gentleness had seen no +flaw. Lightly he had taken a woman to protect through life--to neglect, +as lightly, the little matter of living. Desire let his picture slip +unhindered from her mind. + +There was relief, though, in the knowledge that she owed no duty +there--or here. The instinct which had always balked at kinship with +the strange old man who had held her youth in bondage had not been the +abnormal thing she once had feared it was. She had fought through--but +it was good to know that she had fought with Nature, not against her. +At least she could start upon her new life clean and free.... + +A pity, though, that life should lie like ashes on her lips! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +Nevertheless, and despite the taste of ashes, one must live and take +one's morning bath. Desire thought, not without pleasure, of the pool +beneath the tree. Wrapped in her blue kimona, her leaf-brown hair +braided tightly into a thick pigtail and both hands occupied with +towels and soap, she pushed back the tent flap and stepped out into the +green and gold of morning. + +The first thing she saw was Benis sitting on a fallen log and waiting. +He had been waiting a long time. In the flashing second before he saw +her, Desire had time to draw one long breath of wonder. After that, +there was no time for anything. The professor's patience suddenly gave +out. + +He had intended to begin with an explanation. But it is a poor lover +who can't find a better beginning than that ... And what could Desire +do, with towels in one hand and soap in the other? + +When he released her at last, blushing and glowing, it was to find the +most urgent need for explanation past. + +"Idiots, weren't we?" asked Benis happily. + +Desire agreed. But her eyes questioned. + +"There isn't any Mary, you see," he told her hastily. "Never was; never +could be. (Let me take your soap?) Mary was a figment--mortal mind, you +know. Your fault entirely." + +"But--" + +"Yes, I know. But I did it to please you. I am a truthful person, +really. (Let me take your towels?) And I thought you had more +sense--Oh, Desire, darling!" + +"But--" + +"Oh, I was a fool, too. I admit it. I thought you were fretting about +John. Fancy your fretting about dear old Bones! I thought--oh well, it +seems silly enough now. But the day I found you crying over his +photo-graph--" + +"Her photograph," interposed Desire shakily. + +"Eh?" + +"It was Mary's photograph. I found it on your desk." + +"It was John's, when I saw it." + +"Yes--but you didn't see it soon enough." + +"Oh--you young deceiver! But once you went to John's office and came +away smiling." + +"Why not? I went to find Mary. And I didn't find her. When the real +Mary came--" + +"There is no real Mary." + +"Oh, Benis--isn't she?" + +"She positively isn't." + +"But you said--" + +"I lied, my dear. It was a jolly good lie, though." + +"A lie is never--" + +"No, but this one was. You wouldn't have married me if I hadn't. And +you told a whopper yourself once. You said that children--" but Desire +refused to listen. + +Later on, as they sat together on the log with a squirrel hiding +provender in one of Desire's slippers and another chattering agreeably +in Benis's ear, he told her briefly the history of the night. That is, +he told her all that he thought it needful she should know. Of the +scraps of diary in his pocket he said nothing,--some day, perhaps, when +she had become used to happiness, and the cottage on the mountain was +far away. But now--of what use to drag out the innermost horror or add +an awful query to her memory of her mother's death? The old man was +gone--let the past go with him. + +Desire listened silently. Sorrow she could not pretend. The suddenness +of the end was shocking and death is ever awful to the young. But the +eyes she lifted to her husband, though solemn, were not sad. When he +had finished, she slipped into his hand, with new, sweet shyness, the +letter which lifted forever the shadow of the dead man from across +their path. + +Benis Spence read it with deep thankfulness. Fate was indeed making +full amends. No dread inheritance now need narrow the way before them. +It meant--he stole a glance at Desire who was industriously emptying +her slipper. The curve of her averted cheek was faintly flushed. The +professor's whimsical smile crept out. + +"Let me!" he said. He took her slipper from her and, kneeling, felt her +breath like flowers brush his cheek. + +"It was a whopper, Benis," Desire whispered. + +Looking up, he saw the open gladness of her face. + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Window-Gazer, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WINDOW-GAZER *** + +***** This file should be named 4284.txt or 4284.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/2/8/4284/ + +Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/4284.zip b/4284.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..705f462 --- /dev/null +++ b/4284.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b492273 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #4284 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4284) diff --git a/old/wgaze10.txt b/old/wgaze10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd1636c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wgaze10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11213 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Window-Gazer +by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. Do not change or edit it without written permission. +The words are carefully chosen to provide users with the +information they need to understand what they may and may not +do with the etext. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get etexts, and +further information, is included below. We need your donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + + + +Title: The Window-Gazer + +Author: Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + +Release Date: July, 2003 [Etext #4284] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on December 30, 2001] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Window-Gazer +by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay +******This file should be named wgaze10.txt or wgaze10.zip****** + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, wgaze11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, wgaze10a.txt + +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep etexts in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our etexts one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +etexts, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2001 as we release over 50 new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 4000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts. We need +funding, as well as continued efforts by volunteers, to maintain +or increase our production and reach our goals. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of November, 2001, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Delaware, +Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, +Louisiana, Maine, Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Oklahoma, Oregon, +Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, +Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, +and Wyoming. + +*In Progress + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fundraising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fundraising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + +Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +THE WINDOW-GAZER + +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY + + So in ye matere of Life's goodlie showe + Some buy what doth them plese. + While others stand withoute and gaze thereinne-- + Your eare, good folk, for these! + --OLD ENGLISH RHYME. + + + + + + +THE + +WINDOW-GAZER + +BY + +ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY + +AUTHOR OF "MIST OF MORNING," "UP THE HILL AND OVER," "THE SHINING +SHIP," ETC. + + + + + + +THE WINDOW-GAZER + + +CHAPTER I + +Professor Spence sat upon an upturned keg--and shivered. No one had +told him that there might be fog and he had not happened to think of +it for himself. Still, fog in a coast city at that time of the year +was not an unreasonable happening and the professor was a reasonable +man. It wasn't the fog he blamed so much as the swiftness of its +arrival. Fifteen minutes ago the world had been an ordinary world. +He had walked about in it freely, if somewhat irritably, following +certain vague directions of the hotel clerk as to the finding of +Johnston's wharf. He had found Johnston's wharf; extracted it neatly +from a very wilderness of wharves, a feat upon which Mr. Johnston, +making boats in a shed at the end of it, had complimented him +highly. + +"There's terrible few as finds me just off," said Mr. Johnston. +"Hours it takes 'em sometimes, sometimes days." It was clear that he +was restrained from adding "weeks" only by a natural modesty. + +At the time, this emphasizing of the wharf's seclusion had seemed +extravagant, but now the professor wasn't so sure. For the wharf had +again mysteriously lost itself. And Mr. Johnston had lost himself, +and the city and the streets of it, and the sea and its ships were +all lost--there was nothing left anywhere save a keg (of nails) and +Professor Benis Hamilton Spence sitting upon it. Around him was +nothing but a living, pulsing whiteness, which pushed momentarily +nearer. + +It was interesting. But it was really very cold. The professor, who +had suffered much from sciatica owing to an injury of the left leg, +remembered that he had been told by his medical man never to allow +himself to shiver; and here he was, shivering violently without so +much as asking his own leave. And the fog crept closer. He put out +his hands to push it back--and immediately his hands were lost too. +"Really," murmured the professor, "this is most interesting!" +Nevertheless, he reclaimed his hands and placed them firmly in his +coat pockets. + +He began to wish that he had stayed with Mr. Johnston in the boat +shed, pending the arrival of the launch which, so certain letters in +his pocket informed him, would leave Johnston's wharf at 5 o'clock, +or there-abouts, Mondays and Fridays. Mr. Johnston had felt very +uncertain about this. "Though she does happen along off and on," he +said optimistically, "and she might come today. Not," he added with +commendable caution, "that I'd call old Doc. Farr's boat a 'launch' +myself." + +"What," asked Professor Spence, "would you call her yourself?" + +"Don't know as I can just hit on a name," said Mr. Johnston. +"Doesn't come natural to me to be free with language." + +It had been pleasant enough on the wharf at first and certainly it +had been worth something to see the fog come in. Its incredible +advance, wave upon wave of massed and silent whiteness, had held him +spellbound. While he had thought it still far off, it was upon him-- +around him, behind him, everywhere! + +But perhaps it would go as quickly as it had come. + +He had heard that this is sometimes a characteristic of fog. +Fortunately he had already selected a keg upon which to sit, so with +a patient fatalism, product of a brief but lurid career in Flemish +trenches, he resigned himself to wait. The keg was dry, that was +something, and if he spread the newspaper in his pocket over the +most sciatic part of the shrapneled leg he might escape with nothing +more than twinges. + +How beautiful it was--this salt shroud from the sea! How it eddied +and funneled and whorled, now massing thick like frosted glass, now +thinning to a web of tissue. Suddenly, while he watched, a lane +broke through. He saw clearly the piles at the wharf's end, a +glimpse of dark water, and, between him and it, a figure huddled in +a cloak--a female figure, also sitting upon an upturned keg. Then +the magic mist closed in again. + +"How the deuce did she get there?" the professor asked himself +crossly. "She wasn't there before the fog came." He remembered +having noticed that keg while choosing his own and there had been no +woman sitting on it then. "Anyway," he reflected, "I don't know her +and I won't have to speak to her." The thought warmed him so that he +almost forgot to shiver. From which you may gather that Professor +Spence was a bachelor, comparatively young; that he was of a +retiring disposition and the object of considerable unsolicited +attention in his own home town. + +He arose cautiously from the keg of nails. It might he well to +return to the boatshed, even at the risk of falling into the Inlet. +But he had not proceeded very far before, suddenly, as he had hoped +it would, the mist began to lift. Swiftly, before the puff of a +warmer breeze, it eddied and thinned. Its soundless, impalpable +pressure lessened. The wharf, the sea, the city began to steal back, +sly, expressionless, pretending that they had been there all the +time. Even Mr. Johnston could be clearly seen coming down from the +boatshed with a curious figure beside him--a figure so odd and +unfamiliar that he might have been part of the unfamiliar fog +itself. + +"Well, you've certainly struck it lucky today," called the genial +Mr. Johnston. "This here is Doc. Farr's boy. He's going right back +over there now and he'll take you along--if you want to go." + +There was a disturbing cadence of doubt in the latter part of his +speech which affected the professor's always alert curiosity, as did +also the appearance of the "boy" reputed to belong to Dr. Farr. How +old he was no one could have guessed. The yellow parchment of his +face was ageless; ageless also the inscrutable, blank eyes. Only one +thing was certain--he had never been young. For the rest, he was +utterly composed and indifferent, and unmistakably Chinese. + +"I hope there is no mistake," said Professor Spence hesitatingly. +"Dr. Farr certainly informed me that this was the wharf at which his +launch usually--er--tied up. But--there could scarcely be two +doctors of that name, I suppose? It's somewhat uncommon." + +"Oh, it's him you want," assured Mr. Johnston. "Only man of that +name hereabouts. Lives out across the Narrows somewheres. Used to +live here in Vancouver years ago but now he don't honor us much. +Queer old skate! They say he's got some good Indian things, though-- +if it's them you're after?" + +The professor ignored the question but pondered the information. + +"I think you are right. It must be the same person," he said. "But +he certainly led me to expect--" + +A chuckle from the boat-builder interrupted him. "Ah, he'd do that, +all right," grinned Mr. Johnston. "They do say he has a special gift +that way." + +"Well, thank you very much anyway." The professor offered his hand +cordially. "And if we're going, we had better go." + +"You'll be a tight fit in the launch," said Mr. Johnston. "Miss +Farr's down 'ere somewhere. I saw her pass." + +"Miss Farr!" The professor's ungallant horror was all too patent. He +turned haunted eyes toward the second nail keg, now plainly visible +and unoccupied. + +"Missy in boat. She waitee. No likee!" said the Chinaman, speaking +for the first time. + +"But," began the professor, and then, seeing the appreciative grin +upon Mr. Johnston's speaking countenance, he continued blandly-- +"Very well, let us not keep the lady waiting. Especially as she +doesn't like it. Take this bag, my man, it's light. I'll carry the +other." + +With no words, and no apparent effort, the old man picked up both +bags and shuffled off. The professor followed. At the end of the +wharf there were steps and beneath the steps a small floating +platform to which was secured what the professor afterwards +described as "a marine vehicle, classification unknown." Someone, +girl or woman, hidden in a loose, green coat, was already seated +there. A pair of dark eyes looked up impatiently. + +"I am afraid you were not expecting me," said the professor. "I am +Hamilton Spence. Your father--" + +"You're getting your feet wet," said the person in the coat. "Please +jump in." + +The professor jumped. He hadn't jumped since the sciatica and he +didn't do it gracefully. But it landed him in the boat. The Chinaman +was already in his place. A rattle and a roar arose, the air turned +suddenly to gasoline and they were off. + +"Has it a name?" asked the professor as soon as he could make +himself heard. + +"What?" + +The professor was not feeling amiable. "It might be easier to refer +to it in conversation if one knew its name," he remarked, "'Launch' +seems a trifle misleading." + +There was a moment's silence. Then, "I suppose 'launch' is what +father called it," said his companion. He could have sworn that +there was cool amusement in her tone. "I see your difficulty," she +went on. "But, fortunately, it has a name of its own. It is called +the Tillicum.'" + +"As such I salute it!" said Spence, gravely. + +The other made no attempt to continue the conversation. She retired +into the fastness of the green cloak, leaving the professor to +ponder the situation. It seemed on the face of it an absurd +situation enough, yet there should certainly be nothing absurd in +it. Spence felt a somewhat bulky package of letters even now in the +pocket of his coat. These letters were real and sensible enough. +They comprised his correspondence with one Dr. Herbert Farr, +Vancouver, B. C. As letters they were quite charming. The earlier +ones had dealt with the professor's pet subject, primitive +psychology. The later ones had been more personal. Spence found +himself remembering such phrases as "my humble but picturesque +home," "my Chinese servant, a factotum extraordinary," "my young +daughter who attends to all my simple wants" and "my secretary on +whose efficient aid I more and more depend--" + +"I suppose there is a secretary?" he asked suddenly. + +"Oh yes," answered the green cloak, "I'm it." + +"And, 'a young daughter who attends'--" + +"--'to all my simple wants?' That's me, too." + +"But you can't be 'my Chinese servant, a factotum extraordinary?'" + +"No, you have already met Li Ho." + +"There?" queried the professor, gesturing weakly. + +"Yes." + +Spence pulled himself together. "There must be a home, though," he +asserted firmly, "'Humble but picturesque'--" + +"Well," admitted the voice from the green cloak, "it is rather +picturesque. And it is certainly humble." + +Suddenly she laughed. It was a very young laugh. The professor felt +relieved. She was a girl, then, not a woman. + +"Isn't father too' amusing?" she asked pleasantly. + +"Quite too much so," agreed the professor. He was very cold. "I beg +your pardon," he added stiffly, remembering his manners. + +"Oh, I don't mind!" The girl assured him. "Father is a dreadful old +fraud. I have no illusions. But perhaps it isn't so bad after all. +He really is quite an authority on the West Coast Indians,--if that +is what you wish to consult him about." + +Professor Spence was in a quandary. But perfect frankness seemed +indicated. + +"I didn't come to consult him about anything," he said slowly. "I am +a psychologist. I wish to do my own observing, at first hand. I came +not to question Dr. Farr, but to board with him." + +"BOARD WITH HIM!" + +In her heartfelt surprise the girl turned to him and he saw her +face, young, arresting, and excessively indignant. + +"Quite so," he said. "Do not excite yourself. I perceive the +impossibility. I can't have you attending to my wants, however +simple. Neither can I share the services of a secretary whose post, +I gather, is an honorary one. But I simply cannot go back to Mr. +Johnston's grin: so if you can put me up for the night--" + +She had turned away again and was silent for so long that Spence +became uneasy. But at last she spoke. + +"This is really too bad of father! He has never done anything quite +as absurd as this before. I don't quite see what he expected to get +out of it. He might know that you would not stay. He wouldn't want +you to stay. I can't understand--unless," her voice became crisp +with sudden enlightenment, "unless you were foolish enough to pay in +advance! Surely you did not do that?" + +The professor was observing his boots in an abstracted way. + +"I am afraid my feet are very wet," he remarked. + +"They are. They are resting in at least an inch of water," she said +coldly. "But that isn't answering my question. Did you pay my father +anything in advance?" + +The professor fidgeted. + +"A small payment in advance is not very unusual," he offered. +"Especially if one's prospective host is anxious to add a few little +unaccustomed luxuries--" + +"Yes, yes," she interrupted rudely. "I recognize the phrase!" +Without looking up he felt her wrathful gaze upon his face. "It +means that father has simply done you brown. Oh, well, it's your own +fault. You're old enough to know your way about. And the luxuries +you will enjoy at our place will certainly be unaccustomed ones. +Didn't you even ask for references?" + +Her tone irritated the professor unaccountably. + +"Are we nearly there?" he asked, disdaining to answer. "I am +extremely cold." + +"You will have a nice climb to warm you," she told him grimly, "all +up hill!" + +"'A verdant slope,'" quoted the professor sweetly, "'rising gently +from salt water toward snowclad peaks, which, far away,--'" They +caught each other's eyes and laughed. + +"Here is our landing," said the girl quite cheerfully. "And none too +soon! I suppose you haven't noticed it, but the 'Tillicum' is +leaking like a sieve!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +Salt in the air and the breath of pine and cedar are excellent sleep +inducers. Professor Spence had not expected to sleep that night; yet +he did sleep. He awoke to find the sun high. A great beam of it lay +across the foot of his camp cot, bringing comforting warmth to the +toes which protruded from the shelter of abbreviated blankets. The +professor wiggled his toes cautiously. He was accustomed to doing +this before making more radical movements. They were a valuable +index to the state of the sciatic nerve. This morning they wiggled +somewhat stiffly and there were also various twinges. But +considering the trying experiences of yesterday it was surprising +that they could wiggle at all. He lifted himself slowly--and sank +back with a relieved sigh. It would have been embarrassing, he +thought, had he not been able to get up. + +All men have their secret fears and Professor Spence's secret fear +was embodied in a story which his friend and medical adviser +(otherwise "Old Bones") had seen fit to cite as a horrible example. +It concerned a man who had sciatica and who didn't take proper care +of him-self. One day this man went for a walk and fell suddenly upon +the pavement unable to move or even to explain matters +satisfactorily to a heartless policeman who insisted that he was +drunk. The doctor had laughed over this story; doctors are +notoriously inhuman. The professor had laughed also, but the +possible picture of him-self squirming helplessly before a casually +interested public had terrors which no enemies' shrapnel had ever +been able to inspire. + + Well, thank heaven it hadn't happened yet! The professor confided +his satisfaction to an inquisitive squirrel which swung, bright +eyed, from a branch which swept the window, and, sitting up, +prepared to take stock of the furnishings of his room. A grim smile +signalled his discovery that there were no furnishings to take stock +of. Save for his camp bed, an affair of stout canvas stretched +between crossed legs, the room was beautifully bare. Not a chair, +not a wash-stand, not a table cumbered it--unless a round, flat tree +stump, which looked as if it might have grown up through the floor, +was intended for both washstand and table. It had served the latter +purpose at any rate as upon it rested the candle-stick containing +the solitary candle by which he had got himself to bed. + +"Single room, without bath," murmured the professor. "Oh, if my Aunt +Caroline could see me now!" + +Oddly enough, something in the thought of Aunt Caroline seemed to +have a reconciling effect upon Aunt Caroline's nephew. He lay back +upon his one thin pillow and reviewed his position with surprising +fortitude. After all, Aunt Caroline couldn't see him--and that was +something. Besides, it had been an adventure. It was surprising how +he had come to look for adventures since that day, five years ago, +when the grim adventure of war had called him from the peace-filled +beginnings of what he had looked forward to as a life of scholarly +leisure. He had been thirty, then, and quite done with adventuring. +Now he was thirty-five and--well, he supposed the war had left him +restless. Presently he would settle down. He would begin his great +book on the "Psychology of Primitive Peoples." Everything would be +as it had been before. + +But in the meantime it insisted upon being somewhat different--hence +this feeling which was not all dissatisfaction with his present +absurd position. He was, he admitted it, a badly sold man. But did +it matter? What had he lost except money and self-esteem? The money +did not matter and he was sure that Aunt Caroline, at least, would +say that he could spare the self-esteem. Besides, he would recover +it in time. His opinion of himself as a man of perspicacity in +business had recovered from harder blows than this. There was that +affair of the South American mines, for instance,--but anybody may +be mistaken about South American mines. He had told Aunt Caroline +this. "It was," he told Aunt Caroline, "a financial accident. I do +not blame myself. My father, as you know, was a far-sighted man. +These aptitudes run in families." Aunt Caroline had said, "Humph!" + +Nevertheless it was true that the elder Hamilton Spence, now +deceased, had been a far-sighted man. Benis had always cherished a +warm admiration for the commercial astuteness which he conceived +himself to have inherited. He would have been, he thought, exactly +like his father--if he had cared for the drudgery of business. So it +was a habit of his, when in a quandary, to consider what his parent +would have done and then to do likewise--an excellent rule if he had +ever succeeded in applying it properly. But there were always so +many intruding details. Take the present predicament, for instance. +He could scarcely picture his father in these precise circumstances. +To do so would be to presuppose actions on the part of that astute +ancestor quite out of keeping with his known character. Would +Hamilton Spence, senior, have crossed a continent at the word of one +of whom he knew nothing, save that he wrote an agreeable letter? +Would he have engaged (and paid for in advance) board and lodging at +a place wholly supposititious? Would he have neglected to ask for +references? Hamilton Spence, junior, was forced to admit that he +would not. + +But those letters of old Farr had been so blamed plausible! + +Well, anyhow, he would have the pleasure of meeting and outfacing +the old rascal. This satisfaction he had expected the night before. +But upon their arrival at the "picturesque though humble" cottage +(after a climb at the memory of which his leg still shuddered), it +was found that Dr. Farr was not at home. + +"He has probably gone 'up trail'" Miss Farr had said casually, "and +in that case he won't be back until morning." + +"Did you say up?" The professor's voice held incredulity. Whereupon +his hostess had most unkindly smiled: "You're not much of a walker, +are you?" was her untactful comment. + +"My leg--" He had actually begun to tell her about his leg! Luckily +her amused shrug had acted as a period. He felt very glad of this +now. To have admitted weakness would have been weak indeed. For the +girl was so splendidly strong! Only a child, of course, but so +finely moulded, so superbly strung--light and lithe. How she had +swung up the trail, a heavy packet in either hand, with scarcely a +quickened breath to tell of the effort! Her face?--he tried to +recall her face but found it provokingly elusive. It was a young +face, but not youthful. The distinction seemed strained and yet it +was a real distinction. The eyes were grey, he thought. The eyebrows +very fine, dark and slanted slightly, as if left that way by some +unanswered question. The nose was straight, delightful in profile. +The mouth too firm for a face so young, the chin too square-- +perhaps. But even as he catalogued the features the face escaped +him. He had a changing impression, only, of a graceful contour, warm +and white, dark careless eyes, and hair--quantities of hair lying +close and smooth in undulated waves--its color like nothing so much +as the brown of a crisping autumn leaf. He remembered, though, that +she was poorly dressed--and utterly unconscious, or careless, of +being so. And she had been amused, undoubtedly amused, at his +annoyance. A most unfeminine girl! And that at least was fortunate-- +for he was very, very weary of everything feminine! + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Yawningly, the professor reached for his watch. + +It had run down. + +"Evidently they do not wake guests for breakfast," he mused. +"Perhaps," with rising dismay, "there isn't any breakfast to wake +them for!" + +He felt suddenly ravenous and hurried into his clothes. It is really +wonderful how all kinds of problems give place to the need for a +wash and breakfast. Somewhere outside he could hear water running, +so with a towel over his arm and a piece of soap in his pocket he +started out to find it. His room, as he had noted the night before, +was one of two small rooms under the eaves. There was a small, dark +landing between them and a steep, ladderlike stair led directly down +into the living-room. There was no one there; neither was there +anyone in the small kitchen at the back. Benis Spence decided that +this second room was a kitchen because it contained a cooking stove. +Otherwise he would not have recognized it, Aunt Caroline's idea of a +kitchen being quite otherwise. Someone had been having breakfast on +a corner of the table and a fire crackled in the stove. Window and +door were open, and leafy, ferny odors mingled with the smell of +burning cedar. The combined scent was very pleasant, but the +professor could have wished that the bouquet of coffee and fried +bacon had been included. He was quite painfully hungry. + +Through the open door the voice of falling water still called to him +but of other and more human voices there were none. Well, he could +at least wash. With a shrug he turned away from the half cleared +table and, in the doorway, almost ran into the arms of a little, old +man in a frock coat and a large umbrella. There were other items of +attire, but they did not seem to matter. + +"My dear sir," said the little, old man, in a gentle, gurgling +voice. "Let me make you welcome--very, very welcome!" + +"Thank you," said the professor. + +There were other things that he might have said, but they did not +seem to suggest themselves. All the smooth and biting sentences +which his mind had held in readiness for this moment faded and died +before the stunning knowledge of their own inadequacy. Surprise, +pure and simple, stamped them down. + +"Unpardonable, my not being at home to receive you," went on this +amazing old gentleman. "But the exact time of your coming was +somewhat indefinite. Still, I am displeased with myself, much +displeased. You slept well, I trust?" + +The professor was understood to say that he had slept well. + +Dr. Farr sighed. "Youth!" he murmured, waving his umbrella. "Oh, +youth!" + +"Quite so," said the professor. There was a dryness in his tone not +calculated to encourage rhapsody. The old gentleman's gurgle changed +to a note of practical helpfulness. + +"You wish to bathe, I see. I will not detain you. Our sylvan +bathroom you will find just down the trail and behind those alders. +Pray take your time. You will be quite undisturbed." + +With another dry "Thank you," the professor passed on. He was +limping slightly, otherwise he would have passed on much faster. His +instinct was to seek cover before giving vent to the emotion which +consumed him. + +Behind the alders, and taking the precaution of stuffing his mouth +with a towel, he could release this rising gust of almost hysterical +laughter. + +That was Dr. Herbert Farr! The fulfilled vision of the learned +scholar he had come so far to see capped with nicety the climax of +this absurd adventure. What an utter fool, what an unbelievable +idiot he had made of himself! For the moment he saw clear and all +normal reactions proved inadequate. There was left only laughter. + +When this was over he felt better. Withdrawing the towel and wiping +the tears of strangled mirth from his eyes he looked around him. The +sylvan bathroom was indeed a charming place. Great rocks, all smooth +and brown with velvet moss, curved gently down to form a basin into +which fell the water from the tiny stream whose musical flowing had +called to him through his window. Around, and somewhat back beneath +tall sentinel trees, crept the bushes and bracken of the mountain; +but, above, the foliage opened and the sun shone in, turning the +brown-green water of the pool to gold. With a sigh of pure delight +the laughter-weary professor stepped into its cool brightness--and +with a gasp of something very different, stepped quickly out again. +But, quick as he was, the liquid ice of that green-gold pool was +quicker. It ran through his tortured nerve like mounting fire--"Oh-- +oh--damn!" said the professor heartily. + +The sweat stood out on his forehead before he had rubbed and warmed +the outraged limb into some semblance of quietude again. The pool +seemed no longer lovely. Very gingerly he completed such ablutions +as were strictly necessary and then, very cold, very stiff and very, +very empty he turned back toward the house. + +This time, instead of passing through the small vegetable garden +behind the kitchen, he skirted the clearing, coming out into the +wide, open space in front of the cottage. On one side of him, and +behind, spread the mountain woods but before him and to the right +the larger trees were down. There was a vista--for the first time +since he had sat upon a keg in the fog he forgot him-self and his +foolishness, his hunger, his aching nerves, his smarting pride, +everything! The beauty before him filled his heart and mind, leaving +not a cranny anywhere for lesser things. Blue sea, blue sky, blue +mountains, blue smoke that rose in misty spirals as from a thousand +fairy fires and, nearer, the sun-warmed, dew-drenched green--green +of the earth, green of the trees, green of the graceful, sweeping +curves of wooded point and bay. Far away, on peaks half hidden, snow +still lay--a whiteness so ethereal that the gazer caught his breath. + +And with it all there was the scent of something--something so +fresh, so penetrating, so infinitely sweet--what could it be? + +"Ambrosia!" said Benis Spence, unconscious that he spoke aloud. + +"Balm of Gilead," said a practical voice beside him. "It smells like +that in the bud, you know." + +"Does it?" The professor's tone was dreamy. "Honey and wine--that's +what it's like--honey and wine in the wilderness! You didn't tell me +it would be like this," he added, turning abruptly to his companion +of the night before. + +"How could I tell what it would be like--to you?" asked the girl. +"It's different for everyone. I've known people stand here and think +of nothing but their breakfast." + +At the word "breakfast" (which had temporarily slipped from his +vocabulary) the famished professor wheeled so quickly that his knee +twisted. Miss Farr smiled, her cool and too-understanding smile. + +"There's something to eat," she said. "Come in." + +She did not wait for him but walked off quickly. The professor +followed more slowly. The path, even the front path, was rough (he +had noticed that last night); but the cottage, seen now with the +glamour of its outlook still in his eyes, seemed not quite so +impossible as he had thought. The grace of early spring lay upon it +and all around. True, it was small and unpainted and in bad repair, +but its smallness and its brownness seemed not out of keeping with +the mountain-side. Its narrow veranda was railed by unbarked +branches from the cedars. Its walls were rough and weather-beaten, +its few windows, broad and low. The door was open and led directly +into the living room whence his hostess had preceded him. + +The marvellous scent of the morning was everywhere. The room, as he +went in, seemed full of it. Not such a bad room, either, not nearly +so comfortless as he had thought last night. There was a fireplace, +for instance, a real fireplace of cobble-stones, for use, not +ornament; a long table stood in the middle of the room, an old +fashioned sofa sprawled beneath one of the windows. There was a +dresser at one end with open shelves for china and, at the other, a +book-case, also open, filled with old and miscellaneous books. . . . + +And, best and most encouraging of all, there was breakfast on the +table. + +"I told Li Ho to give you eggs," said Miss Farr. "It is the one +thing we can be sure of having fresh. Do you like eggs?" + +The professor liked eggs. He had never liked eggs so well before, +except once in Flanders--he looked up to thank his hostess, but she +had not waited. Nevertheless the breakfast was very good. Not until +he had finished the last crumb of it did he notice that the comfort +of the place was more apparent than real. The table tipped whenever +you touched it. The chair upon which he sat had lost an original leg +and didn't take kindly to its substitute. The china was thick and +chipped. The walls were unfinished and draughty, the ceiling +obviously leaked. There had been some effort to keep the place +livable, for the faded curtains were at least clean and the floor +swept--but the blight of decay and poverty lay hopelessly upon it +all. + +And what was a young girl--a girl with level eyes and lifted chin-- +doing in this galley? . . . Undoubtedly the less he bothered himself +about that question the better. This young person was probably just +as she wished to appear, careless and content. And in any case it +was none of his business. + +The sensible thing for him to do was to pack his bag and turn his +back--the absurd old man with the umbrella . . . pshaw! . . . He +wouldn't go home, of course. Aunt Caroline would say "I told you so" +. . . no, she wouldn't say it--she would look it, which was worse . . . +he had come away for a rest cure and a rest cure he intended to +have . . . with a groan he thought of the pictures he had formed of +this place, the comfortable seclusion, the congenial old scholar, +the capable secretary, the--he looked up to find that Miss Farr had +returned and was regarding him with a cool and pleasantly aloof +consideration. + +"Are you wondering how soon you may decently leave?" she inquired. +"We are not at all formal here. And, of course--" her shrug and +gesture disposed of all other matters at issue. "Yours are the only +feelings that need to be considered. I should like to know, though," +she continued with some warmth of interest, "if you really came just +to observe Indians. Father might think of a variety of attractions. +Health?--any-thing from gout to tuberculosis. Fish?--father can talk +about fish until you actually see them leaping. Shooting?--according +to father, all the animals of the ark abound in these mountains. +Curios?--father has an Indian mound somewhere which he always keeps +well stocked." + +Professor Spence smiled. "So many activities," he said, "should +bring better results." + +"They are too well known. Most people make some inquiry." The faint +emphasis on the "most" made the professor feel uncomfortable. Was it +possible that this young girl considered him, Benis Spence, +something of a fool? He dismissed the idea as unlikely. + +"Inquiry in my case would have meant delay," he answered frankly, +"and I was in a hurry. I wanted to get away from--I wanted to get +away for rest and study in a congenial environment. Still, I will +admit that I might not have inquired in any case. I am accustomed to +trust to my instinct. My father was a very far-sighted man--what are +you laughing at?" + +"Nothing. Only it sounded so much like 'nevertheless, my grandsire +drew a long bow at the battle of Hastings'--don't you remember, in +'Ivanhoe?'" + +The professor sighed. "I have forgotten 'Ivanhoe,'" he said, "which +means, I suppose, that I have forgotten youth. Sometimes its ghost +walks, though. I think it was that which kept me so restless at +home. I thought that if I could get away--You see, before the war, I +was gathering material for a book on primitive psychology and when I +came back I found some of the keenness gone." He smiled grimly. "I +came back inclined to think that all psychology is primitive. But I +wanted to get to work again. I had never studied the West Coast +Indians and your father's letters led me to believe that--er--" + +It was not at all polite of her to laugh, but he had to admit that +her laughter was very pleasant and young. + +"It is funny, you know," she murmured apologetically. "For I am sure +you pictured father as a kind of white patriarch, surrounded by his +primitive children (father is certain to have called the Indians his +'children'!). Unfortunately, the Indians detest father. They're half +afraid of him, too. I don't know why. Years ago, when we lived up +coast--" she paused, plainly annoyed at her own loquacity, "we knew +plenty of Indians then," she finished shortly. + +"And are there no Indians here at all?" + +"There is an Indian reservation at North Vancouver. That is the +nearest. I do not think they are just what you are looking for. But +both in Vancouver and Victoria you can get in touch with men who can +direct you. Your journey need not be entirely wasted." + +"But Dr. Farr himself--Is he not something of an authority?" + +"Y-es. I suppose he is." + +"What information the letters contained seemed to be the real +thing." + +"Oh, the letters were all right. I wrote them." + +"You!" + +"Didn't I tell you I was the secretary? My department is the +'information bureau.' I do not see the actual letters. There are +always personal bits which father puts in himself." + +"Bits regarding boarding accommodation, etc.?" + +She did not answer his smile, and her eyes grew hard as she nodded. + +"Usually I can keep things from going that far. I can't quite see +how it happened so suddenly in your case." + +"I happen to be a sudden person." + +"Evidently. Father was quite dumbfounded when he knew you had +actually arrived. He certainly expected an interval during which he +could invent good and sufficient reasons for putting you off." + +"Such as?" + +"Such as smallpox. An outbreak of smallpox among the Indians is +quite a favorite with father." + +"The old--I beg your pardon!" + +"Don't bother. You are certainly entitled to an expression of your +feelings. It may be the only satisfaction, you will get. But aren't +we getting away from the question?" "Question?" + +"When do you wish Li Ho to take you back to Vancouver?" + +Professor Spence opened his lips to say that any time would suit. It +was the obvious answer, the only sensible answer, the answer which +he fully intended to make. But he did not make it. + +"Must I really go?" he asked. He was, so he had said himself, a +sudden person. + +His hostess met his deprecating gaze with pure surprise. + +"You can't possibly want to stay?" + +"I quite possibly can. I like it here. And I'm horribly tired." + +The hostility which had begun to gather in her eyes lightened a +little. + +"Tired? I noticed that you limped this morning. Is there anything +the matter with you?" + +It was certainly an ungracious way of putting it. And her eyes, +while not exactly hostile, were ungracious, too. They would make +anyone with a spark of pride want to go away at once. The professor +told himself this. Besides, his only possible reason for wishing to +stay had been some unformed idea of being helpful to the girl +herself--ungrateful minx! + +"If there is anything really wrong--" the cold incredulity of her +tone was the last straw. + +"Nothing wrong at all!" said Professor Spence. He arose briskly. +Alas! He had forgotten his sciatic nerve. He had forgotten, too, the +crampiness of its temper since that glacial bath, and, most +completely of all, had he forgotten the fate of the man-who-didn't- +take-care-of-himself. Therefore it was with something of surprise +that he found himself crumpled up upon the floor. Only when he tried +to rise again and felt the sweat upon his forehead did he remember +the doctor's story. . . . Spence swore under his breath and +attempted to pull himself up by the table. + +"Wait a moment!" + +The cold voice held authority--the authority he had come to respect +in hospital--and he waited, setting his teeth. Next moment he set +them still harder, for Li Ho and the girl picked him up without +ceremony and laid him, whitefaced, upon the sprawling sofa. + +"Why didn't you say you had sciatica?" asked Miss Farr, +belligerently. + +It seemed unnecessary to answer. + +"I know it is sciatica," she went on, "because I've seen it before. +And if you had no more sense than to bathe in that pool you deserve +all you've got." + +"It looked all right." "Oh--looked! It's melted ice--simply." + +"So I realized, afterwards." + +"You seem to do most things afterwards. caused it in the first +place, cold?" + +"The sciatica? No--an injury." + +There was a slight pause. + +"Was it--in the war?" The new note in her voice did not escape +Spence. He lied promptly--too promptly. Desire Farr was an observant +young person, quite capable of drawing conclusions. + +"I'm not going to be sympathetic," she said. "That," with sudden +illumination, "is probably what you ran away from. But you'd better +be truthfull Was it a bullet?" + +"Shrapnel." + +"And the treatment?" + +"Rest, and the tablets in my bag." + +"Right--I'll get them." + +It was quite like old hospital times. The sofa was hard and the +pillows knobby. But he had lain upon worse. Li Ho was not more +unhandy than many an orderly. And the tablets, quickly and neatly +administered by Miss Farr, brought something of relief. + +Not until she saw the strain within his eyes relax did his self- +appointed nurse pass sentence. + +"You certainly can't move until you are better," she said. "You'll +have to stay. It can't be helped but--father will have a fit." + +"A fit?" murmured Spence. Privately he thought that a fit might do +the old gentleman good. + +"He hates having anyone here," she went on thoughtfully. "It upsets +him." + +"Does it? But why? I can understand it upsetting you. But he--he +doesn't do the work, does he?" + +"Not exactly," the girl smiled. "But--oh well, I don't believe in +explanations. You'll see things for your-self, perhaps. And now I'll +get you a book. I won't warn you not to move for I know you can't." + +With a glance which, true to her promise, was not overburdened with +sympathy, his strangely acquired hostess went out and closed the +door. + +He tried to read the book she had handed him ("Green Mansions"--ho-r +had it wandered out here?) but his mind could not detach itself. It +insisted upon listening for sounds outside. And presently a sound +came--the high, thin sound of a voice shaking with weakness or rage. +Then the cool tones of his absent nurse, then the voice again-- +certainly a most unpleasant voice--and the crashing sound of +something being violently thrown to the ground and stamped upon. +Through the closed door, the professor seemed to see a vision of an +absurd old man with pale eyes, who shrieked and stamped upon an +umbrella. + +"That," said Hamilton Spence, with resignation, "that must be father +having a fit!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Letter from Professor Hamilton Spence to his friend, John Rogers, +M.D. + +DEAR Bones: Chortle if you want to--your worst prognostications have +come true. The unexpectedness of the sciatic nerve, as set forth in +your parting discourse, has amply proved itself. The dashed thing is +all that you said of it--and more. It did not even permit me to +collapse gracefully--or to choose my public. Your other man had a +policeman, hadn't he? + +Here I am, stranded upon a sofa from which I cannot get up and +detained indefinitely upon a mountain from which I cannot get down. +My nurse (I have a nurse) refuses to admit the mountain. She insists +upon referring to this dizzy height as "just above sea-level" and +declares that the precipitous ascent thereto is "a slight grade." +Otherwise she is quite sane. + +But sanity is more than I feel justified in claiming for anyone else +in this household. There is Li Ho, for instance. Well, I'm not +certain about Li Ho. He may be Chinese-sane. My nurse says he is. +But I have no doubts at all about my host. He is so queer that I +sometimes wonder if he is not a figment. Perhaps I imagine him. If +so, my imagination is going strong. What I seem to see is a little +old man in a frock coat so long that his legs (like those of the +Queen of Spain) are negligible. He has a putty colored face (so +blurred that I keep expecting him to rub it out altogether), white +hair, pale blue eyes--and an umbrella. + +Yesterday, attempting to establish cordial relations, I asked him +why the umbrella. He had a fit right on the spot? + +Let me explain about the fits. When his daughter just said, "Father +will have a fit," I thought she spoke in a Pickwickian sense, +meaning, "Father will experience annoyance." But when I heard him +having it, I realized that she had probably been quite literal. When +father has a fit he bangs his umbrella to the floor and jumps on it. +Also he tears his hair. I have seen the pieces. + +I said to my nurse: "The mention of his umbrella seems to agitate +your father." She turned quite pale. "It does," she said. "I hope +you haven't mentioned it." I said that I had merely asked for +information. "And did you get it?" asked she. I said that I had-- +since it was apparent that one has to carry an umbrella if one +wishes to have it handy to jump upon. She didn't laugh at all, and +looked so withdrawn that it was quite plain I need expect no +elucidation from her. + +I had to dismiss the subject altogether. But, later on, Li Ho (who +appears to partially approve of me) gave a curious side light on the +matter. At night as he was tucking me up safely (the sofa is +slippery), he said, "Honorable Boss got hole in head-top. Sun velly +bad. Umblella keep him off." + +"But he carries it at night, too," I objected. + +Li Ho wagged his parchment head. "Keep moon off all same. Moon muchy +more bad. Full moon find urn hole. Make Honorable Boss much klasy." + +Remarkably lucid explanation--don't you think so? The "hole in head +top" is evidently Li Ho's picturesque figure for "mental vacuum." +Therefore I gather that our yellow brother suspects his honorable +boss of being weak-headed, a condition aggravated by the direct rays +of the sun and especially by the full moon. He may be right--though +the old man seems harmless enough. "Childlike and bland" describes +him usually. Though there are times when he looks at me with those +pale eyes--and I wish that I were not quite so helpless! He dislikes +me. But I have known quite sane people do that. + +I am writing nonsense. One has to, with sciatica. I hope this +confounded leg lets me get some sleep tonight. + +Yours, + +B. + +P.S.: Not exactly an ideal home for a young girl--is it? + + + + +CHAPTER V + +It had rained all night. It had rained all yesterday. It had rained +all the day before. It was raining still. Apparently it could go on +raining indefinitely. + +Miss Farr said not. She said that it would be certain to clear up in +a day or two. "And then," she said, "you will forget that it ever +rained." + +Professor Spence doubted it. He had a good memory. + +"You look much better this morning," his nurse went on. "Have you +tried to move your leg yet?" + +"I am thinking of trying it." + +This was not exactly a fib on the part of the professor because he +was thinking of it. But it did not include the whole truth, because +he had already tried it, tried it very successfully only a few +moments before. First he had made sure that he was alone in the room +and then he had proceeded with the trial. Very cautiously he had +drawn his lame leg up, and tenderly stretched it out. He had turned +over and back again. He had wiggled his toes to see how many of them +were present--only the littlest toe was still numb. He had realized +that he was much better. If the improvement kept on, he knew that in +a day or so he would be able to walk with the aid of a cane. And he +also knew that, with his walking, his status as an invalid guest +would vanish. Luckily, no one but himself could say when the walking +stage was reached--hence the strict privacy of his experiments. + +"Father thinks that you should be able to walk in about three days," +said Miss Farr cheerfully. + +Spence said he hoped that Dr. Farr was right. But the rain, he +feared, might keep him back a bit, "I am really sorry," he added, +"that my presence is so distasteful to the doctor. I have been here +almost two weeks and I have seen so little of him that I'm afraid I +am keeping him out of his own house." + +"No, you are not doing that," the girl's reassurance was cordial +enough, "Father is having an outside spell just now. He quite often +does. Sometimes for weeks together he spends most of his time out of +doors. Then, quite suddenly, he will settle down and be more like-- +other people." + +It was her way, the professor noticed, to state facts, not to +explain them. + +"Then he has what I call an 'inside spell,'" she went on. "That is +when he does most of his writing. He does some quite good things, +you know. And a few of them get published." + +"Scientific articles?" asked Spence. + +"Well--articles. You might not call them scientific. Science is very +exact, isn't it? Father would rather be interesting than exact any +day." + +Her hearer found no difficulty in believing this. + +"His folk-lore stories are the best--and the least exact," continued +she, heedless of the shock inflicted upon the professorial mind. "He +knows exactly the kind of things Indians tell, and tells it very +much better," + +"You mean he--he fakes it?" + +"Well--he calls it 'editing.'" + +"But, my dear girl, you can't edit folk-lore!" + +"Father can." + +"But--but it isn't done! Such material loses all value if not +authentic." + +"Does it?" + +The question was indifferent. So indifferent, in the face of a +matter of such moment, that Hamilton Spence writhed upon his couch. +Here at least there was room for genuine missionary work. He cleared +his throat. + +"I will tell you just how much it matters," he began firmly. But the +fates were not with him, neither was his audience. Attracted by some +movement which he had missed she, the audience, had slipped to the +door, and was opening it cautiously. + +"What is it?" asked the baffled lecturer crossly. + +"S-ssh! I think it's Sami." + +"A tame bear?" + +"No. Wait. I'll prop you up so you can see him. Look, behind the +veranda post." + +The professor looked and forgot about the value of authenticity; for +from behind the veranda post a most curious face was peeping--a +round, solemn baby face of cafe au lait with squat, wide nose and +flat-set eyes. + +"A Jap?" exclaimed Spence in surprise. + +"No. He's Indian. Some of the babies are so Japaneesy that it's hard +to tell the difference. Father says it's a strain of the same blood. +But they are not all as pretty as Sami. Isn't he a duck?" + +"He is at home in the rain, anyway. Why doesn't he come in?" + +"He's afraid of you." + +"That's unusual--until one has seen me." + +"Sami doesn't need to see a stranger." + +"Well, that's primitive enough, surely! Let's call him in." + +"I'd like to, but Sami won't come for calling." + +"Oh, won't he? Leave the door open and watch him." + +As absorbed now as the girl herself, the professor put his finger to +his lips and whistled--a low, clear whistle, rather like the calling +of a meditative bird. Several times he whistled so, on different +notes; and then, to her surprise, the watching girl saw the little +wild thing outside stir in answer to the call. Sami came out from +behind the post and stood listening, for all the world like an +inquiring squirrel. The whistle sounded again, a plaintive, seeking +sound, infinitely alluring. It seemed to draw the heart like a +living thing. Slowly at first and then with the swift, gliding +motion of the woods, the wide-eyed youngster approached the open +door and stood there waiting, poised and ready for advance or +flight. Again the whistle came, and to it came Sami, straight as a +bird to its calling mate. + +"Tamed!" said the professor softly. "See, he is not a bit afraid." + +"How on earth did you do it?" asked Miss Farr when the shy, brown +baby had been duly welcomed. The whistler was visibly vain. + +"Oh, it's quite simple. I merely talked to him in his own language." + +"I see that. But where did you learn the language?" + +"Well, a fellow taught me that--man I met at Ypres. He could have +whistled back the dodo, I think. He knew all kinds of calls--said +all the wild things answered to them." + +"Was he a great naturalist?" + +The cheerful vanity faded from Spence's face, leaving it sombre. + +"He--would have been," he said briefly. + +Miss Farr asked no more questions. It was a restful way she had. And +perhaps because she did not ask, the professor felt an unaccustomed +impulse. "He was a wonderful chap," he volunteered. "There are few +like him in a generation. It seemed--rather a waste." + +The girl nodded. "Used or wasted--it's as it happens," she said. +"There is no plan." + +"That's a heathen sentiment!" The professor recovered his +cheerfulness. "A sentiment not at all suited for the contemplation +of extreme youth." + +"I am not extremely young." + +"You? I was referring to our brown brother. He is becoming uneasy +again. What's the matter with him?" + +Whatever was the matter, it reached, at that moment, an acute stage +and Sami disappeared through the door into the kitchen. Perhaps his +ears were sharper than theirs and his eyes keener. He may have seen +a large umbrella coming across the clearing. + +Miss Farr frowned. "Sami is afraid of father," she explained +briefly. The door opened as she added, "I wonder why?" + +"A caprice of childhood, my daughter," said the old doctor mildly. +"Who indeed can account for the vagaries of the young?" + +"They are usually quite easy to account for," replied his daughter +coldly. "You must have frightened the child some time." + +"Tut, tut, my dear. How could an old fogey like myself frighten +anyone?" + +"I don't know. But I should like to." + +Father and daughter looked at each other for a moment. And again the +captive on the sofa found himself disliking intensely the glance of +the old man's pale blue eyes. He was glad to see that they fell +before the grey eyes of the girl. + +"Well, well!" murmured Dr. Farr vaguely, looking away. "It doesn't +matter. It doesn't matter. Tut, tut, a trifle!" + +"I don't think so," said she. And abruptly she went out after the +child. + +"Fanciful, very fanciful," murmured the old man, looking after her. +"And stubborn, very stubborn. A bad fault in one so young. But," +beaming benevolently upon his guest, "we must not trouble you with +our small domestic discords. You are much better, I see, much +better. That is good." + +"Getting along very nicely, thanks," said Spence. "I was able to +change position this morning without assistance." + +"Only that?" The doctor's disappointment was patent. "Come, we +should progress better than that. If you will allow me to prescribe- +-" + +"Thank you--no. I feel quite satisfied with the treatment prescribed +by old Bones--I mean by my friend, Dr. Rogers. He understands the +case thoroughly. One must be patient." + +"Quite so, quite so." The curiously blurred face of the doctor +seemed for a moment to take on sharper lines. Spence had observed it +do this before under stress of feeling. But as the exact feeling +which caused the change was usually obscure, it seemed safest to +ignore it altogether. He was growing quite expert at ignoring +things. For, quite contrary to the usual trend of his character, he +was reacting to the urge of a growing desire to stay where he wasn't +wanted. He didn't reason about it. He did not even admit it. But it +moved in his mind. + +"I'm not fretting at all about being tied up here," he went on +cheerfully. "I find the air quite stimulating. I believe I could +work here. In fact, I have some notes with me which I may elaborate. +I fancy that, as you said in your letters, Miss Farr will prove a +most capable secretary. I am going to ask her to help me." + +"Are you indeed?" The doctor's tone was polite but absent. + +"You do not object, I hope?" + +"Object--why should I object? But Desire is busy, very busy. I doubt +if her duties will spare her. I doubt it very much." + +"Naturally, I should wish to offer her ample remuneration." + +Again the loose lines of the strange old face seemed to sharpen. +There was a growing eagerness in the pale eyes . . . but it died. + +"Even in that case," said Dr. Farr regretfully, "I fear it will be +impossible." + +Spence pressed this particular point no further. He had found out +what he wanted to know, namely, that his host's desire to see the +last of him was stronger even than his desire for money. His own +desire to see more of his host strengthened in proportion. + +"Supposing we leave it to Miss Farr herself," he suggested smoothly. +"Since you have personally no objection. If she is unwilling to +oblige me, of course--" + +"I will speak to her," promised the doctor. + +Spence smiled. + +"What surprises me, doctor," he went on, pushing a little further, +"is how you have managed to keep so very intelligent a secretary in +so restricted an environment. The stronger one's wings, the stronger +the temptation to use them." + +He had expected to strike fire with this, but the pale eyes looked +placidly past him. + +"Desire has left me, at times, but--she has always come back." The +old man's voice was very gentle, almost caressing, and should +certainly have provided no reason for the chill that crept up his +hearer's spine. + +"She has never found work suited to her, perhaps," suggested Spence. +"If you will allow me,--" + +"You are very kind," the velvet was off the doctor's voice now. He +rose with a certain travesty of dignity. "But I may say that I +desire--that I will tolerate--no interference. My daughter's future +shall be her father's care." + +Spence laughed. It was an insulting laugh, and he knew it. But the +contrast between the grandiloquent words and the ridiculous figure +which uttered them was too much for him. Besides, though the most +courteous of men, he deliberately wished to be insulting. He +couldn't help it. There rose up in him, suddenly, a wild and +unreasoning anger that mere paternity could place anyone (and +especially a young girl with cool, grey eyes) in the power of such a +caricature of manhood. + +"Really?" said Spence. There was everything in the word that tone +could utter of challenge and derision. He raised himself upon his +elbow. The doctor, who had been closely contemplating his umbrella, +looked up slowly. The eyes of the two men met. . . . Spence had +never seen eyes like that . . . they dazzled him like sudden +sunlight on a blade of steel . . . they clung to his mind and +bewildered it . . . he forgot the question at issue . . . he forgot- +- + +Just then Li Ho opened the kitchen door. + +"Get 'um lunch now," said Li Ho, in his toneless drawl. "Like 'um +egg flied? Like 'um boiled?" + +Spence sank back upon his pillow. + +"Like um any old way!" he said. His voice sounded a little +breathless. + +The doctor, once again absorbed in the contemplation of his +umbrella, went out. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +Luncheon, for which Li Ho had provided eggs both boiled and fried, +was eaten alone. His hostess did not honor him with her company, nor +did her father return. Li Ho was attentive but silent And outside +the rain still rained. + +Professor Spence lay and counted the drops as they fell from a knot +hole in the veranda roof--one small drop--two medium-sized drops-- +one big drop--as if some unseen djinn were measuring them out in +ruthless monotony. He counted the drops until his brain felt soggy +and he began to speculate upon what Aunt Caroline would think of +fried eggs for luncheon. He wondered why there were no special +dishes for special meals in Li Ho's domestic calendar; why all +things, to Li Ho, were good (or bad) at all times? Would he give +them porridge and bacon for dinner? Spence decided that he didn't +mind. He was ready to like anything which was strikingly different +from Aunt Caroline. . . . + +One small drop--two medium-sized drops--one big drop. . . . He +wondered when he would know his young nurse well enough to call her +by her first name? (Prefixed by "miss," perhaps.) "Desire"--it was a +rather charming name. How old would she be, he wondered; twenty? +There were times when she looked even younger than twenty. But he +had to confess that she never acted like it. At least she did not +act as he had believed girls of twenty are accustomed to act. Very +differently indeed. . . . One small drop--two medium-sized--oh, +bother the drops! Where was she, anyway? Did she intend to stay out +all afternoon? Was that the way she treated an invalid? . . . He +couldn't see why people go out in the rain, anyway. People are apt +to take their deaths of cold. People may get pneumonia. It would +serve people right--almost. . . . One drop--oh, confound the drops! + +The professor tried to read. The book he opened had been a famous +novel, a best-seller, some five years ago. It had been thought +"advanced." Advanced!--but now how inconceivably flat and stale! How +on earth had anyone ever praised it, called it "epoch-marking," +bought it by the thousand thousand? Why, the thing was dead--a dead +book, than which there is nothing deader. This reflection gave him +something to think of for a while. Instead of counting drops he +amused himself by strolling back through the years, a critical +stretcher-bearer, picking up literary corpses by the wayside. They +were thickly strewn. He was appalled to find how faintly beat the +pulse of life even in the living. Would not another generation see +the burial of them all? Was there no new Immortal anywhere? + +"When I write a novel," thought the professor solemnly, "which, +please God, I shall never do, I will write about people and not +about things. Things change always; people never." It was a wise +conclusion but it did not help the afternoon to pass. + +Desire, that is to say Miss Farr, had passed the window twice +already. He might have called her. But he hadn't. If people forget +one's very existence it is not prideful to call them. And the +Spences are a prideful race. Desire (he decided it didn't matter if +he called her Desire to himself, she was such a child) was wearing-- +an old tweed coat and was carrying wood. She wore no hat and her +hair was glossy with rain. . . . People take such silly risks--And +where was Li Ho? Why wasn't he carrying the wood? Not that the wood +seemed to bother Desire in the least. + +The captive on the sofa sighed. It was no use trying to hide from +himself his longing to be out there with her in that heavenly +Spring-pierced air, revelling in its bloomy wetness; strong and fit +in muscle and nerve, carrying wood, getting his head soaked, doing +all the foolish things which youth does with impunity and careless +joy. The new restlessness, which he had come so far to quiet, broke +over him in miserable, taunting waves. + +Why was he here on the sofa instead of out there in the rain? The +war? But he was too inherently honest to blame the war. It was, +perhaps, responsible for the present state of his sciatic nerve but +not for the selling of his birthright of sturdy youth. The causes of +that lay far behind the war. Had he not refused himself to youth +when youth had called? Had he not shut himself behind study doors +while Spring crept in at the window? The war had come and dragged +him out. Across his quiet, ordered path its red trail had stretched +and to go forward it had been necessary to go through. The Spences +always went through. But Nature, every inch a woman, had made him +pay for scorning her. She had killed no fatted calf for her +prodigal. + +So here he was, at thirty-five, envying a girl who could carry wood +without weariness. The envy had become acute irritation by the time +the wood was stacked and the wood-carrier brought her shining hair +and rain-tinted cheeks into the living-room. + +"Leg bad again?" asked Desire casually. + +"No--temper." + +"It's time for tea. I'll see about it." + +"You'll take your wet things off first. You must be wet through. Do +you want to come down with pneumonia?" + + The girl's eyebrows lifted. "That's silly," she said. And indeed +the remark was absurd enough addressed to one on whom the wonder and +mystery of budding life rested so visibly. "I'm not wet at all," she +went on. "Only my coat." She slipped out of the old tweed ulster, +scattering bright drops about the room. "And my hair," she added as +if by an afterthought. "I'll dry it presently. But I don't wonder +you're cross. The fire is almost out. We'll have something to eat +when the kettle boils. Father's gone up trail. He probably won't be +back." For an instant she stood with a considering air as if +intending to add something. Then turned and went into the kitchen +without doing it. She came back with a handful of pine-knots with +which she deftly mended the fire. + +The professor moved restlessly. + +"I'll be around soon now," he said, "and then you shan't do that." + +"Shan't do what?" + +"Carry wood." + +"That's funny." Desire placed a crackling pine-knot on the apex of +her pyramid and sat back on her heels to watch it blaze. Her tone +was ruminative. "There's no real sense in that, you know. Why +shouldn't I carry wood when I am perfectly able to do it? Your +objection is purely an acquired one--a manifestation of the herd +instinct." + +There was a slight pause. Professor Spence was wondering if he had +really heard this. + +"W--what was that you said?" he asked cautiously. + +Desire laughed. He had observed with wonder, amounting almost to +awe, that she never giggled. + +"Score one for me!" She turned grey, mirthful eyes on his. Amn't I +learned? I read it in an article in an old Sociological Review--a +copy left here by a man whom father--well, we needn't bother about +that part of it. But the article was wonderful. I can't remember who +wrote it." + +"Trotter, perhaps,--yes, it would be Trotter," murmured the +professor. + +Desire swung round upon her heels, regarding him a trifle wistfully. + +"I should like to know all that you know," she said. "All the +strange things inside our minds." + +"Would you? But if you knew what I know you would only know that you +knew nothing at all." + +"Yes, it's all very well to say that," shrewdly, "but you don't mean +it. Besides, even if you don't know anything, you have glimpses of +all sorts of wonderful things which might be known. You can go on, +and it's the going on that matters." + +"But I can't carry wood." + +A little smile curled the corners of Desire's lips. He did not see +it because she had turned to the fire again and, with that +deliberate unself-consciousness which characterized her, was +proceeding to unpin and dry her hair. Spence had not seen it undone +before and was astonished at its length and lustre. The girl shook +it as a young colt shakes its mane, spreading it out to the blaze +upon her hands. + +"I know what you mean, though," admitted Spence, "there is nothing +like the fascination of the unknown. It very nearly did for me." + +Desire looked up long enough to allow her slanting brows to ask +their eternal question. + +"Too much inside, not enough outside," he answered. "I ought to have +made myself a man first and a student afterward. Then I might have +been out in the rain you." + + She considered this, as she considered most things, gravely. Then +met it in her downright way. + +"There's nothing very wrong with you, is there? Nothing but what can +be put right." + +"No." + +"Well then, you can begin again. And begin properly." + +"I am thirty-five." + +"In that case you have no time to waste." + +It was a thoroughly sensible remark. But somehow the professor did +not like it. After all, thirty-five is not so terribly old. He +decided to change the subject. But there was no immediate hurry. It +was pleasant to lie there in the firelight watching this enigma of +girl-hood dry her hair. Perhaps she would notice his silence and ask +him what he was thinking about. + +"You really ought to offer me a penny for my thoughts," he observed +plaintively. + +"Oh, were you thinking? So was I." + +"I'll give you a penny for yours!" + +Desire shook her head. + +"No? Then I'll give you mine for nothing. I was thinking what a pity +it is that you are only an amateur nurse." + +"I hate nursing." + +"How unwomanly! Lots of women hate it--but few admit it. However, it +wasn't a nurse's duties I was thinking of, but a patient's +privileges. You see, if you were a professional nurse I could call +you 'Nurse Desire.'" + +"Do you mean that you want to call me by my first name?" + +"Since you put it more bluntly than I should dare to,--yes. It is a +charming name. But perhaps--" + +"Oh, you may use it if you like," said the owner of the name +indifferently. "It sounds more natural. I am not accustomed to 'Miss +Fair.'" + +This ought to have been satisfactory. But it wasn't. And after he +had led up to it so tactfully, too! Not for the first time did it +occur to our psychologist that tact was wasted upon this downright +young person. He decided not to be tactful any longer. + +"I'm getting well so rapidly," he said, "that I shall have to admit +it soon." + +The girl nodded. + +"Are you glad?" + +"Of course I am glad." + +"I shall walk with a cane almost in no time. And when I can walk, I +shall have to go away." + +"Yes." There was no hesitation in her prompt agreement. Neither did +she add any polite regrets. The professor felt unduly irritated. He +had never become used to her ungirlish taciturnity. It always +excited him. The women he had known, especially the younger women, +had all been chatterers. They had talked and he had not listened. +This girl said little and her silences seemed to clamour in his +ears. Well, she would have to answer this time. + +"Do you want me to go?" he asked plainly. + +"I don't want you to go." Her tone was thoughtful. "But I know you +can't stay. One has to accept things." + +"One doesn't. One can make things happen." + +"How?" + +"By willing." + +"Do you honestly believe that?" He was astonished at the depth of +mockery in her tone. + +"I certainly do believe it. I'll prove it if you like." + +"How?" + +"By staying." + +Again she was silent. + +He went on eagerly. "Why shouldn't I stay--for a time at least? I +have plenty of work to go on with. Indeed it was with the definite +intention of doing this work that I came. If you want me, I'll stay +right enough. The bargain that was made with your father was a +straight, fair business arrangement. I have no scruples about +requiring him to carry out his part of it The trouble was that it +seemed as if insistence would be unfair to you. But if you and I can +arrange that--if you will agree to let me do what I can to help, +chores, you know, carrying wood and so on, then I should not need to +feel myself a burden." + +"You have not been a burden." + +"Thanks. You have been extraordinarily kind. As for the rest of it-- +I mentioned the matter to Dr. Farr this morning." + +She was interested now. He could see her eyes, intent, through the +falling shadow of her hair. + +"I reminded him that he had offered me the services of a secretary +and explained that I was ready to avail myself of his offer." + +"And what did he say to that?" + +"Well--er--we agreed to leave the decision to you." + +"Was that all?" + +"Practically all." + +"Practically, but not quite. You quarreled, didn't you? Frankly, I +do not understand father's attitude but I know what his attitude is. +He does not want you here. Neither you nor anyone else. The +secretarial work you offer would be--I can't tell you exactly what +it would be to me. It would teach me something--and I am so hungry +to know! But he will find some way to make it impossible. You will +have to go." + +"Nonsense! He cannot go back on his agreement." + +"You mean he has accepted money? That," bitterly, "means nothing to +him." + +"Nevertheless it gives me ground to stand on. And you, too. You have +done secretarial work before?" + +"Yes. I have certain qualifications. At intervals I have tried to +make myself independent. Several times I have secured office +positions in Vancouver. But father has always made the holding of +them impossible." + +"How?" + +"I would rather not go into it." There was weary disgust in her +voice. + +"But what reason does he give?" + +"That his daughter's place is in her father's house--funny, isn't +it?" + +"You do not think that affection has anything to do with it?" + +"Not even remotely. Whatever his reason may be for keeping me with +him, it is not that. Affection is something of which one knows by +instinct, don't you think? Even Li Ho--I know instinctively that Li +Ho is fond of me. I am absolutely certain that my father is not." + +"It is no life for a young girl." + +"It has been my life." + +The professor felt uncomfortable. There was that in her tone which +forbade all comment. She had given him this tiny glimpse and quite +evidently intended to give no more. But Spence, upon occasion, could +be a persistent man. + +"Miss Desire," he said gravely, "do you absolutely decline my +friendship?" If she wanted directness, she was getting it now. + +"How can I do otherwise?" Her face was turned from him and her low +voice was muffled by her hair. But for the first time she had cast +away her guard of light indifference. "Friendship is impossible for +me. I thought you would see--and go away. Nothing that you can do +would be any real help. I have tried before to free myself. But I +could not. Nor, in the little flights of freedom which I had, did I +find anything that I wanted. I am as well here as anywhere. Unless-- +" + +She was silent, looking into the fire. + +"Unless I were really free," she added softly. + +He could not see her face. But she looked very young sitting there +with her unbound hair and hands clasped childishly about her knees. + +"You have wondered about me--in a psychological way--ever since you +came." She went on, her voice taking on a harsher note. "You have +been trying to 'place' me. Well, since you are curious I will tell +you what I am. When I was younger and we lived in towns I used to +wander off by myself down the main streets to gaze in the windows. I +never went into any of the stores. The things I wanted were inside +and for sale--but I could not buy them. I was just a window-gazer. +That's what I am still. Life is for sale somewhere. But I cannot buy +it." + +The throb of her voice was like the beating of caged wings through +the quiet room. + +"But--" began Spence, and then he paused. It wasn't at all easy to +know what to say. "You are mistaken," he went on finally. "Life +isn't for sale anywhere. Life is inside, not outside. And no one +ever really wants the things they see in other people's windows." + +"I do," said Desire coldly. + +She was certainty very young! Spence felt suddenly indulgent. + +"What, then--for instance?" he asked. + +The girl shook back her hair and arose. + +"Freedom, money, leisure, books, travel, people!" + +"I thought you were going to leave out people altogether," said +Spence, whimsically. "But otherwise your wants are fairly +comprehensive. You have neglected only two important things--health +and love." + +"I have health--and I don't want love." + +"Not yet--of course--" began the professor, still fatherly +indulgent. But she turned on him with a white face. + +"Never!" she said. "That one thing I envy no one. You are wondering +why I have never considered marriage as a possible way out? Well, it +isn't a possible way--for me. Marriage is a hideous thing--hideous!" + +She wasn't young now, that was certain. It was no child who stood +there with a face of sick distaste. The professor's mood of +indulgent maturity melted into dismay before the half-seen horror in +her eyes. + +But the moment of revelation passed as quickly as it had come. The +girl's face settled again into its grave placidity. + +"I'll get the tea," she said. "The kettle will be boiling dry." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +In the form of a letter from Professor Spence to his friend, Dr. +John Rogers. + +No letter yet from you, Bones; Bainbridge must be having the +measles. Or perhaps I am not allowing for the fact that it takes +almost a fortnight to go and come across this little bit of Empire. +Also Li Ho hasn't been across the Inlet for a week. He says +"Tillicum too muchy hole. Li Ho long time patch um." + +On still days, I can hear him doing it. Perhaps my hostess is right +and we are not so far away from the beach as I fancied on the night +of my arrival. I'll test this detail, and many others, soon. For +today I am sitting up. I'm sure I could walk a little, if I were to +try. But I am not in a hurry. Hurry is a vice of youth. + +And I am actually getting some work done. Bones, old thing, I have +made a discovery for the lack of which many famous men have died too +soon. I have discovered the perfect secretary! + +These blank lines represent all the things which I might say but +which, with great moral effort, I suppress. I know what a frightful +bore is the man who insists upon talking about a new discovery. +Therefore I shall not indulge my natural inclination to tell you +just how perfect this secretary is. I shall merely note that she is +quick, accurate, silent, interested, appreciative, intelligent to a +remarkable degree--Good Heavens! I'm doing it! I blush now when I +remember that I engaged Miss Farr's services in the first place from +motives of philanthropy. Is it possible that I was ever fatuous +enough to believe that I was the party who conferred the benefit? If +so, I very soon discovered my mistake. In justice to myself I must +state that I saw at once what a treasure I had come upon. You +remember what a quick, sure judgment my father had? Somehow I seem +to be getting more like him all the time. The moment any proposition +takes on a purely business aspect, I become, as it were, pure +intellect. I see the exact value, business value, of the thing. Aunt +Caroline never agrees with me in this. She insists upon referring to +that oil property at Green Lake and that little matter of South +American Mines. But those mistakes were trifles. Any man might have +made them. + +In this case, where I am right on the spot, there can be no +possibility of a mistake. I see with my own eyes. Miss Farr is a +dream of secretarial efficiency. She combines, with ease, those +widely differing qualities which are so difficult to come by in a +single individual. It is inspiring to work with her. I find that her +co-operation actually stimulates creative thought. My notes are +expanding at a most satisfactory rate. My introductory chapter +already assumes form. And--by Jove! I seem to be doing it again. + +But one simply does not make these discoveries every day. + +The other aspects of the situation here, the non-business aspects, +are not so satisfactory. The menage is certainly peculiar. I had +what amounted to a bloodless duel with mine host the other day. +Perhaps I was not as tactful as I might have been. But he is an +irritating person. One of those people who seem to file your nerves. +In fact there is something almost upsetting' about that mild old +scoundrel. He gives me what the Scots call a "scunner." (You have to +hear a true Scot pronounce it before you get its inner meaning.) And +when, that day, he began talking about his daughter's future being +her father's care, I said--I forget exactly what I said but he +seemed to get the idea all right. It annoyed him. We were both +annoyed. He did not put his feelings into words. He put them into +his eyes instead. And horrid, nasty feelings they were. Quite +murderous. + +The duel was interrupted by Li Ho. Li Ho never listens but he always +hears. Seems to have some quieting influence over his "honorable +Boss," too. + +But I wish you could have seen the old fellow's eyes, Bones. I think +they might have told some tale to a medical mind. Normally, his eyes +are blurry like the rest of his fatherly face. And their color, I +think, is blue. But just then they looked like no eyes I have ever +seen. A cold light on burnished steel is the only simile I can think +of--perfect hardness, perfect coldness, lustre without depth! The +description is poor, but you may get the idea better if I describe +the effect of the look rather than the look itself. The warm spot in +my heart froze. And it takes something fairly eerie to freeze the +heart at its core. + +From this, as a budding psychologist, I draw a conclusion--there was +something abnormal, something not quite human in that flashing look. +The conclusion seems somewhat strained now. But at the time I was +undoubtedly glad to see Li Ho. Li Ho may be a Chink, but he is +human. + +You may gather that our "battle of the Glances" did not smooth my +pillow here. If the old chap didn't want me to stay before, he is +even less anxious for my company now. But I am going to stay. Aunt +Caroline would call this stubbornness. But of course it isn't. It is +merely a certain strength of character and a business determination +to carry out a business bargain. Dr. Farr allowed me to engage board +here and to pay for it. I am under no obligation to take cognizance +of his deeper feelings. + +The only feelings which concern me in this matter are the feelings +of his daughter. If my staying were to prove a burden for her I +could not, of course, stay. But I see many ways in which I may be +helpful, and I know that she needs and wants the secretarial work +which I have given her. Usually she holds her head high and one +isn't even allowed to guess. But one does guess. Her meagre ration +of life is plain beyond all artifice of pride. + +John, she interests me intensely. She is a strange child. She is a +strange woman. For both child and woman she seems to be, in +fascinating combination. But, lest you should mistake me, good old +bone-head, let me make it plain that there is absolutely no danger +of my falling in love with her. My interest is not that kind of +interest. I am far too hard headed to be susceptible. I can +appreciate the tragedy of a charming girl placed in such unsavory +environment, and feel impelled to seek some way of escape for her +without being for one moment disturbed by that unreasoning madness +called love. Every student of psychology understands the nature and +the danger of loving. 'Every sensible student profits by what he +understands. You and I have had this out before and you know my +unalterable determination never to allow myself to become the slave +of those primitive and passing instincts. Nature, the old hussy, is +welcome to the use of man as a tool for her own purposes. But there +are enough tools without me. The race will not perish because I +intend to remain my own man. But I shall have to evolve some way of +helping Miss Farr. She cannot be left here under these conditions. + +I am writing to Aunt Caroline, briefly, that I am immersed in study +and that my return is indefinite. Don't, for heaven's sake, let her +suspect that I have employed Miss Farr as secretary. You know Aunt +Caroline's failing. Do be discreet! + +Yours, + +B. H. S. + +P.S.: Any arrangement I may find it necessary to propose in Miss +Farr's case will be based on business, not sentiment. B. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Desire was seated upon a moss-covered rock, hugging her knees and +gazing out to sea. It was her favorite attitude and, according to +Professor Spence, a very dangerous one, especially in connection +with a moss-covered rock. He would have liked to point out this +obvious fact but that would have been fussy--and fussy the professor +was firmly determined not to be. Aunt Caroline was fussy. The best +he could do was to select another rock, not so slippery, and to +provide an object lesson as to the proper way of sitting upon it. +Unfortunately, Desire was not looking. They had come a little way +"up trail"--at least Desire had said it was a little way, and her +companion was too proud of his recovered powers of locomotion to +express unkind doubt of the adjective. There had been no rainy days +for a week. The air was sun-soaked, and salt-soaked, and somewhere +there was a wind. But not here. Here some high rock angle shut it +out and left them to the drowsy calm of wakening Summer. Below them +lay the blue-green gulf, white-flecked and gently heaving; above +them bent a sky which only Italy could rival--and if Miss Farr with +her hands clasped round her knees were to move ever so little, +either way, there was nothing to prevent her from falling off the +face of the mountain. The professor tried not to let this reflection +spoil his enjoyment of the view. He reminded him-self that she was +probably much safer than she looked. And he remembered Aunt +Caroline. Still-- + +"Don't you think you might sit a little farther back?" he suggested +carelessly. + +"Why?" + +"I can't talk to the back of your head." + +"Talk!" dreamily, "do you really have to talk?" + +Naturally the professor was silent. + +"That's rude, I suppose," said Desire, suddenly swinging round (a +feat which brought Spence's heart into his mouth). "I don't seem to +acquire the social graces very rapidly, do I?" + +"I thought," the professor's tone was somewhat stiff, "that we came +up here for the express purpose of talking." + +"Y-es. You did express some such purpose. But--must we? It won't do +any good, you know." + +"I don't know. And it will do good. One can't get anywhere without +proper discussion." + +The girl sighed. "Very well--let's discuss. You begin." + +"My month," said Spence firmly, "is almost up. I shall have to move +along on Friday." + +"On Friday?" If he had intended to startle her, he had certainly +succeeded. "Was--was the arrangement only for a month?" she asked in +a lowered voice. + +"The arrangement was to continue for as long as I wished. But only +one month's payment was made in advance. With Friday, Dr. Farr's +obligation toward me ends. He is not likely to extend it." + +She sat so still that he forgot how slippery the moss was and +thought only of the growing shadow on her face. + +"But, the work!" she murmured. "We are only just beginning. I wish-- +oh, I shall miss it dreadfully." + +"'It,'" said Spence, "is not a personal pronoun." + +"I shall miss you, too, of course." + +"Well, be careful not to overemphasize it." + +Her grey eyes looked frankly and straightly into his. Their clear +depths held a rueful smile. "You are conceited enough already," she +said, "but if it will make you feel any better, I don't mind +admitting that I shall miss you far, far more than you deserve." + +"Spoken like a lady!" said Spence warmly. "And now let us consider +my side of it. After the month that I have spent here--do you really +think that I intend to go away--like that?" + +"There is only one way of going, isn't there?" + +"Not at all. There are various ways. Ways which are quite, quite +different." + +"You have thought of some other--some quite different way?" + +"Yes. But I daren't tell it to you while you sit on that slippery +rock. It is a somewhat startling way and you might--er--manifest +emotion. I should prefer to have you manifest it in a less dangerous +place." + +Desire's very young laugh rippled out. "Fussy!" she said. But +nevertheless she climbed down and sat demurely upon stones in the +hollow. There was an unfamiliar light in her waiting eyes, the light +of interest and of hope. + +Spence, rather to his consternation, realized that it was up to him +to justify that hope. And he wasn't at all sure . . . however, he +had to go through with it, . . . There was a fighting chance, +anyway. + +"Let's think about the work for a moment," he began nervously. "That +work, my book, you know, is simply going all to pot if you can't +keep on with it. You can see yourself what it means to have a +competent secretary. And you like the work. You've just admitted +that you like it." + +He saw the light begin to fade from her eyes. She shook her head. + +"If you are going to suggest that I go with you as your secretary," +she said with her old bluntness, "it is useless. I have tried that +way out. I won't try it again." Her lips grew stern and her eyes +dark with some too bitter memory. + +"I honestly don't see what Dr. Farr could do," said Spence +tentatively. + +"You would," said Dr. Farr's daughter with decision. + +"And anyway," proceeding hastily, "that wasn't what I was thinking +of. I knew that you would refuse to go as my secretary. I ask you to +go as my wife." + +Desire rose. + +"Is this where I am expected to manifest emotion?" she asked dryly. + +"Yes. And you're doing it! I knew you would. .Women are utterly +unreasoning. You won't even listen to what I have to say." + +The girl moved slowly away. + +"And I can't get up without help," he added querulously. + +Desire stopped. "You can," she said. + +"I can't. Not after that dreadful climb." + +"Then I shall wait until you are ready. But we do not need to +continue this conversation." + +The professor sighed. "This," he said, "is what comes of taking a +woman at her word." + +"What?" + +"I might have known," he went on guilefully, "that you didn't really +mean it. No young girl would." + +"Mean what?" + +"That you had no room in your scheme of things for ordinary +marriage. Of course you were talking nonsense. I beg your pardon." + +"Will you kindly explain what you mean!" + +"I will if you will sit down so that I may talk to you on my own +level. You see, your determination not to marry struck me very much +at the time because it voiced my own--er--determination also. I said +to myself, 'Here are two people sufficiently original to wish to +escape the common lot.' I thought about it a great deal. And then an +idea came. It was, I admit, the inspiration of a moment. But it +grew. It certainly grew." + +Desire sat down again and folded her hands over her knees. + +"I will listen." + +"It is very simple," he hastened to explain. "Simplicity is, I +think, the keynote of all true inspiration. An idea comes, and we +are filled with amazement that we have so long ignored the obvious. +Take our case. Here are we two, strongly of one mind and wanting the +same thing. A perfectly feasible way of getting that thing occurs to +me. Yet when I suggest this way you jump up and rush away." + +"I haven't rushed yet." + +"No. But you were going to. And all because you cannot be logical. +No woman can." + +His listener brushed this away with a gesture of impatience. + +"I can prove it," went on the wily one. "You object to marriage, yet +you covet the freedom marriage gives. Now what is the logical result +of that? The logical result is fear--fear that some day you may want +freedom so badly that you will marry in order to get it." + +"It is not--I won't." + +"I knew you would not admit it. But it is true all the same. The +other night when you said 'marriage is hideous,' I saw fear in your +eyes. There is fear in your eyes now." + +The girl dropped her eyes and raised them again instantly. Her +slanting eyebrows frowned. + +"Nevertheless," she said, "I shall not marry." + +"But you will, as an honest person, admit the other part of the +proposition--that you want something at least of what marriage can +give?" + +"Yes." + +"Well then--that states your case. Now let me state mine. I, too, +have an insuperable objection to marriage. My--er--disinclination is +probably more soundly based than yours, since it is built upon a +wider view of life. But I, too, want certain things which marriage +might bring. I want a home. Not too homey a home, in the strictly +domestic sense (Aunt Caroline is strictly domestic) but a--a +congenial home. I want the advice and help of a clever woman +together with the sense of permanence and security which, in our +imperfect state of civilization, is made possible only by marriage. +And I, too, have my secret fear. I am afraid that some day I may be +driven--in short, I am afraid of Aunt Caroline." + +Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. + +"A man--afraid of his aunt?" + +"Yes," gloomily, "it is men who are afraid of aunts. It is not at +all funny," he added as her eyes relaxed, "if you knew Aunt Caroline +you wouldn't think so. She is determined to have me married and she +has a long life of successful effort behind her. One failure is +nothing to an aunt. She is always quite certain that the next +venture will turn out well. And it usually does. In brief, I am +thirty-five and I go in terror of the unknown. If I do not marry +soon to please myself, I shall end by marrying to please someone +else. Do you follow me?" + +"Make it plainer," ordered Desire soberly. "Make it absolutely +plain." + +"I will. My proposition is, in its truest and strictest sense, a +marriage of convenience. Marriage, it appears, can give us both what +we want, a formal ceremony will legalize your position as my +secretary and free you entirely from the interference of your +father. It will permit you to accept freely my protection and +everything else which I have. Your way will be open to the things +you spoke of the other night, freedom, leisure, money, travel, +books. The only thing we are shutting out is the thing you say you +have no use for--love. But perhaps you did not mean--" + +"I did." + +"Then, logically, my proposal is sound." + +"Am I to take all these things, and give nothing?" + +"Not at all. You give me the things I want most, freedom, security, +the grace of companionship, and collaboration in my work, so long as +your interest in it continues. I will be a safely married man and +you--you will be a window-gazer no longer. There is only one point"- +-the speaker's gaze turned from her and wandered out to sea--"I can +be sure of what I can bring into your life," his voice was almost +stern, "but I warn you to be very sure of what you will be shutting +out." + +"You mean?" + +"Children," said Spence crisply. + +"I do not care for children." + +The professor's soberness vanished. "Oh--what a whopper!" he +exclaimed. + +"I mean, I do not want children of my own." + +"But supposing you were to develop a desire for them later on?" + +She nodded thoughtfully. + +"I might," she acknowledged. "But in my case it would be merely the +outcropping of a feminine instinct, easily suppressed. I am not at +all afraid of it. Look at all the women who are perfectly happy +without children." + +"Hum!" said the professor. "I am looking at them. But I find them +unconvincing. There are a few, however, of whom what you say is +true. You may be one of them. How about Sami?" + +"Sami? Oh, Sami is different. He is more like a mountain imp than a +child. I don't think Sami would seem real anywhere but here. If +anyone were to try to transplant him he might vanish altogether. +Poor little chap--how terribly he would miss me!" finished Desire +artlessly. + +She had accepted the possibility, then! Spence's heart gave a leap +and was promptly reproved for leaping. This was not, he reminded +himself, an affair of the heart at all. It was a coldly-thought-out, +hard-headed business proposition. Such a proposition as his father's +son might fittingly conceive. The thing to do now was to stride on +briskly and avoid sentiment. + +"Then as we seem to agree upon the essentials," he said, "there +remains only one concrete difficulty, your father. He would object +to marriage as to other things, I suppose?" + +"Yes, but we should have to ignore that." + +"You wouldn't mind?" somewhat doubtfully. + +"No. I have always known that a break would come some day. It isn't +as if he really cared. Or as if I cared. I don't. If I should decide +that there is an honest chance for freedom, a chance which I can +take and keep my self-respect, I am conscious of no duty that need +restrain me." + +Spence said nothing, and after a moment she went on. + +"Why should I pretend--as he pretends? I loath it! Day after day, +even when there is no one to see, he keeps up that horrible +semblance of affection. And all the time he hates me. I see it in +his eyes. And once or twice--" She hesitated and then went rapidly +on without finishing her sentence. "There is some reason why it is +to his advantage to keep me with him. But it imposes no obligation +upon me. I do not even know what it is." + +"Perhaps Li Ho may know?" + +"Li Ho does know. Li Ho knows everything. But when I asked him he +said, 'Honorable boss much lonely--heap scared of devil maybe.' Li +Ho always refers to devils when he doesn't wish to tell anything." + +"I've noticed that. He's a queer devil himself. Would he stay on, do +you think?" + +"Yes. And that's odd, too. In some way Li Ho is father's man. It's +as if he owned him. There must be a story which explains it. But no +one will ever hear it. Li Ho keeps his secrets." + +Spence nodded. "Yes. Li Ho and his kind are the product of forces we +only guess at. I asked a man who had spent twenty years in China if +he had learned to understand the Oriental mind. He said he had +learned more than that, he had learned that the Oriental mind is +beyond understanding. But--aren't we getting away from our subject? +Let's begin all over again. Miss Farr, I have the honor to ask your +hand in marriage." + +She was silent for so long a time that the professor had opportunity +to think of many things. And, as he thought, his heart went down-- +and down. She would refuse. He knew it. The clean edge of her mind +would cut through all his tangle of words right to the core of the +real issue, And the core of the real issue was not as sound as it +would need to be to satisfy her demands. For in that core still lay +a possibility, the possibility of love. He had not eliminated love. +Many a man has loved after thirty-five. Many a girl who has sworn-- +but no, she would not admit this possibility in her own case. It was +only in his case that she would recognize it. She would see the weak +spot there.... She would refuse. He could feel refusal gathering in +her heart. And his own heart beat hotly in his throat. For if this +failed, what other way was left? Yet to go and leave her here, alone +in that rotting cottage on the hill. . .. the prey of any ghastly +fate.... no, it couldn't be done. He must convince her. He must. + +"My friend," said Desire (he loved her odd, old-fashioned way of +calling him "my friend"), "I admit that you have tempted me. But--I +can't. It wouldn't be fair. It is easy to feel sure for one's self +but it's another thing to be sure for others. A marriage of that +kind would not satisfy you. You say your outlook is wider than mine +and of course it is. But I have seen more than you think. Even men +who are tremendously interested in their work, like you, want--other +things. They want what they call love, even if to them it always +sinks to second place, if indeed it means nothing more than +distraction. And love would mean more than that to you. I have an +instinct which tells me that, in your case, love will come. You must +be free to take it." + +It was final. He felt its finality, and more than ever he swore that +it should not be so. There must be an argument somewhere--wait! + +"Supposing," said Spence haltingly, "Supposing.... supposing I am +not free now? Supposing love has come--and gone?" + +He was not a good liar. But his very ineptitude helped him here. It +tangled the words on his tongue, it brought a convincing dew upon +his forehead. "I'd rather not talk about it," he finished. "But you +see what I mean." + +"Yes. I hadn't thought of that. It might make a difference. I should +want to be very sure. If there were any chance--" + +"There is no chance. Positively none. That experience, which you say +you feel was a necessary experience in my case, is over and done +with. It cannot recur. I am not the man to--to--" he was really +unable to go on. But she finished it for him. + +"To love twice," said Desire, looking out over the sea. "Yes I can +understand that--what did you say?" + +"I think I may be able to walk now," said the professor. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +With the recovery of a leg sufficiently workable in the matter of +climbing stairs, Dr. Farr's boarder had resigned the family couch in +the sitting-room and had retired to his spartan chamber under the +eaves. From its open window that night he watched the moon. Let +nothing happen to the universe in the meantime, and there would be a +full moon on Friday night. The professor hoped that nothing would +happen. + +She had not exactly said "Yes" yet. He must not forget that. But it +could do no harm to feel reasonably sure that she was going to. He +did not conceal from himself that he had brought things off +remarkably well. That last argument of his had been a masterpiece of +strategy. There were other, shorter, words which might have +described it. But they were not such pleasant words. And when a +thing is necessary it is just as well to be pleasant about it. No +harm had been done. Quite the opposite. Desire's one valid objection +had been neatly and effectually disposed of. And now the matter +could be dropped. It would be forgotten. . . . What did it amount to +in any case? Other men lied every day saying they had never loved. +He had lied only once in saying that he had.... At the same time it +might be very embarrassing to.... yes, certainly, the matter must be +dropped! + +They would, he supposed, find it necessary to elope.... No sense in +looking for trouble! The old gentleman had been odder than ever the +last day or so. He had ceased even to pretend that his guest's +presence was anything but an annoyance. He had refused utterly to +enter into any connected conversation and had been restless and +erratic to a degree. "Too muchy moon-devil," according to Li Ho. +That very afternoon he had met them coming down from their talk upon +the rocks and the ironic courtesy of his greeting had been little +less than baleful. At supper he had remarked sentimentally upon the +flight of time, referring to the nearness of Friday in a way +eminently calculated to speed the parting guest. + +Friday, at latest, then? If they were to go they would go on +Friday.--Friday and the full moon. + +In the meantime he felt no desire for sleep. The moon, perhaps? +Certainly there is nothing in the mere business-like prospect of +engaging a permanent secretary to cause insomnia. The professor +supposed it was simply his state of health in general. It might be a +good idea to drop a line to his medical man. He had promised to +report symptoms. Besides, it was only fair to prepare John. The +candle was burnt out, but the moon would do--pad on knee, he began +to write. . . . + +"Beloved Bones--I am writing in the hope that the thought of you may +cause cerebral exhaustion. I find the moon too stimulating. +Otherwise I rejoice to report myself recovered. I can walk. I can +climb hills. I can un-climb hills, which is much worse, and I eat so +much that I'm ashamed to look my board money in the face. You might +gently prepare Aunt Caroline by some mention of an improved +appetite. + +I had a letter from Aunt Caroline yesterday. That is to say, three +letters. When you included (by request) "positively no letter +writing" in my holiday menu, you did not make it plain who it was +that was positively not to write. So, although she tells me sadly +that she expects no answers, Aunt Caroline positively does. I may +say at once that I know all the news. + +On the other hand, there is some news which Aunt Caroline does not +know. Owing to your embargo on letters, I have not been able to +inform my Aunt of the progress of my book, nor of my discovery of +the perfect secretary. I have not, in short, been able to tell her +anything. + +So you will have to do it for me. + +But first, as man to man, I want to ask you a question. Having +found, by an extraordinary turn of luck, the perfect secretary, +would you consider me sane if I let her go? Of course you would not. +I asked myself the same question yesterday and received the same +answer. + +So I have asked her to marry me. + +I put it that way because I know you like to have things broken to +you. And now, having heard all your objections (oh, yes, I can hear +them. Distance is only an idea) I shall proceed to answer them.-- + +No. It is not unwise to marry a young girl whom I scarcely know. Why +man! That is part of the game. Think of the boredom of having to +live with some one you know? Someone in whose house of life you need +expect no odd corners, no unlooked for turnings, no steps up, or +down, no windows with a view? Only a madman would face such +monotony. + +No. It is not unfair to the other party. The other party has a mind +and is quite capable of making it up. She will not marry me unless +she jolly well wants to. Far more than most people, I think, she has +the gift of decision. Neither is it as if what I have to offer her +were not bona fide. Take me on my merits and I'm not a bad chap. My +life may have been tame but it has been clean. (Only don't tell Aunt +Caroline). I have a sufficiency of money. What I promise, I shall +perform. And as for ancestors--Well, I refer everyone to Aunt +Caroline for ancestors. If Miss Desire marries me she will receive +all that is in the bond and any little frills which I may be able to +slip in. (There will not be many frills, though, for my lady is +proud.) + +Yes. Aunt Caroline will make a fuss. I trust you will bear up under +it for my sake. I think it will be well for her to learn of my +marriage sufficiently long before our return to insure resignation, +at least, upon our arrival. After the storm the calm, and although, +with my dear Aunt, the calm is almost the more devastating, I trust +you will acquit yourself with fortitude. + +And now we come to the only valid objection, which you have, strong- +mindedly, left until the last--my prospective father-in-law! He is a +very objectionable old party, and I do not mind your saying so. But +one simply can't have everything. And Bainbridge is a long way from +Vancouver. Also, as a husband I can take precedence, and, by George, +I'll do it! So you see your objection is really an extra inducement. +It is only by marrying the daughter of Dr. Farr that I can protect +Dr. Farr's daughter. + +Are you satisfied now? I don't know whether I mentioned it, but she +hasn't actually said "yes" yet. She had certain objections, or +rather a certain objection which I found it necessary to meet in a-- +a somewhat regrettable manner. I was compelled to adopt strategy. +She thought our proposed contract (we do things in a business +manner) might not be quite fair to me. She was ready to admit that I +was getting a good thing in secretaries but she feared that, later +on, I might wish to make a change. I had to meet this scruple +somehow and I seemed to know by instinct that she would not believe +me if I expounded those theories of love and marriage which you know +I so strongly hold. Pure reason would not appeal to her. So I had to +fall back upon sentiment. Instead of saying, "I shall never love. It +is impossible," I said, "I have loved. It is over." + +Sound tactics, don't you think? . . . Well I don't care what you +think! I have to get this girl safely placed somehow. + +We shall have to elope probably. Fancy, an elopement at thirty-five! +The father seems to consider her continued presence here as vital to +his interest, though why, neither of us can understand. Well, I'm +not exactly afraid of the old chap but it will certainly be easier +for her if there are no wild farewells. Therefore we shall probably +fold our tent like the Arabs and steal away as silently as the +"Tillicum" will allow. + +Li Ho will have to be told. He will know anyway, so we may as well +tell him. It appears that whatever may be the reasons for keeping a +young girl buried here, they do not extend to Li Ho. It will not be +the first time that his Chinese inscrutability has assisted at a +(temporary) departure. + +I shall let Aunt Caroline know as soon as the act is irrevocable and +shall inform you at the same time so that you may not be unprepared. +You realize, I suppose, that you will be accused of being accessory? +Didn't you tell me that a trip would do me good? + +We shall not come home for a few weeks. My secretary has spoken of +an old Indian whom she knows, a perfect mine of simon-pure folk- +lore. He lives some-where up the coast, about a day's journey, I +think. We may visit him. With her to interpret for me, I may get +some very valuable notes. I may add that we are both very keen on +notes. When we have done what can be done out here, we shall come +home. The fall and winter we shall spend upon the book. My secretary +will insist upon attending to business first. And then--well, then +she wants to go shopping. So we shall have to go where the good +shops are. + +What does she wish to buy? Oh, not much--just life, the assorted +kind. + +B. H. S. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +It was the day before Friday. Friday, so very near, seemed already +palpably present in the surcharged air of the cottage. No one +mentioned it, but that made its nearness more potent. At his usual +hour for dictation, Professor Spence had come out upon the narrow +veranda. But, although his secretary was there, pencil in hand, he +had not dictated. Instead he had sat contemplating Friday so long +that his secretary tapped her foot in impatience. + +"Are you really lazy?" she asked, "Or are you just pretending to +be?" + +"I am really lazy. All truly gifted people are. You know what Wilde +says, 'Real industry is simply the refuge of people who have nothing +to do.'" + +The prompt, "Who is Wilde?" of the secretary did not disconcert him. +He had discovered that her ignorance was as unusual as her +knowledge. + +"Who is Wilde? Oh, just a little bit of English literature. +Christian name of Oscar. You'll come across him when you go +shopping." + +A faint pucker appeared between the secretary's eye-brows. + +"You are coming shopping, aren't you?" asked Spence, faintly +stressing the verb. + +"I--want to." + +"That's settled then." + +The pucker grew more pronounced. The secretary resigned all hope of +dictation and laid down her pencil. + +"Tomorrow," reminded Spence gently, "is Friday." + +"Yes, I know. And if I go, do I--we--go tomorrow?" + +"It would be advisable." + +"The time doesn't matter," mused Desire. "But--do you mind if I +speak quite plainly?" + +"Not at all. You have hardened me to plain speaking." + +"I have been thinking over what you told me. It does make a +difference. I see that I need not be afraid of--of what I was afraid +of. It's as if--as if we had both had the measles." + +"You can take--" began Spence, but stopped him-self. It would never +do to remind her that one may take the measles twice. + +"Of course you won't believe it, not for a long time anyway," she +went on in the tone of an indulgent grand-mother, "but love is only +an episode. You are fortunate to be well over it." + +Spence sighed. He hadn't intended to sigh. It just happened. +Fortunately it was the correct thing. + +"I don't want to distress you," kindly, "but we were rather vague +the other night. I understood the main fact, but that is about all. +You didn't tell me what happened after." + +The professor's chair, which had been tilted negligently back, came +down with a thud. + +"After?" he murmured meekly. "After--?" + +"I mean," prompted Desire gently, "did she marry the other man?" + +"The other man? I--I don't know." The professor was willing to be +truthful while he could. But instantly he saw that it wouldn't do. + +"You--don't--know?" If ever incredulity breathed in any voice it +breathed in hers. It gave our weak-kneed liar the brace that he +needed. + +"No," he said sadly, "they were to have been married--I have never +heard." + +"Oh! Then, of course, she did not live in your home town." + +"Didn't she?" asked Spence, momentarily off guard. "Oh, I see what +you mean--no, naturally not." + +"I thought that perhaps you might have been boy and girl together," +dreamily. "It so often happens." + +"It does," said Spence. "But it didn't." + +"And is there no one--no friend, from whom you could naturally +inquire? You feel you wouldn't care to ask anyone?" + +"Ask? Good heavens, no--certainly not!" + +"Men are queer," said Desire naively. "A woman would just simply +have to ask." + +"She would." + +"You think me inquisitive?" Her quick brain had not missed the dry +implication of his tone. "But you see I had to know something. It's +all right, I'm sure. But it would have been so much--more +comfortable if she were quite married." + +(Oh course it would--why in thunder hadn't he thought of that? The +professor was much annoyed with himself.) + +"She is probably quite, utterly married long ago," he said gloomily. +"What possible difference can it make?" + +"None. Don't look so bitter! Perhaps I should not have asked +questions. I won't ask any more--except one. Would you mind very +much telling me her name?" + +Her name! + +The harassed man looked wildly around. But there was no escape. Not +even Sami was in sight. Only a jeering crow flapped black wings and +laughed discordantly. + +"Just her first name, you know," added Desire reasonably. + +"Oh yes--certainly. No, of course I don't mind. I am quite willing +to tell you her name. But--do you mean her real name or--or--the +name she was usually called?" The professor was sparring wildly for +time. + +"Wasn't she called by her real name?" + +"Well--er--not always." + +Desire's eyebrows became very slanting. "Any name will do," she said +coldly. + +The professor gathered himself together. "Her name," he said +triumphantly, "Was--is Mary." + +He had done well for himself this time! His questioner was plainly +satisfied with the name Mary. Perhaps lying gets easier as you go +on. He hoped so. + +"My mother's name was Mary," said Desire. "It is a lovely name." + +Spence felt very proud of himself. Not only had he produced a lovely +name in the space of three seconds and a half, but he had also +provided a not-to-be-missed opportunity of changing the subject. + +"I suppose you do not remember your mother," he said tentatively. + +"Oh yes, I do, although I was quite small when she died. Father says +I fancy some of the things I remember. Perhaps I do. I always dream +very vividly. And fact and dream are easily confused in a child's +mind. My most distinct memories are detached, like pictures, with- +out any before or after to explain them. There is one, for instance, +about waking up in the woods at night, wrapped in my mother's shawl +and seeing her face, all frightened and white, with the moon, like a +great, silver eye, shining through the trees. But I can't imagine +why my mother would be hiding in the woods at night." + +"Why hiding?" + +"There is a sense of hiding that comes with the memory--without +anything to account for it But, although I do not remember connected +incidents very well, I remember her--the feeling of having her with +me. And the terrible emptiness afterwards. If she had gone quite +away, all at once, I couldn't have borne it." + +"Do you mean that she had a long illness?" asked Spence, greatly +interested. + +"No. She died suddenly. It was just--you will call it silly +imagination--" she broke off uncertainly. + +"I might call it imagination without the adjective." + +"Yes. But it wasn't. It was real. The sense, I mean, that she hadn't +gone away. Nothing that wasn't real would have been of the slightest +use." + +"It all depends on how we define reality. What seems real at one +time may seem unreal at another." + +She nodded. + +"That is just what has happened. I am not sure, now. The sense of +nearness left me as I grew up. But at that time, I lived by it. Do +you find the idea absurd?" + +"Why should I? Our knowledge of our own consciousness is the +absurdity. All we know is that our normal waking consciousness is +only one special type. Around it lie potential forms of +consciousness entirely different, and quite as real. Sometimes we, +or it, or they, break through. I am paraphrasing James. Do you know +James?" + +"I have read 'Daisy Miller.'" + +"This James was the Daisy Miller man's brother." + +"Did he believe in the possibility of the dead helping the living?" + +"He believed in all kinds of possibilities. But I don't think he +considered that possibility proven." + +"It couldn't be proved, could it?" asked Desire thoughtfully. +"Experiences like that are so intensely individual. One cannot pass +them on." + +"Can you describe yours at all?" + +"Hardly. It was just a feeling of Presence. A sense of her being +there. It came at all sorts of times and in all sorts of places. We +lived in Vancouver when mother died. It was a much smaller town +then, not like the city you have seen. But after her death we moved +about a great deal, never staying very long anywhere, until we came +here. There were--experiences." Her eyes hardened. "But, as long as +I had that sense I am speaking of, I was safe. I used to have long +crying fits in the dark, a kind of blind terror of everything. And +after one of them it nearly always came. I never questioned it. +Never once did I ask myself, 'Is it mother?'. I just knew that it +was. There seemed nothing unusual about it." + +"Was there no one, no woman, to take care of you?" + +"There were--women." Desire's lips tightened into a thin red line. +"We did not travel alone. Once I remember terrifying a--a friend of +father's who was 'looking after' me. She heard me crying in my +little, dark room one night, and as soon as she could slip away, +came in. She was a kindly sort. But when she got there I was quite +content and happy--which surprised her much more than the crying had +done. She asked me what had 'shut me up,' and I said 'My mother is +here--go away.' She turned quite pasty-white and the candle shook so +that the hot grease fell upon my hands." + +"What a life for a child!" exclaimed Spence in sudden rage. "Desire +dear, you must come with me! I couldn't--couldn't leave you here. I- +-oh, dash it! I mean, it's so evident, isn't it, that we need each +other?" + +"You really and truly need me?" doubtfully. + +"Really and truly." + +"But if I come, you ought to know something of the life I have +lived. You must realize that I am not an innocent young girl." + +"Aren't you?" The professor found it difficult to say this with the +proper inflection. It did not sound as business-like as he could +have wished. But she was too much absorbed to notice. + +"No. I've seen things which young girls do not see. I have heard +things which are never whispered before them. No one cared +particularly what I saw or heard. When I was smaller there was +always someone--some 'housekeeper.' They were all kinds. None of +them ever stayed long. Looking back, it seems as if they passed like +lurid shadows. Only one of them seemed a real person. The others +were husks. Her name was Lily. She was very stout, her face was red +and her voice loud. But there was something real about Lily. And she +was fond of children. She liked me. She went out of her lazy way to +teach me wisdom--oh, yes, it was wisdom," in answer to Spence's +horrified exclamation, "hard, sordid wisdom, the only wisdom which +would have helped me through the back alleys of those days. I am +unspeakably grateful to Lily. She spared me much, and once she saved +me--I can't tell you about that," she finished simply. + +Spence bit his lip on a word to which the expression of his face +gave force and meaning. But Desire was not looking at him. + +"Do you see why I am different from other girls?" She asked gravely. + +The professor restrained himself. "I see that you are different," he +said. "I don't care why. But I'm glad that you have told me what you +have. It explains something that has bothered me--" he paused +seeking words. But she caught up his thought with lightning +intuition. + +"You mean it explains why marriage isn't beautiful to me, like it +may be to a sheltered girl? Yes. I wanted you to see that. It may be +holy, but it isn't holy to me. I want to live my life apart from all +that. To me it is smirched and sodden and hateful. And now, do you +still wish me to come and be your secretary?" + +"Now more than ever," said Spence. It was only the sealing of a +business transaction. But greatly to his annoyance he could not +entirely control a certain warmth and eagerness. + +Desire held out a frank hand. + +"Then I will marry you when you are ready," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +Being a delayed letter from Dr. John Rogers to his friend and +patient, Benis Hamilton Spence. + +DEAR Idiot: I knew you would get it--and you got it. Perhaps after +this you will learn to treat your sciatic nerve with proper respect. +But there is a worse complaint than sciatica. It lasts longer. +Certain symptoms of it are indicated in the things which your letter +leaves unsaid. Beans, old thing, you alarm me. + +Now here is a sporting offer. If you'll drop it and come home at +once I'll promise never to tell Aunt Caroline. Come the moment you +can put foot to the ground. And, until then, I recommend strict +seclusion and no nursing. Nursing might well be fatal. Stick to Li +Ho. He is your only chance. + +Your Aunt Caroline sends her love. (I told her I was writing you +directions for further treatment). She feels the deprivation of your +letters keenly. She can't see why the writing of a nice, chatty +letter to one's only living Aunt should prove an undue drain upon +nervous energy. Life has taught her not to expect consideration from +relatives, but it does seem hard that her only sister's boy should +treat her as if she were the scarlet fever. To allow himself to be +ordered away from home for a rest cure was certainly less than +courteous. To anyone not understanding the situation it would almost +imply that his home was not restful. And after all the trouble she +had taken even to the extent of strained relations with those +Macfarland people who own a rooster. If the slight had been aimed +entirely at herself she could have taken it silently, but when it +included the three or four charming girls whom she had asked to +visit (one at a time) for the purpose of providing pleasant company, +she felt obliged to protest. Although protest, she knew, was +useless. All this, however, she could have borne. The thing that she +could scarcely forgive was the slight offered to his native town by +a departure three days before the set date, thereby turning his +"going away" tea into a "gone away"--an action considered by all +(invited) Bainbridge as a personal insult. + +Pause here for breath. + +To continue. Your Aunt Caroline does not believe in rest cures +anyway. She thinks poultices are much more effective. It stands to +reason that if a thing is in, it ought to come out. Rest cures are +just laziness. But, thank goodness, she never expected anything from +the Spence family but laziness. And she had told her sister so +before she married into it. ... + +Allow an hour here for ancestral history with appropriate comment +and another hour for a brief review of your own conduct from youth +up and we come within measurable distance of a few words by me. I +took up the point of the four or five nice girls who had been +invited to visit. I put the whole thing down to shock and pointed +out that patience is required. A return to physical normality, I +said, would doubtless bring with it a reviving interest in the sex. +It was indeed very fortunate, I told her, that you were, at present, +indifferent. Any question of selecting a life partner in your +present nervous state would be most dangerous. Your power of +judgment, I pointed out, was temporarily jarred and out of gear. You +might marry anybody. The only safe, the only humane way, was to give +you time to recover yourself. + +"Power of judgment!" said Aunt Caroline. "Do you mean to tell me +that my sister's son is in danger of becoming an idiot?" + +I said not exactly an idiot. Yet your strong disinclination toward +marriage could certainly be traced to a shocked condition of the +nerves. Certain fixed ideas-- + +"Fixed ideas!" said your Aunt. She has a particularly annoying habit +of repeating one's words. "Benis has always had fixed ideas--though +when he was young," she added with satisfaction, "I knew how to +unfix them. If this absurd rest cure can do anything to cure chronic +stubbornness, I've nothing to say. Why, even his father was easier +to manage." + +"Benis," I said, "considers himself very like his father." + +"Does he?" retorted your dear Aunt with withering scorn. "He is just +as much like his father as a lemon is like a lobster." + +This ended our conversation. But the effect of it is still with me. +Last night I dreamed of lemons and today I prescribed lobster for a +man with acute dyspepsia. I tell you what, you old shirker, it's up +to you to come home and bear your own Aunt. I'm through. Bones. + +P.S. The office nurse has been changed since you left. I have now +Miss Watkins, returned from overseas. I think you knew her--name of +Mary? Very good looking--almost her only fault. + +P.P.S. What you say about your pleasant old gentle-man with the +umbrella sounds very much like masked epilepsy. Ought to be under +treatment. I should say dangerous. + +S.O.S. Aunt Caroline has just 'phoned to know whether all letter- +writing is barred or if not, wouldn't it be helpful if you were to +drop a line to a few of your young-friends? For herself she expects +nothing, but she does think, etc., etc., etc.! + +Come back! B. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Comprising a lengthy letter from, Benis Spence to John Rogers, M.D. + +DEAR and Venerable Bones: Your fatherly letter came too late. What +was going to happen has happened. But I will be honest and admit +that its earlier arrival would have made no difference. Calm +yourself with the thought that our fates are written upon our +foreheads. I have been able to read mine for some little time now. +For there are some things which are impossible and leaving Desire +here was one of them. + +I call her "Desire" to you because it is what you will be calling +her soon. Strange, how that small fact seems to place her' Fancy my +marrying someone whom you would naturally call "Mrs. Spence"? There +are such people. All Aunt Caroline's young friends are like that. +You would say, "I have looked forward to meeting you, Mrs. Spence," +and she would giggle and say, "Oh, Dr. Rogers, I have heard my +husband speak of you so often!" But Desire will say, "So this is +John." And then she will look at you with that detached yet +interested look and you will find yourself saying "Desire" before +you think of it. You see, she belongs. + +But before I bring you up to date with regard to recent events, I +had better tell you a few facts about my more remote past. I refer +to Mary. I have already told you that I found a past necessary. At +that time I hoped that something fairly abstract would do. But +Desire does not like abstractions. She likes to "know where she is." +So I had to tell her about Mary. I'll tell you, too, before I forget +details and for heaven's sake get them right! You never can tell +when your knowledge may be needed. In the first place there is the +name. I'm rather proud of that. I had to choose it at a moment's +notice and I did not hesitate. Desire herself says it is a lovely +name. And so safe--amn't I right in the impression that every second +girl in Bainbridge and elsewhere is called Mary? Mary, my Mary, +might be anybody. + +Here, then, are the main facts. I have had (pre-war) a serious +attachment. It was an affection tragically misplaced. She did not +love me. She loved another. She may, or may not, have married him. +(It would have been better to have had the marriage certain, but I +didn't see it in time.) I will never care for another woman. Her +name was Mary. Please tabulate this romance where you can put your +hand on it. I may need your help at any time. As a doctor your aid +would be invaluable should it become necessary for Mary to decease. + +And now to leave romance for reality. Your long and lucid discourse +on masked epilepsy was most helpful. It was almost as informing as +Li Ho's diagnosis of "moon-devil." Both have the merit of leaving +the inquirer with an open mind. However--let's get on. If you have +had my later letters you will know that circumstances indicated an +elopement. But the more I thought of eloping, the more I disliked +the idea. My father was not a man who would have eloped. And, in +spite of Aunt Caroline's lobsters and lemons, I am very like my +father. "That I have stolen away this old man's daughter--" Somehow +it seemed very Othelloish. I decided to simply tell Dr. Farr, calmly +and reasonably, that Desire and I had decided to marry. I did tell +him. I was calm and reasonable. But he wasn't. + +There is a bit of sound tactics which says, "Never let the enemy +surprise you." But how is one to keep him from doing it if he +insists? The surer you are that the enemy is going to do a certain +thing, the more surprised you are when he doesn't. Now I felt sure +that when Dr. Farr heard the news he would have a fit. I expected +him to use language and even his umbrella. But nothing of this kind +happened. He simply sat there like a slightly faded and vague old +gentleman and said "So?"--just like that. + +I assured him, as delicately as possible that it was so. + +Then, without warning, he began to weep. John, it was horrible! I +can't describe it. You would have to see his blurred old face and +depthless eyes before you could understand. Tears are healthy, +normal things. They were never meant for faces like his. I must have +said something, in a kind of horror, for he got up suddenly and +trotted off into the woods, without as much as a whisper. + +It looked like an easy victory. But I knew it wasn't. I admit that I +felt rather sorry we had not eloped. Li Ho made me still sorrier. + +"Not much good, you make honorable Boss cly," said Li Ho. "Gettie +mad heap better." + +I felt that, as usual, Li Ho was right. And, just here, let me +interpose that I am quite sure Li Ho can speak perfectly good +English if he wishes. He certainly understands it. I have tried to +puzzle him often by measured and academic speech and never yet has +he missed the faintest shade of meaning. So I did not waste time +with Pigeon English. I told him the facts briefly. + +"Me no likee," said Li Ho. + +"You don't have to," said I. + +Li Ho explained that it was not the contemplated marriage which +received his disapproval but the circumstances surrounding it. "Me +muchy glad Missy get mallied," said he. "Ladies so do, velly nice! +When you depart to go?" + +"Tomorrow," I said. Since we had given up the elopement it seemed +more dignified to wait and depart by daylight. + +Li Ho shook his head. + +"You no wait tomolla," said he, "You go tonight. You go click." + +"We can't go too quickly to suit me," I said. "It is for Miss Desire +to decide." + +"Me tell Missy," he said and hurried away. + +Somehow, Li Ho always knows where to find Desire. She vanishes from +my ken often, but never from his. He must have found her quickly +this time for she came at once. She looked troubled. + +"Li Ho says we had better go tonight," she said. + +"Can you be ready?" + +"Yes. It isn't that. It's just that it would seem more--more +sensible by daylight. But Li Ho says you have told father, and that +father was--upset. He said something about tonight being the full +moon. But I can't see why that should matter. Do you?" + +"Only that it will be easy to cross the Inlet." + +"It can't be that. Li Ho can take the Tillicum' over on the darkest +night. It has something to do with father. He seems to think that +the full moon affects him. And it's true that he often goes off on +the mountain about that time. But I can't see why that should hurry +us." + +I did not see it either. And yet I felt that I should like to hurry. + +"We certainly will not go unless you wish," I began. But Li Ho +interrupted me in his colorless way. + +"Alice same go this eveling," he said blandly. "No take 'Tillicum' +tomolla. Velly busy tomolla. Velly busy next day. Velly busy all +week." + +"Look here," I said, "you'll do exactly what your mistress tells +you." + +His celestial impudence was making me hot. But Desire stopped me. +"It's no use," she explained. "I have really no authority. And he +means what he says. We must go tonight or wait indefinitely." + +I was eager to be gone. But it went against the grain to be hustled +off by a Chinaman. Perhaps my face showed as much, for Desire went +on. "You needn't feel like that about it. He doesn't intend to be +impudent. He probably thinks he has a very real reason for getting +us away. And Li Ho's reasons are liable to be good ones. We had +better go." + +The rest of the day was uneventful, save for the incident of Sami. I +think I told you about Sami, didn't I? A kind of brown familiar who +follows Desire about. He is a baby Indian as much a part of the +mountain as the leaping squirrels and not nearly so tame. He is the +one thing here that I think Desire is sorry to leave. And for this +reason I hoped he wouldn't appear before we were gone. I had done +all my packing--easy enough since I had scarcely unpacked--and I +could hear Desire moving about doing hers. The place seemed +particularly peaceful. I could, have felt almost sorry to leave my +cool, bare room with its tree-stump for a table and all the forest +just outside. But as I sat there by the window there came upon me, +for the second time that day, a mounting hurry to be gone. There was +nothing to account for it, but I distinctly felt an inward "Hurry! +Hurry!" So propelling was it that only the knowledge that the +"Tillicum" would not float until high tide kept me from finding +Desire and begging her to come away at once. I did go so far as to +wander restlessly down into the garden where she had gone to feed +the chickens. Perhaps I would have gone farther and mentioned my +misgivings but just then Sami came and I forgot all about them. I +don't believe I have ever seen any child so frightened as that +little Indian! He simply fell through the bushes behind the chicken +house and shot, like a small, brown catapult, into Desire's arms. +His round face was actually grey with fear. And he huddled in her +big apron shivering, for all the world like some terrified animal. + +Naturally the first thing to do was to get the thing that had +frightened him. An axe seemed a likely weapon, so, picking it up, I +slid into the bushes at the point where Sami had come out of them. + +Perfect serenity was there! The afternoon light lay golden on the +moss above the fallen trees. No hidden scurrying in the underbrush +told of wild, wood things hastening to safety from some half-sensed +danger. No broken branches or trampled earth told of any past or +present struggle. There was no trace of any fearsome creature having +passed along that peaceful trail. + +I searched thoroughly and found nothing. On my way back to the +clearing I met Li Ho. + +'"Find anything, Li Ho?" I asked eagerly. + +The Celestial grinned. + +"Find honorable self," said he. "Missy she send. Missy heap scared +along of you." + +"Nonsense!" I said. "I can take care of myself. Even if it had been +a bear, I had an axe." + +"Bear!" said Li Ho. And then he laughed. Did you ever hear a +Chinaman laugh? I never had. Not this Chinaman anyway. It was so +startling that I forgot what I was saying. Next moment I could have +sworn that he had not laughed at all. + +We found Sami, much comforted, sitting upon Desire's lap, a thing he +could seldom be induced to do. At our entrance he began to shiver +again but soon quieted. Desire had tried questioning but it was of +no use. He either couldn't, or wouldn't, say anything about what had +frightened him. Desire was inclined to think that he did not know. +But I was not so sure. It's a fairly well established fact that +children simply can't speak of certain terrors. And the more +frightened they are the more powerful is the inhibition. In any case +it was useless to question Sami so we fed him instead and presently +he went to sleep. + +I suppose we all forgot him. I know I did. One doesn't elope every +day. And it was never Sami's way to insist upon his presence as +ordinary children do. Li Ho departed to tinker with the "Tillicum" +and afterwards returned to give us a late supper. Desire kept out of +my way. One might almost have thought that she was shy--if so, a +most perplexing development. For why should she feel shy? It wasn't +as if we had not put the whole affair on a perfectly business basis. +Perhaps there is some elemental magic in names, so that, to a woman, +the very word "marriage" has power to provoke certain nervous +reactions? + +However that may be, even Desire forgot Sami. We left the house just +as the clearing began to grow brighter with light from the still +hidden moon, and we were halfway down to the boat landing before +anyone thought of him. Oddly enough it was I who remembered. "Sami!" +I exclaimed, with a little throb of nameless fear. "We have +forgotten Sami." + +Desire, I thought, looked surprised and somewhat vexed at her +oversight. But displayed no trace of the consternation which had +suddenly fallen on me. + +"He is all right," she said. "He will sleep till morning unless his +mother comes for him." + +"Where you leave um?" asked Li Ho briefly. He had already set down +the bag he was carrying. + +"In my own bed." + +"Me go get!" said Li Ho. + +But I had not waited. I had started to "go get" myself. The sense of +breathless hurry was on me again. I did not pause to argue that the +child was perfectly safe. I forgot that I had ever been lame. +Perhaps that sciatic nerve is only mortal mind anyway. When I came +out into the clearing the cottage was turning silver in the first +rays of the full moon. Very peaceful and secure it looked. And yet I +hurried! + +I made no noise. To myself I explained this by a desire not to waken +the youngster. No use frightening him. I stole, as quietly as one of +his own ancestors, to the foot of the stairs. The door of Desire's +room was open. I could see a moonlit bar across the dark landing.... + +I think I went straight up that stair. I hope so. You know that one +of my worst nervous troubles has been a dread that I might fail in +some emergency? I dread a sort of nerve paralysis. . . . But I got +up the stair. The fear that seemed to push me back wasn't personal, +or physical--one might call it psychic fear, only that the word +explains nothing. . . . I looked in at the open door. There seemed +to be nothing there but the moonlight. The room must have been +almost as bare as my own. But over on the far side, beyond the zone +of the window, was the dim whiteness of a bed. I could see nothing +clearly--but the Fear was there. I dragged, actually dragged, my +feet across the floor--my sight growing clearer, until at last--I +saw! + +I think I shouted, but it was so like a nightmare that I may not +have made a sound. . . . The dragging weight must have left my feet +as I sprang forward . . . but it is all confused! And the whole +thing lasted only a minute. + +In that minute I had seen what I would have sworn was not human. +Even while I knew It for the little old man with the umbrella, I had +no sense of its humanness. Something bent above the bed--the old +man's face was there, the thin figure, the white hair, and yet it +seemed the wildest absurdity to call the Fury who wore them by any +human name. + +The eyes looked at me--eyes without depth or meaning--eyes like bits +of blue steel reflecting the light of Tophet--, incarnate evil, +blazing, peering . . . I caught a glimpse of long, thin hands, like +claws, around the folded umbrella, a flash of something bright at +the ferrule . . . and then the picture dissolved like an image +passing from a dimly lighted screen. Before I could skirt the bed, +whatever had been upon the other side of it had melted into the +darkness beyond the moon. I bent over the bed. Sami was there--Sami, +rolled shapelessly in the concealing bedclothes, his round face +hidden in the pillow, his black hair just a blot of darkness on the +white. . . . It might have been Desire lying there! . . . + +I found the door through which the Thing had slipped. But it was +useless to try to follow. There was no one in the house nor in the +moonlit clearing. And Desire and Li Ho were waiting on the trail. I +picked up the still sleeping child and blundered down to them. + +It seemed incredible to hear Desire's laugh. + +"Good gracious!" she said. "You're carrying him upside down." + +She had had no hint of danger. But with Li Ho it was different. He +fell back beside me when Desire had relieved me of the child. I +could feel his inscrutable eyes upon my face. + +"You see um," said Li Ho. It was an assertion, not a question. + +I nodded. + +"No be scare," muttered he. "Missy all safe. Everything all safe +now. Li Ho go catch um. Li Ho catch um good. All light--tomolla." + +"You mean you can manage him and he'll be all right tomorrow?" I +said. "But--what is it!" + +The Celestial shrugged. + +"Muchy devil maybe. Muchy moon-devil, plaps. Velly bad." + +"There's a knife in that umbrella, Li Ho." + +But though his eyes looked blandly into mine, I couldn't tell +whether this was news to Li Ho or not.... + +Well, that's the story. I've written it down while it's fresh, +sparing comment. Desire sang as we crossed the Inlet; little, low +snatches of song with a hint of freedom in them. She had made her +choice and it is never her way to look back. The old "Tillicum" +rattled and chugged and the damp crept in around our feet. But the +water was a path of gold and the sky a bowl of silver--and as an +example of present day elopements it had certainly been fairly +exciting. + +Yours, Benis. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +Desire Spence bent earnestly over the writing pad which lay open +upon her knee. + +"Mrs. Benis Hamilton Spence," she wrote. And then: + +"Mrs. B. Hamilton Spence." + +And then: + +"Mrs. Benis H. Spence." + +Over this last she sucked her pencil thoughtfully. + +"One more!" prompted her husband encouragingly. "Don't decide before +you inspect our full line of goods." + +"Initials, only, lack character," objected Desire. "There is nothing +distinctive about 'Mrs. B. H. Spence'. It doesn't balance well, +either. I think I'll decide upon the 'Benis H.' I like it--although +I have never heard of 'Benis' as a name before." + +"You are not supposed to have heard of it," explained its owner +complacently. "It is a very exclusive name, a family name. My +mother's paternal grandmother was a Benis." + +Desire was not attending. "Your nickname, too, is odd," she mused. +"How on earth could anyone make 'Beans' out of 'Benis Hamilton?'" + +"Very easily--but how did you know that anyone had?" + +"Oh, from a touching inscription on one of your books, 'To Beans-- +from Bones.'" + +"Well--there's a whole history in that. It happened by a well +defined process of evolution. When I went to school I had to have a +name. A school boy's proper name is no good to him. Proper names are +simply not done. But the christening party found my combination +rather a handful. No one could do anything with Benis and the +obvious shortening of Hamilton was considered too Biblical. 'Ham', +however, suggested 'Piggy'. This might have done had there not +already existed a 'Piggy' with a prior right. 'Piggy' suggested +'Pork', but 'Pork' isn't a name. 'Pork' suggested 'Beans'. And once +more behold the survival of the fittest." + +Desire laughed. + +The professor listened to her laugh with a strained expression which +relaxed when no words followed it. + +"I was afraid," he admitted penitently, "that you might want to know +why 'Pork' is not as much a name as 'Beans'." + +"But--it isn't." + +"Quite so. Only you are the first member of your delightful sex who +has ever perceived it. You are a perceptive person, Mrs. Spence." + +It was the fourth day of their Business Honeymoon. Four days ago +they had landed from the cheerful little coast steamer whose +chattering load of summer campers they had left behind on the route. +For four sun-bright days and dew-sweet nights they had found +themselves .sole possessors of a bay so lovely that it seemed to +have emerged bodily from a green and opal dream. + +"'Friendly Bay,' they calls it," a genial deckhand told them, +grinning. "But you folks will be the only friends anywheres about. +There's a sort of farm across the point, though, and maybe you could +hit the trail by climbing, if you get too fed up with the scenery." + +"Oh, we shan't want any Compaq," said the new Mrs. Spence +innocently--a remark so disappointing in its unembarrassed frankness +that the deck-hand lost interest and decided that they were "just +relations" after all. + +They had carried their camp with them, and, from where they now sat, +they could see its canvas gleaming ivory white against its +background of green. Desire's eyes, as she raised them from her +name-building, lingered upon it proudly. It was such a wonderful +camp!--her first experience of what money, unconsidered save as a +purchasing agent, can do. Even her personal outfit was something of +a revelation. How deliciously keen and new was this consciousness of +clothes--the smart high-laced boots, the soft, sand-colored coat and +skirt, the knickers which felt so easy and so trim, the cool, silk +shirt with its wide collar, the dainty, intimate things beneath! She +would have been less than woman, had the possession of these things +failed to meet some need,--some instinct, deep within, which her +old, bare life had daily mortified. + +And it had all been so easy, so natural! How could she ever have +hesitated to make the change? Even her pride was left to her, +intact. He, her friend, had given and she had taken, but in this +there had been no spoiling sense of obligation, for, presently, she +too was to give and to give unstintedly: new strength and skill +seemed already tingling in her firm, quick hands; new vigor and +inspiration stirred in her eager brain--and both hands and brain +were to be her share of giving--her partnership offering in this +pact of theirs. She was eager, eager to begin. + +But already they had been four days in camp without a beginning. So +far they had not even looked for the trail which was to lead them to +the cabin of Hawk-Eye Charlie whose store of Indian lore had been +the reason for their upcoast journey. This delay of the +expeditionary party was due to no fault of its secretary. During the +past four days she had proposed the search for the trail four times, +one proposal per day. And each day the chief expeditioner had voted +a postponement. The chief expeditioner was lazy. At least that was +the excuse he made. And Desire, who was not lazy, might have fretted +at the inaction had she believed him. But she knew it was not +laziness which had drawn certain new lines about the expeditioner's +mouth and deepened the old ones on his forehead. It was not laziness +which lay behind the strained look in his eyes and the sudden return +of his almost vanished limp. These things are not symptoms of +indolence. They are symptoms of nerves. And Desire knew something of +nerves. What she did not know, in the present case, was their +exciting cause. Neither could she understand this new reticence on +the part of their victim nor his reluctance to admit the obvious. +She puzzled much about these problems while the lazy one rested in +the sun and the quiet, golden days wrought the magic of their cure. + +And Spence, mere man that he was, fancied that she noticed nothing. +The pleasant illusion hastened his recovery. It tended to restore a +complacency, rudely disturbed by an enforced realization of his own +back-sliding. He had been quite furious upon discovering that the +"little episode" of the moonlit cottage had filched from him all his +new won strength and nervous stamina, leaving him sleepless and +unstrung, ready to jump at the rattling of a stone. More and more, +there grew in him a fierce disdain of weakness and a cold +determination to beat Nature at her own game. Let him once again be +"fit" and wily indeed would be the trick which would steal his +fitness from him. + +Meanwhile, laziness was as good a camouflage as anything and lying +on the grass while Desire chose her name was pleasant in the +extreme. + +"Names," murmured the lazy one dreamily, "are things. When a thing +is 'named true' its name and itself become inseparable and +identical. That is why all magic is wrought by names. It becomes +simply a matter of knowing the right ones." + +"Is that a very new idea, or a very old one?" + +"All ideas are ageless, so it must be both." + +"I wonder how they named things in the very, very first?" mused +Desire. "Did they just sit in the sun, as we are sitting, and think +and think, until suddenly--they knew?" + +"Very likely. There is a legend that, in the beginning, everything +was named true--fire, water, earth, air--so that the souls of +everything knew their names and were ruled by those who could speak +them. But, as the race grew less simple and more corrupt, the true +names were obscured and then lost altogether. Only once or twice in +all the ages has come some master who has known their secret--such, +perhaps, as He who could speak peace to the wind and walk upon the +sea and change the water into wine." + +Desire nodded. "Yes," she said. "It feels like that--as if one had +forgotten. Sometimes when I have been in the woods alone or drifting +far out on the water, where there was no sound but its own voice, it +has seemed as if I had only to think--hard--hard--in order to +remember! Only one never does." + +"But one may--there is always the chance. I fancied I was near it +once--in a shell hole. The stars were big and close and the earth +seemed light and ready to float away. I almost had it then--my lips +were just moving upon some mighty word--but someone came. They found +me and carried me in . . . I say, the sun is climbing up, let's +follow it." + +Hand in hand they followed the line of the sinking sun up the +slippery slope. They both knew where they were going, for every +evening of their stay they had wandered there to sit awhile in the +little deserted Indian burying-ground which lay, white fenced and +peaceful, facing the flaming west. When they had found it first it +had seemed to give the last touch of beauty to that beautiful place. + +"It is so different," said Desire, searching carefully, as was her +way, for the proper word. "It is so--so beautifully dead. It ought +to be like that," she went on thoughtfully. "I never realized before +why our cemeteries are so sad--it is because we will not let them +really die--we dress them up with flowers--a kind of ghastly life in +death. But this--" + +They looked around them at the little white-fenced spot with its +great centre cross, grey and weather-beaten, and all its smaller +crosses clustering round. There was warmth here, the warmth of sun +upon a western slope. There was life, too, the natural life of grass +and vine, the cheerful noise of birds and squirrels and bees. And, +for color, there were harmonies in all the browns and greens and +yellows of the rocky soil. + +"Let us sit here. They won't mind. They are all sleeping so +happily," Desire had declared. "And the crosses make it seem like +one large family--see how that wild rose vine has spread itself over +a whole group of graves! It is so friendly." + +Spence had fallen in with her humor, and had come indeed to love +this place where even the sun paused lingeringly before the +mountains swallowed it up. + +This afternoon he flung himself down beside their favorite rose-vine +with the comfortable sense of well-being which comes with returning +health. Even more than Desire, he wondered that he had ever +hesitated before an arrangement so eminently satisfying. If ever +events had justified an impulse, his impulse, he felt, had been +justified. He stole a glance at Desire as she sat in pleasant +silence gazing into the sunset. She was happier already, and +younger. Something of that hard maturity was fading from her eyes-- +the tiny dented corners of her lips were softer. . . . Oh, +undoubtedly he had done the right thing! And everything had run so +smoothly. There had been no trouble. No unlocked for Nemesis had +dogged his steps even in the matter of that small strategy +concerning his unhappy past. He had been unduly worried about that, +owing probably to early copy-book aphorisms. Honesty is the best +policy. Yes, but--nothing had happened. Mary, bless her, was already +only a memory. She had played her part and slipped back into the +void from whence she came. He could forget her very name with +impunity. A faint smile testified to a conscience lulled to warm +security. + +But security is a dangerous thing. It tempts the fates. Even while +our strategist smiled, the girl who sat so silently beside him was +wondering about that smile--and other things. He was much better, +she reflected, if he could find his passing thoughts amusing. +Amusement at one's own fancies is a healthy sign. And today she had +noticed, also, that his laziness was almost natural. Perhaps it +might be safe now to say what she had made up her mind should be +said. But not too abruptly. When next she spoke it was merely to +continue their previous discussion. + +"Do you think people may have 'true' names, too?" she asked +presently. "Just ordinary people, like you and me?" + +Spence nodded. "Always noting," he added, "that you and I are not +ordinary people." + +"Then if anyone knew another's true name, and used it, the other +could not help responding?" + +"Um-m. I suppose not." + +"Perhaps that is what love is," said Desire. + +Even then no presentiment of coming trouble stirred beneath Spence's +dangerous serenity. Perhaps it was because the air had made him +comfortably drowsy. He merely nodded, deftly swallowing a yawn. +Desire went on: + +"Then love is only complete understanding?" + +"Always thought it might be some trifle like that," murmured the +drowsy one. "But don't ask me. How should I know? That is," rousing +hastily, "I do know, of course. And it is. There's a squirrel eating +your hat." + +Desire changed the position of the hat. But the subject remained and +she resumed it dreamily. + +"Then in order that it might be quite complete, the understanding +would have to be mutual. If only one loved, there would always be a +lack." + +"Not a doubt of it!" said Spence firmly. + +"Well, then--don't you see?" + +"See? See what? That squirrel's eating your hat again." + +"Go away!" said Desire to the squirrel. And, when it had gone, +"Don't you see?" she repeatedly gravely. + +The professor always loved her gravity. And he had not seen. He was, +in fact, almost asleep. "You tell me," he said, rushing upon +destruction. + +Then Desire said what she had made up her mind to say. He never knew +exactly what it was because before she actually said the word +"Mary," he was too sleepy, and afterwards he was too dazed. + +Mary! The word went through him like an electric shock. It tingled +to his criminal toes. It whirled through his cringing brain like a +pinwheel suddenly lighted. It exploded like a bomb in the recesses +of his false content. + +Desire was talking about Mary! Talking about her in that frank and +unembarrassed way which he had always admired. But good heavens! +didn't she realize that Mary was dead and buried? No. She evidently +did not. Far from it. When he was able to listen intelligently once +more, Desire was saying: + +"... and, to a man like you, philosophy should be such a help. I +feel you will be far, far less unhappy if you do not shut yourself +up with your memories. Do you suppose I have not noticed how nervous +and worn out you have been since the night we came away? Why have +you tried to hide it?" + +"I haven't--" + +"Yes you have. Please, please don't quibble. And hidden things are +so dangerous. It isn't as if I would not understand. You ought to +give me credit for a little knowledge of human nature. I knew +perfectly well that when you married me--you would think of Mary. +You could hardly help it." + +The professor sat up. He was not at all sleepy now. Mary had +"murdered sleep." But he was still dazed. + +"Wait a moment." He raised a restraining hand. "Let me get this +right. You say you have noticed a certain lack of energy in my +manner of late?" + +"Anyone must have noticed it." + +"But I explained it, didn't I?" + +"Yes?" The slight smile on Desire's lips was sufficient comment on +the explanation. The professor began to feel injured. + +"Then I gather, further, that you do not accept the explanation?" + +"Don't be cross! How could I? I have eyes. And my point is simply +that there is no need for any concealment between us. You promised +that we should be friends. Friends help friends when they are in +trouble." + +The professor rumpled his hair The pinwheel in his brain was slowing +down. Already the marvelous something which accepts and adjusts the +unexpected was hard at work restoring order. Mary was not dead. He +had to reckon with Mary. Very well, let Mary look to her-self. Let +her beware how she harassed a desperate man! Let her--but he was not +pushed to extremes yet. + +"I thought," he said slowly, "that we had tacitly agreed not to +reopen this subject." + +Desire looked surprised. + +"And I still think that it would be better, much better to ignore it +altogether." + +"Oh, but it wouldn't," said Desire. "See how dreadfully dumpy you +have been since Friday." + +"I have not been dumpy. But supposing I have, there may be other +reasons. What if I can honorably assure you that I have not been +thinking of the past at all?" + +"Then I should want to know what you have been thinking of." + +"But supposing I were to go further and say that my thoughts are my +own property?" + +"That would be horridly rude, don't you think? And you are not at +all a rude person. If you'll risk it, I will." + +Her smile was insufferably secure. + +"You are willing to risk a great deal," snapped Spence. "But if it's +truth you want--" + +He almost confessed then. The temptation to slay Mary with a few +well chosen words almost overpowered him. But he looked at the +expectant face beside him and faltered. Mary would not die alone. +With her would die this newborn comradeship. And Desire's smile, +though insufferable, was sweet. How would it feel to see that bright +look change and pale to cold dislike? Already in imagination he +shivered under the frozen anger of that frank glance. + +He could not risk it! + +Should he then, ignoring Mary, ascribe his symptoms to their true +cause? By dragging out the horror of that moonlit night, he could +account for any vagary of nerves. But that way of escape was equally +impossible. He could not let that shadow fall across her path of +new-found freedom. Nor would he, in any case, gain much by such +postponement. The wretched professor began to realize that the devil +is indeed the father of lies and that he who sups with him needs a +long spoon. + +Meanwhile, Desire was waiting. + +He felt that he would like to shake her--sitting there with +untroubled air and face like an inquiring sphinx--to shake her and +kiss her and tell her that there wasn't any Mary and--he brought +himself up with a start. What nonsense was this! + +"Look here," he said irritably, "you are all wrong. You really are. +It's perfectly true I've been feeling groggy. But there doesn't have +to be a reason for that, unfortunately. Old Bones warned me that I +might expect all kinds of come-backs. But I'm almost right again +now. Another day or two of this heavenly place and I shan't know +that I have a nerve." + +"Yes," critically. "You are better. I should say that the worst was +over." + +"I'm sure it is. Supposing we leave it at that." + +Desire smiled her shadowy smile. "Very well. But I wanted you to +know that I understand. It's so silly to go on pretending not to +see, when one does see. And it's only natural that things should +seem more poignant for a time. Only you will recover much more +quickly if you adopt a sensible attitude. I do not say, 'do not +think of Mary,' I say 'think of her openly.'" + +"How," said Spence, "does one think openly?" + +"One talks." + +"You wish me to talk of Mary?" + +"It will be so good for you!" warmly. + +They looked for a moment into each other's eyes. And Spence was +conscious of a second shock. Was there, was there the faintest glint +of something which was not all sympathy in those grey depths of +hers? Before his conscious mind had even formulated the question, +his other mind had asked and answered it, and, with the lightning +speed of the subconscious, had acted. The professor became aware of +a complete change of outlook. His remorse and timidity left him. His +brain worked clearly. + +"Very well," said the professor. + +The worm had turned! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Mornings are beautiful all over the earth but Nature keeps a special +kind of morning for early summer use at Friendly Bay. In sudden +clearness, in chill sweetness, in almost awful purity there is no +other morning like it. It wrings the human soul quite clear of +everything save wonder at its loveliness. + +Desire never bathed until the sun was up, not because she feared the +dawn-cold water but because she would not stir the unbroken beauty +of its opal tide. With the first rays of the sun, the spell would +break, the waves would dance again, the gulls would soar and dip, +the crabs would scuttle across the shining sand, the round wet head +of a friendly seal would pop up here and there to say good-morning. +Then, Desire would swim--far out--so far that Spence, watching her, +would feel his heart contract. He could not follow her--yet. But he +never begged her not to take the risk, if risk there were. Why +should she lose one happy thrill in her own joyous strength because +he feared? Better that she should never come back from these long, +glorious swims than that he should have held her from them by so +much as a gesture. + +And she always did come back, glowing, dripping, laughing, her head +as sleek as a young seal's, salt upon her lips and on her wave- +whipped cheek. Spence, whose swims were shorter and more sedate, +would usually have breakfast ready. + +But upon this particular morning Desire loitered. Though the smell +of bacon was in the air, she sat pensively in the shallows of an +outgoing tide and flung shells at the crabs. She would have told you +that she was thinking. But had she used the word "feeling" she would +have been nearer the truth. And the thing which she obscurely felt +was that something had mysteriously altered for the worse in a world +which, of late, had shown remarkable promise. It was a small thing. +She hardly knew what it was. Merely a sense of dissonance somewhere. + +Whatever it was, it had not been there yesterday. Yesterday morning +she had felt no desire to sit in the shallows and throw shells at +crabs. Yesterday morning her mind had been full of that happy +inconsequence which feels no need of thought. Today was different. +Mentally she shook herself with some irritation. "What is the matter +with you?" she asked. But the self she addressed seemed oddly +reluctant. "Come now," said Desire, hitting an especially big crab, +"out with it! There's no use pretending that you don't know." Thus +adjured, the self offered one single and sulky word. The word was +"Mary." "Oh, nonsense!" said Desire hastily. + +But there it was. She had forced the answer and had to make the best +of it. Her memory trailed back. Once started, it had small +difficulty in tracking her dissatisfaction to its real beginning. +Everything, it reminded her, had been perfect until she and Benis +had sat upon the hill in the sunset and talked about Mary. Something +had happened then. Like a certain ancestress she had coveted the +fruit of knowledge and knowledge had been given her. Not at once-- +Benis had at first been distinctly reluctant--but by gentle +persistence she had won through his cool reserve. Abruptly and +without visible reason, his attitude had changed. He had said in +that drawling voice of his, "You wish me to talk about Mary?" And +then, suddenly, he had talked. + +He had told her several things. The color of Mary's hair, for +instance. Her hair was yellow. Benis had been insistent in pointing +out that when he said "yellow" he did not mean goldish or bronze, or +fawn-colored or tow-colored or Titian, but just yellow. "Do you see +that patch of sky over there where the mountain dips?" he had said. +"Mary's hair was yellow, like that." + +That patch of sky, as Desire remembered it, was very beautiful. +Quite too beautiful to be compared to any-one's hair. No doubt it +was only in Benis's imagination that Mary's hair was anything like +it. + +But nevertheless it was there that the world had gone wrong. It was +while Benis had sat gazing into that patch of amber sky that Desire, +gazing too, had, for the first time, realized the Other. Up until +then, Mary had been an abstraction--thenceforth she was a +personality. That made all the difference. Desire, throwing shells +at crabs, admitted that, for her, there had been no Mary until she +had heard that her hair was yellow. + +It was ridiculous but it was true. Mary without hair had been a +gentle and retiring shade. A phantom in whom it had been possible to +take an academic interest. But no shade has a right to hair like an +amber sunset. Desire threw a shell viciously. Very little more, she +felt, and she would positively dislike Mary! + +She jumped up and stamped in the shallow water. The crabs, big and +little, scuttled away. + +"Hurr-ee!" called the professor waving a frying-pan. + +"Com-ing!" Desire's voice rose gaily. For the present, her small +dissatisfaction vanished with the crabs. + +"This coffee has been made ten minutes," grumbled the getter-of- +breakfast with a properly martyred air. "Whatever were you doing?" + +"Thinking." + +"It isn't done. Not before breakfast." + +"I was thinking," fibbed Desire, "that I have never been so spoiled +in my life and that it can't go on. My domestic conscience is +beginning to murmur. As soon as we are at home, you will be expected +to stay in bed until you smell the coffee coming up the stairs." + +"Aunt Caroline," said the professor, "does not believe in coffee for +breakfast, except on Sunday." + +"I do." + +"Eh? Oh--I see. Well, I'll put my money on you. Only I hope you +aren't really set on making it yourself. Because the cook would +leave.'" + +"Good gracious! Do we have a cook?" + +"We do. At least, we did. Also a maid. But maids, I understand, are +greatly diminished. There appear to have been tragedies in +Bainbridge. Have you eaten sufficient bacon to listen calmly to an +extract from Aunt Caroline's last? Sit tight, then-- + +"'As to what the world is coming to in the matter of domestic +service,'" writes Aunt Caroline, "I do not know. I do not wish to +worry you, Benis, but as you will be marrying some day, in spite of +that silly doctor of yours who insists that it's not to be thought +of, you may as well be conversant with the situation. To put it +briefly--/ have been without competent help for two weeks. You know, +dear boy, that I am easily satisfied. I expect very little from +anyone. But I think that I am entitled to prompt and willing +service. That, at the very least! Yet I must tell you that Mabel, my +cook, has left me most ungratefully after only three months' notice! +She is to be married to Bob Summers, the plumber. (Lieutenant Robert +Summers, since the war, if you please!) Well, she can never say I +did not warn her. I did not mince matters. I told her exactly what +married life is, and why I have never tried it. But the foolish girl +is beyond advice. I have had two cooks since Mabel, but one insisted +upon whistling in the kitchen and the other served omelette made +with one egg. My wants are trifling, as you know, but one cannot +abrogate all personal dignity--' + +"Do you get the subtle connection between the one egg and Aunt +Caroline's personal dignity?" asked Spence with anxiety. "Because if +you don't, I'll never be able to ask you to live in Bainbridge. I +may as well confess now that it was only my serene confidence in +your sense of humor which permitted me to marry you at all. I should +never have dared to offer Aunt Caroline as an 'in-law' to anyone who +couldn't see a joke." + +"You are very fond of her all the same," said Desire shrewdly. "And +though she expects very little from anyone, she evidently adores +you. She can't be all funny. There must be an Aunt Caroline, deep +down, that is not funny at all. I think I'm rather afraid of her. +Only you have so often said that she wished you to get married--" + +"Excuse me, my dear. What I said was, 'Aunt Caroline wished to get +me married.' The position of the infinitive is the important thing. +Aunt Caroline never intended me to do it all by myself." + +"Oh. Then, in that case, she may resent your having done it." + +"Resent," cheerfully, "is a feeble word. It doesn't express Aunt +Caroline at all." + +"You take it calmly." + +"Well, you see I've got you to fight for me now." + +They looked at each other over the empty coffee cups and laughed. + +It is easy to laugh on a fine morning. But if they had known where +Aunt Caroline was at that moment--how-ever, they didn't. + +"Once," said Spence "my Aunt read a book upon Eugenics. I don't know +how it happened. It was one of those inexplicable events for which +no one can account. It made a deep impression. She has studied me +ever since with a view to scientific matrimony. Alas, my poor +relative!" + +"I once read a book upon Eugenics, too," said Desire with a +reminiscent smile. "It seemed sensible. Of course I was not +personally interested and that always makes a difference. One thing +occurred to me, though--it didn't seem to give Nature credit for +much judgment." + +Benis chuckled. "No, it wouldn't. Terrible old blunderer, Nature! +Always working for the average. Never seems to have heard the word +'specialize.' We've got her there." + +"Then you think--" + +"Oh no," hastily, "I don't. I observe results with interest, that is +all." + +Desire began to collect the breakfast dishes. "That was where the +book seemed weak," she said thoughtfully. "It hadn't much to say +about results. It dealt mostly with consequences. They," she added +after a pause, "were rather frightening." + +The professor glanced at her sharply. Had she been worrying over +this? Had she connected it with that dreadful old man whom she +called father? But her face was quite untroubled as she went on. + +"I think they've missed something, though," she said. "There must be +something more than the things they tabulate. Some subtle force of +life which isn't physical at all. Something that uses physical +things as tools. If its tools are fine, it will do finer work, but +if its tools are blunt it will work with them anyway. And it gets +things done." + +"By Jove!" said Spence. This was one of Desire's "windows with a +view." He was always stumbling upon them. But he knew she was shy of +comment. "We'll tell Aunt Caroline that," he murmured hopefully. "It +may distract her mind." . . . + +That day they found and followed the trail to the shack of Hawk-Eye +Charlie. It proved to be neither long nor arduous. The professor +managed it with ease. But he would have been quite unable to manage +the hawk-eyed one without the expert aid of his secretary. To his +unaccustomed mind their quarry was almost witless and exceedingly +dirty. But Desire knew her Indian. + +"It isn't what he is, but what he knows," she explained. "And he has +a retiring nature." + +So very retiring was it that only fair words, aided by tactful +displays of tea and tobacco, could penetrate its reservations. +Desire was quite unhurried. But presently she began to extract bits +of carefully hidden knowledge. It had to be slow work, for, witless +as he of the hawk-eye seemed, he was well aware of the value (in +tobacco) of a wise conservation. He who babbles all he knows upon +first asking is a fool. But he who withholds beyond patience is a +fool also. Was it not so? Desire agreed that a middle course is +undoubtedly the path of wisdom. She added, carelessly, that the +white-man-who-wished-stories was in no hurry. Neither had he come +seeking much for little. Payment would be made strictly on account +of value received. The tea was good. And the tobacco exceptionally +strong, as anyone could tell from a distance. Why then should the +hawk-eyed one delay his own felicity? + +This hastened matters considerably and the secretary's note-book was +soon busy. Spence felt his oldtime keenness revive. And Desire was +happy for was not this her work at last? It was a profitable day. +Should anyone care to know its results, and the results of others +like it, they may look up chapter six, section two, of Spence's +Primitive Psychology, unabridged edition. Here they will find that +the fables of Hawk-Eye Charlie, properly classified and commented +upon, have added considerably to our knowledge of a fascinating +subject. But far be it from us to steal the professor's thunder. We +are not writing a book upon primitive psychology. We are interested +only in the sigh of pleasurable satisfaction with which the +professor's secretary closed her fat note-book and called it a day. + +From that point our interest leads us back to camp along the trail +through the warm June woods with the late sunlight hanging like +golden gauze behind the fretted screens of green. We are interested +in sunsets and in basket suppers eaten in the dim coolness of a +miniature canyon through which rushed and tumbled an icy stream +from, the snow peaks far above. We are interested in a breathless +race with a chattering squirrel during which Desire's hair came +down--a bit of glorious autumn in the deep green wood--and the tying +of it up again (a lengthy process) by the professor with cleverly +plaited stems of tender bracken. All these trifles interest us +because, to those two who knew them, they remained fresh and living +memories when the note-book and its contents were buried in the dust +of yesterday. + +It was twilight when they came out of the wood. The sun had gone and +taken its golden trappings with it. A clear, still light was +everywhere and, in the brilliant green of the far sky, a pale star +shone. They watched it brighten as the green grew dark. A wonderful +purple blueness spread upon the distant hills. + +Desire sighed happily. + +"It is the end of the first day of real work," she said. "The end +and the beginning." + +Her companion, usually like wax to her moods, made no answer. He did +not seem to hear. His gaze seemed drowned in that wonderful blue. +Desire, who had been unaccountably content, felt suddenly lonely and +disturbed. + +"What is it?" she asked. Her voice had fallen from its glad note. +She put out her hand, touching his coat sleeve timidly. It was the +first time she had ever touched him save in service. But if her +touch brought a thrill there was no> sign of it. Her voice dropped +still lower, "What are you thinking of?" she almost whispered. + +The professor did not answer. Instead he turned to her with a sad +smile. (Very well done, too!) + +Desire dropped her hand with a sharp exclamation. "Oh," she said, "I +forgot! You were thinking--" + +The professor's smile smote her. + +"Her eyes were blue like that!" he said. + +Desire tripped over a fallen branch. And, when she recovered +herself, "Purple, do you mean?" she asked. "I have always thought +purple eyes were a myth." + +"Now you are making fun," said the professor after a reproachful +pause. + +"How do you mean--making fun?" + +"'I never saw a purple cow,'" quoted he patiently. + +"Oh, I wasn't!" cried Desire in distress. + +Spence begged her pardon. But he did it abstractedly. His eyes were +still upon the sky. + +"You'll fall over that root," prophesied she grimly. "Do look where +you are going!" + +The professor returned to earth with difficulty. "Sorry!" he +murmured. "I doubt if I should allow these moods to bother you. But +you told me it might do me good to talk." + +"Not all the time!" said Desire a trifle tartly. + +He looked surprised. "But--" he began. + +"Oh, I'm so hungry!" said Desire. "Do let's hurry." + +She hastened ahead down the slope towards the camp. The tents lay in +the shadow now but, as they neared them, a flickering light shot up +as if in welcome. Desire paused. + +"Someone lighting a fire!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Who can it +be?" + +Against the glow of the new-lit blaze a tall figure lifted itself +and a clear whistle cut the silence of the Bay. + +Spence's graceful melancholy dropped from him like a forgotten +cloak. + +"Bones!" he gasped in an agitated whisper. "Oh, my prophetic soul, +my doctor!" + +Another figure rose against the glow--a wider figure who called +shrilly through a cupped hand. + +"Ben--is!" + +"My Aunt!" said the professor. + +He sat down suddenly behind a boulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +To understand Aunt Caroline's arrival at Friendly Bay we should have +to understand Aunt Caroline, and that, as Euclid says, is absurd. +Therefore we shall have to take the arrival for granted. The only +light which she herself ever shed upon the matter was a statement +that she "had a feeling." And feelings, to Aunt Caroline, were the +only reliable things in a strictly unreliable world. To follow a +feeling across a continent was a trifle to a determined character +such as hers. To insist upon Dr. Rogers following it, too, was a +matter of course. + +"I shall need an escort," said Aunt Caroline to that astonished +physician, "and you will do very nicely. If Benis is off his head, +as you suggest, it is my plain duty to look into the matter and your +plain duty, as his medical adviser, to accompany me. I am a woman +who demands little from her fellow creatures, knowing perfectly well +that she won't get it, but I naturally refuse to undertake the +undivided responsibility of a deranged nephew galavanting, by your +own orders, Doctor, at the ends of the earth." + +"I did not say he was deranged," began the doctor helplessly, "and +you said you didn't believe me anyway." + +"Don't quote me to excuse yourself." Aunt Caroline sailed serenely +on. "At least preserve the courage of your convictions. There is +certainly something the matter with Benis. He has answered none of +my letters. He has completely ignored my lettergrams. To my telegram +of Thursday telling him that I had been compelled to discharge my +third cook since Mabel for wiping dishes on a hand towel, he replied +only by silence. And the telegraph people say that the message was +never delivered owing to lack of address. Easy as I am to satisfy, +things like this cannot be allowed to continue. My nephew must be +found." + +"But we don't know where to look for him," objected her victim +weakly. + +Aunt Caroline easily rose superior to this. + +"We have a map, I hope? And Vancouver, heathenish name! must be +marked on it somewhere. If not, the railroad people can tell us." + +"But he is not in Vancouver." + +"There--or thereabouts. When we get there we can ask the policeman, +or," with a grim twinkle, "we can enquire at the asylums. You forget +that my nephew is a celebrated man even if he is a fool." + +The doctor gave in. He hadn't had a chance from the beginning, for +Aunt Caroline could answer objections far faster than he could make +them. They arrived at the terminus just four days after the +expeditionary party had left for Friendly Bay. + +If Aunt Caroline were surprised at finding more than one policeman +in Vancouver, she did not admit it. Neither did the general +atmosphere of ignorance as to Benis daunt her in the least. She +adhered firmly to her campaign of question asking and found it fully +justified when inquiry at the post-office revealed that all letters +for Professor Benis H. Spence were to be delivered to the care of +the Union Steamship Company. From the Union Steamship Company to the +professor's place of refuge was an easy step. But Dr. Rogers, to +whom this last inquiry had been intrusted, returned to the hotel +with a careful jauntiness of manner which ill accorded with a +disturbed mind. + +"Well, we've found him," he announced cheerfully. "And now, if we +are wise, I think we'll leave him alone. He is camping up the coast +at a place called Friendly Bay--no hotels, no accommodation for +ladies--he is evidently perfectly well and attending to business. +You know he came out here partly to get material for his book? Well, +that's what he's doing. Must be, because there are only Indians up +there." + +"Indians? What do you mean--Indians? Wild ones?" + +"Fairly wild." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. She is one of the few ladies left who possess +this Victorian, accomplishment. "And you advise my leaving my +sister's child in his present precarious state of mind alone among +fairly wild Indians?" + +"Well--er--that's just it, you see. He isn't alone--not exactly." + +"What do you mean--not exactly?" + +"I mean that his--er--secretary is with him. He has to have a +secretary on account of never being sure whether receive is 'ie' or +'ei.' They are quite all right, though. The captain of the boat says +so. And naturally on a trip of that kind, research you know, a man +doesn't like to be interrupted." + +Aunt Caroline arose. "When does the next boat leave?" She asked +calmly. + +"But--dash it all! We're not invited. We can't butt in. I--I won't +go." + +Aunt Caroline, admirable woman, knew when she was defeated. She had +a formula for it, a formula which seldom failed to turn defeat into +victory. When all else failed, Aunt Caroline collapsed. She +collapsed now. She had borne a great deal, she had not complained, +but to be told that her presence would be a "butting in" upon the +only living child of her only dead sister was more than even her +fortitude could endure! No, she wouldn't take a glass of water, +water would choke her. No, she wouldn't lie down. No, she wouldn't +lower her voice. What did hotel people matter to her? What did +anything matter? She had come to the end. Accustomed to ingratitude +as she was, hardened to injustice and desertion, there were still +limits-- + +There were. The doctor had reached his. Hastily he explained that +she had mistaken his meaning. And, to prove it, engaged passage at +once, for the next upcoast trip, on the same little steamer which a +few days earlier had carried Mr. and Mrs. Benis H. Spence. + +It was a heavenly day. The mountains lifted them-selves out of veils +of tinted mist, the islands lay like jewels--but Aunt Caroline, +impervious to mere scenery, turned her thought severely inward. + +"I suppose," she said to her now subdued escort, "that we shall have +to pay the secretary a month's salary. Benis will scarcely wish to +take him back east with us." + +The doctor attempted to answer but seemed to have some trouble with +his throat. + +"It's the damp air," said Aunt Caroline. "Have a troche. If Benis +really needs a secretary I think I can arrange to get one for him. +Do you remember Mary Davis? Her mother was an Ashton--a very good +family. But unfortunate. The girls have had to look out for +themselves rather. Mary took a course. She could be a secretary, I'm +sure. Benis could always correct things afterward. And she is not +too young. Just about the right age, I should think. They used to +know each other. But you know what Benis is. He simply doesn't--your +cold is quite distressing, Doctor. Do take a troche." + +The doctor took one. + +"Of course Benis may object to a lady secretary--" + +"By Jove," said Rogers as if struck with a brilliant idea. "Perhaps +his secretary is a lady!" + +"How do you mean--a lady! Don't be absurd, Doctor. You said yourself +there was no proper hotel. Benis is discreet. I'll say that for +him." + +The doctor's brilliance deserted him. He twiddled his thumbs. But +although Aunt Caroline's repudiation of his suggestion had been +unhesitating there was a gleam of new uneasiness in her eye. She +said no more. It was indeed quite half an hour before she remarked +explosively. + +"Unless it were an Indian!" + +Her companion turned from the scenery in pained surprise. + +"An Indian what?" he asked blankly. + +"An Indian secretary--a female one." + +"Nonsense. Indians aren't secretaries." + +But Aunt Caroline had "had a feeling." "It was your-self who +suggested that she might be a girl," she declared stubbornly, "and +if she is a girl, she must be an Indian. Indians are different--look +at Pullman porters." + +The doctor gasped. + +"Even I don't mind a Pullman porter," finished Aunt Caroline +grandly. + +"That's very nice," the doctor struggled to adjust him-self. "But +Pullman porters are not Indians, and even if they were I can't quite +see how it affects Benis and his lady secretary." + +"The principle," said Aunt Caroline, "is the same." + +Rogers wondered if his brain were going. At any rate he felt that he +needed a smoke. Aunt Caroline did not like smoke, so comparative +privacy was assured. Also, a good smoke might show him a way out of +his difficulty. + +It didn't. At the end of the second cigar the cold fact, imparted by +the clerk in the steamship office, that Professor Spence and wife +had preceded them upon this very boat, was still a cold fact and +nothing more. The long letter from the bridegroom which would have +made things plain had passed him on his trip across the continent +and was even now lying, with other unopened mail, in his Bainbridge +office. + +If Benis were married, then the bride could be no other than the +nurse-secretary he had written about in that one inconsequent letter +to which he, Rogers, had replied with unmistakable warning. But the +thing seemed scarcely credible. If it were a fact, then it might +very easily be a tragedy also. Marriage in such haste and under such +circumstances could scarcely be other than a mistake, and +considering the quality of Benis Spence, a most serious one. + +John Rogers was very fond of his eccentric friend and the threatened +disaster loomed almost personal. He felt himself to blame too, for +the advice which had thrown Spence directly from the frying-pan of +Aunt Caroline into the fire of a sterner fate. Add to all this a +keen feeling of unwarranted intrusion and we have some idea of the +state of mind with which Dr. John Rogers saw the white tents of the +campers as the steamer put in at Friendly Bay. + +"There are two tents," said Aunt Caroline lowering her lorgnette. "I +shall be quite comfortable." + +The doctor did not smile. His sense of humor was suffering from +temporary exhaustion and his strongest consciousness was a feeling +of relief that neither Benis nor anyone else appeared to notice +their arrival. Even the unique spectacle of a middle-aged lady in +elastic-sided boots proceeding on tiptoe, and with all the tactics +of a scouting party, toward the evidently deserted tents provoked no +demonstration from anyone. + +"They're not here!" called the scouting party in a carrying whisper. + +"Obviously not." The doctor wiped his heated fore-head. "Probably +they've gone for the night. Then you'll have to marry me to save my +reputation." + +"Jokes upon serious subjects are in very bad taste, young man," said +Aunt Caroline. But her rebuke was half-hearted. She looked uneasy. +"John," she added with sudden suspicion, "you don't suppose they +could have known we were coming?" + +"How could they possibly?" + +"If she is an Indian, they might. I've heard of such things. I--oh, +John! Look!" + +"Snake?" asked John callously. Nevertheless he followed Aunt +Caroline's horrified gaze and saw, with a thrill of more normal +interest, a pair of dainty moccasins whose beaded toes protruded +from the flap of one of the tents. + +"Indian!" gasped Aunt Caroline. "Oh John!" + +"Not a bit of it!" Our much tried physician spoke with salutary +shortness. "They may be Indian-made but that's all. I'll eat my hat +if it's an Indian who has worn them. Did you ever see an Indian with +a foot like that?" + +Indignation enabled Aunt Caroline to disclaim acquaintance with any +Indian feet whatever. + +"It's a white girl's moccasin," he assured her. "Lots of girls wear +them in camp. Or," hastily, "it may be a curiosity. Benis may be +making a collection." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. Her gaze was fixed with almost piteous +intensity upon the tent. + +"D'you think I might go in?" she faltered. + +"You might" said John carefully. + +Aunt Caroline sighed. + +"How dreadful to have traditions!" she murmured. "There's no real +reason why I shouldn't go in. And," with grim honesty, "if you +weren't here watching I believe I'd do it. Anyway we may have to, if +they don't come soon. I can't sit on this grass. I'm sure it's +damp." + +"I'll get you a chair from Benis's tent," offered John unkindly. +"There are no traditions to forbid that, are there?" + +"No. And, John--you might look around a little? Just to make sure." + +The doctor nodded. He had every intention of looking around. He +felt, in fact, entitled to any knowledge which his closest +observation might bring him. But the tent was almost empty. That at +least proved that the tent belonged to Spence. He was a man with an +actual talent for bareness and spareness in his sleeping quarters. +Even his room at school had possessed that man-made neatness which +one associates with sailor's cabins and the cells of monks. The +camp-bed was trimly made, a dressing-gown lay across a canvas chair, +a shaving mug hung from the centre pole--there was not so much as a +hairpin anywhere. + +John crossed thoughtfully to the folding stand which stood with its +portable reading lamp beside the bed. There was one unusual thing +there, a photograph. Benis, as his friend knew, was an expert +amateur photographer--but he never perched his photographs upon +stands. This one must be an exception, and exceptions are +illuminating. + +It was still quite light inside the tent and the doctor could see +the picture clearly. It was an extraordinarily good one, quite in +the professor's happiest style. Composition, lighting, timing, all +were perfect. But it is doubtful if John Rogers noticed any of these +excellencies. He was absorbed at once and utterly in the personality +of the person photographed. This was a girl, bending over a still +pool. The pose was one of perfectly arrested grace and the face +which was lifted, as if at the approach of someone, looked directly +out of the picture and into Roger's eyes. It was the most living +picture he had ever seen. The lips were parted as if for speech, +there was a smile behind the widely opened eyes. And both face and +form were beautiful. + +The doctor straightened up with a sharply drawn breath. It seemed +that something had happened. For one flashing instant some inner +knowledge had linked him with his own unlived experience. It was +gone as soon as it came. He did not even realize it, save as a sense +of strangeness. Yet, as a chemist lifts a vial and drops the one +drop which changes all within his crucible, so some magic philtre +tinged John Roger's cup of life in that one stolen look. + +"Have you found anything?" Aunt Caroline's voice came impatiently. + +"Nothing." + +But to himself he added "everything" for indeed the mystery of Benis +seemed a mystery no longer. The photograph made everything clear. +And yet not so clear, either. The doctor looked around at the ship- +shape bachelorness of the tent, at the neat pile of newly typed +manuscript upon the bed, and felt bewildered. Even the eccentricity +of Benis, in its most extravagant mode, seemed inadequate as a +covering explanation. + +Giving himself a mental shake, the intruder picked up the largest +chair and rejoined Aunt Caroline. + +"It's Benis right enough," he announced. "He is probably off +interviewing Indians. I had better light a fire. It may break the +news." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +We left the professor somewhat abruptly in the midst of a cryptic +ejaculation of "My Aunt!" + +"How can it be your Aunt?" asked Desire reasonably. + +"I don't know how. But, owing to some mysterious combination of the +forces of nature, it is my Aunt. No one else could wear that hat." + +"Then hadn't we better go to meet her? You can't sit here all +night." + +"I know I can't. It's too near. We didn't see her soon enough!" + +"Cowardly custard!" said Desire, stamping her foot. + +The professor's mild eyes blinked at her in surprise. "Good!" he +said with satisfaction. "That is the first remark suitable to your +extreme youth that I've ever heard you make. But the sentiment it +implies is all wrong. Physical courage, as such, is mere waste when +opposed to my Aunt. What is wanted is technique. Technique requires +thought. Thought requires leisure. That is why I am sitting here +behind a boulder--what is she doing now?" + +Desire investigated. + +"She is walking up and down." + +"A bad sign. It doesn't leave us much time. The most difficult point +is the introduction. Now, in an introduction, what counts for most? +Ancestors, of course. My dear, have you any ancestors?" + +"Not one." + +"I was afraid of that. In fact I had intended to provide a few. But +I never dreamed they would be needed so soon. What is she doing +now?" + +"She has stopped walking. She has turned. She is coming this way." + +"Then we must take our chance." The professor rose briskly. "Never +allow the enemy to attack. Come on. But keep behind me while I draw +her fire." + +Aunt Caroline advanced in full formation. + +"Benis. Ben--nis!" she called piercingly. "He can't be very far +away," she declared over her shoulder. "I have a feeling--Benis!" + +"Who calls so loud?" quoted the professor innocently, appearing with +startling suddenness from behind the boulder. "Why!" in amazed +recognition. "It is Aunt Caroline!" + +"It is." Aunt Caroline corroborated grimly. + +"This is a surprise," exclaimed the professor. As we have noted +before, he liked to be truthful when possible. "How'd'do, Aunt! +However did you get here?" + +"How I came," replied Aunt Caroline, "is not material. The fact that +I am here is sufficient." + +"Quite," said Benis. "But," he added in a puzzled tone, "you are not +alone. Surely, my dear Aunt, I + +"You see Dr. Rogers who has kindly accompanied me." + +"John Rogers here? With you?" In rising amazement. + +"It is a detail." Aunt Caroline's voice was somewhat tart. "I could +scarcely travel unaccompanied." + +"Surely not. But really--was there no lady friend--" + +"Don't be absurd, Benis!" But she was obscurely conscious of a +check. Against the disturbed surprise of her nephew's attitude her +sharpened weapons had already turned an edge. Only one person can +talk at a time, and, to her intense indignation, she found herself +displaced as the attacking party. Also the behavior of her auxiliary +force was distinctly apologetic. + +"Hello, Benis!" said Rogers, coming up late and reluctant. "Sorry to +have dropped in on you like this. But your Aunt thought--" + +"Don't say a word, my dear fellow! No apology is necessary. I am +quite sure she did. But it might be a good idea for you to do a +little thinking yourself occasionally. Aunt is so rash. How were you +to know that you would find us at home? Rather a risk, what? +Luckily, Aunt," turning to that speechless relative with +reassurance, "it is quite all right. My wife will be delighted-- +Desire, my dear, permit me--Aunt, you will be glad, I'm sure--this +is Desire. Desire, this is your new Aunt." + +"How do you do?" said Desire. "I have never had an Aunt before." + +It was the one thing which she should have said. Had she known Aunt +Caroline for years she could not have done better. But, +unfortunately, that admirable lady did not hear it. She had heard +nothing since the shattering blow of the word "wife." + +"John," she said hoarsely. "Take me away. Take me away at once!" + +"Certainly," said John, "Only it's frightfully damp in the woods. +And there may be bears." + +"Bears or not. I can't stay here." + +"Oh, but you must," Desire came forward with innocent hospitality. +"You can sleep on my cot and I'll curl up in a blanket. I am quite +used to sleeping out." + +Aunt Caroline closed her eyes. It was true then. Benis Spence had +married a squaw! Blindly she groped for the supporting hand of the +doctor. "John," she moaned, "did you hear that? Sleeping out--oh how +could he?" + +"Very easily, I should think." Under the slight handicap of +assisting the drooping lady to her chair, John Rogers looked back at +Desire, standing now within the radius of the camp fire's light--and +once again he felt the strangeness as of some half-glimpsed +prophecy. "She is wonderful," he added. "Look!" + +Aunt Caroline looked, shuddered, and collapsed again upon a +whispered "Indian!" + +"Nonsense!" Rogers almost shook her. And yet, considering the +suggestive force of the poor lady's preconceived ideas, the mistake +was not unpardonable. In those surroundings, against that flickering +light, standing, straight and silent in her short skirt and +moccasins, her leaf-brown hair tied with bracken and turned to +midnight black by the shadows, her grey eyes mysterious under their +dark lashes, and her lips unsmiling, Desire might well have been +some beauty of that vanishing race. A princess, perhaps, waiting +with grave courtesy for the welcome due her from her husband's +people. + +"And not a bit ashamed of it," murmured Aunt Caroline in what she +fondly hoped was a whisper. "Utterly callous! Benis," in a wavering +voice, "I had a feeling--" + +"Wait!" interrupted Benis, producing a notebook and pencil. "Let us +be exact, Aunt. Just when did you notice the feeling first?" + +"What difference does that make?" Aunt Caroline's voice was +perceptibly stronger. + +"Why," eagerly, "don't you see? If you had the feeling at the time +(allowing for difference by the sun) it is a case of actual +clairvoyance. If the feeling was experienced previous to the fact +then it is a case of premonition only, and, if after, the whole +thing can be explained as mere telepathy." + +"Oh," said Aunt Caroline. But she said it thoughtfully. Her voice +was normal. + +"Wonderful thing--this psychic sense," went on her nephew. "Fancy +you're knowing all about it even before you got my letter!" + +"Did you send a letter?" asked Aunt Caroline after a pause. "Why +Aunt! Of course. Two of them. Before and after. But I might have +known you would hardly need them. If you had only arrived a few days +sooner, you might have been present at the ceremony." + +"Ceremony? There was a ceremony?" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"The Church service?" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"In a church?" + +"Not exactly a church. You see it was rather late in the evening. +The care-taker had gone to bed. In fact we had to get the Rector out +of his." + +"Bern's!" + +"He didn't mind. Said he'd sleep all the better for it. And he wore +his gown--over his pyjamas--very effective." + +"Had the man no conscientious scruples?" sternly. + +"Scruples--against pyjamas?" + +"Against mixed marriages." + +"I don't know. I didn't ask him. We weren't discussing the ethics of +mixed marriage." + +"Don't pretend to misunderstand me, Benis. For a man who has married +an Indian, your levity is disgraceful." + +"How ridiculous, Aunt! If you will listen to an explanation--" + +"I need no explanation," Aunt Caroline, once more mistress of +herself rose majestically. "I hope I know an Indian when I see one. +I am not blind, I believe. But as there seems to be no question as +to the marriage, I have nothing further to say. Another woman in my +place might feel justified in voicing a just resentment, but I have +made it a rule to expect nothing from any relative, especially if +that relative be, even partially, a Spence. When my poor, dear +sister married your father I told her what she was doing. And she +lived to say, 'Caroline, you were right!' That was my only reward. +More I have never asked. All that I have ever required of my +sister's child has been ordinary docility and reliance upon my +superior sense and judgment. Now when I find that, in a matter so +serious as marriage, neither my wishes nor my judgment have been +considered, I am not surprised. I may be shocked, outraged, +overwhelmed, but I am not surprised." + +"Bravo!" said Benis involuntarily. He couldn't help feeling that +Aunt Caroline was really going strong. "What I mean to say," he +added, "is that you are quite right Aunt, except in these +particulars, in which you are entirely wrong. But before we go +further, what about a little sustenance. Aren't you horribly +hungry?" + +"I am sure they are both starved," said Desire. "And I hate to +remind you that you ate the last sandwich. Will you make Aunt +Caroline comfortable while I cut some more? Perhaps Dr. John will +help me--although we haven't shaken hands yet." + +She held out her hands to the uneasy doctor with a charming gesture +of understanding. "Did you expect to see a squaw, too', Doctor?" + +"I expected to see, just you." His response was a little too eager. +"I had seen you before--by a pool, bending over--" + +"Oh, the photograph? Benis is terribly proud of it," + +"Best I've ever done," confirmed the professor. "Did you notice the +curious light effect on that silver birch at the left?" + +"Wonderful," said Rogers, but he wasn't thinking of the light effect +on the silver birch. As he followed Desire to the tent his orderly +mind was in a tumult. "He doesn't know how wonderful she is!" he +thought. "And she doesn't care whether he does or not. And that +explains--" But he saw in a moment that it didn't explain anything. +It only made the mystery deeper. + +"And now, Benis, that we are alone--" began Aunt Caroline. . . . + +We may safely leave out several pages here. If you realize Aunt +Caroline at all, you will see that at least so much self-expression +is necessary before anyone else can expect a chance. Time enough to +pick up the thread again when the inevitable has happened and her +exhausted vocabulary is replaced by tears. + +"Not that I care at all for my own feelings," wept Aunt Caroline. +"There are others to think of. What will Bainbridge say?" + +Her nephew roused himself. From long experience he knew that the +worst was over. + +"Bainbridge, my dear Aunt," he said, "will say exactly what you tell +it to say. It was because we realized this that we decided to leave +the whole matter in your hands--all the announcing and things. But +of course," with resignation, "if we have taken too much for +granted; if you are not equal to it, we had better not come back to +Bainbridge at all." + +"Oh," cried Aunt Caroline with fresh tears. "My poor boy! The very +idea! To think that I should live to hear you say it! How gladly I +would have saved you from this had I known in time." + +"I am sure you would, Aunt. But the gladness would have been all +yours. I did not want to be saved, you see, and people who are saved +against their will are so frightfully ungrateful. Wouldn't you like +a dry hanky? Just wait till you've had a couple of dozen sandwiches. +You'll feel quite differently. Think what a relief it will be to +have me off your mind. You can relax now, and rest. You've been +overworking for years. Consider how peaceful it will be not to have +to ask any more silly girls to visit. You know you hated it, really, +and only did it for my sake." + +"I did everything for your sake," moaned Aunt Caroline brokenly. +"And they were silly. But I hoped you would not notice it. And you +will never know what I went through trying to get them down for +breakfast at nine." + +"I can imagine it," with ready sympathy. "They always yawned. And +there must have been many darker secrets which I never guessed. You +kept them from me. Do you remember that hole in Ada's stocking?" + +"Yes, but I--" + +"Never mind. The fib wasn't nearly as big as the hole. But how could +you expect me to help noticing the general lightness and frivolity +of your visitors, shown up so plainly against the background of your +own character?" + +"Y-es. I didn't think of that" + +"Perhaps I should never have married if I had not got away--from the +comparison, I mean." + +"There was a danger, I suppose. But," with renewed grief, "Oh, +Benis, such a wedding! No cards, no cake--and in pyjamas--oh!" + +"Come now, Aunt, don't give way! And do you feel that it is quite +right to criticise the clergy? I always fancy that it is the first +step toward free-thinking. And you couldn't see much of them, you +know, only the legs. Besides, consider what a wedding with cards and +cake would have meant in Bainbridge at this time. No second maid, no +proper cook! We should have appeared at a disadvantage in the eyes +of the whole town. As it is, we can take our time, engage competent +help, select a favorable date and give a reception which will be the +very last word in elegance." + +"Yes! I could get--what am I talking about? Of course I shan't do +anything of the kind. How can you ask me to? Oh, Benis--a heathen!" + +"Not a bit of it, Aunt. Church of England. But I can see what has +happened. You have been allowing old Bones to cloud your judgment. I +never knew a fellow so prone to jump to idiotic conclusions. No +doubt he heard that I had come in search of Indians and, without a +single inquiry, decided that I had married one." + +"It was hasty of him. I admit that," said Aunt Caroline wiping her +eyes. + +"But with your knowledge of my personal character you will +understand that my interest in, and admiration for, our aborigines +in their darker and wilder state--" + +"John said they were only fairly wild." + +"Well, even in a fairly wild state. Or indeed in a wholly tame one. +My interest at any time is purely scientific and would never lead me +to marry into their family circle. My wife's father, as a matter of +fact, is English. A professional man, retired, and living upon a +small--er--estate near Vancouver. Her mother, who died when Desire +was a child, was English also." + +"Who took care of the child?" + +"A Chinaman." The professor was listening to Desire's distant laugh +and answered absently with more truth than wisdom. + +"What!" The tone of horror brought him back. + +"Oh, you mean who brought her up? Her father, of course." + +"You said a Chinaman." + +"They had a Chinese cook." + +"Scandalous! Had the child no Aunt?" + +The professor sighed. "Poor girl," he said. "One of the first things +she told me about herself was, 'I have no Aunt.'" + +Aunt Caroline polished her nose thoughtfully. + +"That would account for a great deal," she admitted. "And her being +English on both sides is something. Now that you speak of it, I did +notice a slight accent. I never met an English person yet who could +say "a" properly. But she is young and may learn. In the meantime--" + +"The sandwiches are ready," called Desire from the tent. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +"And do you mean to tell me that she really believes that lie?" + +Benis Spence had taken his medical adviser up the slope to the +Indian burying-ground. It was the one place within reasonable radius +where they were not likely to be interrupted by periodic appearances +of Aunt Caroline. Aunt Caroline never took liberties with burying- +grounds. "A graveyard is a graveyard," said Aunt Caroline, "and not +a place for casual conversation." There-fore, amid the graves and +the crosses, the friends felt fairly safe. + +"Why shouldn't she believe it?" countered Spence. "Don't you suppose +I can tell a lie properly?" + +"To be honest--I don't." + +"Well," somewhat gloomily, "this one seemed to go over all right. It +went much farther than I ever expected. It's far too up-and-coming. +The way it grows frightens me. At first there was nothing--just an +'experience.' A mild abstraction, buried in the past, a sentimental +'has-been' without form or substance. Then, without warning, the +experience acquired a name, and then a history and then, just when I +had begun to forget about it, hair suddenly popped up, yellow hair, +and, the day after, eyes--blue eyes, misty. The nose remains +indeterminate, but noses often do. Only yesterday I felt compelled +to add a mouth. Small and red, I made it--ugh! How I hate a small +red mouth. Oh, if it amuses you--all right!" + +"Laugh at it yourself, old man! It's all you can do. But what a +frightful list of blunders. If you had to tell a lie why didn't you +take Mark Twain's advice and tell a good one? The name, for +instance--why on earth did you choose 'Mary?' Even 'Marion' would +have been safer. Don't you know you can't turn a corner in Bain- +bridge or anywhere else without stumbling over a Mary? There's a +Mary in my office at the present minute and--yes, by Jove, she has +golden hair!" + +The professor looked stubborn. + +"My Mary's hair was not golden. It was yellow, plain yellow. I +remember I made a point of that." + +"Well then, there's Mary Davis. You remember her?" + +"The one who visited Aunt Caroline?" + +"Yes. Pretty girl. About your own age! 'Twas thought in Bainbridge +that her thoughts turned youward. Her hair was yellow then, and may +be again by now. And she had blue eyes, bright blue." + +"My Mary's were not bright blue. Hers were misty, like the hills." + +"Forget it, old man! You'll find you won't be able to insist on +shades. Any Mary with golden, yellow, tawny or tow-colored hair, and +old blue, grey blue, Alice blue or plain blue eyes will come under +Mrs. Spence's reflective observation. Your progress will be a +regular charge of the light brigade with Marys on all sides." + +"Now you're making yourself unpleasant," said the professor. "And, +to change the subject, why do you insist upon calling Desire 'Mrs. +Spence?' She calls you John." + +To his questioner's infinite amazement the doctor blushed. + +"She has told me I might," he admitted. "But it seemed so dashed +cheeky." + +"Why? You are at least ten years older than she. And a friend of the +family." + +"Ten years is nothing," said the doctor. "And I want to be her +friend, not a friend of the family. Besides, she, herself, is not at +all like the girls of twenty whom one usually meets." + +"She is simpler, perhaps." + +"In manner, but not in character. There is a distance, a poise, a-- +surely you feel what I mean." + +"Imagination, John. It is you who create the distance by clinging to +formality." + +"All right. You're sure you don't object?" + +"My dear Bones, why should I possibly?" + +The doctor looked sulky. Benis smiled. + +"Look here, John," he said after a reflective pause. "Desire is as +direct as a child. If she calls you by your first name you can +depend that she feels no embarrassment about it. So why should you? +And there's another thing. She may not find everything quite easy in +Bainbridge. She will need your frank and unembarrassed friendship-- +as well as mine." + +"Yours?" + +"Yes. You understand the situation, don't you? At least as far as +understanding is necessary. And you are the only one who will +understand. So you will be of more use to her than anyone else, +except me. I am going to do my best to make her happy. It's my job. +I am not turning it over to you. But there may be times when I shall +fail. There may be times when I shan't know that she isn't happy--a +lack of perspective or something. If ever there comes a time like +that and you know of it, don't spare me. I have taken the +responsibility of her youth upon my shoulders and I am not going to +shirk. It will be her happiness first--at all costs." + +"People aren't usually made happy at all costs," said the doctor +wisely. + +"They may be, if they do not know the price." + +"I see." + +"You'll know where I stand a bit better when you've read a letter +you'll find waiting for you at home. But here is the whole point of +the matter--I had to get desire away from that devilish old parent +of hers. And marriage was the only effective way. But Desire did not +want marriage. She has never told me just why but I have seen and +heard enough to know that her horror of the idea is deep seated, a +spiritual nausea, an. abnormal twist which may never straighten. I +say 'may,' because there is a good chance the other way. All one can +do is to wait. And in the meantime I want her to find life pleasant. +She once told me that she was a window-gazer. I want to open all the +doors." + +"Except the one door that; matters," said Rogers gloomily. + +"Nonsense! You don't believe that. Life has many things to give +besides the love of man and woman." + +"Has it? You'll know better some day--even a cold-blooded fish like +you." + +"Fish?" said Spence sorrowfully. "And from mine own familiar friend? +Fish!" + +"What will you do," exploded the doctor, "when she wakes up and +finds how you have cheated her? When she realizes, too late, that +she has sold her birthright?" + +The professor rose slowly and dusted the dry grass from the knees of +his knickers. "Tut, tut!" he said, "the subject excites you. Let us +talk about me for a change. Observe me carefully, John, and tell me +what you think of me. Only not in marine language. Am I an Apollo? +Or a Greek god? Or even a movie star of the third magnitude? Or am +I, not to put too fine a point on it, as homely as a hedge fence?" + +"Oh, hang it, Benis, stop your fooling." + +"I'm not fooling. I want you to understand that I have consulted my +mirror. And I know just how likely I am to appeal to the imagination +of a young girl. I take my chance, nevertheless. Your question, +divested of oratory, means what shall I do if Desire finds her mate +and that mate is not myself? My answer, also divested of oratory, is +that I do not keep what does not belong to me. Is that plain?" + +The doctor nodded. "Plain enough," he said. "But how will you know?" + +"Well, I might guess. You see," resuming his seat and his ordinary +manner at the same time, "Desire is my secretary. I make a point of +studying the psychology of those who work with me. And, aside from +the slight abnormality which I have mentioned, Desire is very true +to type, her own type--a very womanly one. And a woman in love is +hard to mistake. But," cheerfully, "she is only a child yet in +matters of loving. And she may never grow up." + +"You seem quite happy about it." + +" 'Call no man happy till he is dead.' And yet--I am happy. If tears +must come, why anticipate them?" + +"There speaks the hopeless optimist," said Rogers, laughing. "But +because I called you a fish, I'll give you a bit of valuable advice. +I can't see you scrap quite all your chances. Kill Mary." + +"I can't. Besides, why should I? Desire likes to hear about her. Or +says she does. It provides her with an interest. And a little +perfectly human jealousy is very stimulating." + +"You think she is jealous?" + +"Oh, not in the way you mean. But every woman likes to be first, +even with her friends. And if she can't be first, she is healthily +curious about the woman who is. Desire would miss Mary very much." + +"You've been a fool, Benis." + +"I shall try not to be a bigger one." + +The friends looked polite daggers at each other. And suddenly +smiled. + +"To be continued in our next," said Rogers. "Is it finally settled +that we turn homeward tomorrow?" + +"Yes. We did our last extracting from the hawk-eyed one yesterday. +He has been a real find, John. Do you know what he calls Aunt +Caroline? 'The-old-woman-who-sniffs-the-air.' Desire did not +translate. Isn't she rather a wonder, John? Did you ever see any- +thing like the way she manages Aunt?" + +But the doctor's eyes were on the distant tents. + +"Someone in blue is waving to us," he said. "It must be your Aunt." + +Spence lazily raised his eyes. + +"No. That's Desire. She is wearing blue." + +"She was wearing pink this morning." + +"Yes. But she won't be wearing it this afternoon." + +"How do you know?" curiously. + +The professor yawned. "By psychology! I happened to mention that +pink was Mary's favorite color." + +Rogers opened his lips. He was plainly struggling with himself. + +"Don't trouble," said Spence serenely. "I know what you feel it your +duty to say. But it isn't really your duty. And there would be no +use in saying it, anyway. I take my chances!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The long Transcontinental puffed steadily up toward the white-capped +peaks of a continent. They were a day out from Vancouver--a day +during which Desire had sat upon the observation platform, drugged +with wonder and beauty. She had known mountains all her life. They +were dear and familiar, and the sound of rushing water was in her +blood. But these heights and depths, these incredible valleys, these +ever-climbing, piling hills pushing brown shoulders through their +million pines, the dizzy, twisting track and the constant marvel of +the man-made train which braved it, held her spellbound and almost +speechless. + +Fortunately, Aunt Caroline was indisposed and had remained all day +in the privacy of their reserved compartment. Only one such +reservation had been available and the men of the party had been +compelled to content themselves with upper berths in the next car. + +To Desire, who presented that happy combination, a good traveller +still uncloyed by travel, every deft arrangement of the comfortable +train provided matter for curiosity and interest--the little ladders +for the upstair berths, the tiny reading-lamps, the paper bags for +one's new hat, the queer little soaps and drinking cups in sealed +oil paper--all these brought their separate thrill. And then there +was the inexhaustible interest of the travellers themselves. When +night had fallen and the great Outside withdrew itself, she turned +with eager eyes to the shifting world around her, a human world even +more absorbing than the panorama of the hills. + +What was there, for instance, about that handsome old lady, from +Golden (fascinating name!) which permitted her to act as if the +whole train were her private suite and all the porters servants of +her person? She was the most autocratic old lady Desire had ever +seen and far younger and more alert than the tired-looking daughter +who accompanied her. They were going to New York. They went to New +York every year. desire wondered why. + +She wondered, too, about the rancher's wife going home to Scotland +for the first time since her marriage. What did it feel like to be +going home--to a real home with a mother and brothers and sisters? +What did it feel like to be taking two dark-haired, bright-eyed +babies, as like as twins and with only a year between them, for the +fond approval of grand-parents across the seas? . . . The rancher's +wife looked as if she enjoyed it. But women will pretend anything. + +Desire's eyes shifted to the inevitable honeymoon couple who were +going to Winnipeg to visit "his" people. The bride was almost +painfully smart, but she was pretty and "he" adored her. Her mouth +was small and red. It fascinated Desire. She could not keep her eyes +off it. It was like--well, it was the kind of mouth men seemed to +admire. She tried honestly to admire it her-self, but the more she +tried the less admirable she found it. She wondered if Benis-- + +"What do you think of the bride?" she murmured, under cover of a +magazine. + +"Where?" said Benis, in an unnecessarily loud voice, laying down his +paper. + +"S-ssh! Over there. The girl in green." + +"Pretty little thing," said Benis. His tone lacked conviction. + +"Lovely eyes, don't you think? Nice hair and such a darling nose. +But her mouth--isn't her mouth rather small?" + +"Regular 'prunes and prisms,'" agreed Benis. + +"It is very red, though." + +"Lipstick, probably." + +"But I thought you liked small, red mouths." + +"Hate 'em," said Benis, who had a shockingly bad memory. + +Desire went to bed thoughtful. "I suppose," she thought as she lay +listening to the swinging train, "men like certain things because +they belong to certain people and not because they like them really +at all." This was not very lucid but it seemed to satisfy Desire for +she stopped thinking and went to sleep. + +Morning found them on the top of the world. desire was up and out +long before the mists had lifted. She watched the wonder of their +going, she saw the coming of the sun. She drew in, with great deep +breaths, the high, sweet air. The cream of her skin glowed softly +with the tang of it. + +"Quite lovely!" said a voice behind her, and Desire turned to find +her solitude shared by the young old lady from Golden. + +"Your complexion, I mean, my dear," said she, sitting down +comfortably in the folds of a fur coat. "I never use adjectives +about the mountains. It would seem impertinent. How old are you?" + +Desire gave her age smiling. "Charming age," nodded the old lady. +"Youth is a wonderful thing. See that you keep it." + +"Like you?" said Desire, her smile brightening. + +The old lady looked pleased. + +"Quite so," she said. "Never allow yourself to believe that silly +folly about a woman being as old as she looks. As if a mirror had +more mind than the person looking in it! I remember very well waking +up on the morning of my thirtieth birthday and thinking, 'I am +thirty. I am growing old.' But, thank heaven, I had a mind. I soon +put a stop to that. 'Not a day older will I grow!' I said. And I +never have. What's a mind for, if not to make use of?" + +Desire looked a little awed at an audacity which defied time. + +"Don't misunderstand me," went on her companion. "I don't mean that +I tried to look young. I was young. I am young still." + +"Yes," said Desire. "I see what you mean. But--wasn't it lonely?" + +The old lady patted her arm with an approving hand. + +"Clever child!" she said. "Yes, of course it was lonely. But one +can't have everything. Pick out what you want most and cling to it. +Let the rest go. It's a good philosophy." + +"Isn't it selfish?" + +"Youth is always selfish," complacently. "I feel quite complimented +now when anyone calls me a selfish creature. You are a bride, aren't +you?" + +Desire blushed beautifully. But one couldn't resent so frank an +interest. + +"Yes," she said. + +"That thin, dark man is your husband? The one with the chin?" + +"He has a chin," doubtfully. "Oh, I see what you mean. Yes, he is my +husband." + +"Odd you never noticed his chin before," commented the old lady. +"Well, look out! That man has reserves. Who is the other one?" + +"A friend." + +The old lady shook a well-kept finger. + +"Inconvenient things, friends!" said she. "Far better without them." + +"Haven't you any?" + +"Not one. They went on. All old fogies now." Her air of boredom was +unfeigned. + +"But you have your daughter." + +"Too old!" The youthful eyes twinkled maliciously. "Now you, my +dear, would be nearer my age. For you have youth within as well as +without. Keep it. It's all there is worth having." + +Desire smiled. But the words lingered. She had never valued her +youth. She had been impatient of it. And now to be told that it was +all there was worth having! It was the creed of selfishness. And +yet--had life already given her one of her greatest treasures and +had she come near to missing the meaning of the gift? + +At breakfast she observed her husband's chin so narrowly that he +became uneasy, wondering if he had forgotten to shave. She looked at +John's chin, too, with reflective eyes. Undoubtedly it was much +inferior. + +The train had conquered the mountains now and was plunging down upon +their farther side. Soon they were in the foot-hills and then +nothing but a flashing streak across an endless, endless tableland +of wheat. Desire, who had never seen the prairie, smiled +whimsically. + +"It is like coming from the world's cathedral to the world's +breakfast-table!" said she. + +Aunt Caroline snorted. For her part, she said, she found train +breakfasts much the same anywhere except near the Great Lakes, where +one might expect better fish. + +It grew very hot. The effortless speed of the train rolled up the +blazing miles and threw them behind, league on league. The sun set +and rose on a level sky. The babies of the rancher's wife grew tired +and sticky. They were almost too much for their equally tired +mother, so half of them sat on Desire's lap most of the time. +desire's half seemed to bounce a great deal and gave bubbly kisses, +but the rings around its fat wrist and the pink dimples in its +fingers were well worth while keeping clean and cool just to look +at. It was true, as Desire reminded herself, that she did not care +for children, but anyone might find a round, fat one with cooey +laughs a pleasant thing to play with! She did it mostly when Benis +was in the smoker with John. + +At Winnipeg the honeymoon couple left them and the old lady from +Golden, much to her disgust, was also compelled to stay over for a +day because her middle-aged daughter was train-sick. Other and less +interesting faces took their places. + +Desire watched them hopefully but the only one who seemed appealing +was a sturdy prairie school teacher going "home." Desire liked the +school teacher. She was so solid, so sure of herself, so wrapped up +in and satisfied with something which she called "education." She +asked Desire where she had been educated. desire did not seem to +know. "Just anywhere," she said, "when father felt like it and had +time. And I taught myself shorthand." + +"Then you aren't really educated at all?" said the teacher with +frank pity. "What a shame! Education is so important." + +Benis was frankly afraid of her. + +"But you need not be," Desire assured him. "She looks up to you. She +thinks that, being a professor, you have even more education than +she has." + +"God forbid!" said Benis devoutly. + +"Besides, she knows all about you. I found out today that she is an +Ontario girl. And she lives--guess where? In Bainbridge!" + +Aunt Caroline (they were at dinner) looked up from her roast lamb +and remarked "Impossible." + +"But she does, Aunt. She says so." + +Aunt Caroline fancied that probably the young person was mistaken. +"Certainly," she said, "I have never heard of her." + +"She lives," said Desire, "on Barker Street and she took her first +class teacher's certificate at Bainbridge Collegiate Institute." + +Aunt Caroline fancied that they gave almost anyone a certificate +there. All one had to do was to pass the examinations. As to Barker +Street--there was a Barker Street, certainly. And this young person +might live on it. She, herself, was not acquainted with the +neighborhood. + +"But she knows you," Desire persisted. "She said, 'Oh, is Miss +Caroline Campion your Aunt? I remember her from my youth up.'" + +"Very impertinent," said Miss Campion. Her nephew's eyes began to +twinkle. + +"Oh, everyone knows Aunt Caroline," he explained. "But then, +everyone knows the Queen of England." + +Aunt Caroline was mollified. "Of course, in that sense--" She felt +able to go on with her roast lamb. + +Dr. Rogers, who had listened to this interchange with delight, said +now that the young lady had been quite right about her place of +residence. She did live in Bainbridge, on Barker Street. He did not +know her personally but her older sister was a patient of his. The +mother and father were dead. Very nice, quiet people. + +Desire was quite young enough to laugh and to point this with "Dead +ones usually are." + +The school teacher, at another table, heard the laugh and felt a +passing sense of injustice. It seemed unfair that anyone so +obviously without education could feel free to laugh in that +satisfying way. It was plain that young Mrs. Spence scarcely +realized her sad deficiency. And it certainly was a little +discouraging that the cleverest men almost invariably. . . . + +Fort William came and passed and in the sparkling sunshine of +another morning the train dashed into the wild Superior country +where the wealth lies under the rock instead of above it. To Desire, +her first glimpse of the Great Lake was like a glimpse of home. The +coolness of the air was grateful after prairie heat but, scarcely +had she welcomed back the smell of pine and fir, before it, too, was +left behind and they swung swiftly into a softer land--a land of +rolling fields and fences and farmhouses; of little towns, with +tree-lined roads; of streams less noisy and more disciplined; of fat +cows drowsy in the growing heat. + +"This," said Aunt Caroline with a breath of proprietary +satisfaction, "is Ontario." + +Desire, always literal, pointed out that according to the map in the +time-table, they had been in Ontario for some considerable time. + +Aunt Caroline thought that the map was probably mistaken. "For," she +added with finality, "it was certainly not the Ontario to which I +have been accustomed." + +This settled the matter for any sensible person. + +"We are nearly home now," she went on kindly. "I hope you are not +feeling very nervous, my dear." + +"I am not feeling nervous at all," said Desire with surprise. + +Fortunately Aunt Caroline took this proof of insensibility in a +flattering light. + +"Yes, yes," she said. "It is not, of course, as if you were arriving +alone. You can depend upon me entirely. John, are you sure that your +car will be in waiting?" + +"I wired it to wait," grinned John. "And usually it's a good +waiter." + +"Because," said Aunt Caroline, "we do not wish to be delayed at the +station. If Eliza Merry weather is there, the quicker we get away +the better. I am determined that she shall be introduced to Desire +exactly when other people are and not before. Please remember that, +Benis. Introduce Desire to no one at the station. I think, my dear, +we may put on our hats." + +"It's an hour yet, Aunt." + +"I know, but I do not wish to be hurried." + +Desire put on her hat. It was because she was always willing to give +Aunt Caroline her way in small matters that she invariably took her +own in anything that counted. It is a simple recipe and recommended +to anyone with Aunts. . . . + +"There's Potter's wood!" said Benis, who had been somewhat silent. + +Desire looked out eagerly. But Potter's wood was just like any other +wood and-- + +"There's Sadler's Pond!" said John. + +"They've cut down the old elm!" Aunt Caroline voiced deep +displeasure. + +"And put up a bill-board," said Benis. + +Desire felt a trifle lonely. These people, so close to her and yet +so far away, were going home. + +"Oh, how I wish you weren't stopping off," said the rancher's wife, +an actual tear on her flushed cheek. "You've been so kind, Mrs. +Spence. And anyone more understanding with children I never saw. +When you've got a boy like my Sandy for your own--" + +"By jove!" exclaimed Benis. "They're starting to cut down Miller's +hill at last." + +Aunt Caroline rose flutteringly. "There is the water-tank," she +announced in an agitated voice. "Desire, where is your parasol? My +dear, don't kiss that child again, it's sticky. WHERE is my hand- +bag? John, do you see your car?" + +"I don't SEE it," admitted John, "but--" + +"Bainbridge!" shouted the brakeman. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Desire was conscious of a brown and gabled station with a bow-window +and flower-beds, a long platform where baggage trucks lumbered, the +calling of taxi-men, a confused noise of greeting and farewell, and +Aunt Caroline's voice uncomfortably near her ear. + +"There she is!" whispered Aunt Caroline hoarsely. "Be careful! Don't +look!" + +"Who? Where?" asked Desire, wondering. + +"Eliza Merryweather. Second to the left." + +There was another confused impression of curious faces, of one face +especially with eager eyes and bobbing grey curls, and then she was +caught, as it were, in the swirl of Aunt Caroline and deposited, +somewhat breathless, in a car which, providentially, seemed to +expect her. + +Miss Campion was breathing heavily but her face was calm. + +"She nearly got it," she said. "But not quite." + +"Got what?" asked Desire, still wondering. + +"An introduction. Where is Benis? My dear, DON'T LOOK! She is the +most determined person." + +Miss Campion herself was staring straight ahead. Desire, much +amused, endeavored to do the same. + +"Surely it is a trifle!" she murmured. + +But Miss Campion was preoccupied. "Where can Benis be? John, do you +know what is keeping Benis? Oh, here he is," with an exclamation of +relief. "Now we can start. Did I hear you say 'trifle,' my dear? +There are no trifles in Bainbridge. John, I think we might drive +home by the Park." + +They drove home by the Park. It was not a long drive, just a dozen +or so of quiet streets, sentineled by maples; a factory in a hollow; +a church upon a hill; a glimpse of two long rows of prosperous +looking business blocks facing each other across an asphalted +pavement; a white brick school where children shouted; then quiet +streets again, the leisurely rising of a boulevarded slope and-- +home. + +They turned in at a white gate in the centre of a long fence backed +by trees. The Spences had built their homestead in days when land +was plentiful and, being a liberal-minded race, they had taken of it +what they would. Of all the houses in Bainbridge theirs alone was +prodigal of space. It stood aloof in its own grounds, its face +turned negligently from the street, outside. For the passer-by it +had no welcome; it kept itself, its flowers and its charm, for its +own people. + +Desire said "Oh," as she saw it--long and white, with green shutters +and deep verandas and wide, unhurried steps. She had seen many +beautiful homes but she had never seen "home" before. The beauty and +the peace of it caught the breath in her throat. She was glad that +Benis did not speak as he gave her his hand from the car. She was +glad for the volubility of Aunt Caroline and for the preoccupation +of Dr. John with his engine. She was glad that she and Benis stepped +info the cool, dim hall alone. In the dimness she could just see the +little, nervous smile upon his lips and the warm and kindly look in +his steady eyes. + +After that first moment, the picture blurred a little with the +bustle of arrival. Aunt Caroline, large and light in her cream dust- +coat, seemed everywhere. The dimness fled before her and rooms and +stairs and a white-capped maid emerged. The rooms confused Desire, +there were so many of them and all with such a strong family +likeness of dark furniture and chintz. Aunt Caroline called them by +their names and, throwing open their doors, announced them in +prideful tones. Desire felt very diffident, they were such exclusive +rooms, so old and settled and sure of themselves--and she was so +new. They might, she felt, cold-shoulder her entirely. It was touch +and go. + +All but one room! + +"This," said her conductor, throwing open a door, "is where Benis +does his work. He calls it his den. But you will agree that library +sounds better." + +Desire went in--with the other rooms she had been content to stand +in the doors--and, as she entered, the room seemed to draw round and +welcome her. It was deeply and happily familiar--that shallow, +rounded window from which one could lean and touch the grass out- +side, that dark, old desk with its leather and brass, that blue bowl +on the corner of the mantel-piece, the lazy, yet expectant, chairs; +even the beech tree whose light fingers tapped upon the window +glass! It was all part of her life, past or future--somewhere. + +"You see," said Aunt Caroline in her character of showman, "we have +fireplaces!" + +Desire was so used to fireplaces that this did not seem +extraordinary and yet, from Aunt Caroline's tone, she knew that it +must be, and tried to look impressed. + +"They are dirty," went on Aunt Caroline, "but they are worth it. +They give atmosphere. If you have a house like this, you have to +have fireplaces. That is what I tell my maids when I engage them. So +that they cannot grumble afterwards. Fireplaces are dirty, I tell +them, but--what are you staring at, my dear?" + +"Was I staring? I didn't know. It is just that I seem to know it +all." + +Aunt Caroline looked wise. "Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Benis +explains that curious feeling--some-thing about your right sphere or +something being larger than your left, or quicker, I forget which. +Not that I can see any sense in it, anyway. Do you mind if I leave +you here? I want to see if Olive has made the changes I ordered +upstairs." + +"Get a hump on!" said a loud, rude voice. + +Aunt Caroline jumped. + +"Oh, my dear! It's that horrible parrot. Benis insists on keeping +it. Some soldier friend of his left it to him. A really terrible +bird. And its language is disgraceful. It doesn't know anything but +slang. Not even 'Polly wants a cracker.' You'll hardly believe me, +but it says, 'Gimme the eats!' instead." + +"Can it!" said the parrot. Aunt Caroline fled. + +Desire, to whom a talking bird was a delightful novelty, went over +to the large cage where a beautiful green and yellow parrot swung +mournfully, head down. + +"Pretty Polly," said Desire timidly. + +The bird made a chuckling noise in his throat like a derisive +goblin. + +"What is your name, Polly?" + +"Yorick," said Polly unexpectedly. "Alas. Poor Yorick! I knew him +well." + +"You'd think it knew what I said!" thought Desire with a start. She +edged away and once more the welcoming spirit of the room rose up to +meet her. She tried first one chair and then another, fingered the +leather on their backs and finally settled on the light, straight +one in the round window. It was as familiar as the glove upon her +hand, and the view from the window--well, the view from the window +was partially blocked by the professor under the beech tree, +smoking. + +Seeing her, he discarded his cigar and came nearer, leaning on the +sill of the opened window. + +"You haven't got your hat off yet," he said in a discontented tone. +"Aren't you going to stay?" + +"May not a lady wear her hat in her own house?" + +"Oh, I see. Then I shan't have to butter your fingers?" + +"Do you compare me to a stray cat?" + +"I never compare you to anything." + +Desire wanted terribly to ask why, but an unaccustomed shyness +prevented her. Instead she asked if Yorick were really the parrot's +name. + +"I don't know. But he says it is, so I take his word for it. Do you +want to talk about parrots? Because it's not one of my best +subjects. May I change it?" + +"If you like." + +"Don't say, 'If you like,' say 'Right-o.' I always do when I think +of it. Since the war it is expected of one--a sign of this new +fraternity, you know, between Englishmen and Colonials. Everyone +over there is expected to say 'I guess' for the same reason. Only +they don't do it. How do you like your workroom?" "Mine?" + +"I thought you might not like me to say 'Ours.'" + +"Don't be silly!" + +"Well, how do you like it, anyway?" + +Desire's eyes met his for an instant and then fell quickly. But not +before he had seen a mistiness which looked remarkably like--Good +heavens, he might have known that she would be tired and upset! + +"You have noticed, of course," he went on lightly, "that we have +fireplaces? They are very dirty but they provide atmosphere. Almost +too much atmosphere sometimes. There are no dampers and when the +wind blows the wrong way--Oh, my dear child, do cry if you really +feel like it." + +"Cry!" indignantly. "I n--never cry." + +"Well, try it for a change. I believe it is strongly recommended +and--don't go away. Please." + +"I had no idea I was going to be silly," said Desire after a moment, +in an annoyed voice. + +"It usually comes unexpectedly. Probably you are tired." + +Desire wiped her eyes with businesslike thoroughness. + +"No. I'm not. I'm suppressed. Do you remember what you said about +suppressed emotion the other day? Well, I'm like that, and it's your +fault. You bring me to this beautiful home and you never, never +once, allow me to thank you properly--oh, I'm not going to do it, so +don't look frightened. But one feels so safe here. Benis, it's years +and years since I felt just safe." + +"I know. I swear every time I think of it" + +"Then you can guess a little of what it means?" + +Their hands were very close upon the window-sill. + +"As a psychologist--" began the professor. + +"Oh--No!" murmured Desire. + +Their hands almost touched. + +And just at that moment Aunt Caroline came in. + +"Are you there, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline unnecessarily. "I wish +you would come in and take--oh, I did not mean you to come in +through the window. If Olive saw you! But a Spence has no idea of +dignity. Now that you are in, I wish you would take Desire up to +your room. I wired Olive to prepare the west room. It is grey and +pink, so nice for Desire who is somewhat pale. The bed is very +comfortable, too, and large. But, of course, if you prefer any other +room you will change. Desire, my dear, it is your home, I do not +forget that. I have had your bags carried up. Benis can manage his +own." + +If Desire were pale naturally, she was more than pale now. Her +frightened eyes fluttered to her husband's face and fluttered away +again. Why had she never thought of this! Sheer panic held her quiet +in the straight-backed chair. + +But Spence, without seeming to notice, had seen and understood her +startled eyes. + +"Thanks, Aunt," he said cheerfully. "Of course desire must make her +own choice. But if she takes my tip she will stay where you've put +her. It's a jolly room. As for me, I'm going up to my old diggings-- +thought I'd told you." + +"What!" + +Aunt Caroline's remark was not a question. It was an explosion. + +Spence dropped his bantering manner. + +"My dear Aunt. I hate to disturb your arrangements with my +eccentricities. But insomnia is a hard master. I must sleep in my +old room. We'll consider that settled." + +"Humph!" said Aunt Caroline. + +Like the house, she was somewhat old fashioned. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Tea had been laid on the west lawn under the maples. + +Possibly some time in the past the Spences had been a leisured +people. They had brought from the old country the tradition of +afternoon tea. Many others had, no doubt, done the same but with +these others the tradition had not persisted. In the more crowded +life of a new country they had let it go. The Spences had not let it +go. It wasn't their way. And in time it had assumed the importance +of a survival. It stood for some-thing. Other Bainbridgers had +"Teas." The Spences had "tea." + +Desire had been in her new home a month and had just made a remark +which showed her astonished Aunt Caroline that tea was no more of a +surprise to her than fireplaces had been. + +"Do you mean to tell me you have always had tea?" Miss Campion +ceased from pouring in pure surprise. + +"Why, yes." Desire's surprise was even greater than Aunt Caroline's. +"Li Ho never dreamed of forgetting tea. He served it much more +regularly than dinner because sometimes there wasn't any dinner to +serve. It was a great comfort--the tea, I mean." + +"But how extraordinary! And a Chinaman, too." + +"I suppose my mother trained him." + +"And Vancouver isn't Bainbridge," put in Benis lazily. "A great many +people there are more English than they are in England. All the old- +time Chinese 'boys' served tea as a matter of course." + +"Even when no one was calling?" + +"Absolutely sans callers of any kind." + +"Well, I am sure that is very nice." But it was plain from Aunt +Caroline's tone that she thought it a highly impertinent +infringement upon the privileges of a Spence. She poured her +nephew's cup in aloof silence and refreshed herself with a second +before re-entering the conversation. When she did, it was with +something of a bounce. + +"Benis," she said abruptly, "can you tell me just exactly what is a +Primitive?" + +"Eh?" The professor had been trying to read the afternoon News- +Telegram and sip tea at the same time. + +Aunt Caroline repeated her question. + +"Certainly," said Spence. "That is to say, I can be fairly exact. +Would you like me to begin now? If you have nothing to do until +dinner I can get you nicely started. And there is a course of +reading--" + +Aunt Caroline stopped him with dignity. "Thank you, Benis. I infer +that the subject is a complicated one. Therefore I will word my +question more simply. Would an Indian, for instance, be considered a +Primitive?" + +"Um--some Indians might." + +"Oh," thoughtfully, "then I suppose that is what Mrs. Stopford Brown +meant." + +Her delighted listeners exchanged an appreciative glance. + +"Very probably," said Benis, with tact, "were you discussing +Primitives at the Club?" + +"No. Though it might be rather a good idea, don't you think? If, as +you say, there is a course of reading, it would be sufficiently +literary, I suppose? At present we are taking up psycho-analysis-- +dreams, you know. It was not my choice. As a subject for club study +I consider it too modern. Besides, I seldom dream. And when I do, my +dreams are not remarkable. However, it seems that all dreams are +remarkable. And I admit that there may be something in it. Take, for +instance, a dream which I had the other night. I dreamed that I was +endeavoring to do my hair and every time I put my hand on a hairpin +that horrible parrot of yours snapped it up and swallowed it. Now, +according to psycho-analysis, that dream has a meaning. Understood +rightly it discloses that I have, in my waking moments, a repressed +feeling of intense dislike for that hateful bird. And it is quite +true. I have. So you can see how useful that kind of thing might be +in getting at the truth in cases of murder. I hope," turning to +Desire, "I hope I am not being too scientific for you, my dear? When +the ladies feel that they know you better you may perhaps join our +club, if you care for anything so serious? May I give you more tea?" + +"Thanks, yes. That would be delightful." + +"Not so delightful, my dear, as educative. But as I was saying, +Benis, it is all your fault that this misconception has got about. I +blame you very much in the matter. It comes naturally from your +writing so continually about Indians and foreigners and Primitives +generally. People come to associate you with them. Still, I think it +was extremely rude of Mrs. Stopford Brown to say it." + +"So do I," said Spence, with conviction. + +"I asked Mrs. Everett, who told me, if anyone else had made remarks +leading up to it. But she says not a word. It was just that Mrs. +Everett said that it was strange that when you had taken so long to +consider marriage you should have made up your mind so quickly in +the end--'Gone off like a sky-rocket!' was her exact wording, and +Mrs. Stopford Brown said, in that frivolous way she has, 'Oh, I +suppose he stumbled across a Primitive.' You will notice, Desire, +that Mrs. Stopford Brown's name is not upon the list for your +reception." + +"But--" began Desire, controlling her face with difficulty. + +"No 'buts,' my dear. It may seem severe, but Mrs. Stopford Brown is +quite too careless in her general conversation. It is true that her +remark is directly traceable to my nephew's unfortunate writings, +but she should have investigated her facts before speaking. The +result is that it is all over town that you have Indian blood. They +say that, out there, almost everyone married squaws once and that is +why there is no dower law in British Columbia. Those selfish people +did not wish their Indian wives to wear the family jewels. Benis! +You will break that cup if you balance it so carelessly. What I want +to know is, what are you going to do about it?" + +"Not being a resident of British Columbia, I cannot do anything, +Aunt. But I think you will find that since women got the vote the +matter has been adjusted." + +"I do not understand you. What possible connection has the women's +vote with Mrs. Stopford Brown?" + +"I thought you were speaking of dower laws. As for Mrs. Brown, +haven't you already fitted the punishment to the crime?" + +"Then you will not officially contradict the rumor?" + +"Dear Aunt, I am not an official. And a rumor is of no importance-- +until it is contradicted. Surely you are letting yourself get +excited about nothing." + +Aunt Caroline bestowed upon Desire the feminine glance which means, +"What fools men are." + +"That's all very well now," she said. "But it is incredible how +rumor persists. And when you are a father--there! I knew you would +end by breaking that cup." + +"Aren't we being rather absurd?" asked Desire a little later when +Aunt Caroline and the tea tray had departed together. "Besides, you +can't break a cup every time." + +Spence sighed. It was undoubtedly true that cups do come to an end. + +"What we want to do," said Desire, angry at her heightened color, +"is to be sensible." + +"That's what Aunt Caroline is. Do you want us to be like Aunt +Caroline?" + +"I want us to face facts without blushing and jumping." + +"I never blush." + +"You jump." + +"Sorry. But give me time. I am new at this yet. Presently I shall be +able to listen to Aunt describing my feelings as a grandfather +without a quiver. Poor Aunt!" + +"Why do you say 'poor Aunt'?" + +"It is going to be rather a blow to her, you know." + +"Do you think we ought to--tell her?" + +"Good heavens, no!" + +"But it seems so mean to let her go on believing things." + +"Not half so mean as taking the belief from her. Besides--" He +paused and Desire felt herself clutch, unaccountably, at the arm of +her garden chair. + +"She wouldn't understand," finished Benis. + +Desire's grasp upon the chair relaxed. + +"Life is like that," he went on slowly. "No matter how careful +people are there is always someone who slips in and gets hurt. Our +affairs are strictly our own affairs and yet--we stumble over Aunt +Caroline and leave her indignant and disappointed and probably +blaming Providence for the whole affair. It is just a curious +instance of the intricacy of human relationships--you're not going +in, are you?" + +"There is some typing I want to finish," said Desire. "I have been +letting myself get shamefully behind." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +The weather on the day of Desire's reception could scarcely have +been bettered. Rain had fallen during the night; fallen just +sufficiently to lay the dust on the drive and liberate all the +thousand flower scents in the drowsy garden. It was hot enough for +the most summery dresses and cool enough for a summer fur. What more +could be desired? + +Bainbridge was expectant. It was known that Miss Campion was +excelling herself in honor of her nephew's bride, and the bride +herself was alluringly rumored to be a personality. It is doubtful +if anyone really believed the "part Indian" suggestion, but there +were those who liked to dally with it. Its possibility was a taste +of lemon on a cloyed tongue. + +"They say she is part Indian--fancy, a Spence!" "Nonsense. I asked +Dr. Rogers about it and he made me feel pretty foolish. The truth +is--her parents are both English. The father is a doctor, at one +time a most celebrated physician in London." + +"Physicians who are celebrated in London usually stay there." + +"And I am sure she is dark enough." "Not with that skin! And her +eyes are grey." "Oh, I admit she's pretty--if you like that style. I +wonder where she gets her clothes?" + +"Where they know how to make them, anyway. Did you notice that smoke +colored georgette she wore on Sunday? Not a scrap of relief +anywhere. Not even around the neck." + +"It's the latest. I went right home and ripped the lace off mine. +But it made me look like a skinned rabbit, so I put it back. I don't +see why fashions are always made for sweet and twenty!" + +"Twenty? She's twenty-five if she's a day. For myself I can't say +that I like to see young people so sure of themselves. A bride, +too!" + +"They say Mrs. Stopford Brown hasn't had a card for the reception." + +"Did she tell you so?" + +"Oh, no! But she let it drop that she thought it was on the seventh +instead of the eighth." + +"Plow funny! Serve her right. It's about time she knew she isn't +quite everybody. . . ." + +Desire, herself, was unperturbed. To her direct and unself-conscious +mind there was no reason why she should excite herself. These +people, to whom she was so new, were equally new to her. The +interest might be expected to be mutual. Any picture of herself as +affected by their personal opinions had not obtruded itself. She was +prepared to like them; hoped they would like her, but was not +actively concerned with whether they did or not. She had lived too +far away from her kind to feel the impact of their social aura. +Besides, she had other things to think about. + +First of all, there was Mary. She found that she had to think about +Mary a great deal. She did not want to, but there seemed to be a +compulsion. This may have been partly owing to a change of mind with +regard to Mary as a subject for conversation. She had decided that +it was not good for Benis to talk about Her. Why revive memories +that are best forgotten? She never now disturbed him when he gazed +into the sunset; and when he sighed, as he sometimes did without +reason, she did not ask him why. She had even felt impatient once or +twice and, upon leaving the room abruptly, had banged the door. + +So, because Mary was unavailable for discussion, desire had to think +about her. She had to wonder whether her hair was really? And +whether her eyes really were? She wanted to know. If she could find +someone who had known Mary, some entirely unprejudiced person who +would tell her, she might be able to dismiss the subject from her +mind. And surely, in Bainbridge, there must be someone? + +But she had been in Bainbridge a month now. People had called. And +she was still as ignorant as ever. She had been so sure that someone +would mention Mary almost at once. She had felt that people would +simply not be able to refrain from hinting to the bride a knowledge +of her husband's unhappy past. There were so many ways in which it +might be done. Someone might say, "When I heard that Professor +Spence was married, I felt sure that the bride would have dark hair +because--oh, what am I saying! Please, may I have more tea?" But no +one, not even the giddiest flapper of them all, had said even that! +Perhaps, incredible as it might seem, Bainbridge did not know about +Mary? She had been, Desire remembered, a visitor there when Benis +met her. Perhaps her stay had been brief. Perhaps the ill-fated +courtship had taken place elsewhere? Even then, it seemed almost +unbelievably stupid of Bainbridge not to have known something. But +of course, she had not met nearly everybody. This fact lent +excitement to the idea of the reception. Something might be said at +any moment. + +If not--there was still John. John must know. A man does not keep +the news of a serious love affair from his best friend. Some day, +when John knew her well enough, he might speak, delicately, of that +lost romance. Yes. She would have to cultivate John. + +Luckily, John was easily cultivated. He had been quite charming to +her from the very first. He thought of her comfort continually, +almost too continually--but that, no doubt, was medical fussiness. +He insisted, for instance, upon putting wraps about her shoulders +after dewfall and refused to believe that she never caught cold. +Only last night he had left early saying that she must get her +beauty sleep so as to be fresh for the reception. + +"One would think," she had said, sauntering with him to the gate, +"that the guests might decide to eat me instead of the ices. Why do +you all expect me to quake and shiver? They can't really do anything +to me, I suppose?" + +"Do?" The doctor was absent-minded. "Do? Oh, they can do things all +right. But," with quite unnecessary emphasis, "their worst efforts +won't be a patch on the things you will do to them. Why, you'll add +ten years to the age of everyone over twenty and make the others +feel like babes in arms. You'll raise all their vibrations to +boiling point and remain yourself as cool and pulseless as--as you +are now." + +Desire was surprised, but she was reasonable. + +"If you can tell me why my vibrations should raise themselves," she +said, "I will see what can be done." + +The doctor had gone home gloomily. + +"He is really very moody, for a doctor," thought desire, as she +sauntered back through the dusk. "It seems to me that he needs +cheering up." + +Then she probably forgot him, for certainly no thought of his +gloominess disturbed her beauty sleep. A fresher or more glowing +bride had never gathered flowers for her own reception. She had +carried them into all the rooms; careless for once of their cool +aloofness; making them welcome her whether they would or not. Then, +as the stir of preparation ceased and the house sank into perfumed +quiet, she had slipped back into her own pink and grey room for a +breathing space before it was time to dress. + +At Aunt Caroline's earnest request she had taken Yorick with her. +"For," said Aunt Caroline, "I refuse to receive guests with that +bird within hearing distance. The things he says are bad enough but +I have a feeling that he knows many things which he hasn't said yet. +And people are sensitive. Only the other day when old Mrs. Burton +was calling him 'Pretty Pol,' he burst into that dreadful laugh of +his and told her to 'Shake a leg'! How the creature happened to know +about the scandal of her early youth I can't say. But it is quite +true that she did dance on the stage. She grew quite purple when +that wretched bird threw it up to her." + +Desire had laughed and promised to sequestrate Yorick for the +afternoon. He had taken the insult badly and was now muttering +protests to himself with throaty noises which exploded occasionally +in bursts of bitter laughter. + +It was too early to dress for another hour but already the dress lay +ready on the bed. Desire had chosen it with care. She had no +wedding-dress. Bridal white would have seemed--well, dangerously +near the humorous. She would have feared that half-smile with which +Spence was wont to appreciate life's pleasantries. But the gown upon +the bed was the last word in smartness and charm. In color it was +like pale sunlight through green water. It was both cool and bright. +Against it, her warm, white skin glowed warmer and whiter; her leaf- +brown hair showed more softly brown. Its skirt was daintily short +and beneath it would show green stockings that shimmered, and +slippers that were vanity. + +Desire sat in the window seat and allowed herself to be quite happy. +"If I could just sit here forever," she mused. "If someone could +enchant me, just as I am, with the sun warm on the tips of my toes +and this little wind, so full of flowers, cool upon my face. If I +need never again hear anything save the drone of sleepy bees, the +chirping of fat robins and the hum of a lawn-mower--" + +She sat up suddenly. Who could be mowing the west lawn in the heat +of the day? Desire, forgetting about the enchantment, leaned out to +see. Surely it couldn't be? And yet it certainly was. The lawn-mower +man displayed the heated countenance of the bridegroom him-self. + +"What is he thinking of?" groaned Desire. "He will make himself a +rag--a perfect rag. I wonder Aunt Caroline allows it." + +But Aunt Caroline was presumably occupied elsewhere. No one came to +prevent the ragmaking of the professor, and Desire, after watching +for a moment, raised her finger and gave the little searching call +which had been their way of finding each other in the woods at +Friendly Bay. + +The professor stopped instantly, leaving the lawn-mower exactly +where it was, in the middle of a swath. With an answering wave he +crossed to the west room window and, with an ease which surprised +his audience, drew his long slimness up the pillar of the porch and +clambered over the railing into the small balcony. + +"I can't come in by the front door," he explained, "on account of my +boots. And I can't come in by the back door on account of Extra +Help. I intended getting in eventually by the cellarway, but, if you +want me, that would take too long. Besides, I wanted to show you how +neatly I can shin up a post." + +He smiled at her cheerfully. He was damp and flushed, but much +brisker than Desire had thought. He did not look at all raglike. For +the first time since their homecoming she seemed to see him with +clear eyes. And she found him changed. He was younger. Some of the +lines had smoothed out of his forehead. His face showed its +cheekbones less sharply and his hair dipped charmingly, like an +untidy boy's. His shirt was open at the throat. He did not look like +a professor at all. Desire momentarily experienced what Dr. John had +called a "heightening of vibration." + +"Anything that I can do," offered he helpfully. + +"The best thing will be to stop doing," suggested desire. "Don't you +know that you're accessory to a reception this afternoon? Of course +you are only the host, but it looks better to have the host +unwilted." + +"Like the salad? I hadn't thought of that. In fact I'm afraid I +haven't been giving the matter serious attention. I must consult my +secretary. How else should a host look?" + +"He should look happy." + +Benis noted this on his cuff. + +"Yes?" + +Desire's eyes began to sparkle. + +"If he is a bridegroom, as well as a host, he should be careful to +look often at the bride." + +"No chance," said Spence gloomily. "Not with the mob that's coming." + +"Above all, he looks after his least attractive lady guests. And he +never on any account slips away for a smoke with a stray gentleman +friend." + +The professor's gloom lightened. "Is there going to be a stray +gentleman friend? Did old Bones promise?" + +Desire nodded triumphantly. + +"First time in captivity," murmured Spence. "How on earth did you +manage it?" + +"I simply asked him!" + +"As easy as that?" + +They both laughed as happy people laugh at merest nonsense. + +"Ha! Ha! Ha!" shrieked Yorick. "Go to it, give 'em hell!" + +"I don't wonder Aunt Caroline dreads him," said desire. "His +experience seems to have been lurid." + +"Kiss her, you flat-foot, kiss her," shrieked the ribald Yorick. + +"Sorry, old man," said Spence regretfully. "It's against the rules +to kiss one's secretary." + +Again they both laughed. But was it fancy, or was this laugh a +trifle less spontaneous than the other? "Gracious!" said Desire, +suddenly in a hurry, "I've hardly left myself time to dress." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +I may be said with fairness that the reception given by Miss Campion +for her nephew's bride left Bainbridge thoughtful. They had +expected the bride to be different, and they had found her to be +different from what they had expected. They could not place her; +and, in Bainbridge, everyone is placed. + +"I understood," said Mrs. T. L. Lawson, whose word in intellectual +matters was final, "that young Mrs. Spence was wholly uneducated. A +school teacher who met her on the train told my dressmaker that she +had heard her admit the fact with her own lips. So, naturally, not +wishing to embarrass a newcomer, I confined my remarks to the +simplest matters. She did not say very much but I must confess--you +will scarcely believe it--I actually got the impression that she was +accommodating her conversation to me," + +"Oh, surely not!" from a shocked chorus. + +"It is just a manner she affects," comforted Mrs. Burton Holmes. +"Far, far too assured, in my opinion, for a young bride. I hope it +does not denote a certain lack of fine feeling. In a girl who had +been brought up to an assured social position, such a manner might +be understood. But--well, all I can say is that I heard from my +friend Marion Walford yesterday, and she assured me that Mrs. Spence +is quite unknown in Vancouver society. But, of course, dear Marion +knows only the very smartest people. For myself I do not allow these +distinctions to affect me. If only for dear Miss Campion's sake I +determined to be perfectly friendly. But I felt that, in justice to +everybody, it might be well for her to know that we know. So I asked +her, casually, if she were well acquainted with the Walfords. At +first she looked as if she had never heard of them, and then--'Oh, +do you mean the soap people?' she said. 'I don't know them--but one +sees their bill-boards everywhere.' It was almost as if--" + +"Oh--absurd!" echoed the chorus. "Though if she is really English," +ventured one of them, "she might, you know. The English have such a +horror of trade." + +These social and educational puzzles were as nothing to the +religious problem. Bainbridge, who had seen. desire more or less +regularly at church, had taken for granted that in this respect, at +least, she was even as they were. But, after the reception, Mrs. +Pennington thought not. + +"I felt quite worried about our pretty bride," said Mrs. Pennington. +"You know how we all hoped that when the dear professor married he +would become more orthodox. Science is so unsettling. And married +men so often do. But--" she sighed. + +"Surely not a free thinker?" ventured one in a subdued whisper. + +"Or a Christian Scientist?" with equal horror. + +Mrs. Pennington intimated that she had not yet sufficient data to +decide. "But," she added, solemnly, "she is not a. Presbyterian." + +"She goes to church." + +"Yes. She was quite frank about that. She did not scruple to say +that she goes to please Miss Campion and because 'it is all so new.' +" + +"New?" + +"Exactly what I said to her. I said, 'New?' My dear, what you do +mean--new?' And she tipped her eyebrows in that oriental way she has +and said, 'Why, just new. I have never been to church, you know!'" + +"Oh, impossible--in this country!" + +"Yes, imagine it! Perhaps she saw my disapproval for she added, 'We +had a prayer-book in the house, though.' As if it were quite the +same thing." + +One of the more optimistic members of the chorus thought that this +might show some connection with the Church of England. But Mrs. +Pennington shook her head. + +"Hardly, I think. Her language was not such as to encourage such a +hope. The very next thing she said to me was, 'Don't you think the +prayer-book is lovely?'" + +"Oh!--not really?" + +"I admit I was shocked. I am not," said Mrs. Pennington, "a Church +of England woman. But I am broad-minded, I hope. And I have more +respect for ANY sacred work than to speak of it as 'lovely.' In +fact, in all kindness, I must say that I fear the poor child is a +veritable heathen." + +This conclusion was felt to be sound, logically, but without great +practical significance. The veritable heathen persisted in church- +going to such an extent that she tired out several of the most +orthodox and it was rumored that she even went so far as to discuss +the sermon afterward. "Just as if," said Mrs. Pennington, "it were a +lecture or a play or something." + +As a matter of fact, Desire was intensely interested in sermons. She +had so seldom heard any that the weekly doling out of truth by the +Rev. Mr. McClintock had all the fascination of a new experience. Mr. +McClintock was of the type which does not falter in its message. He +had no doubts. He had thought out every possible spiritual problem +as a young man and had seen no reason for thinking them out a second +time. What he had accepted at twenty, he believed at sixty, with +this difference that while at twenty some of his conclusions had +caused him sleepless nights, at sixty they were accepted with +complacency. No questioning pierced the hard enamel of his +assurance. He saw no second side to anything because he never +turned it over. He had a way of saying "I believe" which was +absolutely final. + +Desire had been collecting Mr. McClintock's beliefs carefully. They +fascinated her. She often woke up in the night thinking of them, +wondering at their strange diversity and speculating as to the +ultimate discovery of some missing piece which might make them all +fit in. It was because she was afraid of missing this master-bit +that she went to church so regularly. + +The Sunday after the reception was exceptionally hot. It was +exceptionally dusty too, for Bainbridge tolerated no water carts on +Sunday. It was one of those Sundays when people have headaches. Aunt +Caroline had a head-ache. She felt that it would be most unwise to +venture out. She even suggested that, no doubt, Desire had a +headache, too. + +"But I haven't," said that downright young person, looking +provokingly cool and energetic. Her husband groaned. + +"Don't look at me," he said hastily. "My excuse is not hallowed by +antiquity like Aunt's but it is equally effective. I have to go down +to the cellar to make ice-cream." + +This, as Desire knew, was perfectly legitimate. No ice-cream of any +kind could be bought in Bainbridge on Sunday. Therefore a certain +proportion of the population had to descend into its cellars and +make it. It was even possible to tell, if one were curious, how many +families were going to have ice-cream for dinner by counting the +empty seats at morning service. Nearly all of the more prominent +families owned freezers while many of those who were freezerless did +not go to church, anyway. From which it would seem that, in +Bainbridge at least, the righteous had prospered. + +On this hot morning, therefore, Desire collected Mr. McClintock's +belief alone. It was an especially puzzling one, having to do with +the origin and meaning of pain and founded upon the text, "Whom the +Lord loveth he chasteneth." + +"There is a tendency among modern translators," began Mr. +McClintock, "a tendency which I deplore, to render the word +'chasteneth' as 'teacheth or directeth.' This rendering, in my +opinion, is regrettably lax. We will therefore confine our attention +to the older version. It is my belief that. . . ." + +Desire listened attentively to a lengthy and blood-curdling +exposition of this belief and was still in the daze which followed +the hearty singing of the doxology on top of it when the assistant +Sunday School Superintendent asked her to take a class. He was a +very hot assistant and a very hurried one. Even while he spoke to +Desire his eye wandered past her to some of his flock who were +escaping by the church door. + +"Do take a class, Mrs. Spence," he urged. + +"Do you mean teach one?" asked Desire. "I'm sorry, but I don't know +how." + +"Beg pardon? Oh, but of course you do. It is only for today. We are +so short. You will do splendidly, I'm sure. They are very little +girls and it's in the Old Testament." + +"But I don't--" + +"Oh, that will be quite all right. It's Moses. Quite easy." + +"I have never--" + +"It doesn't matter, really. Just the plain story, you know. I find +myself the best way is to adopt a cheerful, conversational manner +and keep them from asking questions. At that age they never ask the +right ones. Stump you every time if you're not careful. Give them +the facts. They'll understand them later." + +"I don't understand them myself," objected Desire. But by this time +the assistant's eye was quite distracted. + +"So very good of you," he murmured, "if you will come this way--" + +Desire went that way and presently found herself seated in the +Sunday School room in a blazing bar of sunlight and facing a row of +small Bainbridgers, surprisingly brisk and wide-awake considering +the weather. + +"We usually have our boys' and girls' classes separate," explained +the assistant. "But this is a mixed class as you see." + +Desire saw that the mixture consisted of a very round boy in a very +stiff sailor suit. + +"Now children, Mrs. Spence is going to tell you about Moses. Mrs. +Spence is a newcomer. We must make her welcome and show her how well +behaved we are." + +"I'm not," volunteered an angel-faced child with an engaging smile. + +"I got a lickin' on Friday," added the round boy, who as sole member +of his sex felt that he must stand up for it. + +The assistant shook a finger at them cheerfully and hurried away. + +Desire became the focus of all eyes and a watchful dumbness settled +down upon them like a pall. Frantically she tried to remember her +instructions. But never had a light conversational manner seemed +more difficult to attain. + +"I hope," she faltered, seeking for a sympathetic entry, "that your +regular teacher is not ill?" + +The row of inquiring eyes showed no intelligence. + +"Is she?" asked Desire, looking directly at the child opposite. + +"Ma says she only thinks she is," said the child. The row rustled +pleasantly. + +"I understand," went on Desire hastily, "that we are to talk about +Moses. How many here can tell me anything about Moses?" + +The row of eyes blinked. But Moses might have been a perfect +stranger for any sign of recognition from their owners. + +"Moses," went on Desire, "was a very remarkable man. In his age he +seems even more remarkable--" + +A small hand shot up and an injured voice inquired: "Please, +teacher, don't we have the Golden Text?" + +"I suppose we do." There was evidently some technique here of which +the hurried assistant had not informed her. "We will have it now. +What is the Golden Text?" + +Nobody seemed to know. + +"I don't see how we can have it, if you don't know it," said Desire +mildly. + +Another hand shot up. "Please teacher, you say it first." + +There was also, then, an established order of precedence. + +"I don't know it, either," said Desire. + +This might have precipitated a deadlock. But, fortunately, the row +did not believe her. They smiled stiffly. Their smile revealed more +clearly than anything else how unthinkable it was for a teacher not +to know the Golden Text. Desire, in desperation, remembered the +paper-covered "Quarterly" which the assistant had put into her hands +and, with a flash of inspiration, decided that what the children +wanted was probably there. She opened it feverishly and was +delighted to discover "Golden Text" in large letters on the first +page she looked at. She read hastily. + +"And thou Bethlehem in the land of Juda--" + +A whole row of hands shot up. "Please teacher, that was last +Christmas!" announced the class reproachfully. + +With shame Desire noticed that the lessons in the Quarterly were +dated. But she was regaining something of her ordinary poise. + +"You ought to know it, even if it is," she remarked firmly. This was +more according to Hoyle. The little boy's hand answered it. + +"'Tain't review Sunday, teacher." + +Teacher decided to ignore this. "Very well," she said. "We will now +have the Golden Text for today. Who will say it first? I will give +you a start--'As Moses--'" + +"As Moses," piped a chorus of small voices. + +"Lifted up," prompted Desire. + +"Lifted up," shrilled the chorus. + +"Yes?" expectantly. + +The chorus was silent. + +"Well, children, go on." + +But nobody went on. + +"You don't know it," declared Desire with mild severity. "Very +well. Learn it for next Sunday. Now I am going to ask you some +questions. First of all--who was Moses?" + +She asked the question generally but her eye fell upon the one male +member who swallowed his Sunday gum-drop with a gulp. + +"Don't know his nother name," said the male member sulkily. + +Desire realized that she didn't know, either. "I did not ask you to +tell his name but something about him. Where he lived, for instance. +Where did Moses live?" Her eye swept down to the mite at the end of +the row. + +"Bulrushes!" said that infant gaspingly. + +"He was hidden among bulrushes," explained Desire, "but he couldn't +exactly live there. Does anyone know what a bulrush is?" + +The row exchanged glances and nudged each other. + +"Things you soak in coal-oil," began one. + +"To make torches at 'lections," added another. + +"Same as cat-tails," volunteered a third condescendingly. + +"Well, even if they were anything like that, he couldn't live in +them, could he?" Desire felt that she had made a point at last. + +"Could if he was a frog," offered the male member after +consideration. + +To Desire's surprise the row accepted this seriously. + +"But as he was a baby and not a frog," she went on hurriedly, "he +must have lived with his mother in a house. The name of the country +they lived in was Egypt. And Egypt had a wicked King. This wicked +King ordered all the little boy babies--" She paused, appalled at +the thought of telling these infants of that long-past ruthlessness. +But, again to her surprise, the infants now showed pleasurable +interest. An excited murmur rose. + +"I like that part!" . . . "Why didn't he kill the girl babies, too?" +. . . "Did he cut their heads right off?" . . . "Did their mothers +holler?" . . . While the male member offered with an air of +authority, "I 'spect he just wrung their necks." + +"Well, well! Getting along nicely, I see," said the assistant, +tiptoeing down the aisle. "I felt sure you would interest them, Mrs. +Spence. You will find our children very intelligent." + +"Very," agreed Desire. + +"They all know the Golden Text, I am sure," he continued with that +delightful manner which children dumbly hate. "Annie, you may +begin." + +But Annie refused to avail herself of this privilege. Instead she +showed symptoms of tears. + +"Come, come!" chided the assistant still more delightfully. "We +mustn't be shy! Bessie, let us hear from you. 'As Moses--'" + +"As Moses." + +"Very good. Now, Eddie. 'Lifted up.'" + +"Lifted up." + +"Very good indeed. Mabel, you next. 'The ser-'" + +"I'm scared of snakes," said Mabel unexpectedly. + +"Well, well! But you are not afraid of snakes in Sunday School." + +"I'm s-cared of snakes anywhere!" wailed Mabel. + +"Oh, there is the first bell--excuse me." The relief of the +assistant was a joyful thing. "That means that you have three +minutes more, Mrs. Spence. We usually utilize these last moments for +driving home the main thought of the lesson. Very important, of +course, to leave some concrete idea--sorry, I must hurry." + +Desire felt that she must hurry, too. She hadn't even time to wonder +what a concrete idea might be. One can't wonder about anything in +three minutes. + +"Children," she began. "We haven't learned much about Moses. But the +main idea of this lesson is that he was a very good man and a great +patriot. He had been brought up in a King's palace, yet when the +time came for him to choose, he left the beautiful home of the +mother who had adopted him and went to his own people. His Own +People," she repeated slowly. "Do you understand that?" The class +sat stolidly silent. Desire's eye rested again upon the little girl +with the prim mouth. + +"Ma says 'dopting anyone's a terrible risk," said the prim one. +"Like as not they'll never say thank yuh." . . . + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +"And that," said Desire later in the day as she related her +experiences to the professor, "that was the idea with which I left +them! I shan't have to teach again, shall I, Benis?" + +Her husband smiled. "No. I should think more would be a +superfluity." + +"They'll say I'm a heathen. I know they will. You don't realize how +serious it is. Think how your prestige will suffer." + +"It has suffered already. Only yesterday Mrs. Walkem, the laundress, +told Aunt that your--er--peculiarities were a judgment on me for +'tryin' to find out them things in folkses minds which God has hid +away a-purpose.'" + +"But I'm in earnest, Benis--more or less." + +"Let it be less, then. My dear girl, you don't really think that +Bainbridge disturbs me?" + +"N-no. But it disturbs me. A little. I am so different from all +these people, your friends. And being different is rather--lonely." + +"It is," he agreed. "But it is also stimulating." + +"I used to think," she went on, following her own thought, "that I +was different because my life was different. I thought that if I +could ever live with people, just as we live here, with everything +normal and everyday, the strangeness would drop away. But it hasn't. +I am still outside." + +"Everyone is, though you are young to realize it. Our social life is +very deceiving. Most of us wake up some day to find ourselves alone +in a desert." + +Desire swung the hammock gently with the tip of her shoe. "Is not +one ever a part of a whole?" + +"Socially, yes. Spiritually--I doubt it. It is some-thing which you +will have to decide for yourself." + +"I don't want to be alone," said Desire rebelliously. "It frightens +me. I want to have a place. I want to fit in. But here, it seems as +if I had come too late. Every-one is fitted in already. There isn't +a tiny corner left." + +Spence's grey eyes looked at her with a curious light in their +depths. + +"Wait," he said. "You haven't found your corner yet. When you do, +the rest won't matter." + +"But people do not want me. I had a horrid dream last night. I was +wandering all through Bainbridge and all the doors were open so that +I might go in anywhere. I was glad--at first. But I soon saw that my +freedom did not mean anything. No one saw me when I entered or cared +when I went away. I spoke to them and they did not answer. Then I +knew that I was just a ghost" + +"I'm another," said a cheerful voice behind them. "All my 'too, too +solid flesh' is melting rapidly. Only ice-cream can save me now!" +Using his straw hat vigorously as a fan Dr. Rogers dropped limply +into an empty chair. "Tell you a secret," he went on confidentially. +"I had two invitations to Sunday supper but neither included ice- +cream. So I came on here." + +"Very kind, I'm sure," murmured Benis. + +"How did you guess?" began Desire, and then she dimpled. "Oh, of +course,--Benis wasn't in church." + +"How did he know that?" asked Benis sharply. "He wasn't there, was +he?" + +The doctor looked conscious. Desire laughed. "His presence did seem +to create a mild sensation," she admitted. + +"Well, you see," he explained, "in the summer I am often very busy-- +" + +"In the cellar," murmured Benis. + +"But no one happened to need me today and, besides, my freezer is +broken. This, combined with--" + +"An added attraction," sotto voce from the professor. + +"Oh, well--I went, anyway." + +"I saw you there," said Desire, ignoring their banter. "I thought +you might have gone for the sermon. The subject was one of your +specialties, wasn't it?" + +The doctor twirled his hat. + +"Better tell him what the subject was," suggested Benis unkindly. + +"Didn't you listen?" Desire's inquiring eyebrows lifted. "That's one +of the things I don't understand about people here. Church and +church affairs seem to play such an important part in Bainbridge. +Nearly everyone goes to some church. But no one seems at all +disturbed about what they hear there. Is it because they believe all +that the minister says, or because they don't believe any of it?" + +Her hearers exchanged an alarmed glance. + +"What do you want them to do?" said John uneasily. "Argue about it? +Besides, this morning was very exceptionally hot." + +"I don't want to be any more heathen than I have to be," went on +Desire, "but I must be terribly heathen if what Mr. McClintock said +this morning is right. He was speaking of pain, physical pain, and, +he said God. sent it. I always thought," she concluded naively, +"that it came straight from the devil." + +"Healthy chap, McClintock!" said Benis lazily. "Never had anything +worse than measles and doesn't remember them." + +"What I'd like to know," said the doctor, "would be his opinion +after several weeks of--something unpleasant. He might feel more +like blaming the devil. What does he think doctors are fighting? +God? By Jove, I must have this out with McClintock! I know that, for +one, I never fight down pain without a glorious sense of giving +Satan his licks." + +"But you did not even listen." + +"I'm listening now." + +"And no one else seemed to object to anything he said. I heard some +of them call it a 'beautiful discourse' and 'so helpful.'" + +Under her perplexed gaze the two Bainbridgers were clearly +uncomfortable. + +"It's because you don't really care what you hear from the pulpit," +said the girl accusingly. "You have your own beliefs and go your own +ways. Another man's views, good or bad, make no difference." + +"S-shish! 'ware Aunt Caroline!" warned the professor, but Desire was +too absorbed to heed. + +"Why, if one actually believed half of what was said this morning," +she went on, "the world would be a beautiful garden with half its +lovely things forbidden. 'Don't touch the flowers' and 'Keep off the +grass' would be everywhere. It seems such a waste, if God made so +many happy things and then doesn't like it if people are too happy." + +"Not many of us suffer from too much happiness," muttered Benis. + +"Or too much health," echoed the doctor. "I'd like to tell +McClintock that if people would expect more health, they'd get more. +The ordinary person expects ill-ness. They have a 'disease complex'- +-that's in your line, Benis. But just supposing they could change +the idea--Eh? Supposing everybody began to look for health--just +take it, you know, as a God-intended right? I'd lose half my living +in a fortnight." + +"John Rogers!" Aunt Caroline's voice fell with the effect of +sizzling hailstones upon the fire of John's enthusiasm. "If you must +talk heresy, there are other places beside my garden to do it in." + +"I was merely saying--" + +"I heard what you were saying. And although it takes a great deal to +surprise me, I am surprised. Such doctrines I consider most +dangerous, highly so. If you are thinking of setting up as a faith +healer, the sooner we know it the better. Desire, my dear, you might +see Olive about tea. Tell her not to forget the lemon. I do not know +what I have done to deserve a maid called Olive," she sighed, "but +the only alternative was Gladys. And Gladys I could not endure. As +for illness, I am surprised at you, John Rogers. I was not in church +owing to a severe headache, but I know the sermon. It is one of Mr. +McClintock's very best. If you had not gone to sleep in the middle +of the first point you would have heard the mystery of pain +beautifully explained. A wonderful preacher. If he wouldn't click +his teeth." + +The professor shuddered. + +"Benis acts so foolishly about it," went on Aunt Caroline. "He +insists that the clicking makes him ill. But why should it? At the +same time, if one of the Elders were to suggest, tactfully, to Mr. +McClintock that he have the upper set tightened it might be well. It +would at least" (with grimness) "do away with the trivial excuses of +some people for not attending Divine service." + +Her graceless nephew was understood to murmur something about "too +hot to fight." + +"As for Mr. McClintock's ideas," pursued Aunt Caroline, "they are +quite beautiful. The first time he gave the deathbed description +which comprises part of this morning's discourse he had us all in +tears. I mean all of us who were sufficiently awake to realize the +fact that it was a deathbed. His description of the last agony has +clearly lost nothing in poignancy, for Desire came home quite pale. +I wonder if you have noticed, Benis, that Desire is looking somewhat +less robust? Doctor, now that she is not here--" + +"Now that she is not here, we will not discuss her," said Spence +firmly. + +"Indeed! And may I ask why you wish to stop me, Benis? I am speaking +to a qualified medical man, am I not? But there," with resignation, +"I never can expect to understand the present generation. So lax on +one hand, so squeamish on the other. Surely it is perfectly proper +that I, her Aunt--oh, very well, Benis, if you are determined to be +silly." + +"Now with regard to the Rev. McClintock," put in the doctor hastily. +"Do you really think that he is sufficiently in touch with modern +views to--to--oh, dash it! what was I saying?" + +"You were interrupting me when I was telling Benis--" + +"Oh yes. I remember. We were talking about new ideas. And you +suggested heresy. But you must remember that, in my profession, new +ideas are not called heresy--except when they are very new. What +would you think of me if I doctored exactly as my father did before +me?" + +"When you are half as capable as your father, young man, I may +discuss that with you." + +"One for you!'' said Benis gleefully. + +"Well, leaving me out then, and speaking generally, why should a +physician search continually for fresh wisdom, while a minister--" + +"Beware, young man!" Aunt Caroline raised an affrighted hand. +"Beware how you compare your case with that of a minister of the +Gospel. That further wisdom is needed in the practice of medicine, +anyone who has ever employed a doctor is well aware. But where is he +who dare add one jot to Divine revelation?" + +"No one is speaking of adding anything. But surely, in the matter of +interpretation, an open mind is a first essential?" + +"In the matter of interpretation," said Aunt Caroline grandly, "we +have our ordained ministers. How do you feel," she added shrewdly, +"toward quacks and healers who, without study or training, call +themselves doctors? Do you say, 'Let us display an open mind'?" + +"Time!" said Benis, who enjoyed his relative hugely--when she was +disciplining someone else. "Here comes Desire with the tea." + +"What I really came out to say, Benis," resumed Aunt Caroline, "is +that I have just had a long distance call--Desire, my dear, cream or +lemon?--a long distance call from Toronto where, I fear, such things +are allowed on Sunday--Doctor, you like lemon, I think?--a call in +fact from Mary Davis. You remember her, Benis? Such a sweet girl. +She is feeling a little tired and would like to run down here for a +rest. Desire, my dear, have you any plans with which this would +interfere? I said that I would consult you and let her know. You are +very careless with your plate, Benis. That Spode can never be +replaced." + +Fortunately her anxiety for the family heirloom absorbed Aunt +Caroline's whole attention. If she noticed her nephew's look of +anguished guilt and his friend's politely raised brows she ascribed +it to his carelessness in balancing china. Desire's downcast eyes +and stiffened manner she did not notice at all. + +"Well, my dear, what do you say? Shall we invite Mary?" + +"It depends on Benis, of course," said Desire quietly. + +"Benis? What has Benis to do with it? Not but that he enjoyed having +her here last time well enough. It is the privilege of the mistress +of the house to choose her guests. I hope you will not be slack in +claiming your privileges. They are much harder to obtain than one's +rights. My dear sister was careless. She allowed Benis's father to +do just as he pleased. Be warned in time." + +"Do you wish Miss Davis to visit us, Benis?" desire's hands were +busy with her teacup. Her eyes were still lowered. + +"I have no wishes whatever in the matter," said the professor with +what might be considered admirable detachment. + +"Tell Miss Davis we shall be delighted, Aunt," said Desire. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +Time, in quiet neighborhoods, like water in a pool, slips in and out +leaving the pool but little changed. Only when one is waiting for +something dreaded or desired do the days drag or hasten. Miss Davis +was to arrive upon the Friday following her telephone invitation. +That left Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. Desire found them +very long. + +Nothing more had been said of the personality of the expected +visitor. Desire did not ask, because she felt sure that, when she +had seen, she would know without asking. At present there was little +enough to go upon. The guest's name was Mary. Her hair was yellow. +She had visited in Bainbridge before. She and Benis had been +friends. Beyond this there was nothing save the professor's +carelessness with the family Spode--an annoying device for diverting +attention in moments of embarrassment. + +Against this circumstantial evidence there was the common-sense +argument that the real Mary of the professor's romance would hardly +be likely, under the circumstances, to propose herself as his aunt's +guest. + +Desire was inclined to take the common-sense view. Especially as +just about this time she came upon the track of another Mary, also +with yellow hair, who presented possibilities. The most suspicious +thing about this second Mary was that neither the professor nor his +friend Dr. Rogers had been able to tell Desire her first name. Now +in Bainbridge everyone knows the first name of everyone else. One +does not use it, necessarily, but one knows it. So that when Desire, +having one day noticed a gleam of particularly golden hair, asked +innocently to "whom it might belong" and was met by a plain surname +prefixed merely by "Miss," she became instantly curious. From other +sources she learned that the golden-haired Miss Watkins had been +employed as a nurse in Dr. Rogers' office for several months and +that her Christian name was Mary Sophia. + +This also, you will see, was not much to build upon. But Desire felt +that she must neglect nothing. The menace of the unseen, unknown +Mary was beginning seriously to disturb her peace of mind. She +determined to see the doctor's pretty nurse at the earliest +opportunity. + +The comradeship between herself and Rogers had prospered amazingly. +She had liked the young doctor at first sight; had discerned in him +something charmingly boylike and appealing. And Desire had never had +boy friends. The utter frankness of her friendship was undisturbed +by overmuch knowledge of her own attractions, and the possibility of +less contentment on his side did not occur to her. Feeling herself +so much older, in reality, than he, she assumed with delicious +naivete, the role of confidant and general adviser. What time she +could spare from Benis and the great Book she bestowed most +generously upon his friend. + +During the four dragging days of waiting the appearance of Miss +Davis, she had found the distraction of Dr. John's company +particularly helpful. And then, after all, Miss Davis did not +arrive. Instead, there came a note regretting a very bad cold and +postponing the visit until its indefinite recovery. The news came at +the breakfast table. + +"How long," asked Desire thoughtfully, "does a bad cold usually +last?" + +"Not long--if it's just a cold," answered Benis with some gloom. +"But," more hopefully, "if it is tonsillitis it lasts weeks and if +pneumonia sets in you have to stay indoors for months." + +Aunt Caroline looked over her spectacles. + +"You sound," she said, "as if you wish it were pneumonia." + +But in this she was, perhaps, severe. Her nephew was really not +capable of wishing pneumonia for anyone, not even a possible Nemesis +by the name of Mary. He merely felt that if such a complication +should supervene he would bear the news with fortitude. For, +speaking colloquially, the professor was finding himself very much +"in the air." Desire's mind upon the subject of this guest in +particular and of Marys in general, had become clouded to his +psychological gaze. He had thought at first that his young secretary +was jealous with that harmless sex jealousy which may almost as well +be described as "pique." But, of late, he had not felt so sure about +it. He did not, in fact, feel quite so sure about any-thing. + +Desire was changing. He had expected her to change, but the rapidity +of it was somewhat breath-taking. In appearance she had become +noticeably younger. The firm line of her lips had taken on softer +curves; the warm white of her skin was bloomy like a healthy child's; +shadow after shadow had lifted from her deep grey eyes. But it was +in her manner that the most significant difference lay. Spence +sometimes wondered if he had dreamed the silent Desire of the +mountain cottage. That Desire had stood coldly alone; had listened +and weighed and gone her own way with the hard confidence of too +early maturity. This Desire listened and weighed still, but her +confidence was often now replaced by questioning. In this new and +more normal world, her unserved, unsatisfied youth was breaking +through. + +But, if she were younger, she was certainly not more simple. If the +grey eyes were less shadowed, they were no less inscrutable. If the +lips were softer, their serenity was as baffling as their sternness +had been. If she seemed more plastic she was not less illusive. +Nimble as were his mental processes, the professor was discomfited +to find that hers were still more nimble. + +Meanwhile the Book was getting on. No excursions into the land of +youth were allowed to interfere with Desire's idea of her +secretarial duties. If anyone shirked, it was the author; if anyone +wanted holidays it was he. If he were lazy, Desire found ways of +making progress without him; if he grumbled, she laughed. + +The day set apart for the arrival of Miss Davis had been voted a +holiday and the professor hoped that her non-appearance would not +interfere with so pleasant an arrangement. But Desire's ideas were +quite otherwise. Sharply on time she descended to the library with +her note-book ready. The professor felt injured. + +"Must we really?" he said. "Yes. I see we must. But mind! I know why +you are doing it. I thought of your reason in the night when I was +unable to sleep from overwork. You are hurrying to get through so +that we may leave this sleepy town. Insatiable window-gazer! You +wish to look in bigger windows." + +"Do I?" Desire turned limpid eyes upon him and tapped her note-book. +"Then the sooner we get on with this chapter on 'The Significance of +the Totem' the better. But, if you can excuse me this afternoon, Dr. +John has just 'phoned to ask me if I can call on the eldest Miss +Martin. He says that her state of mind is her greatest trouble. And +it does not react to medicine." + +The professor looked still more injured. + +"We can't begin the totem chapter unless we are going to go on with +it," he objected. "I don't see why John doesn't get a secretary of +his own." + +"He has a nurse," said Desire smoothly. + +"Er--oh yes, of course. Well, perhaps we had better begin--but why +does he want you to call on Miss Martin?" + +Desire looked self-conscious, a rare thing for her. "Well, you see, +I have an idea about Miss Martin. It may be entirely wrong but John +thinks it worth trying. You knew that her fiance was killed just +before the armistice, didn't you? John says she seemed stunned at +the time but kept on, the way most women did. She helped him fight +the 'flu' all that winter without taking it her-self. But she was +one of the first to come down with it when it returned this Spring. +She got through the worst--and there she stays. John says that if +she doesn't begin to pick up soon there won't be enough of her left +to bother about." + +"And your idea?" + +"You might laugh," said Desire with sudden shyness. + +The professor promised not to laugh. + +"My idea is this. To find out the real reason for her not getting +better and treat that." + +"Very simple." + +"Yes, because John already knows the real cause. He says she doesn't +get well because she doesn't want to. In the old days people would +say her heart was broken. And it seems such a pity, because, if what +everyone says is true, she would have been frightfully unhappy if +she had married him. (Desire became slightly incoherent here.) They +weren't suited at all. He was a musician, a derelict who hadn't a +thought in the world for anything but his violin. Aunt Caroline says +the engagement was a mystery to everyone. She says that probably +Miss Martin just offered to take him in hand and look after him (she +used to be very capable) and he hadn't backbone enough to say she +couldn't. They say that the only time anyone ever saw a gleam in his +face was the day he went away to the war. Then he was killed. And +now she won't get well because she can't forget him." + +"And that is what you call a 'pity'?" + +"Well, not exactly that." She hesitated. "If he had cared for her as +she thought he did, it wouldn't seem such a waste. But he didn't. +Everybody knew it--except herself." + +"Everybody may have been wrong." + +"Yes. But that is just the point. They weren't. He died as he had +lived without a thought for anything but music. I happened to hear a +rather wonderful story about his dying. Sergeant Timms, who drives +the baker's cart, was in the next cot to his, in the hospital. And +my idea is that if he could just tell her the story--just let her +see that he went away without a thought--she might get things in +proportion again and let herself get well." + +"I see. Well, my dear, it is your idea. Is John going to drive you +out?" + +"No. He wanted to. But I'll have to find the Sergeant and take him +with me." + +"In the baker's cart?" + +"What a good idea! I would never have thought of that. And I've +always wanted to ride in a baker's cart. They smell so crusty." + +So it was really the professor's fault that Bainbridge was +scandalized by the sight of young Mrs. Spence jogging comfortably +along through the outskirts in a bread cart driven by the one-time +Sergeant Edward Timms. + +"And him so silly with havin' her," said Mrs. Beatty (who first +noticed them), "that he didn't know a French roll from a currant +bun." + +Indeed we may as well admit that the gallant Sergeant confused more +things that day than rolls and buns. The latter part of his orderly +bread route was strewn thickly with indignant customers. For the +Sergeant was a thoroughgoing fellow quite incapable of a divided +interest. + +"You can tell me the details of the story as we go along," Desire +said, "so that I shan't be interrupting your work at all." + +The dazzled Sergeant agreed and immediately delivered two whites +instead of one brown and forgot the tickets. + +"Well, you see," he said, "it was this way. We went over there +together, him and me. And we hadn't known each other, so to speak, +not intimate. You didn't know him yourself at all, did you?" + +Desire shook her head. + +"He was a queer one. Willin' as could be to do what he was told, but +forgettin' what it was, regular. Just naturally no good, like, +except with the fiddle. I will say, that with that there instrument +he was a Paderwooski--yes, mam! By the time our outfit got into them +trenches the boys was just clean dippy about him. They kind of took +turns dry-nursin' him and remindin' him of the things he'd got to +do, and doin' them for him when they could put it over. I'll tell +you this--it's my private suspicion that more than one chap went +west tryin' to keep the bullets offen him! Not that they were crazy +about him exactly, but that fiddle of his had got them goin'. +'Twasn't only the fiddle he played on, either. Anything would do. +That there chap could play you into any kind of dashed mood he liked +and out of it again. Put more pep into you with a penny whistle than +Sousy's band or a bottle of rum. Ring you out like a dishrag, he +could, and hang you out to dry. Gee! He could do anything--just +anything!" + +(It was here that the bun episode occurred.) + +"Well,--he got buried. Parapet blown in. And when they got him out +he was--hurt some." (The Sergeant remembered that one must not shock +the ladies.) + +"That was all I would have known about it," he went on, "only we +happen to turn up in hospital together. I wakes up one mornin' and +finds him in the next cot. He was supposed to be recoverin' but was +somehow botchin' the job. + +"'Where's the fiddle?' I says to him one day when I was feelin' +social. And then, all of a minute, I guessed why he wasn't patchin' +up like what was his duty. You see, that b-blessed parapet hadn't +had any more sense than to go and spoil his right arm for him--the +one he fiddled with, see?" + +(Here the Sergeant delivered one brick loaf instead of two sandwich +ditto.) + +"Well, they kept sayin' there weren't any reason he shouldn't mend +up. But he didn't. And one night--" the Sergeant pulled up the cart +so quickly that Desire almost fell out of it. "You won't believe +this part," he said in a kind of shamefaced way. + +"Try me." + +"Well then, one night he called to me in a kind of clear whisper. +'Bob!' he says, 'I've got my fiddle!' + +"'Sure you have, old cock,' says I. + +"'And my arm's as good as ever,' says he. + +"'Sure it is! Better,' says I. + +"'Listen!' says he. + +"And I listened and--but you won't believe this part--" + +"I will." + +"Well, I heared him playin'! Not loud--not very near but so clear +not one of the Httlest, tinkly notes was lost. I never heard playin' +like that--no, mam! And the ward was still. I never heard the ward +still, like that. I think I went to sleep listenin'. I don't know." + +The Sergeant broke off here long enough to deliver several orders-- +all wrong. Desire waited quietly and presently he finished with a +jerk. + +"When I woke up in the mornin', I was feelin' fine--fine. The first +thing I did was to look over to the next cot. But there was a screen +around it. . . . I ain't told the story to his folks because he +hasn't got any," he added after a pause. "And I kind of thought it +mightn't comfort his fiancy any--it not bein' personal, so to +speak." + +Desire frankly wiped her eyes. (It was fortunate that no one saw her +do this.) + +"It's a beautiful story," she said. + +"Well, if you think I ought to tell, I will. But if his fiancy says, +'Was there any message?' hadn't I best put in a little one-- +somethin' comforting?" + +"Oh--no." + +"All right. Couldn't I just say that at the end he called out +'Amelia!'?" + +"Oh, Mr. Timms!" + +"Not quite playin' the game, eh? Well, then I won't. But it does +seem kind of skimp like. . . . There's the doctor waitin' at the +gate." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +It seemed to Desire, waiting in the garden, that the Sergeant was +taking an unnecessarily long time in telling his story. She had +thought it best that he should be left alone to tell it, so the +doctor had gone on to visit another patient, promising to call for +her as he came back. + +Desire waited. And, as she waited, she thought. And, as she thought, +she questioned. What had Benis meant when he had said, in that +whimsical way of his, "Well, my dear, it is your idea"? If he had +not approved of it, why hadn't he said so? It had seemed such a +sensible idea. An idea of which anyone might approve. . . . Why also +had Sergeant Timms been so reluctant to approach Miss Martin with +the bare (and, Desire thought, beautiful) truth? Because he feared +it would rob her of an illusion? But illusions are surely something +which people are better without?--aren't they? + +The Sergeant came at last, twirling his cap and looking hot. + +"Well?" asked Desire nervously. + +"She'd like you to go in, Mrs. Spence, if you can spare the time. +She took it quite quiet. 'Thank you, Sergeant,' says she. And never +a question." + +The two looked at each other and Desire saw her own doubt plainly +reflected upon the honest gaze of Robert Timms. + +"I'll go in," she said. "The doctor will take me home." + +In the invalid's room there was only quietness. Miss Martin sat in +her chair by the window; her plain, thin face had not sought to turn +from the searching light. Desire felt her heart begin to beat with +the beginnings of an understanding as new as it was revealing. + +"Don't be sorry," Miss Martin's reassurance was instant. "I am glad +to know. . . . I always did know, anyway . . . and it did not make +any difference . . . If you can understand." + +Desire nodded. "He must have been very wonderful," she said. In that +new and nameless understanding she forgot that only that morning she +had referred to the dead musician as a "derelict" and "no good for +anything." + +"Yes," said the invalid musing. "Not quite like the rest of us. And +I see now that he never would have been. I used to think--but the +difference was too deep. It was fundamental. . . . I feel . . . as +if he knew it . . . and just wandered on." + +"But you?" Desire ventured this almost timidly. The quietness seemed +to intensify in the room. Then the invalid's voice, serene, distant. + +"I? . . . There is no hurry. . . . He has his fiddle, you see. . . ." +Miss Martin smiled and the smile held no bitterness. So might a +mother have smiled over a thoughtless child who turns away from a +love he is too young to value. + +Desire was silent. + +"I did not know love was like that," she said after a long pause. +"But perhaps I do not know anything about love at all." + +The older woman looked at her with quiet scrutiny. + +"You will," she said. + +After that they talked of other things until the doctor came to take +Desire home. + +"Queer thing," he said as he threw in the clutch, "I believe she +looks a little better already. That was an excellent idea of yours." + +"It was anything but an excellent idea." Desire's tone was taut with +emotional reaction. "Fortunately, it did no harm. But I don't know +what you were thinking of to allow it." + +"Allow it?" In surprised injury. + +Desire did not take up the challenge. She was looking, he thought, +unusually excited. There was faint color on her cheek. Her hands, +generally so quiet, clasped and unclasped her handbag with an +irritating click. Being a wise man, Rogers waited until the clicking +had subsided. Then, "What's the matter?" he asked mildly. + +"John," said Desire, "do you know anything about love?" + +"I see you do," she added as the car leapt forward, narrowly missing +a surprised cow. "So perhaps you will laugh at my new wisdom. I +learned something to-day." + +The car was giving trouble. For a few moments its eccentricities +required its driver's undivided attention. Even when it was running +smoothly again, he appeared preoccupied. But Desire was seldom in a +hurry. She waited until he was quite ready. + +"You learned something--about love?" asked John gruffly. + +"Yes. Have you a sore throat? Your voice sounds all dusty. I used to +think," she went on dreamily, "that love was something that came +from outside. That it depended on things. But it doesn't depend on +anything and it's not outside at all." + +"And you found this out, today?" + +"Yes. I saw it, in Miss Martin. It was quite plain. What idiots we +were to pity her!" + +"Did we pity her?" + +The question was mechanical. John was not thinking of Miss Martin. +He was thinking of the faint rose upon Desire's half-turned cheek. +Desire blushing! + +"Of course we did. And we had no right. And there is no need." + +"Don't let's do it, then," said John. Out of the corner of his eye +he saw, with a quickening of his pulse, how stirred she was. And his +wonder mounted. That desire, of the cool, grey eyes and unwarmed +smile, should speak of love at all was sufficiently amazing, but +that she should speak of it with tinted cheek was a miracle. + +Yet this, he quickly remembered, was something which he had himself +foreseen. He had never really accepted Spence's theory that early +disillusion had seriously poisoned the lifesprings natural to her +age. Her awakening had been certain. He had warned Spence that she +would wake! He felt all the exultation of a prophet who sees his +prophecy fulfilled. But common sense urged caution. To frighten her +now might be fatal. He tried to bring his mind back to Miss Martin. + +"At least," he said, "our intentions were admirable. We were trying +to help her." + +"We were being very impertinent," affirmed Desire. "Benis told me so +this morning." + +"Benis told you?" in surprise. + +"Well, he didn't exactly tell me. But I am sure he wanted to." + +This was too subtle for the doctor. There were times when he frankly +admitted his inability to bridge Desire's conversational chasms. He +was often puzzled by the things she did not say. + +"What was Benis thinking of," he said irritably, "to let you come +out in that bread cart?" + +Desire laughed. "I hope he was thinking of the Significance of the +Totem. But I'm almost sure he wasn't." + +"Does he ever think of anything but that blessed book of his?" + +"I'm afraid he does--occasionally." + +"You mean," with sharpened interest, "that he isn't quite as keen on +it as he used to be?" + +"I mean that he doesn't like me to work too hard." + +"Oh, I see. Perhaps he does not wish you to work too hard for me, +either?" + +Desire folded her hands upon her bag and looked primly into space. + +"He is a very considerate employer," she remarked mildly. "Take +care--you nearly hit that hen!" + +"Oh, d--bother the hen!" + +"And he never swears," added Desire with gentle dignity. + +They drove for a mile or so without remark and then, Desire, who had +something to say, reopened the conversation without rancour. + +"Don't be cross," she said. "As a matter of fact Benis does swear +sometimes. He is nervous, you know. I sometimes wonder if it is all +due to shell shock, or whether it is a result of his--er--other +experience." + +For the second time that day the car skidded. And for the second +time, its unfortunate driver was called upon to give it his whole +attention. Desire waited. + +"I mean his former love affair," said she when conversation was +again possible. + +"His--I don't know," said John weakly. + +Desire looked sceptical. + +"Don't fancy I want to question you," she said with haughtiness. +"But I don't see how you can help knowing. You are his doctor. And +his friend, too. He must have told you. Didn't he?" + +"He mentioned something--er--that is to say--" + +"Oh, don't hesitate! Don't fancy that I mind. I don't, of course. +And I am not curious. Although any-one might be curious. I won't ask +you questions. I am only mildly interested. It is entirely for his +own good that I should like to know if she is quite as wonderful as +he thinks. Is she, John?" + +"I--I don't know," stammered the wretched John. + +Desire nodded patiently. + +"You mean you don't know how wonderful he thought her? But did you +think her very wonderful, John?" + +"No, I didn't" + +"You thought her plain?" + +"No, I--I didn't think of her at all." + +"You mean that you found her insignificant?" + +The doctor made a sound which Desire was pleased to interpret as +assent. + +"I'm not surprised," said she earnestly. "Because, from the +description Benis gave, I felt sure he was exaggerating. Not that it +makes any difference, because, if he thought she was like that, what +she really was like didn't matter. That," with plaintive triumph, +"is one of the things I learned today." + +The doctor said nothing. It was the only thing which he felt it safe +to say. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +The professor was smoking under the maples by the front steps when +the car drove up. He looked very cool, very comfortable and very +sure of himself--entirely too sure of himself, in John's opinion. +John, who at the moment, felt neither cool nor comfortable, and +anything but sure, observed him with envy and pity. Envy for so +obvious a content, pity for an ignorance which made content +possible. + +Spence, on his part, seemed unaware of a certain tenseness in the +attitude of both Desire and John, a symptom which might have +suggested many things to a reflective mind. + +"You look frightfully 'het up,' Bones," he said. "And your collar is +wilting. Better pause in your mad career and have some tea." + +"Thanks, can't. Office hours--see you later," jerked the doctor +rapidly as he turned his car. + +"What have you been doing to John to bring on an attack of 'office +hours' at this time of day?" asked Spence as he and Desire crossed +the lawn together. "Wasn't the great idea a success?" + +"John thinks it was." + +It was so unlike Desire to give someone else's opinion when asked +for her own that the professor said "um." + +"I suppose," she added stiffly, "it is a question of values." + +"Something for something--and a doubt as to whether one pays too +dear for the whistle? Well, don't worry about it. If you could not +help, you probably could not hurt, either. . . . I had a letter from +Li Ho this afternoon." + +"A letter!" Desire's swift step halted. Her eyes, wide and startled, +questioned him. "A letter from Li Ho? But Li Ho can't write--in +English." + +"Can't he? Wait until you've read it. But I shan't let you read it, +if you look like that." + +"Like what? Frightened? But I am frightened. I can't help it. I know +it's foolish. But the more I forget--the worse it is when I +remember." + +"You must get over that. Sit here while I fetch the letter. Aunt is +out. I'll tell Olive to bring tea." + +Desire sat where he placed her. It was very pleasant there with the +green slope of the lawn and the cool shadow of trees. But her widely +opened eyes saw nothing of its homely peace. They saw, instead, a +curving stretch of moonlit beach and a trail which wound upwards +into thick darkness. Ever since she had broken away, that vision had +haunted her, now near and menacing, now dimmer and farther off, but +always there like a spectre of the past. + +"It hasn't let me go--it is there always--waiting," thought Desire. +And in the still warmth of the garden she shivered. + +The sense of Self, which is our proudest possession, receives some +curious shocks at times. Before the mystery of its own strange +changing the personality stands appalled. The world swings round in +chaos before the startled question, "Who am I--where is that other +Self that once was I?" + +Only a few months separated Desire from her old life in the mountain +cottage and already the mental and spiritual separation seemed +infinite. But was it? Was there any real separation at all? That +ghost of herself, which she had left behind on the moonlit beach, +was it not still as much herself as ever it had been? Behind the +shrouding veil of the present might not the old life still live, and +the old Self wander, fixed and changeless? It was a fantastic idea +of Desire's that the girl she had been was still where she had left +her, working about the log-walled rooms, or wandering alone by the +shining water. This Self knew no other life, would never know it-- +had no lot or part in the new life of the new desire. Yet in its +background she was always there, a figure of fate, waiting. Through +the pleasant, busy days Desire forgot her--almost. But never was she +quite free from the pull of that unsevered bond. + +Until today there had been no actual word from the discarded past. +Dr. Farr had not replied to Desire's brief announcement of her +marriage. She had not expected that he would. And for the rest, +Spence had arranged with Li Ho for news of anything which might +concern the old man's welfare. + +"Here is the letter," said Benis, breaking in upon her musing. "You +will see that, if the clear expression of thought constitutes good +English, Li Ho's English is excellent." + +He handed her a single sheet of blue note paper, beautiful with a +narrow purple border and the very last word in "chaste and +distinctive" stationery. + +"Honorable Spence and Respected Sir"--wrote Li Ho--"I address +husband as is propriety but include to Missy wishes of much +happiness. Honorable Boss and father is as per accustomed but no +different. Admirable Sami child also of strong appetite when last +observed. departure of Missy is well to remain so. Moon-devil not +say when, but arrive spontaneous. This insignificant advise from +worthless personage Li Ho." + +Desire handed back the letter with a hand that was not quite steady. +The professor frowned. He had hoped that she was beginning to +forget. But, with one so unused to self-revelation as Desire, it had +been difficult to tell. He had thought it unwise to question and he +had never pressed any comparison between her life as it was and as +it had been. Better, he thought, to let all the old memories die. +They were, he fancied, not very tellable memories, being compounded +not so much of word and deed as of those more subtle things without +voice or being which are no less terribly, evilly, real and whose +mark remains longest upon the soul. Even complete understanding +would not help him to rub out these markings. Only that slow over- +growing of life, which we call forgetfulness, could do that. She was +so young, there was still an infinite impulse of growth within her +and in the new growth old scars might pass away. + +Desire noticing the new seriousness of his face was conscious of a +pang of guilt. It seems such crass ingratitude to doubt for one +instant the stability of the happiness he had given her. Had he not +done more than it had seemed possible for anyone to do? From the +first she had overflowed with silent gratitude to him. There was +wonder yet in the apparent ease with which he had sauntered into the +prison of her life and, with a laugh and jest, set her free. He had +shown her, for the first time in her life, the blessedness of +receiving. Those whose nature it is to give greatly are not +ungenerous to the giving of others. It is a small and selfish mind +which fears to take, and Desire was neither small nor selfish. She +had hidden the thanks she could not speak deep in her heart, letting +them lie there, a core of sweetness, sweeter for its silence. + +Who shall say when in this secret core a wonderful something began +to quicken and to grow? So fine were its beginnings that Desire +herself knew them only as new bloom and color, 'violets sweeter, the +blue sky bluer'--the old eternal miracle of a new-made earth. + +She had called this new thing friendship and had been content. Only +today, when she had for an instant glimpsed life through the eyes of +Agnes Martin, had there seemed possible a greater word. In that +quiet room another name had whispered around her heart like the +first breath of a rising wind. She had not dared to listen. Yet, +without listening, she heard. And now, through Li Ho's letter, that +other Self who would have none of love, stretched out a phantom hand +and beckoned. + +The professor took the letter from her gravely, retaining, for an +instant the unsteady hand that gave it. + +"Aren't you able to get away from it yet?" he asked kindly. + +"No. Perhaps I never shall. When the memory comes back I feel--sick. +It is even worse in retrospect. When it was my daily life, I lived +it. But now it seems impossible. Am I getting more cowardly, do you +think?" + +Spence smiled. "I hope you are," he told her. "When you lived under +a daily strain you were probably keyed to a sort of harmony with it. +Now you are getting more normal. Life is a thing of infinite +adjustment." + +"You think I could get 'adjusted' again if I had to?" + +"You won't have to. Why discuss it?" + +"Because it puzzles me. Why do I mind things more now than I did? I +used to feel quite casual about father's oddities. They never seemed +to exactly matter. But now," naively, "I would so much like to have +a father like other people." + +"That is more normal, too." + +"I suppose," she went on, as if following her own thoughts, "what Li +Ho calls the moon-devil is really a disease. Have you ever told Dr. +John about father, Benis? What did he say?" The professor fidgeted. +"Oh, nothing much. He couldn't, you know, without more data. But he +thinks his periodical spells may be a kind of masked epilepsy. There +are some symptoms which look like it. The way the attacks come on, +with restlessness and that peculiar steely look in the eye, the +unreasoning anger and especially the--er--general indications." The +professor came to a stammering end, suddenly remembering that she +did not know that last and worst of the moon-devil symptoms. + +"It is hereditary, of course," said Desire calmly. + +The professor jumped. + +"My dear girl! What an idea." + +"An idea which I could not very well escape. All these things tend +to transmit themselves, do they not? Only not necessarily so. I seem +to have escaped." + +"Yes," shortly. "Surely you have never supposed--" + +"No. I haven't. That's the odd part of it. I have never been the +least bit afraid. Perhaps it's because I have never felt that I have +anything at all in common with father. Or it may be because I have +never faced facts. I don't know. Even now, when I am facing facts, +they do not seem really to touch me. I never pretended to understand +father. He seemed like two or three people, all strangers. Sometimes +he was just a rather sly old man full of schemes for getting money +without working for it, and very clever and astute. Sometimes he +seemed a student and a scholar--this was his best mood. It was +during this phase that he wrote his scientific articles and taught +me all that I know. His own knowledge seemed to be an orderly +confusion o>f all kinds of things. And he could be intensely +interesting when he chose. In those moods he treated me with a +certain courtesy which may have been a remnant of an earlier manner. +But it never lasted long." + +"And the other mood--the third one?" + +"Oh, that Well, that was the bad mood. If it is a disease he was not +responsible. So' we won't talk of it." Desire's lips tightened. "He +usually went away in the hills when the restlessness came on. And I +fancy Li Ho--watched." + +"Good old Li Ho!" + +Desire nodded. "I think now that perhaps I did not quite appreciate +Li Ho. I should like to know--but what is the use? We shall never +know more than we do." + +"Not about Li Ho'. He is the eternal Sphinx wrapped in an +everlasting yesterday. I suppose he did not have even a beginning?" + +Desire smiled. "No. He was always there. He is one of my first +memories. A kind of family familiar. Sometimes I think that if he +had not been away the night my mother died she might have been alive +still." + +Spence hesitated. "You have never told me about your mother's death, +you know," he reminded her gently. + +"Haven't I?" Desire was plainly surprised. "Why--I thought you knew. +That is a queer thing about you," she went on musingly, "I am always +thinking that you know things which you don't. Perhaps it's because +you guess so much without being told. My mother died suddenly--of +shock. Her heart was never strong and the fright of waking to find a +thief in her room proved fatal. It happened one night when Li Ho was +away. We lived in Vancouver at the time and Li Ho often disappeared +into Chinatown. He had all the Oriental passion for fan-tan. That +night there was a police raid on his favorite gambling place and Li +Ho was held till morning. It was always he who locked the doors and +attended to everything at night. Perhaps it was known that he was +away. But just what happened was never settled, for my father was +found unconscious on the floor of the passage outside my mother's +door. He couldn't remember anything clearly. The fact that there had +been several previous burglaries in town and that there were +valuables missing offered the only explanation." + +The professor was silent so long that Desire added: "I'm sorry. I +should have told you before." + +"What difference would it have made?" He roused himself. "Tell me +the rest of it. Did Li Ho think that your mother had been frightened +by a--thief?" + +"I suppose so," in surprise. "Li Ho blamed himself terribly. He said +it was his fault. If they hadn't known he was in the cells all night +they might have suspected him. He acted so queerly. But of course +what he meant was that if he had been at home the thief would not +have broken in." + +"There were evidences of his having broken in?" + +"There was a window open." + +"And were any of the stolen things recovered." + +"Not that I ever heard of. And yet, I think perhaps some of them +were. I remember--" Desire paused and a painful flush crept into her +cheek. + +"Yes?" prompted Spence gently. + +"One of the lost things was an old-fashioned watch belonging to +mother. I used to listen to it ticking. And once, years after, I saw +it. Father had given it to--a friend of his. So, you see, he must +have got it back." + +"I see." The professor was aware of a pricking along his spine. He +looked at the unconscious face of the girl and ventured another +question. + +"Was your father injured at all?" + +"His head was hurt. They did not know whether the thief had struck +him or whether it was the fall. He had fallen just at the foot of +the stairs. We lived in a bungalow, then, and as I was asleep in my +little room under the eaves, it was thought that he had been trying +to reach me--what is the matter?" + +The professor had been unable to control an involuntary shudder. + +"Nothing," he said. "Just nerves." + +Desire's smile was wistful. "It isn't a pretty story," she said. +"None of the stories I can tell are pretty. That's why I am +different from other people. But I am trying. Perhaps I shall get to +be more like them presently." + +The professor banished his dark thoughts with an effort. "God +forbid!" he said cheerfully. "And here comes teat" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +One wonders what would happen to our admirable muddle of a world, if +even a minority of its inhabitants were suddenly to embrace +consistency. It would, presumably, be a world still, but so changed +that its best friends would not know it. It is because every-body, +everywhere and at all times, acts as they could not logically be +expected to act, that our dear familiar chaos of you-never-can-tell +continues to entertain us. + +Had Desire possessed consistency, this quality so jewel-like in its +rarity, she would have realized that, having voluntarily stepped +aside from woman's natural destiny, she should also have ceased to +trouble herself with those feminine doubts and hopes which are +peculiar to it. She would have known that the position of secretary +to a professional man does not logically include heart-burnings and +questionings concerning that gentleman's love affairs, past or +present. She would have refused to consider Mary. She would have +been quite happy in the position she had deliberately made for +herself. + +Much as we would like to present Desire in this thoroughly sensible +light, we fear that her action on the morning following her visit to +the invalid Miss Martin would not bear us out in so doing. For on +that morning, with all facts of the situation freshly in her mind, +she went down-town to Dr. Rogers' office for no other purpose than +to see and talk to Dr. Rogers' yellow-haired nurse. + +"When I see her and hear her," said Desire to her-self, "I shall +know. And it will be so comfortable to know." Never a word, mind +you, about the inconsistency of being uncomfortable through not +knowing. + +No attempt at reminding herself that knowledge was none of her +business. No arguing out of the matter at all. Merely the following +of a blind impulse to find Mary if Mary were to be found. + +This impulse, which was wholly foreign to her natural habit of mind, +she justified to herself under the guise of "natural curiosity." All +she had to do was to make the call seem sufficiently casual and to +time her arrival at the doctor's office at an hour when he could not +possibly be in it. As a newcomer, such a mistake would seem quite +plausible and could be passed over easily with "How stupid of me! I +should have known." After that the nurse would probably invite her +to wait. And, even if she did not, the mere exchange of question +and. answer would probably be sufficiently revealing. + +This small program proceeded exactly as planned and Desire, in her +most becoming frock, learned of the absence of Dr. Rogers with +exactly the right degree of impatience and regret. + +"Please come in," said Dr. Rogers' nurse in somewhat drawling +accents. "Doctor may be back any minute." Being a nurse she always +predicted the doctor's arrival no matter how certain she might be +that he would not arrive. + +Desire hesitated, glanced quite naturally at her watch and decided +to wait. "If you are sure the doctor won't be long--?" The nurse was +sure that he wouldn't be long. + +Here her interest in the caller seemed to cease and she became very +much occupied with a business-like addressing of envelopes at a desk +in the corner. + +Desire looked around the cool and pleasant room. It was not like her +idea of a doctor's office, save perhaps for a faint clean smell of +drugs. There were comfortable chairs, flowers in a window-box, a +table with a book or two and some magazines. Through a half-open +door, an inner office showed--all very different from the picture +her memory showed her of the musty, cumbered room in which her +father had received his dwindling patients. As a child she had hated +that room, hated the hideous charts of "people with their skins +off," the ponderous books with their horrific and highly colored +plates, the "patients' chair" with its clinging odor of plush and +ether, the untidy desk, the dust on everything! + +But she had not come to Dr. Rogers' office to indulge in memory. She +had come to see the lady who was so busily addressing envelopes and, +after a decent interval of polite abstraction, she devoted herself +cautiously to this purpose. + +Nurse Watkins, before Desire's entrance, had not been addressing +envelopes. She had been reading. Her book lay open upon the window- +sill and Desire, having good eyes, could read its title upside down. +It was not a title which she knew, nor, if titles tell anything, did +it belong to a book which invited knowing. Desire felt almost +certain that it was not a book which Mary would care to read. Still, +one never could tell. The professor had said nothing whatever about +Mary's literary taste. + +Desire's eyes strayed, vaguely, from the book to its owner. Only +Miss Watkins' profile was visible but it was a profile well worth +attention. People who cannot choose their literature are often quite +successful with their caps. Miss Watkins' cap was just right. And +her hair was certainly yellow. Desire frowned. + +Miss Watkins, looking up, caught the frown. + +"Doctor really can't be long now," she drawled sympathetically. +Desire felt that the sympathy, like the assurance, was professional- +-an afterglow, perhaps of sympathy which had existed once, before +life had overdrawn its account. She felt, also, that Miss Watkins' +nose was decidedly good. It was straight, with the nicest little +blunt point; and her eyes were blue--not misty blue, like the hills, +but a passable blue for all that. Her expression was cold and +eminently superior. ("Frightfully nursey" was what Desire called it +to herself.) Her voice was thin. (Desire was glad of that.) + +"Doctor must have been kept somewhere," said the nurse pursuing her +formula. "Won't you sit near the window? There's a breeze." + +"Thank you." Desire moved to the window. "You must find it very +peaceful here--after nursing overseas." + +Nurse Watkins tapped her full upper lip with her pen. "Yes," she +said. "It's very dull." Desire smiled. Her spirits had been rising +ever since her entrance and she was now quite cheerful. Pretty as +Miss Mary Watkins undoubtedly was, there was a some-thing--could it +be possible that she chewed gum? No, of course she could not chew +gum. And yet there was an impression of gum somewhere--an +insinuating certainty that she might chew gum on a dark night when +no one was looking. Desire heaved a little sigh of satisfaction and, +leaning out, appeared to occupy herself with the passers-by. + +"Aren't Bainbridge streets wonderful?" she said. + +Nurse Watkins' mouth took on a discontented droop. "The streets are +all right," she said, "only they don't go anywhere." + +Desire laughed. "Are you as bored as that?" she asked. + +"Worse. I wouldn't stay here a minute if it weren't--I mean, if I +hadn't been advised to rest up a bit." + +Desire looked at her watch, and rose. Now that her curiosity had +been amply satisfied, she began to realize that curiosity is an +undignified thing. And also that she had not been the only person +present to give way to it. + +The somewhat drawling tones of Miss Watkins' voice were not at all +in keeping with the activity of her wide-awake blue eyes. A sense of +this nurse's speculation as to her presence there flicked Desire +with little whips of irritation. It is one thing to observe and +quite another to render oneself observable. She felt the blood flow +hotly to her cheek. Why had she come? How could she have so far +forgotten her natural reserve, her instinctive dislike of intrusion? +Desire saw plainly that she had allowed a regrettable sentiment to +trick her into a ridiculous situation. Satisfied curiosity is +usually ashamed of itself. + +And how absurd to have fancied for a moment that this blond +prettiness could be Mary! + +"I am afraid I cannot wait longer," she murmured with polite regret. + +"If there is any message--" + +"None, I think. Thank you so much." + +With the departure of her caller, Miss Watkins' manner underwent a +remarkable change. Professional coolness deserted her. She stamped +her foot and, from the safe concealment of the window curtain, she +watched Desire's unhurried progress down the street with eyes in +which the blue grew clouded and opaque. They brightened again as she +noticed Professor Spence passing on the opposite side of the street, +and became quite snappy with interest as she saw him pause as if to +call to his wife, then, after a swift and hesitating glance at the +door from which she had emerged, pass on without attracting her +attention. + +As a bit of pure pantomime, these expressions of feeling on Miss +Watkins' part might be misleading with-out the added comment of a +letter which she wrote that night. + +"I'm going to cut it, Flossy old girl," wrote Miss Watkins. "If you +know of anything near you that would suit me, pass it on. I think +I'm about due to get out of here. You know why I've stayed so long. +At first, I thought if we were together enough he might get to care. +People say I'm not bad for the eyes. And I don't use peroxide. Well, +I've made myself useful--he'll miss me anyway! + +"It's kind of hard to give up. But I don't believe it's a bit of +use. I've noticed a difference in him ever since he came back from +that western trip. He doesn't seem to see me anymore. And there's +something else, a look in his eyes and a line along his mouth that +were never there before. I knew something had happened. And now I +know what it was. Another girl, of course. + +"And this girl is married! + +"You might think this would make things hopeful for me. But it +doesn't. Doctor's just the kind that would go on loving her if she +had a thousand husbands. So here's where I hook it. No use wasting +myself, honey. Maybe I'll get over it. They say everyone does. + +"Funny thing--she's just the kind I'd think he'd go dippy over, dark +and still, with a lovely, wide mouth and skin like lilies. She is +young, younger than I am. But, believe me, she isn't a kid. Those +eyes of hers have seen things. They're the kind of eyes that I'd go +wild over if I were a man. So I'm not blaming Doctor. He can't help +it. + +"She came into the office today, just like an ordinary patient. But +I knew right off that she'd come for some-thing. Don't know yet what +she came for. She doesn't give herself away, that one! Didn't seem +to look around, didn't ask questions and only stayed a few minutes. +Do you suppose she could have come to see me? Because, if she did-- +Well, that shows where her interest is. + +"Another odd thing--as she went out, I saw her husband. (I'll tell +you, in strict confidence, that her husband is Professor Spence. +They are well known people here. He used to be a sort of recluse. A +queer chap. Deep as a judge.) Well, I saw him pass, on the opposite +side of the road. He saw her and was just going to call, when it +seemed to strike him where she had come from. I couldn't see very +well across the road, but he looked as if someone had hit him. And +he went on without saying a word. Now that looked queer to me. + +"Don't write and say that I'm only guessing at things. I may be +mistaken, of course, but I know I'm not. And I'm not a Pharisee (or +whoever it was that threw stones). If she cares for Doctor, I +suppose she can't help it. Some people think her husband handsome +but I don't. He's too thin and he has the oddest little smile. It +slips out and slips in like a mouse. When Dr. John smiles, he smiles +all over. + +"Well, I'll wait a week or so to make sure. Although I'm sure now. +If I ever see Doctor look at her, I'll know. You see, I know how +he'd look if he looked that way. I've kept hoping--but I guess I'd +better take my ticket, Yours, + +"MARY." + +This letter satisfactorily explains the loss, some weeks later, of +Dr. Rogers' capable nurse--a matter which he, himself, could never +understand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +Desire was smiling as she left Dr. Rogers' office. It was a smile +compounded of derision and relief--a shamefaced smile which admitted +an opinion of herself very far from flattering. + +So occupied was she with her mental reactions that she had no +attention to spare for the opposite side of the street and therefore +missed the slightly peculiar action of her husband-by-courtesy. +Professor Spence, when he had first caught sight of his wife had +automatically paused, as if to call or cross over. It had become +their friendly habit to inform each other of their daily plans and a +cheery "whither away?" had risen naturally to the professor's lips. +It rose to them, but did not leave them, for, in the intervening +instant, he had grasped the fact of Desire's smiling abstraction and +had sought its explanation in the place from which she had come. +desire calling at old Bones' office at this hour of the morning? +Before he had recovered from the surprise of it, she had passed. + +Time, which seems so mighty, is sometimes quite negligible. The most +amazing mental illuminations may occupy only the fraction of a +second. A light flashes and is gone--but meanwhile one has seen. + +The professor's pause was hardly noticeable. He walked on at once. +But years could not have instructed him more thoroughly than that +one second. He had received a revelation. Like all revelations, he +received it in its entirety and realized it piecemeal. His thoughts +stumbled over each other in confusion. . . . Desire at John's office +at this unusual hour? . . . Desire in her prettiest frock and +smiling . . . smiling, and so lost in her own thoughts that she saw +no one . . . Desire . . . John? . . . What the devil! + +Spence had a finicky dislike of strong language. He thought it +savored of weakness, yet he found himself swearing heartily as he +hurried on--meaningless swears which by their very childishness +brought him back to common sense. His step slowed, he forced himself +to be reasonable. He took a brief against his own unwarranted +disturbance of mind and reduced it to argument. There was nothing at +all strange, he pointed out, in Desire having called at old Bones' +office at this, or any other, time of day (but what under heaven did +she do it for?). She might easily have forgotten to tell the doctor +some-thing. (What in thunder would she have to tell him?) She might +have dropped in, in passing (at that hour of the morning?) merely to +ask him over for some tennis (was the dashed telephone out of +order?). Or she might have felt a trifle seedy (pshaw! her health +was perfect--idiot!). Anyway she had a perfect right to see Dr. +Rogers at any time and for any reason she might choose. (Yes, she +had--that was the devil of it!) + +At this point of his argument the professor was nearly-run down by a +delivery boy on a bicycle and saved himself only by a sharp +collision with a telegraph pole. This served to clear his brain +somewhat. His confusion of thought dropped away. He began to look +his revelation in the face-- + +"Desire--John?" + +It was certainly possible! Why had he never seen it before? . . . He +had been warned. John himself had warned him--Old John who had been +so palpably "hit" when he had first seen Desire at Friendly Bay. But +he, Benis Spence, had laughed. Honestly laughed. No possibility of +this possibility had troubled him. He simply had not seen it. And +now--he saw. The thing italicised itself on his brain. + +Granted that Desire might love, there was no reason on earth why she +should not love John. + +The conclusion seemed childishly simple and yet he had never +seriously considered it. Why? Relentlessly he forced himself to +answer why. It was because he had believed that when Desire woke to +love, if she should so wake, she would wake to love for him! He tore +this admission out of a shrinking heart and laughed at it. It was +funny, quite funny in its ridiculous conceit. . . . But it hadn't +been conceit, it had been assurance. Impossible to account for, and +absurd as it seemed now, it was some-thing higher than vanity which +had hidden in his heart that happy sense of kinship with Desire +which had made John's warning seem an emptiness of words. + +It was gone now, that wonderful sense of "belonging," swept away in +the swift rush of startled doubt. Searching as it might, his mind +could not find anywhere the faintest foothold for a belief that +Desire, free to choose, should turn to him and not to another. + +"I had better go and sleep this off somewhere," murmured the +professor with a wry smile. "Mustn't let it get ahead of me. Mustn't +make any more mistakes. This needs thinking out--steady now!" + +He tried to forget his own problem in thinking of hers. It couldn't +be very pleasant for her--this. And yet she had been smiling as she +came out of John's office. perhaps she did not know yet? On second +thoughts, he felt sure that she did not know. He recognized the +essentials of Desire. She was loyalty itself. And had he not reason +to know from his own present experience that the beginnings of love +can be very blind. + +John, too--but with John it was different. John had given his +warning. If the warning were to be justified he could not blame +John. He could not blame anyone save his own too confident self. +Why, oh why, had he been so sure? Had he not known that love is the +most unaccountable of all the passions? How had he dared to build +security on that subtle thing within himself which, without cause or +reason, had claimed as his the unstirred heart of the girl he had +married. + +Spence returned home with lagging step. The old distaste for +familiar things, which he thought had gone with the coming of +Desire, was heavy upon him. The gate of his pleasant home shut +behind him like a prison gate. In short, Benis Spence paid for a +moment's enlightenment with a bad day and a night that was no +better. + +By the morning he had won through. One must carry on. And the +advantage of a quiet manner is that no one notices when it grows +more quiet. + +Desire was already in the library when he entered it. She looked +very crisp and cool. It struck Spence for the first time that she +was dressing her part--the neat, dark skirt and laundered blouse, +blackbowed at the neck in a perfect orgy of simplicity, were +eminently secretarial. How beautifully young she was! + +Desire looked up from her note-book with business-like promptitude. + +"I think," she said, "that we are quite ready to go on with the +thirteenth chapter." + +"But I think," said Benis, "that it would be much nicer to go +fishing." + +"Why?" + +"Well, it's Friday, for one thing. Do you really think it safe to +begin the thirteenth chapter on a Friday?" + +His secretary's smile was dutiful, but her lips were firm. "We +didn't do a thing-yesterday," she reminded him. "I couldn't find you +anywhere and no one knew where you were." + +"I was--just around," vaguely. + +"Not around here," Desire was uncompromising. "Benis, I think we +should really be more businesslike. We should have talked this +thirteenth chapter over yesterday. I see you have a note here for +some opening paragraphs on The Apprehension of Color in Primitive +Minds--" + +A cascade of goblin laughter from Yorick interrupted her. + +"Yorick is amused," said Benis. "He knows all about the apprehension +of color in primitive minds. He advises us to go fishing." + +Desire watched him stroke the bird's bent head with a puzzled frown. + +"I wish you wouldn't joke about--this," she said slowly. "You don't +want that habit of mind to affect your serious work." + +Spence looked up surprised. + +"The whole character of the book is changing," went on Desire +resolutely. "It will all have to be revised and brought into +harmony. I'm sure you've felt it yourself. In a book like this the +treatment must be the same throughout. I've heard you say that a +hundred times. It doesn't matter what the treatment is, the +necessary thing is that it be consistent. Isn't that right?" + +"Certainly." + +"Well--yours isn't!" + +Spence forgot the parrot (who immediately pecked his finger). He +almost forgot that he had suffered an awakening and had passed a bad +night. Desire interested him in the present moment as she always +did. She was--what was she? "Satisfying" was perhaps the best word +for it. Just to be with her seemed to round out life. + +"Prove it!" said he with some heat. + +For half an hour he listened while she proved it with great energy +and a thorough knowledge of her facts. He listened because he liked +to listen and not because she was telling him anything new. He knew +just where his "treatment" of his material had changed, and he knew, +as Desire did not, what had changed it. For the change was not +really in the treatment at all, but in himself. + +This book had been his earliest ambition. It had been the sole +companion of his thoughts for years. It had been the little idol +which must be served. Without a word of it being written, it had +grown with his growth. His notes for it comprised all that he had +filched from life. He had not hurried. He was leisurely by nature. +Then had come the war, lifting him out of all the things he knew. +And, after the war, its great weariness. Not until he had met Desire +and found, in her fresh interest, something of his own lost +enthusiasm, had he been able to work again. Then, in a glow of +recovered energy, the book had been begun. And all had gone well +until the book's inspirer had begun to usurp the place of the book +itself. (Spence smiled as he realized that Desire was painstakingly +tracing the course of her self-caused destruction.) How could he +think of the book when he wanted only to think of her? Insensibly, +his gathered facts had begun to lose their prime importance, his +deductions had lost their sense of weight, all that he had done +seemed strangely insignificant--it was like looking at something +through the wrong end of a telescope. The great book was a star +which grew steadily smaller. + +The proportion was wrong. He knew that. But at present he could do +nothing to readjust it. Two interests cannot occupy the same space +at the same time. The book interest had simply succumbed to an +interest older and more potent. + +"In this chapter, the Sixth," Desire was saying, "you seem to lose +some of the serious purpose which is a prominent note in the opening +chapters. You begin to treat things casually. You almost allow +yourself to be humorous. Now is this supposed to be a humorous book, +or is it not?" + +"Oh--not. Distinctly not." + +"Well then, don't you see? If you had treated the thing in that +semi-humorous manner all through and continued in that vein you +would produce a certain definite type of book. The critics would +probably say--" + +"I know, spare me!" "They would say," sternly, "that 'Professor +Spence has a light touch.' That 'he has treated his subject in a +popular manner.'" (The professor groaned.) "But that isn't a patch +upon what they will say if you mix up your styles as you are doing +at present." + +"But--well, what do you advise?" + +Desire sucked her pencil. (He had given up trying to cure her of +this poisonous habit.) + +"I've thought about that. If you were not so--so temperamental, I +would say go back and begin again. But that is risky. It will be +better to go on, I think, trying to recapture the more serious +style, until the whole book it at least in some form. Then you will +know exactly where you are and what is necessary to harmonize the +whole. You can then rewrite the 'off' chapters, bringing them into +line. This is a recognized literary method, I believe." + +"Is it? Good heavens!" + +"I read it in a book." + +"Then it must be literary. All right. I'm agreeable. But at present- +-" + +"At present," firmly, "the main thing is to go on." + +"This morning?" + +"Certainly." + +"But I don't want to go on this morning. That is the flaw in your +literary method. It makes me go on whether I want to or not. Now the +really top-notchers never do that. They are as full of stoppages as +a freight train. Fact. They only create when the spirit moves them." + +"Aren't you thinking of Quakers?" suggested Desire sweetly. "Besides +you are not creating. You are compiling--a very different thing." + +"But what is the use of compiling an off chapter when I know it is +going to be an off one?" + +Desire threw down her pencil. + +"Oh, Benis," she said. "I don't like this. Don't let us play with +words. Surely you are not getting tired--you can't be." + +Her eyes, urgent and truth-compelling, forced an answer. + +"I don't quite know," he said. "But I am certainly off work at +present. There may be all kinds of reasons. You will have to be +patient, Desire." + +"Then," in a low voice, "it isn't only indolence?" + +He was moved to candor. "It isn't indolence at all. I have always +been a fairly good worker, and will be again. But the driving force +has shifted. I have not been doing good work and I know it. The more +I know it the worse the work will become. . . . It doesn't matter, +really, child," he added gently, seeing that she had turned away. +"The world can wait for the bit of knowledge I can give it." + +Desire, whose face was invisible, took a moment to answer this. When +she did her voice was carefully with-out expression. + +"Then this ends my usefulness. You will not need me any more." + +The professor, who had been nursing his knee on the corner of the +desk, straightened up so suddenly that he heard his spine click. + +"What's this?" he said. (Good heavens--the girl was as full of +surprises as a grab-bag!) + +"It was for the book you needed me, was it not? That was my share of +our partnership." + +("Now you've done it!" shouted an exultant voice in the professor's +brain. "Oh, you are an ass!") + +"Shut up!" said Spence irritably. "I wasn't talking to you," he +explained apologetically. "It's just a horrid little devil I +converse with sometimes. What I meant was--" He did not seem to know +what he meant and looked rather helplessly out of the window. "Oh, I +say," he said presently, "you are not going to--to act like that, +are you? Agitation's so frightfully bad for me. Ask old Bones." + +"You are not agitated," said Desire coldly. "Please be serious." + +"I am. Deuced serious. And agitated too. You ought to think twice +before you startle me like that--just when everything was going +along so nicely." + +"I am only reminding you of your own agreement," stubbornly. "I want +to be of use." + +"Very selfish of you. Can't you think of someone else once in a +while?" + +"Selfish? Because I want to help?" + +"Certainly. I wonder you don't see it! Think of the mornings I've +put in on this dashed book just because you wanted to help. I have +to be polite, haven't I?--up to a point. But when you begin to blame +me for doing poorly what I do not want to do at all I begin to see +that my self-sacrifice is not appreciated." + +"You are talking nonsense." + +"Perhaps I am. But it was you who started it. When you said I did +not need you, you said a very nonsensical thing. And a very unkind +thing, too. A man does not like to talk of--his need. But, now that +we have come to just this point, let us have it out. Surely our +partnership was not quite as narrow as you suggest? The book is a +detail. It is L. part of life which will fit in somewhere--an +important part in its right place--but it isn't the whole pattern." +He smiled whimsically. "Do not think of me as just an animated book, +my dear--if you can help it. And remember, no matter how we choose +to interpret our marriage, you are my wife. And my very good +comrade. The one thing which could ever change my need of you is +your greater need of--of someone else." + +The last words were casual enough but the look which accompanied +them was keen, and a sense of relief rose gratefully in the +professor as no sign of disturbance appeared upon the thoughtful +face of his hearer. + +"Is Benis here, my dear?" asked Aunt Caroline opening the door. "Oh +yes, I see that he is. Benis, you are wanted on the 'phone. If you +would take my advice, which you never do, you would have an +extension placed in this room. Then you could always just answer and +save Olive a great deal of bother. Not that I think maids ought to +mind being bothered. They never did in my time. But it would be +quite simple for you, when you are writing here, to attend to the +'phone. Perhaps if the butcher heard a man's voice occasionally he +might be more respectful. I do not expect much of tradespeople, as +you know, but if the butcher--" + +"Is it the butcher who wishes to speak to me, Aunt?" + +"Good gracious, no. It's long distance. Why don't you hurry? . . . +Men have no idea of the value of time," she added as the professor +vanished. "My dear you must not let Benis overwork you. He doesn't +intend to be unkind, but men never think." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +Desire turned back to her papers as the door closed. But her manner +was no longer brisk and business-like. There was a small, hot lump +in her throat. + +"It isn't fair," she thought passionately. "It's all very well to +talk, but it does make a difference--it does. If I'm not his +secretary what am I?" A hot blush crimsoned her white skin and she +stamped her foot. "I'm not his wife. I'm not! I'm not!" she said +defiantly. + +There was no one to contradict her. Even Yorick was silent. And, as +contradiction is really necessary to belligerency, some of the fire +died out of her stormy eyes. But it flared again as thought flung +thought upon the embers. + +"Wife!" How dared he use the word? And in that tone! A word that +meant nothing to him. Nothing, save a cold, calm statement of claim. +. . . Not that she wanted it to mean anything else. Had she not, +herself, arranged a most satisfactory basis of coolness and +calmness? (Reason insisted upon reminding her of this.) And a strict +recognition of this basis was precisely what she wanted, of course. +Only she wanted it as a secretary and not as a--not as anything +else. + +"What's in a word?" asked Reason mildly. "Words mean only what you +mean by them. Wife or secretary, if they mean the same--" + +Desire flung her note-books viciously into a drawer and banged it +shut. + +Why did things insist upon changing anyway? She had been content-- +well, almost. She had not asked for more than she had. Why, then, +should a cross-grained fate insist upon her getting less? Since +yesterday she had not troubled even about Mary. Her self-ridicule at +the absurdity of her mistake regarding Dr. Rogers' pretty nurse had +had a salutary effect. And now--just when everything promised so +well (self-pity began to cool the hot lump in her throat). And just +when she had made up her mind that, however small her portion of her +husband's thought might be, it would be enough--well, almost enough- +- + +A screech from Yorick made her start nervously. + +"Cats!" said Yorick. "Oh the devil--cats!" + +Desire laughed and firmly dislodged Aunt Caroline's big Maltese cat +from its place of vantage on the window-sill. The laughter dissolved +the last of the troublesome lump and she began to feel better. After +all, the book-weariness of which Benis had spoken would probably be +a passing phase. If she allowed herself to go on creating mountains +out of molehills she would soon have a whole range upon her hands. + +And he had said he needed her! + +Mechanically, she began to straighten the desk, restoring the +professor's notes to their proper places. She was feeling almost +sanguine again when her hand fell upon the photograph. + +We say "the" photograph because, of all photographs in the world, +this one was the one most fatal to Desire's new content. She picked +it up casually. Photographs have no proper place amongst notes of +research. Desire, frowning her secretarial frown, lifted the +intruder to remove it and, lifting, naturally looked at it. Having +looked, she continued looking. + +It was an arresting photograph. Desire had not seen it before. That +in itself was surprising, since one of Aunt Caroline's hardest-to- +bear social graces was the showing of photographs. She had +quantities of them--tons, Desire sometimes thought. They lived in +boxes in different parts of the house, and were produced upon most +unlikely occasions. One was never quite safe from them. Even the +spare room had its own box, appropriately covered with chintz to +match the curtains. + +This photograph, Desire saw at once, would not fit into Aunt +Caroline's boxes. It was too big. And it was very modern. Most of +Aunt Caroline's collection dated from the "background" period of +photographic art. But this one was all person. And a very charming +person too. + +Photographs are often deceiving. But one can usually catch them at +it. Desire perceived at once that this photograph's nose had been +artistically rounded and that its flawlessness of line and texture +owed something to retoucher's lead. But looking through and behind +all this, there was enough--oh, more than enough! + +With instant disfavor, Desire noted the perfect arrangement of the +hair, the delicate slope of the shoulder, the lifted chin, the tip +of a hidden ear, the slightly mocking, but very alluring, glance of +long, fawn-like eyes. + +"Another molehill," thought Desire. And, virtuously disregarding the +instinct leaping in her heart, she turned the fascinating thing face +downwards. Probably fate laughed then. For written large and in very +black ink across the back was the admirably restrained autograph, +"Benis, from Mary" . . . + +Well, she knew now! + +A very different person, this, from the blond Miss Watkins with her +hard blue eyes and too, too dewy lips! Here was a woman of character +and charm. A woman fully armed with all the witchery of sex. A woman +any man might love--even Benis. + +Desire did not struggle against her certainty. Her acceptance of it +was as sudden as it was complete. Huddling back in her chair, with +the tell-tale photo in her hands, she felt cold. Certainty is a +chill thing. We all seek certainty but, when we get it, we shiver. +The proper place for certainty is just ahead, that we may warm our +blood in the pursuit of it. Certainty stands at the end of things +and human nature shrinks from endings. + +Only that morning, Desire had qualified the good of her present +state by the "if" of "if I only knew." And, now that she did know, +the only unqualified thing was her sense of desolation. The most +disturbing of her speculations had been as nothing to this +relentless knowledge. Not until she had found certainty did she +realize how she had clung to hope. + +She did not know that she was crying until a tear splashed hot upon +her hand. She did not hear the door open as Benis reentered the +room, but she sprang to her feet, alert and defensive, at the sound +of his voice. + +"Crying?" said Benis. + +It was hardly a question. He had, in fact, seen the tear. But there +was nothing in his manner to indicate more than ordinary concern. + +"Certainly not," said Desire. + +"My mistake. But what is it you are hiding so carefully behind you? +Mayn't I see?" + +Desire thought quickly. Her denial of tears had been, she knew, +quite useless. Besides, she had heard that note of dry patience in +the professor's voice before. It came when he wanted something and +intended to get it. And he wanted now to know the cause of her +tears. Well, he would never know it--never. It was the one +impossible thing. Desire's pride flamed in her, a white fire which +would consume her utterly--if he knew. + +"It is a personal matter," she said. (This was merely to gain time.) + +"It is personal to me also." + +"I do not wish to show it to you." + +"No. But--do not force me to insist." + +These two wasted but few words upon each other. It was not +necessary. Desire took a quick step backward. And, as she did so, +the desired inspiration came. Directly behind her stood the table on +which lay Aunt Caroline's box of photographs. If she could, without +turning, substitute one of them for the tell-tale picture in her +hand-- + +"You will hardly insist, I think." Her eyes were on him, cool and +wary. She took another step backward. He did not follow her. There +was a faint smile on his lips but his face, she noticed with +perturbation, had gone very pale. His eyes were shining and chill, +like water under grey skies. + +"Please," he said, holding out his hand. + +Desire let her glance go past him. "The door!" she murmured. He +turned to close it. It gave her only a moment. But a moment was all +she needed. + +"Surely we are making a fuss over nothing." With difficulty she kept +a too obvious relief out of her voice. He must not find her +opposition weakened. + +"Perhaps. But--let me decide, Desire." + +"Shan't!" said Desire, like a naughty child. + +Fire leapt from the chill grey of his eyes. + +"Very well, then--" + +He took it so quickly that Desire gasped. Then she laughed. She +had never had anything taken from her by force since her childhood +and it was an astonishing experience. Also, she had not dreamed that +Benis was so strong. It hadn't been at all difficult. And this in +spite of the fact that she had clung to the substituted photo-graph +with convincing stubbornness. + +"Well--now you've got it, I hope you like it," she said a little +breathlessly. Her eyes were sparkling. She did not know what photo +she had picked up when she dropped the real one. 'Probably it was a +picture of Aunt Caroline herself or of some dear and departed +Spence. Benis would have some difficulty in tracing the cause of the +tears he had surprised. Fortunately he could always see a joke on +himself. It would be funny . . . + +But it did not seem to be funny. Benis was not laughing. He had gone +quite grey. + +"What is it, Benis?" in a startled tone. "You see it was just a +mistake? I was crying because--because I was sorry you were not +going on with the book. I just happened to have a photograph--" The +look in his eyes stopped her. + +"Please don't," he said. + +She took the card he held out to her, glanced at it, and choked back +a spasm of hysterical laughter. For it wasn't a picture of Aunt +Caroline, or even of a departed Spence--it was a picture of Dr. John +Rogers! + +"Gracious!" said Desire. There seemed to be nothing else to say. +"Well," she ventured after a perplexed pause, "you can see that I +couldn't be crying over John, can't you?" + +"I can see--no need why you should;" said Benis slowly. "I'm afraid +I have been very blind." + +The girl's complete bewilderment at this was plain to anyone of +unbiased judgment. But Spence's judgment was not at present +unbiased. He went on painfully. + +"I owe you an apology for my very primitive method of obtaining your +confidence. But it is better that I should know--" + +"Know what? You don't know. I don't know myself. I did not even know +whose the photograph was until--" She hesitated at the look of hurt +wonder in his eyes. "You think I am lying?" she finished angrily. + +"I think you are making things unnecessarily difficult. There is no +need for you to explain--anything." + +Desire was furious. And helpless. She remembered now that when he +had entered the room he had certainly seen her bending over a +photograph. No wonder her statement that she did not know whose +photograph it was seemed uniquely absurd. There was only one +adequate explanation. And that explanation she wouldn't and couldn't +make. + +"Very well then," she said loftily. "I shall not explain." + +He did not look at her. He had not looked at her since handing her +back John's picture. But he had himself well in hand now. Desire +wondered if she had imagined that greyish pallor, that sudden look +of a man struck down. What possible reason had there been for such +an effect anyway? Desire could see none. + +"I came to tell you/' he said in his ordinary voice, "that the long +distance call came from Miss Davis. If it is convenient for you and +Aunt, she plans to come along on the evening train. Her cold is +quite better." + +"The evening train, tonight?" + +"Yes." He smiled. "She is a sudden person. Gone today and here +tomorrow. But you will like her. And you will adore her clothes." + +"Are they the very latest?" + +"Later than that. Mary always buys yesterday what most women buy +tomorrow." + +"Oh," said Desire. "And what does this futurist lady look like?" + +Benis considered. "I can't think of anything that she looks like," +he concluded. "She doesn't go in for resemblances. Futurists don't, +you know!" + +"Isn't it odd?" said Desire in what she hoped was a casual voice. +"So many of your friends seem to be named Mary." + +"I've noticed that myself--lately." + +"There are--" + +"'Mary Seaton and Mary Beaton and Mary Carmichael and me,'" quoted +Benis gravely. + +Desire permitted herself to smile and turning, still smiling, faced +Aunt Caroline; who, for her part, was in anything but a smiling +humor. + +"I'm glad you take it good-naturedly, Desire," said Aunt Caroline +acidly. "But people who arrive at a moment's warning always annoy +me. I do not require much, but a few days' notice at the least--have +you seen a photograph anywhere about?" + +Desire bit her lips. "Whose photograph was it, Aunt?" + +"Why, Mary Davis' photograph, of course. The one she gave to Benis +when she was last here. I hope you do not mind my taking it from +your room, Benis? My intention was to have it framed. People do like +to see themselves framed. I thought it might be a delicate little +attention. But if she is coming tonight, it is too late now. Still, +we might put it in place of Cousin Amelia Spence on the drawing-room +mantel. What do you think, my dear?" + +"I think we might," said Desire. Her tone was admirably judicial but +her thoughts were not. . . . If the Mary of the visit were no other +than the Mary of the faun-eyed photograph, why then-- + +Why then, no wonder that Benis had lost interest in the great Book! + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +To give exhaustive reasons for the impulse which brought Miss Mary +Davis to Bainbridge at this particular time would be to delve too +deeply into the complex psychology of that lady. But we shall not be +far wrong if we sum up the determining impulse in one word-- +curiosity. + +The news of Benis Spence's unexpected marriage had been something of +a shock to more than one of his friends. But especially so to Mary +Davis. Upon a certain interesting list, which Miss Davis kept in her +well-ordered mind, the name of this agreeable bachelor had been +distinctly labelled "possible." To have a possibility snatched from +under one's nose without warning is annoying, especially if the +season in possibilities threatens to be poor. The war had sadly +depleted Miss Davis' once lengthy list. And she, herself, was five +years older. It would be interesting, and perhaps instructive, to +see the young person from nowhere who had still further narrowed her +personal territory. + +"It does seem rather a shame," she confided to a select friend or +two, "that clever men who have escaped the perils of early matrimony +should in maturity turn back to the very thing which constituted +that peril." + +"You mean men like them young?" said a select friend with brutal +candor. + +"I mean they like them too young. In the case I'm thinking of, the +girl is a mere child. And quite uncultured. What possibility of +intellectual companionship could the most sanguine man expect?" + +"None. But they don't want intellectual companionship." Another +select friend spoke bitterly. "I used to think they did. It seemed +reasonable. As the basis for a whole lifetime, it seemed the only +possible thing. But what's the use of insisting on a theory, no +matter how abstractly sound, if it is disproved in practice every +day? Remember Bobby Wells? He is quite famous now; knows more about +biology than any man on this side of the water. He married last +week. His wife is a pretty little creature who thinks protoplasm +another name for appendicitis." + +There was a sympathetic pause. + +"And biology was always such a fad of yours," sighed Mary +thoughtfully. "Never mind! They are sure to be frightfully unhappy." + +"No, they won't. That's it. That's the point I am making. They'll be +as cozy as possible." + +Miss Davis thought this point over after the select friend who made +it had gone. She did not wish to believe that its implication was a +true one. But, if it were, if youth, just youth, were the thing of +power, then it were wise that she should realize it before it was +too late. Her own share of the magic thing was swiftly passing. + +From a drawer of her desk she took a recent letter from a Bainbridge +correspondent and re-read the part referring to the Spence +reception. + +"Really, it was quite well done," she read. "Old Miss Campion has a +'flair' for the suitabilities, and now that so many are trying to be +smart or bizarre, it is a relief to come back to the old pleasant +suitable things--you know what I mean. And the old lady has an air. +How she gets it, I don't know, for the dear Queen is her idea of +style. Perhaps there is something in the 'aura' theory. If so, Miss +Campion's aura is the very glass of fashion. + +"And the bride! But I hear you are coming down, so you will see the +bride for yourself. There was a silly rumor about her being part +Indian. Well, if Indian blood can give one a skin like hers, I could +do with an off-side ancestor myself! She is even younger than report +predicted. But not sweet or coy (Heavens, how one wearies of that +type!) And Benis Spence, as a bride-groom, has lost something of his +'moony' air. He is quite attractive in an odd way. All the same, I +can't help feeling (and others agree with me) that there is +something odd about that marriage. My dear, they do not act like +married people. The girl is as cool as a princess (I suppose +princesses are). And the professor's attitude is so--so casual. Even +John Rogers' manner to the bride is more marked than the +bridegroom's. But you know I never repeat gossip. It isn't kind. And +any-way it may not be true that he drops in for tea nearly every +day." + +Miss Davis replaced the letter with a musing smile. And the next +morning she called up on long distance. A visit to Bainbridge, she +felt, might be quite stimulating. . . . + +Observe her, then, on the morning of her arrival having breakfast in +bed. Breakfast in bed is always offered to travellers at the Spence +home--a courtesy based upon the tradition of an age which travelled +hard and seldom. Miss Davis quite approved of the custom. She had +not neglected to bring "matinees" in which she looked most charming. +Negligee became her. She openly envied Margot Asquith her bedroom +receptions. + +Young Mrs. Spence, inquiring with true western hospitality, whether +the breakfast had been all that could be desired, was conscious of a +pang, successfully repressed, at the sight of that matinee. She saw +at once that she had never realized possibilities in this direction. +Her night-gowns (even the new ones) were merely night-gowns and her +kimonas were garments which could still be recognized under that +name. + +"It is rather a duck," said Mary, reading Desire's admiring glance. +"Quite French, I think. But of course, as a bride, you will have +oceans of lovely things. I adore trousseaux. Perhaps you will show +me some of your pretties?" (The bride's gowns, she admitted, might +be passable but what really tells the tale is the underneaths.) + +"Oh, with pleasure." Desire's assent was instant and warm. "I shall +love to let you see my things." + +It was risky--but effective. Mary's desire to see the trousseau +evaporated on the instant. No girl would be so eager to show things +which were not worth showing. And Mary was no altruist to rejoice +over other people's Paris follies. + +After all, she really knew very little about Benis's wife. And you +never can tell. She began to wish that she had brought down with her +some very special glories--things she had decided not to waste on +Bainbridge. Her young hostess had eyes which were coolly, almost +humorously, critical. "Absurd in a girl who simply can't have any +proper criteria!" thought Miss Davis crossly. + +"When you are quite rested," said Desire kindly, "you will find us +on the west lawn. The sun is never too hot there in the morning." + +"Yes--I remember that." The faintest sigh disturbed the laces of +Mary's matinee. Her faun-like eyes looked wistful. "But if you do +not mind, I think I shall be really lazy--these colds do leave one +so wretched." + +Desire agreed that colds were annoying. She had not missed the sigh +which accompanied Mary's memory of the west lawn and very naturally +misread it. Mary's regretful decision to challenge no morning +comparison in the sunlight on any lawn was interpreted as regret of +a much more tender nature. Desire's eyes grew cold and dark with +shadow as she left her charming visitor to her wistful rest. + +That Mary Davis was the lady of her husband's one romance, she had +no longer any doubt. Anyone, that is, any man, might love deeply and +hopelessly a woman of such rare and subtle charm. Possessing youth +in glorious measure herself, Desire naturally discounted her rival's +lack of it. With her, the slight blurring of Mary's carefully tended +"lines," the tired look around her eyes, the somewhat cold-creamy +texture of her delicate skin, weighed nothing against the exquisite +finish and fine sophistication which had been the gift of the added +years. + +In age, she thought, Mary and Benis would rank each other. They were +also essentially of the same world. Neither had ever gazed through +windows. Both had been free of life from its beginning. Love between +them might well have been a fitting progression. + +The one fact which did not fit in here was this--in the story as +told by Benis the affair had been one of unreciprocated affection. +This presupposed a blindness on the lady's part which Desire began +increasingly to doubt. She had already reached the point when it +seemed impossible that anyone should not admire what to her was +entirely admirable. Even the explanation of a prior attachment (the +"Someone Else" of the professor's story), did not carry conviction. +Who else could there be--compared with Benis? + +No. It looked, upon the face of it, as if there had been a mistake +somewhere. Benis had despaired too soon! + +This fateful thought had been crouching at the door of Desire's mind +ever since Mary had ceased to be an abstraction. She had kept it +out. She had refused to know that it was there. She had been happy +in spite of it. But now, when its time was fully come, it made small +work of her frail barriers. It blundered in, leering and triumphant. + +Men have been mistaken before now. Men have turned aside in the very +moment of victory. And Benis Spence was not a man who would beg or +importune. How easily he might have taken for refusal what was, in +effect, mere withdrawal. Had Mary retreated only that he might +pursue? And had the Someone Else been No One Else at all? + +If this were so, and it seemed at least possible, the retreating +lady had been smartly punished. Serve her right--oh, serve her right +a thousand times for having dared to trifle! Desire wasted no pity +on her. But what of him? With merciless lucidity Desire's busy brain +created the missing acts which might have brought the professor's +tragedy of errors to a happy ending. It would have been so simple-- +if Benis had only waited. Even pursuit would not have been required +of him. Mary, unpursued, would have come back; unasked, she might +have offered. But Benis had not waited. + +Desire saw all this in the time that it took her to go down-stairs. +At the bottom of the stairs she faced its unescapable logic: if he +were free now, he might be happy yet. + +How blind they had both been! He to believe that love had passed; +she to believe that love would never come. Desire paused with her +hand upon the library door. He was there. She could hear him talking +to Yorick. She had only to open the door . . . but she did not open +it. Yesterday the library had been her kingdom, the heart of her +widening world. Now it was only a room in someone else's house. +Yesterday she would have gone in swiftly--hiding her gladness in a +little net of everyday words. But today she had no gladness and no +words. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +Miss Davis had been in Bainbridge a week. Her cold was entirely +better and her nerves, she said, much rested. "This is such a +restful place," murmured Miss Davis, selecting her breakfast toast +with care. + +"I'm glad you find it so," said Aunt Caroline. "Though, with the +club elections coming on next week--" she broke off to ask if Desire +would have more coffee. + +Desire would have no more, thanks. Miss Campion, looking over her +spectacles, frowned faintly and took a second cup herself--an +indulgence which showed that she had something on her mind. Her +nephew, knowing this symptom, was not surprised when later she +joined him on the side veranda. Being a prompt person she began at +once. + +"Benis," she said, "I have a feeling--I am not at all satisfied +about Desire. If you know what is the matter with her I wish you +would tell me. I am not curious. I expect no one's confidence, nor +do I ask for it. But I have a right to object to mysteries, I +think." + +As Aunt Caroline spoke, she looked sternly at the smoke of the +professor's after-breakfast cigarette, the blue haze of which +temporarily clouded his expression. Benis took his time in +answering. + +"You think there is something the matter besides the heat?" he +inquired mildly. + +"Heat! It is only ordinary summer weather." + +"But Desire is not used to ordinary summer, in Ontario." + +"Nonsense. It can't be much cooler on the coast. Although I have +heard people say that they felt quite chilly there. It isn't that." + +"What is it, then?" + +Not noticing that she was being asked to answer her own question, +Aunt Caroline considered. Then, with a flash of shrewd insight, +"Well," she said, "if there were any possible excuse for it, I +should say that it is Mary Davis." + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"You asked me, Benis. And I have told you what I think. Desire has +changed since Mary came. Before that she seemed happy. There was +something about her--well, I admit I liked to look at her. And she +seemed to love this place. Even that Yorick bird pleased her, a +taste which I admit I could never understand. Now she looks around +and sees nothing. The girl has some-thing on her mind, Benis. She's +thinking." + +"With some people thought is not fatal." + +"I am serious, Benis." + +"So am I." + +"What I should like to know is--have you, by any chance, been +flirting with Mary?" + +"What?" + +"Don't shout. You heard what I said perfectly. I do not wish to +interfere. It is against my nature. But if you had been flirting +with Mary, that might account for it. I don't believe Desire would +understand. She might take it seriously. As for Mary--I am ashamed +of her. I shall not invite her here again." + +"This is nonsense, Aunt." + +"Excuse me, Benis. The nonsense is on your side. I know what I am +talking about, and I know Mary Davis. She is one of those women for +whom a man obscures the landscape. She will flirt on her deathbed, +or any-body else's deathbed, which is worse. Come now, be honest. +She has been doing it, hasn't she?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I suppose you have to say that. I'll put it in another way. What +is your opinion of Mary?" + +"She is an interesting woman." + +"You find her more interesting than you did upon her former visit?" + +"I hardly remember her former visit. I never really knew her +before." + +"And you know her now?" + +"She has honored me with a certain amount of confidence." + +Aunt Caroline snorted. "I thought so. Well, she doesn't need to +honor me with her confidence because I know her without it. Was she +honoring you that way last night when you stayed out in the garden +until mid-night?" + +"We were talking, naturally." + +"And--your wife?" + +There was a moment's pause while the cigarette smoke grew bluer. "My +wife," said Benis, "was very well occupied." + +"You mean that when Dr. John saw how distrait and pale she was, he +took her for a run in his car? Now admit, Benis, that you made it +plain that you wished her to go." + +"Did I?" + +"Yes," significantly, "too plain. Mary saw it--and John. You are +acting strangely, Benis. I don't like it, that's flat. Desire is too +much with John. And you are too much with Mary. It is not a natural +arrangement. And it is largely your fault. It is almost as if you +were acting with some purpose. But I'll tell you this--whatever your +purpose may be--you have no right to expose your wife to comment." + +She had his full attention now. The cigarette haze drifted away. + +"Comment?" slowly. "You mean that people--but of course people +always do. I hadn't allowed for that. Which shows how impossible it +is to think of everything. I'm sorry." + +"I do not pretend to understand you, Benis. But then, I never did. +Your private affairs are your own, also your motives. And I never +meddle, as you know. I think though, that I may be permitted a +straight question. Has your feeling toward Desire changed?" + +"Neither changed nor likely to change." + +Miss Campion's expression softened. + +"Are you sure that she knows it?" + +"I am not sure of anything with regard to Desire." + +"Then you ought to be. Don't shilly-shally, Benis. It is a habit of +yours. All of the Spences shilly-shally. Make certain that Desire is +aware of your--er--affection. Mark my words--I have a feeling. She +is fretting over Mary." + +"I happen to know that she is not." + +Small red flags began to fly from Miss Campion's prominent cheek- +bones. + +"We shall quarrel in a moment, Benis. You are pig-headed. Exactly as +your father was, and without his common sense. I know you think me +an interfering old maid. But I like Desire, and I won't have her +made miserable. I want--" + +"Hush--here she comes." + +"Ill leave you then," in a sepulchral whisper. "And for goodness' +sake, Benis, do something! . . . Were you looking for me, my dear?" +added Aunt Caroline innocently as Desire came slowly toward them. +"Do not try to be energetic this morning. It is so very hot. Sit +here. I'll send Olive out with something cool. I'd like you both to +try the new raspberry vinegar." + +Greatly pleased with her simple stratagem the good soul bustled +away. Desire looked after her with a grateful smile. + +"I believe Aunt Caroline likes me," she said with a note of faint +surprise. + +"Is that very wonderful?" + +"Yes." + +Benis looked at her quickly and looked away. She was certainly +paler. She held her head as if its crown of hair were heavy. + +"It does not seem wonderful to other people who also--like you." + +Her eyes turned to him almost timidly. It hurt him to notice that +the old frank openness of glance was gone. Good heavens! was the +child afraid of him? Did she think that he blamed her? That he did +not understand how helpless she was before her awakening womanhood? +He forgot how difficult speech was in the overpowering impulse to +reassure her. + +"I wish you could be happy; my dear," he said. "You are so young. +Can't you be a little patient? Can't you be content as things are-- +for a while?" + +Even Spence, blinded as he was by the bitterness of his own +struggle, noticed the strangeness of her look. + +"You want things to go on--as they are?" + +"Yes. For a time. We had better be quite sure. We do not want a +second mistake." + +"You see that there has been a mistake?" + +"Can I help seeing it, Desire?" + +"No, I suppose not. . . . And when you are sure?" Her voice was very +low. + +"When I--when we are both sure, I shall act. There are ways out. It +ought not to be difficult." + +"No, quite easy, I think. I hope it will not be long." + +His mask of reasonable acquiescence slipped a little at the +wistfulness of her voice. + +"Don't speak like that!" he said sharply. "No man is worth it." + +Desire smiled. It was such a sure, secret little smile, that it +maddened him. + +"You can't--you can't care like that!" he said in a low, furious +tone. "You said you never could!" + +"I do," said Desire. + +It was the avowal which she had sworn she would never make. Yet she +made it without shame. Love had taught Desire much since the day of +the episode of the photograph. And one of its teachings had to do +with the comparative insignificance of pride. Why should he not know +that she loved him? Of what use a gift that is never given? Besides, +as this leaden week had passed, she knew that, more than anything +else, she wanted truth between them. Now, when he asked it of her, +she gave him truth. + +"It is breaking our bargain," she went on with a wavering smile. +"But I was so sure! I cannot even blame myself. It must be possible +to be quite sure and quite wrong at the same time." + +"Yes. There is no blame, anywhere. I--I didn't think of what I was +saying." + +"Well, then--you will guess that it isn't exactly easy. But I will +wait as you ask me. When you are quite sure--you will let me go?" + +"Yes," he said. + +Neither of them looked at the other. + +Does Jove indeed laugh at lover's perjuries? Even more at their +stupidities, perhaps! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +For they really were stupid! Looking on, we can see so plainly what +they should have seen, and didn't. + +If thoughts are things (and Professor Spence continues to argue that +they are) a mistaken thought is quite as powerful a reality as the +other kind. Only let it be conceived with sufficient force and +nourished by continual attention and it will grow into a veritable +high-wayman of the mind--a thievish tyrant of one's mental roads, +holding their more legitimate travellers at the stand and deliver. + +Desire, usually so clearsighted, ought to have seen that the +attentions of Benis to the too-sympathetic Mary were hollow at the +core. But this, her mistaken Thought would by no means allow. +Ceaselessly on the watch, it leapt upon every unprejudiced deduction +and turned it to the strengthening of its own mistaken self. What +might have seemed merely boredom on the professor's part was twisted +by the Thought to appear an anguished effort after self-control. Any +avoidance of Mary's society was attributed to fear rather than to +indifference. And so on and so on. + +Spence, too, a man learned in the byways of the mind, ought to have +known that, to Desire, John was a refuge merely, and Mary the real +lion in the way. But his mistaken Thought, born of a smile and a +photograph, grew steadily stronger and waxed fat upon the everyday +trivialities which should have slain it. So powerful had it become +that, by the time of Desire's arrival on the veranda, it had closed +every road of interpretation save its own. + +Nor was John in more reasonable case. His mistaken Thought was +different in action but equally successful in effect. Born of an +insistent desire, and nursed by half fearful hope, it stood a beggar +at the door of life, snatching from every passing circumstance the +crumbs by which it lived. Did Desire smile--how eagerly John's +famished Thought would claim it for his own. Did she frown--how +quick it was to find some foreign cause for frowning. And, as Desire +woke to love under his eyes, how ceaselessly it worked to add belief +to hope. How plausibly it reasoned, how cleverly it justified! That +Spence loved his wife, the Thought would not accept as possible. All +John's actual knowledge of the depth and steadfastness of his +friend's nature was pooh-poohed or ignored. Benis, dear old chap, +cared nothing for women. Hadn't he always shunned them in his quiet +way? And hadn't he, John, warned Benis, anyway? The Thought insisted +upon the warning with virtuous emphasis. It pointed out that Benis +had laughed at the warning. Even if--but we need not follow John's +excursions further. They all led through devious ways to the old, +old justification of everything in love and war. + +As time went on, the thing which fed the mistaken thoughts of both +Benis and John was the change in desire herself. That she was +increasingly unhappy was evident to both. And why should she be +unhappy--unless? + +To John Rogers, that summer remained the most distracting summer of +his life. Desire should have seen this--would have seen it had her +mind-roads not been closed by their own obsession. The probability +is that she did not consciously think of John at all. He was there +and he was kind. She saw nothing farther than that. + +The relationship between the two men remained apparently the same +and indeed it is likely that, in the main, their conception one of +the other did not change. To Benis, John's virtues were still as +real and admirable as ever. To John, Benis was still a bit of a +mystery and a bit of a hero>. (There were war stories which John +knew but had never dared to tell, lest vengeance befall him.) But, +these basic things aside, there were new points of view. Seen as a +possible mate for Desire, Benis found John most lamentably lacking. +Seen in the same light, Benis to John was undesirable in the +extreme. "If it could only be someone more subtle than John," +thought Benis. And, "If only old Benis were a bit more stable," +thought John. Both were insincere, since no possible combination of +qualities would have satisfied either. + +Of this fatally misled quartette, Mary Davis was perhaps the one +most open to reason. And yet not altogether so, for the thought of +Benis Spence as eternally escaped was not a welcome one. She +realized now that she might have liked the elusive professor more +than a little. They would have been, she thought, admirably suited. +At the worst, neither would have bored the other. And the Spence +home was quite possible--as a home for part of the year at least. It +was certainly annoying that fate should have cut in so unexpectedly. +And for what? Apparently for nothing but that a girl with grey, +enigmatic eyes and close-shut lips should keep from Mary a position +which she did not want herself. For Mary, captive of her Thought, +was more than ready to believe that Desire's hidden preference was +for John. She naturally could not grant her rival a share of her own +discriminating taste in loving. + +"I suppose," thought Mary, "it is her immaturity which makes her +prefer the doctor person to one who so far outranks him. She admires +sleek hair and a straight nose. The finer fascinations of Benis +escape her." + +Meanwhile she stayed on. + +"I know I should come home," she wrote the most select of the select +friends. "And I know dear Miss Campion thinks so! But the situation +here is too absorbing. And, as my invitation was indefinite, I can +hardly be accused of outstaying it. I can't be supposed to know that +I'm not wanted. I justify myself by the knowledge that I am of some +use to Benis. You know I can interest most men when I try, and this +time my 'heart is in it'--like Sentimental Tommy. I am even teaching +a perfectly dear parrot they have here to sing, 'Oh, What a Pal was +Mary.' Will you run over to my rooms and send down that London smoke +chiffon frock with the silver underslip? Stockings and slippers to +match in a box in the bottom drawer. I am contemplating a moon-light +mood and must have the accessories. One loses half the effect if one +does not dress the part. Madam Enigma never dresses in character. +Because she never assumes one. So dull to be always just oneself, +don't you think? Even if one knew what one's real self is, which I +am sure I do not. + +"This girl annoys me. How she can be so simple and yet so complex I +can't understand. I thought perhaps a dash of jealousy might be +revealing. But she hasn't turned a hair. I have my emotions pretty +well in hand myself but even if I didn't adore my husband, I'd see +that no one else appropriated him. But as far as Madam Coolness is +concerned it looks as if I might put her husband in my pocket and +keep him there indefinitely. + +"I told you in my last about the good-looking doctor. What she sees +in him puzzles me. He is handsome but as dull as all the proverbs. +Can't be original even in his love affairs--otherwise he would +hardly select his best friend's bride--so bookish! Why doesn't +someone fall in love with the wife of his enemy? It seems to have +gone out since Romeo's time. (Now don't write and tell me that +Juliet wasn't married.) + +"Another thing which I find odd, is the attitude of Benis himself. +He is quite alive, painfully so, to the drift of the thing. Yet he +does nothing. And this is not in keeping with his character. He is +the type of man who, in spite of an unassertive manner, holds what +he has with no uncertain grasp. Why, then, does he let this one +thing go? The logical deduction is that he knows that he never had +it. All of which, being interpreted, means that things may happen +here through the sheer inertia of other things. Almost every day I +think, 'Something ought to be done.' But I know I shall never do it. +I am not the novelist's villainess who arranges a compromising +situation and produces the surprised husband from behind a door. +Neither am I a peacemaker or an altruist. I am not selfish enough in +one way nor un-selfish enough in another. (Probably that is why life +has lost interest in my special case.) Even my emotions are +hopelessly mixed. There are times when I find myself viciously +hoping that Madam Composure will go the limit and that right +quickly. And there are other times when I feel I should like to +choke her into a proper realization of what she is risking. Not for +her sake--I'm far too feminine for that--but because I hate to see +her play with this man (whom I like myself) and get away with it." + +It is worth while remembering the closing sentences of this letter. +They explain, or partially explain, a certain future action on the +part of the writer, which might otherwise seem out of keeping with +her well denned attitude of "Mary first." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +"There is one thing which I simply do not understand." Miss Davis dug +the point of a destructive parasol into the well-kept gravel of the +drive and allowed a glance of deep seriousness to drift from under +the shadow of her hat. Unfortunately, her companion was not +attending. + +It was the day of Mrs. Burton Jones' garden party, the Bainbridge +event for which Miss Davis was, presumably, staying over. Mary, in a +new frock of sheerest grey and most diaphanous white, and a hat +which lay like a breath of mist against the gold of her hair, had +come down early. In the course of an observant career, she had +learned that, in one respect at least, men are like worms. They are +inclined to be early. Mary had often profited by this bit of wisdom, +and was glad that so few other women seemed to realize its +importance. One can do much with ten or fifteen uninterrupted +minutes. + +But today Mary had not done much. She had found Benis, as she +expected, on the front steps. They had talked for quite ten minutes +without an interruption--but also without any reason to deplore one. + +This was failure. And Mary, whose love of the chase grew as the +quarry proved shy, was beginning to be seriously annoyed with Benis. +He might at least play up! Even now he was not looking at her, and +he did not ask her what it was that she simply did not understand. +Mary decided that he deserved something--a pin-prick at least. + +"Why don't you get a car, Benis?" she asked inconsequently. "If you +had one, Desire might ride in it some-times, instead of always in +Dr. Rogers'. Can't you see that it's dangerous?" + +"One has to take risks," said Spence plaintively. "John is careless. +But he has never killed anyone yet." + +"You're impossible, Benis." + +"Yes, I know. But particularly impossible as a chauffeur. That's why +I haven't a car. What would I do with a driver when I wasn't using +him? Desire will have a car of her own as soon as she likes to try +it. Aunt won't drive and I--don't." + +This was the first approach to a personal remark the professor had +made. No one was in sight yet and Mary began to hope again. Once +more she tried the gently serious gaze. + +"Why not?" she asked, not too eagerly. + +Yorick, sunning himself by the door, gave vent to a goblin chuckle. +"Oh, what a pal was M-Mary! Oh, what a pal--Nothing doing!" he +finished with a shriek and began to flap his wings. + +The professor laughed. "Yorick gets his lessons mixed," he said. +"But isn't he a wonder? Did you ever know a bird who could learn so +quickly?" + +Mary did not want to talk about birds. "Do tell me why you dislike +driving?" she asked with gentle insistence. + +"Oh, I like it.-It's not that. I used to drive like Jehu, or John. +Never had an accident. But when I came back from overseas I found I +couldn't trust my nerve--no quick judgment, no instinctive reaction- +-all gone to pieces. Rather rotten," + +With unerring intuition Mary knew this for a real confidence. +Fortunately she was an expert with shy game. + +"Quite rotten," she said soberly. He went on. + +"It's little things like that that hit hard. Not to be One's own man +in a crisis--d'y' see?" + +Mary nodded. + +"But it's only temporary," he continued more cheer-fully. "I'll try +myself out one of these days. Only, of course, arranged tests are +never real ones. The crisis must leap on one to be of any use. Some +little time ago, when I was at the coast, an incident happened--a +kind of unexpected emergency"--he paused thoughtfully as a sudden +vision of a moon-lit room flashed before him--"I got through that +all right," he added, "so I'm hopeful." + +"How thrilling," said Mary. "Won't you tell me what it was?" + +His eyes met hers with a placidity for which she could have shaken +him. + +"It wouldn't interest you," he said. "I hear Aunt coming at last." + +Miss Campion's voice had indeed preceded her. + +"Oh, there you are, Mary," she said with some acidity. "I told +Desire you were sure to be down first." + +"I try to be prompt," said Mary meekly. "I have been keeping Benis +company until you were ready." She spoke to Miss Campion but her +slightly mocking eyes watched for some change upon the face of her +young hostess. Desire, as usual, was serene. + +"Mary thinks we are all heathens not to have a car," said Benis. +"When are you going to choose yours, desire?" + +"Not at all, I think," said Desire. + +Men, even clever men, are like that. The professor had seen no +possible sting in his idly spoken words. But the sore, hot spot, +which now seemed ever present in Desire's heart, grew sorer and +hotter. To owe a car to the reminder of another woman! Naturally, +Desire could do very well without it. + +"But don't you miss a car terribly?" asked Mary with kind concern. + +"I cannot miss what I have never had." + +"Oh, in the west, I suppose one does have horses still." + +"There may be a few left, I think." Desire's slow smile crept out as +memory brought the asthmatic "chug" of the "Tillicum." "My father +and I used a launch almost exclusively." In spite of herself she +could not resist a glance at the professor. His eyes met hers with a +ghost of their old twinkle. + +"A launch?" Mary's surprise was patent. "Did you run it yourself?" + +"We had a Chinese engineer," said Desire demurely. "But I could +manage it if necessary." + +Further conversation upon modes of locomotion on the coast was cut +off by the precipitate arrival of John who, coming up the drive in +his best manner, narrowly escaped a triple fatality at the steps. + +"You people are careless!" he exclaimed indignantly. "What do you +mean by standing on the drive? Some-one might have been hurt! Anyone +here like to get driven to the garden party?" + +"Do doctors find time for garden parties in Bainbridge?" asked Mary +in mock surprise. + +"Healthiest place you ever saw!" declared Dr. John gloomily. "And +anyway, this garden party is a prescription of mine. Naturally I am +expected to take my own medicine. I said to Mrs. B. Jones, 'What you +need, dear Mrs. Jones, is a little gentle excitement combined with +fresh air, complete absence of mental strain and plenty of cooling +nourishment.' Did you ever hear a garden party more delicately +suggested? Desire, will you sit in front?" + +"Husbands first," said Benis. "In the case of a head-on collision, I +claim the post of honorable danger." + +It was surely a natural and a harmless speech. But instantly the +various mistaken thoughts of his hearers turned it to their will. +Desire's eyes grew still more clouded under their lowered lids. "He +does not dare to sit beside Mary," whispered her particular mental +highwayman. "Oho, he is beginning to show human jealousy at last," +thought Mary. "He has noticed that she likes to sit beside me," +exulted John. Of them all, only Aunt Caroline was anywhere near the +truth. "He has taken my warning to heart," thought she. "But then, I +always knew I could manage men if I had a chance." + +A garden party in Bainbridge is not exciting, in itself. In +themselves, no garden parties are exciting. As mere garden parties +they partake somewhat of the slow and awful calm of undisturbed +nature. One could see the grass grow at a garden party, if so many +people were not trampling on it. So it is possible that there were +those in Mrs. Burton Jones' grounds that afternoon who, bringing no +personal drama with them, had rather a dull time. For others it was +a fateful day. There were psychic milestones on Mrs. Burton Jones' +smooth lawn that afternoon. + +It was there, for instance, that the youngest Miss Keith (the pretty +one) decided to marry Jerry Clarkson, junior (and regretted it all +her life). It was there that Mrs. Keene first suspected the new +principal of the Collegiate Institute of Bolshevik tendencies. (He +had said that, in his opinion, kings were bound to go.) And it was +there that Miss Ellis spoke to Miss Sutherland for the first time in +three years. (She asked her if she would have lemon or chocolate +cake--a clear matter of social duty.) It was there also that Miss +Mary Sophia Watkins, Dr. Rogers' capable nurse, decided finally that +a longer stay in Bainbridge would be wasted time. It was the first +time she had actually seen her admired doctor and the object of his +supposed regard together, and a certain look which she surprised on +Dr. John's face as his eyes followed Desire across the lawn, +convinced her so thoroughly that, like a sensible girl, she packed +up that night and went back to the city. + +Perhaps it was that very look which also decided Spence. For decide +he did. There was no excuse for waiting longer. He must "have it +out" with John. desire must be given her freedom. Of John's attitude +he had small doubt. His infatuation for Desire had been plain from +the beginning. Time had served only to centre and strengthen it. He +could not in justice blame John. He didn't blame John. That is to +say, he would not officially permit himself to blame John, though he +knew very well that he did blame him. A sense of the rights of other +people as opposed to one's own rights has been hardly gained by the +Race, and is by no means firmly seated yet. Let primitive passions +slip control for an instant and presto! good-bye to the rights of +other people! The primitive man in Spence would not have argued the +matter. Having obtained his mate by any means at all, it would have +gone hard with anyone who, however justly, attempted to take her +from him. Today, at Mrs. Burton-Jones' garden party, the acquired +restraints of character seemed wearing thin. The professor decided +that it might be advisable to go home. + +Desire and Mary noticed his absence at about the same time. And both +lost interest in the party with the suddenness of a light blown out. + +"Things are moving," thought Mary with a thrill of triumph. But in +spite of her triumph she was angry. It is not pleasant to have the +power of one's rival so starkly revealed. Malice crept into her +faun-like eyes as she looked across to where Desire sat, a composed +young figure, listening with apparent interest to the biggest bore +in Bainbridge. What right had she to hold a man's hot heart between +her placid hands! Mary ground her parasol into Mrs. Burton-Jones' +best sod and her small white teeth shut grindingly behind her lips. + +Desire was trying to listen to the little man with the enlarged ego +who attempted to entertain her. But she was very much aware of Mary +and all her moods. "She is selfish. She will make him miserable," +thought desire. "But she will make him happy first. And, in any +case, he must be free." + +"Yes, Mrs. Spence," the little man beside her was saying, "a man +like myself, however diffident, must be ready to do his full duty by +the community in which he lives. That is why I feel I must accept +the nomination for mayor of this town--if I am offered it. My +friends say to me, 'Miller, you are a man, and we need a man. +Bainbridge needs a man.' What am I to do under such circumstances? +If there is no man--" + +"You might try a woman," said Desire, suddenly losing patience. The +garden party was stupid. The egotist was stupid. She was probably +stupid too, because she knew that a few weeks ago she would have +found both the party and the egotist entertaining. She would have +been delighted to peep in at a window where every-thing was labelled +"Big I." She would have enjoyed Mrs. Burton-Jones' windows +immensely--but now, windows bored her. In the only window that +mattered the blinds were down. Desire's life had narrowed as it +broadened. It wasn't life that she wanted any more--it was the one +thing which could have made life dear. + +A great impatience of trivialities came upon her. She hardly heard +the injured tones of the little man who had embarked upon a heated +repudiation of a feminine mayoralty. It did not amuse her even when +he proved logically that women could never be anything because they +were always something else. Instead she looked to Dr. John for +rescue, and Dr. John, most observant of knights, immediately rescued +her. + +"Did you see that?" asked Mrs. Keene (the same who discovered the +Bolshevik principal). She touched Miss Davis significantly on the +arm. + +Mary, who had seen perfectly well, looked blank. + +"Of course you are not one of us," went on Mrs. Keene. "So you can +scarcely be expected. . . . Still, living in the same house . . . +and knowing the dear professor so well." + +"Did you wish to speak to him? He has gone home, I think," said +Mary, innocently. "I fancy he doesn't suffer garden parties gladly." + +"No--such a pity! With a wife so young and, if I may say so, so +different. One feels that she has not been brought up amongst us. So +sad. I always say 'Let our young men marry at home.' So sensible. +One knows where one is then, don't you think?" + +Mary agreed that, in such a position, one might know where one was. + +"And book writing," said Mrs. Keene, "so fatiguing! So liable to +occupy one's attention--to the exclusion of other matters. . . . The +dear professor. . . . So bound up in the marvels of the human +brain!" + +"Not brain, mind," corrected Mary gently. "The professor is a +psychologist." + +"Well, of course if you wish to separate them, in a scriptural +sense. But what I mean is that such biological studies are +dangerous. So absorbing. When one examines things through a +microscope--" + +"One doesn't--in psychology." + +"Well, perhaps not so much as formerly, especially since vivisection +is so looked down upon. But it is terribly absorbing, as I say. And +one can hardly expect an absorbed man to see things. And yet--" + +"What is it," asked Mary bluntly, "that you think Professor Spence +ought to see?" + +This was entirely too blunt for Mrs. Keene. She, in her turn, looked +blank. What did Miss Davis mean? She was not aware that she had +suggested the professor's seeing anything. Probably there was +nothing at all to see. Young people have such latitude nowadays. She +herself was not a gossip. She despised gossip. "What I always say," +declared she, virtuously, "is 'do not hint thing's.' Say them right +out and then we shall know where we are. Don't you think so?" + +Mary agreed that, under these conditions also, one might be fairly +sure of one's position in space. "Unless," she concluded +maliciously, "there is anything in the Einstein theory." + +This latter shot had the effect intended, for Mrs. Keene said +hurriedly, "Oh, of course in that case--" and moved away. + +"I'm going home, Mary," said Aunt Caroline, coming up. Aunt Caroline +had had enough garden party. She had noticed both the rescue of +Desire by John, and the conversation of Mary with Mrs. Keene--the +"worst old gossip in Bainbridge." + +Desire was quite ready to go. So was Mary. The centre of attraction +for them both had shifted itself. John too, felt that he ought to +turn up at the office. But all three ladies politely declined a lift +home in his car. + +"It is so hot," he pleaded. + +"It is not hot," said Aunt Caroline. + +Mary smiled mockingly and murmured something about the great +distances of small towns. Desire said, "No, thank you, John," in her +detached way--a way which drove him mad even while he adored it. + +So the Burton-Jones garden party faded into history. But history-in- +the-making caught up its effects and carried them on. . . . + +It was a lovely night. But indoors it was hot with the accumulated +heat of the day. Instead of going to bed, Mary slipped out into the +garden. It was fresher there, and she was restless. The front of the +house lay in darkness, but, from the library window at the side, +stretched a ribbon of light. Benis must be still at work. With +slippers which made no sound upon the grass, Mary crossed over to +the window and looked in. + +What she saw there stung her already fretted soul to unreasoning +anger, and for once the circumspect Miss Davis acted upon impulse +undeterred by thought. Entering the house softly, she ran upstairs +to the west room which she entered without knocking. + +Desire, seated at the dressing table, turned in surprise. She was +ready for bed, but lingered over the brushing of her hair. With +another spasm of anger, Mary noticed the hair she brushed--hair long +and lustrous and lifted in soft waves. A pink kimona lay across the +back of her chair, a pretty thing--but not at all French. + +"Put it on," said Mary, "and come here. I want to show you +something." + +Desire did not ask "What?" Nor did she keep Mary waiting. Pleasant +or unpleasant, it was not Desire's way to delay revelation. Together +the two girls hurried out into the dew-sweet garden. As they went, +Mary spoke in gusty sentences. + +"I don't care what you do." (She was almost sobbing in her anger.) +"I don't understand you. . . . I don't want to. . . . But you're not +going to get away with it . . . that cool air of yours . . . +pretending not to see. . . . If you are human at all you'll see . . . +and remember all your life." + +They were close to the library window now. Desire looked in. + +She looked so long and stood so still that Mary had time to get back +a little of her breath and something of her common sense. An +instinct which her selfish life had pretty well buried began to +stir. + +"Come away," she whispered, "I shouldn't have . . . it wasn't fair . . . +he would never forgive us if he knew we had seen him like this!" + +Desire drew back instantly. + +"No," she said. Her voice was toneless. Her face in the darkness +gleamed wedge-shaped and unfamiliar between the falling waves of her +hair. + +"I'm sorry," said Mary sulkily. "But I thought you ought to know +what you are doing. It takes a lot to break up a man like that." + +"Yes," said Desire. "All the same I had no right--" + +"You will have," said Desire evenly. + +They were at her door now. She paused with her hand on the knob. + +"I knew he cared," she said in the same level voice, "but I didn't +know that he cared like that." + +"You know now," said Mary. Her irritation was returning. + +"Yes," said Desire. "Good-night." + +She opened the door and went in. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +It seems incredible and yet it is a fact that Bainbridge never knew +that young Mrs. Spence had run away. Full credit for this must be +given to Miss Caroline Campion, who never really believed it +herself--a mental limitation which lent the necessary air of +unemphasized truth to her statement that Desire had been summoned +suddenly to her father. + +Miss Campion had, in her own mind, built up an imaginary Dr. Farr in +every way suited to be the father-in-law of a Spence. This creation +she passed on to Bainbridge as Desire's father. "Such a fine old +gentleman," she would say. "And so devoted to his only daughter. +Quite a recluse, though, my nephew tells me. And not at all strong." +This idea of delicacy, which Miss Campion had added to the picture +from a sense of the fitness of things, proved useful now. An only +daughter may be summoned to attend a delicate father at a moment's +notice, without unduly straining credulity. + +One feels almost sorry for Bainbridge. It would have enjoyed the +truth so much! + +"Is Desire going to have no breakfast at all?" asked Aunt Caroline, +from behind the coffee-urn on the morning following the garden- +party. It was an invariable custom of hers to pretend that her +nephew was fully conversant with his wife's intentions. + +"She may be tired," said Benis. + +"No. She has been up some time. The door of her room was open when I +came down." + +"Then she is probably in. the garden. I'll ask Olive to call her." + +"Why not call her yourself? I have a feeling--" + +The professor rose from his untasted coffee. When Aunt Caroline "had +a feeling" it was useless to argue. + +"Are you sleeping badly again, Benis?" asked Aunt Caroline. "Your +eyes look like burnt holes in a blanket." + +"Nothing to bother about, Aunt." He stepped out quickly into the +sunny garden. But Desire was not among the flowers, neither was she +on the lawn nor in the shrubbery. A few moments' search proved that +she was not out of doors at all. Benis returned to his coffee. He +found it quite cold and no waiting Aunt Caroline to pour him another +cup. "I wonder," he pondered idly, "why, when one really wants +coffee, it is always cold." + +Then he forgot about coffee suddenly and completely, for Aunt +Caroline came in with the news that Desire was gone. + +"Gone where?" asked Spence stupidly. + +"That," said Aunt Caroline, "she leaves you to inform me." + +With the feeling of being someone else and acting under compulsion +he took the few written lines which she held out to him. "Dear Aunt +Caroline," he read, "Benis will tell you why I am going. But I +cannot go without thanking you. I'll never forget how good you have +been--Desire." + +"I had a feeling," said Aunt Caroline with mournful triumph. "It +never deceives me, never! As I passed our dear girl's room this +morning, I said, 'She is not there'--and she wasn't!" + +"I think you mentioned that the door was open." + +"That has nothing to do with it. I--" + +"Where did you find this note?" + +"On her dressing table. When you went into the gar-den, I went +upstairs. I had a feeling--" + +"Was there nothing else? No note for me?" + +"No," in surprise. "She says you know all about it. Don't you?" + +"Something, not all." + +Aunt Caroline was, upon occasion, quite capable of meeting a crisis. +Remembering the neglected coffee, she poured a cup for each of them. + +"Here," said she, "drink this. You look as if you needed it. I must +say, Benis, that you don't act as if you knew anything, but if you +do, you'd better tell me. Where is Desire?" + +"I don't know." + +"Umph! Then what you do know won't help us to find her. Finding her +is the first thing. I wonder," thoughtfully, "if she told John?" + +A wintry smile passed over the professor's lips. + +"I shall ask him," he said. + +Aunt Caroline proceeded with her own deducing. "There is no one else +she could have told," she reasoned. "She did not tell you. She did +not tell me. Naturally, she would not tell Mary. And a girl nearly +always tells somebody. So it must be John. I hope you are +sufficiently ashamed of yourself, Benis? I told you Desire wouldn't +understand your attentions to Mary. Though I admit I did not dream +she would take them quite so seriously. I don't envy you your +explanations." + +"Aunt--" + +"Wait a moment, Benis. On second thought, if I were you I would not +explain at all. Simply tell her she is mistaken and stick to that. +She may believe you. Promise her that you will never see Mary again- +-and you won't" (grimly) "if I have anything to say about it. Desire +will come around. I have a feeling--" + +"My dear Aunt!" + +"Let me proceed, Benis. I have a feeling that she will forgive you-- +once. But let this be a lesson. Desire is not a girl who will +forgive twice." + +"You are all wrong, Aunt," with weary patience. "But it doesn't +matter. Say nothing about this. I am going to see John." + +"Not before you drink that coffee." + +Benis obediently drank. Hurry would not mend what had happened. + +"She has taken her travelling coat and hat," pursued Aunt Caroline. +"Her train slippers, that taupe jersey-cloth suit, some fresh +blouses, her dressing case, her night things and your photo off the +dressing table." + +Benis smiled, a wry smile, and pushed back his cup. + +"You don't look fit to go anywhere," said Aunt Caroline irritably. +"Why can't you call John on the 'phone?" + +"That would be quite modern," said Benis. "But--I think I'll see +him. I shan't be long." + +It never once occurred to the professor, you will notice, that he +might find John vanished also. His obsessing thought had not been +able to change his essential knowledge of either Desire or John. If +Desire had gone, she had gone because she could not stay. But she +had gone alone. Just what determining thing had happened to make her +flight imperative, Benis could not guess. But he would not have been +human if he had not blamed the other man. "The fool has bungled it!" +he thought. "Lost control of his precious feelings, perhaps--broken +through--said something--frightened her." We may be sure that he +cursed John in his heart very completely. + +But when he entered John's office and saw John he began to doubt +even this. There was no guilt on the doctor's face--no sign of +apprehension or regret, no tremor of knowledge. An angry-eyed young +man looked up from a letter he was reading with nothing more serious +than injured wonder in his gaze. + +"Can you beat it?" asked John disgustedly, waving the letter. +"Aren't women the limit? Here's this one going off without a word, +or an excuse, or anything. Just gone! And a silly note thrown on my +desk. I tell you women have absolutely no sense of business +obligation--positively not!" + +Spence restrained himself. + +"You are speaking of--?" + +"That nurse of mine, Miss Watkins. Never a word about leaving +yesterday, and today vanished--vamoosed--simply non est! Look +at what she says.--" + +Spence pushed the letter aside. + +"There is something more important than that, John," he said +quietly, "Desire has left me." + +The two men stared at each other. Spence was the first to speak. + +"There is no doubt about it. She is gone. She has not told us where. +I see that you do not know." + +John shook his head. + +"There may be a note for you in the morning's mail." Benis was +coldly brief. "I must know where she is. If you can help me, let me +know." He turned to the door. + +With difficulty John found his voice. + +"I knew nothing of this, Benis." + +"I realize that," dryly. "But you may be responsible for it. She had +no idea of leaving yesterday." + +"Benis, I swear--" + +"It is not necessary. Besides," bitterly, "you could afford to be +patient. You felt fairly--sure, didn't you?" + +"Sure! No, I--" + +"You mean you merely hoped?" + +"Oh--damn!" + +"Quite so. There is nothing to say. Not being a sentimentalist, I +shan't pretend to love you, John. But I gambled and I've lost. I +have always admired a good loser." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +Upon reaching home Benis found Aunt Caroline waiting for him just +inside the outer gate. + +"I thought," she explained, "that we might talk while strolling up +the drive. Then Olive would not overhear." + +The professor had quite neglected to consider Olive. + +"I have told Olive," went on Aunt Caroline, "that Mrs. Spence had +received news of her father which was far from satisfactory and that +she had left for Vancouver by the early morning train. The morning +train is the only one she could have left by, isn't it?" + +"Yes." + +"Then that's all right. I also let Olive know, indirectly, that you +were remaining behind to attend to a few matters. After which you +would follow." + +Admiration for this generalship pierced even the deep depression of +the professor. + +"Does John know where she is?" pursued Aunt Caroline. + +"No." + +"Then she has gone home to her father. She said something the other +day which puzzled me. I can't remember just what it was but she +seemed to have some fatalistic idea, about her old life having a +hold upon her which she couldn't shake off. Pure morbidity, as I +pointed out. But she has gone back. I have a feeling that she has." + +"You may be right, Aunt. It will be easy to find out. If I can make +the necessary inquiries without arousing gossip. There was nothing +in the mail--for me?" + +"No. The man has just been. But there is something for Desire, an +odd looking package done up in foreign paper. I have it here." + +Spence took from her hand a slim, yellowish packet, directed in the +crabbed writing of Li Ho. + +"I can't make out whether it is 'Hon. Mrs. Professor Spence' or +whether the 'Mrs.' is 'Mr.' Perhaps you had better open it, Benis." + +"Perhaps, later." Spence slipped the packet into his pocket. "It +'can't have anything to do with our present problem. . . . I must +make some telephone inquiries. But if Desire has gone, Aunt, we may +as well face facts. She does not want me to follow her." + +"Doesn't she?" Aunt Caroline surveyed him with a pitying smile. "How +stupid men are! But go along to the library. You've had no decent +breakfast. I'll send you in something to eat. As for Bainbridge-- +leave that to me." . . . + +How curiously does a room change with the changing mind of its +occupant. Benis Spence had known his library in many moods. It had +been a refuge; it had been a prison; it had been a place of dreams. +He had liked to fancy that something of himself stayed there-- +something which met him, warm and welcoming, when he came in at the +door. He had liked to play that the room had a soul. And, after he +had brought Desire home, the idea had grown until he had seemed to +feel an actual presence in its cool seclusion. But if presence there +had been, it was gone now. The place was empty. The air hung dull +and lifeless. The chairs stood stiff against the wall, the watching +books had no greeting. Only Yorick swung and flapped in his cage, +his throat full of mutterings. + +It is all very well to be a good loser. But loss is bitter. Here was +loss, stark and staring. + +Spence walked over to the neatly tidied desk and there, for an +instant, the cold finger lifted from his heart. A letter was lying +on the clean blotter--she had not gone without a word, then! She had +slipped in here to say good-bye. . . . A very little is much to him +who has nothing. + +The letter was brief. Only a few words written hurriedly with a +spluttering pen: + +"I am going, Ben-is. I think we are both sure now. But please-- +please do not pity me. Love is too big for pity. You have given me +so much, give me this one thing more--the understanding that can +believe me when I say that I, too, am glad to give. + +"Desire." + +Benis laid the letter softly down upon the ordered desk. No, he need +not pity her. She had had the courage to let little things go. She, +who had demanded so royally of life, now made no outcry that the +price was high. Well, . . . it need not be so high, perhaps. He +would make it as easy as might be. + +The parrot was trying to attract him with his usual goblin croaks. +Benis rubbed its bent, green head. + +"You'll miss her, too, old chap," he said, adding angrily, "dashed +sentimentality!" + +The sound of his own voice steadied him. He must be careful. Above +all, he must not sink into self-pity. He must go back to his work. +It had meant everything to him once. It must mean everything to him +again. If he were a man at all he must fight through this inertia. +Life had tumbled him out of his shell, played with him for an hour, +and now would tumble him back again--no, by Jove, he refused to be +tumbled back! He would fight through. He would come out somewhere, +some-time. + +It occurred to him that he ought to be thankful that Desire at least +was going to be happy. But he did not feel glad. He was not even +sure that she was going to be happy. Something kept stubbornly +insisting that she would have been much happier with him. Quite +with-out prejudice, had they not been extraordinarily well suited? +He put the question up to fate. The hardest thing about the whole +hard matter was the insistent feeling that a second mistake had been +made. John and Desire--his mind refused to see any fitness in the +mating. Yet this very perversity of love was something which he had +long recognized with the complacence of assured psychology. + +He heard Mary's voice in the hall. He had forgotten Mary. He hoped +she would not tap upon the library door--as she sometimes did. No, +thank heaven, she had gone upstairs! That was an odd idea of Aunt +Caroline's. If he had felt like smiling he would have smiled at it. +Desire jealous of Mary? Ridiculous. . . . + +"Here comes old Bones," said Yorick conversationally. + +The professor started. It was a phrase he had him-self taught the +bird during that time of illness when John's visit had been the +bright spot in long dull days. It had amused them both that the +parrot seldom made a mistake, seeming to know, long before his +master, when the doctor was near. + +But today? Surely Yorick was wrong today. John would not come today. +Would never come again--but did anyone save John race up the drive +in that abandoned manner? Benis frowned. He did not want to see +John. He would not see him! But as he went to leave the library by +one door John threw open the other and stood for an instant blinded +by the comparative dimness within. + +"Where are you, Benis?" + +"Here." + +Spence closed the door. His brief anger was swallowed up in +something else. Never, even in France, had he seen John look like +this. + +"We're a precious pair of dupes!" began John in a high voice and +without preliminaries. "Prize idiots--imbeciles!" + +"Very likely," said Benis. "But you're not talking to New York." + +He made no move to take the paper which John held out in a shaking +hand. + +"What is the matter with you?" he asked sternly. + +"What's the matter with me? Oh, nothing. What's the matter with all +of us? Crazy--that's all! Here--read it! It's from Desire. Must have +posted it last night." + +Spence put the letter aside. + +"If you have news, you had better tell it. That is if you can talk +in an ordinary voice." + +John laughed harshly. "My voice is all right. Not so dashed cool as +yours. Read it!" + +Spence took the sheet held out to him; but he had no wish to> read +Desire's words to John. + +"If it is a private letter--" he began. + +"Oh, don't be a bigger fool than you have been! Unless," with sudden +suspicion, "you've known all along? Perhaps you have. Even you could +hardly have been so completely duped." + +"If you will tell me what you are talking about--" + +"Read it. It is plain enough." + +The professor slowly opened the folded sheet. It was a longer note +than the one she had left for him. + +"Dear John," he read, "if I I'd known yesterday that I would leave +so soon I could have said good-bye. But my decision was made +suddenly. I think you must have seen how it is with Benis and Mary +and I can't go "with-out telling you that I knew about it from the +first. I don't want you to blame Benis. He told me about it before +we were married, and I took the risk with my eyes open. How could +he, or I, have guessed that he had given up hope too soon?--and +anyway, it wasn't in the bargain that I should love him.--It just +happened.--He is desperately unhappy. Help him if you can.--Your +affectionate Desire." + +"My affectionate Desire!" mocked John, still in that high, strained +voice which now was perilously near a sob. "That--that is what I was +to her, a convenient friend! You--you had it all. And let it go, for +the sake of that blond-haired, deer-eyed, fashion plate--" + +"That's enough! You are not an hysterical girl. Sit down. . . . I +can't understand this, John. I thought--" + +The two men looked at each other, a long look in which distrust at +least was faced and ended. The excited flush, died out of John's +cheek. He looked weary and shame-faced. + +"I thought she loved you," said Spence simply. + +The doctor's eyes fell. It was his honest admission that he, too, +had thought this possible. + +"Even now," went on the professor haltingly, "I can-not believe . . . +it doesn't seem possible . . . me? . . . John, does the letter +mean that Desire loves me?" + +John Rogers nodded, turning away. + +Silence fell between them. + +"What will you do--about the other?" asked the doctor presently. + +"What other? There is no other. I loved Desire from the very first +night I saw her. I didn't know it, then. It was all new. And," with +a bitter smile, "so different from what one expects. Mary was never +any-thing but the figure of straw I told you of. I thought," +naively, "that Desire had forgotten Mary." + +"Did you?" said John. "Why man, the woman doesn't live who would +forget! And Miss Davis filled the bill to the last item--even the +name 'Mary'." + +"Oh what a pal was M-Mary!" croaked Yorick obligingly. + +"The bird, too!" said John. "Everyone doing his little best to +sustain the illusion--even, if I am any judge, the lady herself." + +But Benis Spence had never wasted time upon the lady herself. And he +did not begin now. With a face which had suddenly become years +younger he was searching frantically in his desk for the +transcontinental time-table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +The train crawled. + +Although it was a fast express whose speed might well provoke the +admiration of travellers, in one traveller it provoked nothing save +grim endurance. Beside the consuming impatience of Benis Hamilton +Spence, its best effort was a little thing. When it slowed, he +fidgeted, when it stopped he fumed. He wanted to get out and push +it. + +Five days--four--three--two--a day and a half--the vastness of the +spaces over which it must carry him grew endless as his mind +continually tried to span them. He felt a distinct grievance that +any country should be so wide. + +"Making good time!" said a genial person, travelling in the tobacco +trade. The professor eyed him with suspicion, as a man deranged by +optimism. + +The train crawled. + +Spence removed his eyes from the passing landscape and tried to +forget how slowly it was passing. He saw himself at the end of his +journey. He saw Desire. He saw a grudging moment, or second perhaps, +devoted to explanation. And then--How happy they were going to be! +(If the train would only forget to stop at stations it might get +somewhere.) How wonderful it would be to feel the empty world grow +full again! To raise one's eyes, just casually, and to see--Desire. +To speak, in just one's ordinary voice, and to know she heard. To +stretch out one's hand and feel that she was there. (What were they +doing now? Putting on more cars? Outrageous!) He would even write +that book presently, when he got around to it. (When one felt sure +one could write.) But first they would go away, just he and she, +east of the sun and west of the moon. They would sit together +somewhere, as they used to sit on the sun-warmed grass at Friendly +Bay, and say nothing at all. . . . How nearly they had missed it . . . +but it would be all right now. Love, whom they had both denied, +had both given and forgiven. It would be all right, it must be all +right, now! (But how the train crawled.) + +Poor John, poor old Bones! What a blow it had been for him. Although +he should certainly have had more sense than to fancy--Well, of +course, a man can fancy anything it he wants it badly enough. Spence +was honestly sorry for John--that is, he would be when he had time +to consider John's case. But John, too, would be all right +presently. (Why under heaven do trains need to wait ten minutes +while silly people walk on platforms without hats?) John would marry +a nice girl. Not a girl like Desire--not that type of girl at all. +Someone quite different, but nice. A fair girl, like that nurse he +had had in his office. John might be very happy with a wife like +that . . . + + * * * * * * * + +It was not until the fourth night out that the professor remembered +the packet from Li Ho. It had loomed so small among the events of +that day of revelations that he had completely forgotten it. He did +not even remember putting it in his pocket--but there it was, still +unopened, and promising some slight distraction from the wearying +contemplation of the crawling train. It would shut out, too, the +annoyance of the tobacco traveller, smoking with an offensive +leisureliness, and declaring, in defiance of all feeling, that they +were "Sharp on time and going some!" + +With a reviving interest in something outside the time-table, Spence +cut the string and opened the yellow packet. A small note-book fell +out and a letter--two letters, and one of them in the unmistakable +writing of Li Ho him-self. This latter, the professor opened first. + +"Honorable Spence and Esteemed Professor, dear Sir," wrote Li Ho. +"Permit felicity to include book belong departed parent of valued +wife. Deceased lady write as per day. Li Ho extract and think proper +missy to know. Honorable Boss head much loony. Secure that missy +remain removed if desiring safety. Belong much danger here since +married as per also enclosed. Exalted self be insignificantly warned +by person of no intelligence, Li Ho." + +Farther down, in a corner of the sheet was this sentence: + +"Permit to notably add that respected lady departed life Jan. 14." + +Li Ho had certainly surpassed himself. The bewildered professor +forgot about the time-table entirely. What Chinese meaning lay +behind this jumble of dictionary words? That they were not used at +haphazard Spence knew. Li Ho had some distinct meaning to convey-- +had indeed already conveyed it in the one outstanding word "danger." +For an instant the professor's mind sickened with that weakness +which had been his dreadful legacy of war. But it passed +immediately. Something stronger, deeper in, took quiet command. +Desire was in danger! Shock has a way at times of giving back what +shock has taken.--Spence became his own man once more--cool, ready. + +With infinite care he went over the Chinaman's disjointed sentences. +They had been written under stress. + +That much presented no difficulty. Li Ho, the imperturbable, had +permitted himself a fit of nerves . . . Something must have +happened. Something new. Something which threatened a danger not +sufficiently emphasized before. In his former letter Li Ho had +indeed intimated that a return was not desirable, but it had been an +intimation based on general principles only. This was different. +This had all the marks of urgent warning. "No more safe being +married as per inclosed." This cryptic remark might mean that +further enlightenment was to be sought in the enclosures. + +Spence picked up the second letter. It was addressed to Dr. Herbert +Farr at Vancouver, and was merely a formal notice from a firm of +English solicitors--post-marked London--a well-known firm, probably, +from the address on their letterhead. + +"Dr. Herbert Farr, + +Vancouver, B. C. Dear Sir: + +As executors in the estate of Mrs. Henry Strangeways we beg to +inform you that the allowance paid to you for the maintenance of +Miss Desire Farr is hereby discontinued. This action is taken under +the terms of our late clients will,--whereby such allowance ceases +upon the marriage of the said Desire Farr or her voluntary removal +from your roof and care. + +Obediently yours, + +Hervey & Ellis." + +The professor whistled. Here was enlightenment indeed! A very +sufficient explanation of the old man's grim determination to block +any self-dependence on desire's part which would mean "removal from" +his "care." Here was someone paying a steady (and perhaps a fat) +allowance for the young girl's maintenance--someone of whom she +herself had certainly never heard and of whose bounty she remained +completely ignorant. It was easy enough now to follow Li Ho's +reasoning. If it was for this allowance, and this alone, that the +old doctor had kept Desire with him, long after her presence had +become a matter of indifference or even of distaste, the ending of +the allowance meant also the ending of his tolerance. "No more safe, +being married." The difference, in Li Ho's opinion, was all the +difference between comparative safety and real danger. Money! As +long as Desire had meant money there had been an instinct in the old +scoundrel which, even in his moon-devil fits, had protected the +goose which laid the golden eggs. But now--now this inhibition was +removed, Desire, no longer valuable, was no longer safeguarded. And +who could tell what added grudge of rage and vengeance might be +darkly harbored in the depths of that crafty and unbalanced mind? + +And Desire, unwarned, was even now almost within the madman's reach. +. . . Spence sternly refused to think of this . . . there was time +yet . . . plenty of time. . . . The thing to do was to keep cool . . . +steady now! + +"Kind of pretty, going through these here mountains by moonlight," +observed the tobacco traveller, inclined to be genial even under +difficulties. "She'll be full tomorrow night. Queer thing that them +there prohibitionists can't keep the moon from getting full!" He +laughed in hearty appreciation of his own cleverness. + +The professor, a polite man, tried to smile. And then, suddenly, the +meaning of what had been said came home to him. + +Tomorrow night would be full moon! + +He had forgotten about the moon. + +"Queer cuss," thought the travelling man. "Stares at you polite +enough but never says anything. No conversation. Just about as +lively as an undertaker." + +But if Benis had forgotten to remove his eyes from the travelling +man, he did not know it. He did not see him. He saw nothing but +moonlight--moonlight across an uncovered floor and the white dimness +of a bed in the shadow! . . . But he must keep cool . . . was there +time to stop Desire with a telegram? She was only a day ahead . . . +no--he was just too late for that. He knew the time-table by heart. +Her train was already in . . . impossible to reach her now! + +Fear having reached its limit, his mind swung slowly back to reason. +. . . There was, he told himself, no occasion for panic. Li Ho might +have exaggerated. Besides, a danger known is almost a danger met And +Li Ho knew. Li Ho would be there. When, Desire came he would guard +her. . . . A few hours only . . . until he could get to her. . . . +She was safe for tonight at least. She would not attempt to cross +the Inlet, until the morning. She would have to hire a launch--a +thing no woman would attempt to do at that hour of night. She was in +no hurry. She would stay somewhere in the city and get herself taken +to Farr's Landing in the morning. . . . Through the day, too, she +would be safe . . . and, to-morrow night, he, Benis, would be there. +. . . But not until late . . . not until after the moon . . . better +not think of the moon . . . think of Li Ho . . . Li Ho would surely +watch . . . + +He lay in his berth and told himself this over and over. The train +swung on. The cool, high air of the mountains crept through the +screened window. They were swinging through a land of awful and +gigantic beauty. The white moon turned the snow peaks into +glittering fountains from which pure light cascaded down, down into +the blackness at their base . . . one more morning . . . one more +day . . . Vancouver at night . . . a launch . . . Desire! + +Meanwhile one must keep steady. The professor drew from its yellow +wrapping the little note-book which had been the second of Li Ho's +enclosures. It had belonged, if Li Ho's information were correct, to +Desire's mother--a diary, probably. "Deceased lady write as per +day." Spence hesitated. It was Desire's property. He felt a delicacy +in examining it. But so many mistakes had already been made through +want of knowledge, he dared not risk another one. And Li Ho had +probably other than sentimental reasons for sending the book. + +He shut out the mountains and the moonlight, and clicking on the +berth-light, turned the dog-eared pages reverently. Only a few were +written upon. It was a diary, as he had guessed, or rather brief +bits of one. The writing was small but very clear in spite of the +fading ink. The entries began abruptly. It was plain that there had +been another book of which this was a continuation. + +The first date was November 1st--no year given. + +"It is raining. The Indians say the winter will be very wet. Desire +plays in the rain and thrives. She is a lovely child, high-spirited- +-not like me." + +"November 10th--He was worse this month. I think he gets steadily a +little worse. I dare not say what I think. He would say that I had +fancies. No one else sees anything save harmless eccentricity,-- +except perhaps Li Ho. But I am terrified. + +"December 7th--I tried once more to get away. He found me quickly. +It isn't easy for a woman with a child to hide--without money. For +myself I can stand it--my own fault! But--my little girl! + +"December 15th--I have been ill. Such a terrible experience. My one +thought was the dread of dying. I must live. I cannot leave Desire-- +here. + +"December 20th--He bought Desire new shoes and a frock today. It is +strange, but he seems to take a certain care of her. Why? I do not +know. I have wondered about his motives until I fancy things. What +motive could he have . . . except that maybe he is not all evil? +Maybe be cares for the child. She is so sweet--No. I must not +deceive myself. Whatever his reason is, I know that it is not that. + +"January 9th--A strange thing happened today. I found a torn +envelope bearing the name of Harry's English lawyers. I have seen +the same kind of envelope in Harry's hands more than once. They used +to send him his remittance, I think. What can this man have to do +with English lawyers? I am frightened. But for once I am more angry +than afraid. I must watch. If he has dared to write to Harry's +people--" + +The writing of the next entry had lost its clearness. It was almost +illegible. + +"January 13th--How could he! How could he sink so low! I have seen +the lawyer's letter. He has taken money. From Harry's mother--for +Desire. And this began within a month of our marriage. It shames me +so that I cannot live. Yet I must live. I can't leave the child. But +I can stop this hateful traffic in a dead man's honor. I will write +myself to England." + +This was the last fragment. Spence looked again at the almost erased +date--January 13th. He felt the sweat on his forehead for, beside +that date, the unexplained postscript of Li Ho's letter took on a +ghastly significance. + +"Respected lady depart life on January 14th." + +She had not lived to write to England! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +It seemed to Benis Spence afterward that during that last day, while +the train plunged steadily down to sea level, he passed every +boundary ever set for the patience of man. It was a lovely, +sparkling day. The rivers leaped and danced in sunshine. Long +shadows swept like beating wings along the mountain sides. The air +blew cool and sweet upon his lips. But for once he was deaf and +blind and heedless of it all. He thought only of the night--of the +night and the moon. + +It came at last--a night as lovely as the day. Benis sat with his +hand upon his watch. They were running sharp on time. There could be +nothing to delay them now--barring an accident. Instantly his mind +created an accident, providing all the ghastly details. He saw him- +self helpless, pinned down, while the full moon climbed and sailed +across the skies. . . . + +But there was no accident. A cheery bustle soon began in the car. +Suitcases were lifted up, unstrapped and strapped again. Women took +their hats from the big paper bags which hung like balloons between +the windows. There was a general shaking and fixing and sorting of +possessions. Only the porter remained serene. He knew exactly how +long it would take him to brush his car and did not believe in +beginning too soon. Benis kept his eye on the porter. He stirred at +last. + +"Bresh yo' coat, Suh?" + +The professor allowed himself to be brushed and even proffered the +usual tip, so powerful is the push of habit. In the narrow corridor +by the door he waited politely while the lady who wouldn't trust her +suitcase to the porter got stuck sideways and had to be pried out. +But when once his foot descended upon the station platform, he was a +man again. The killing inaction was over. + +With the quiet speed of one who knows that hurry defeats haste, he +set about materializing the plans which he had made upon the train. +And circumstance, repentant of former caprice, seemed willing to +serve. The very first taxi-man he questioned was an intelligent +fellow who knew more about Vancouver than its various hotels. A +launch? Yes, he knew where a launch might be hired, also a man who +could run it. Provided, of course-- + +Spence produced an inspiring roll of bills. The taxi-man grinned. + +"Sure, if you've got the oof it's easy enough," he assured him. +"Wake up the whole town and charter a steamer if you don't care what +they soak you." He considered a moment. "'Tisn't a dope job, is +it?" + +Spence looked blank. + +"What I mean to say is, what kind of man do you want?" + +"Any man who will take me where I want to go." + +The taxi-man nodded. "All right. That's easy." + +In less time than even to the professor seemed possible the required +boat-man was produced and bargained with. That is to say he was +requested to mention his terms and produce his launch, both of which +he did without hesitancy. And again circumstance was kind. + +"If it's Farr's Landing you want," said the boat-man, leading a +precarious way down a dark wharf, "I guess you've come to the right +party. 'Taint a place many folks know. But I ran in there once to +borrow some gas. Queer gink that there Chinaman! Anyone know you're +coming? Anyone likely to show a light or anything?" + +The professor said that his visit was unexpected. They would have to +manage without a light. + +The boat-man feared that, in that case, the terms might "run to" a +bit more. But, upon receiving a wink from the taxi-man, did not +waste time in stating how far they might run, but devoted himself to +the encouragement of a cold engine and the business of getting under +way. + +Once more Spence was reduced to passive waiting. But the taste of +the salt and the smell of it brought back the picture of Desire as +he had seen her first--strong, self-confident. He had thought these +qualtities ungirlish at the time; now he thanked God for the memory +of them. + +It had been dark enough when they left the wharf but soon a soft +brightness grew. + +"Here she comes!" said his pilot with satisfaction. "Some moon, +ain't she?" + +"Hurry!" There was an urge in the professor's voice which fitted in +but poorly with the magic of the night. The boat-man felt it and +wondered. He tried a little conversation. + +"Know the old Doc. well?" he inquired. "Queer old duck, eh? And that +Li Ho is about the most Chinky Chinaman I ever seen. Come to think +of it, I never paid him back that gas I borrowed." + +"Hasn't he been across lately?" asked Spence, controlling his +voice. + +"Haven't seen him. But then 'tisn't as if I was out looking for him. +Used to be a right pretty girl come over sometimes, the old Doc's +daughter. Hasn't been around for a long time. Maybe you're a +relative or some-thing?" + +"See here," said Spence. "It's on account of the young lady that I +am going there tonight. I have reason to fear that she may be in +danger." + +"That so?" The boat-man's comfortably slouched shoulders squared. He +leaned over and did something to his engine. "In that case we'll +take a chance or two. Hold tight, we're bucking the tide-rip. Lucky +we've got the moon!" + +Yes, they had the moon! With growing despair the professor watched +her white loveliness drag a slipping mantle over the dark water. The +same light must lie upon the clearing on the mountain . . . where +was Li Ho? Was he awake--and watching? Had he warned the girl? Or +was she sleeping, weary with the journey, while only one frail old +Chinaman stood between her and a terror too grim to guess . . . + +A long interval . . . the sailing moon . . . the swish of parting +water as the launch cut through . . . + +"Must be thereabouts now," said the boat-man suddenly. "I'll slow +her down. Keep your eye skinned for the landing." + +A period of endless waiting, while the launch crept cautiously along +the rocky shore--then a darker shadow in the shadows and the boat- +man's excited "Got it!" The launch slipped neatly in beside the +float. + +"Want any help?" asked the boat-man curiously as his passenger +sprang from the moving launch. + +Spence did not hear him. He was already across the sodden planks. +Only the up-trail now lay between him and the end--or the beginning. +The shadows of the trees stretched waving arms. He felt strong as +steel, light as air as he sprang up the wooded path. . . . + +It was just as he had pictured it--the cottage in its square of +silver . . . the sailing moon! + +But the cottage was empty. + +He knew at once that it was empty. He dared not let himself know it. +With a doggedness which defied conviction, he dragged his feet, +suddenly heavy, across the rough grass. The door on the veranda was +open. Why not?--the door of an empty house. . . . He went in. + +The moonlight showed the old familiar things, the chinks in the +wall, the rickety table, the couch, the stairway! . . . He stumbled +to the stairway. He forced his leaden feet to mount it. . . . It was +pitch dark there. The upper doors were shut. . . . "Her door--on the +right." He said this to himself as if prompting a stupid little boy +with a lesson . . . In the darkness his hand felt for the door-knob +. . . but why open the door? . . . There was no life behind it. He +knew that. . . . There was no life anywhere in this horrible +emptiness. . . . "Death, then." He muttered, as he flung back the +door. + +There was nothing there . . . only moonlight . . . nothing . . . +yes, something on the floor . . . some-thing light and lacy, crushed +into shapelessness . . . Desire's hat. + +He picked it up. The wires of its chiffon frame, broken and twisted, +fell limp in his hand. + +There was no other sign in the room. The bed was untouched. The +Thing which had wrecked its insatiate rage upon the hat had not +lingered. Spence went out slowly. There would be time for everything +now--since time had ceased to matter. He laid the hat aside gently. +There might be work for his hands to do. + +With mechanical care he searched the cottage. No trace of +disturbance met him anywhere until he reached the kitchen. Something +had happened there Over-turned chairs and broken table--a door half +off its hinge. Someone had fled from the house this way . . . fled +where? + +There were so many places! + +In his mind's eye Spence saw them . . . the steep and slippery +cliff, with shingle far below . . . the clumps of dense bracken . . . +the deep, dark crevices where water splashed! . . . + +He went outside. It was not so bright now. There were clouds on the +moon. One side of the clearing lay wholly in shadow. He waited and, +as the light brightened, he saw the thing he sought--trampled +bracken, a broken bush. . . . He followed the trail with a slow +certitude of which ordinarily he would have been incapable. . . . It +did not lead very far. The trees thinned abruptly. A rounded moss- +covered rock rose up between him and the moon . . . and on the rock, +grotesque and darkly clear, a crouching figure--looking down. . . . + +A curious sound broke from Spence's throat. He stooped and sprang. +But quick as he was, the figure on the rock was quicker. It slipped +aside. Spence heard a guttural exclamation and caught a glimpse of a +yellow face. + +"Li Ho!" + +The Chinaman pulled him firmly back from the edge of the moss- +covered rock. + +"All same Li Ho," he said. "You come click--but not too dam click." + +"I know. Where is he?" + +It was the one thing which held interest for Bern's Spence now. + +Li Ho stepped gingerly to the edge of the rounded rock. In the clear +light, Spence could see how the moss had been scraped from the +margin. + +"Him down there," said Li Ho. "Moon-devil push 'um. Plenty stlong +devil!" Li Ho shrugged. + +Spence's clenched hands relaxed. + +"Dead?" he asked dully. + +"Heap much dead," said Li Ho. "Oh, too much squash!" He made a +gesture. + +Benis was not quite sure what happened then. He remembers leaning +against a tree. Presently he was aware of a horrible smell--the +smell of some object which Li Ho held to his nostrils. + +"Plenty big smell," said Li Ho. "Make 'urn sit up." + +Benis sat up. + +"Where is--" he began. But his throat closed upon the question. He +could not ask. + +"Missy in tent," said Li Ho stolidly. "Missy plenty tired. Sleep +velly good." + +Spence tried to take this in . . . tent . . . sleep . . . + +"Li Ho tell missy house no so-so," went on the China-man, pressing +his evil-smelling salts closer to his victim's face. "Missy say 'all +light'--sleep plenty well in tent; velly fine night." + +Benis tried feebly to push the abomination away from his nose. + +"Desire . . . alive?" he whispered. + +"Oh elite so. Velly much. Moon-devil velly smart but Li Ho much more +clever. Missy she no savey--all light." + +Spence began to laugh. It was dangerous laughter--or so at least Li +Ho thought, for he promptly smothered it with his "velly big smell." +The measure proved effective. The professor decided not to laugh. He +held himself quiet until control came back and then stood up. + +"I thought she was dead, Li Ho," he said. + +In the half light the inscrutable face changed ever so little. + +"Li Ho no let," said the Chinaman simply. "You better now, p'laps?" +he went on. "We go catch honor-able Boss before missy wake." Spence +nodded. He felt extraordinarily tired. But it seemed that tiredness +did not matter, would never matter. The empty world had become warm +and small again. Desire was safe. + +Together he and Li Ho slid and scrambled down the mountain's face, +by ways known only to Li Ho. And there, on a strip of beach left +clean and wet by the receding tide, they found the dead man. Beside +him, and twisted beneath, lay the green umbrella. + +"How did it really happen, Li Ho?" asked Spence. Not that he +expected any information. + +"Moon-devil velly mad," said Li Ho. "Honorable Boss no watch step. +Moon-devil push--too bad!" + +"And the fight in the kitchen? And on the trail?" + +Li Ho shook his head. + +"No fight anywhere," he said blandly. + +"And this long rip in your coat?" + +"Too much old coat--catch 'um in bush," said Li Ho. + +So when they lifted the body and it was found that the arm beneath +the torn coat was useless, Spence said nothing. And somehow they +managed to carry the dead man home. + +It was dawn when they laid him down. Birds were already beginning to +twitter in the trees. Desire would be waking soon. The world was +going to begin all over presently. Spence laid his hand gently on +the Chinaman's injured arm. + +"You saved her, Li Ho," he said. "It is a big debt for one man to +owe another." + +The Chinaman said nothing. He was looking at the dead face--a +curious lost look. + +"He velly good man one time," said Li Ho. "All same before moon- +devil catch 'um." + +"You stayed with him a long time, Li Ho. You were a good friend." + +Li Ho blinked rapidly, but made no reply. + +"Will you come with us, Li Ho?" The inscrutable, oriental eyes +looked for a moment into the frank eyes of the white man and then +passed by them to the open door--to the dawn just turning gold above +the sea. The uninjured hand rose and fell in an indescribable +gesture. + +"Li Ho go home now!" + +The words seemed to flutter out like birds into some vast ocean of +content. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +Desire was waking. She had slept without a dream and woke +wonderingly to the shadows of dancing leaves upon the white canvas +above her. It was a long time since she had slept in a tent--a +lifetime. She felt very drowsy and stupid. The brooding sense of +fatality which had made her return so dreamlike still numbed her +senses. She had come back to the mountain, as she had known she must +come. And, curiously enough, in returning she had freed herself. In +coming back to what she had hated and feared she had faced a bogie. +It would trouble her no more. For all that she had lost she had +gained one thing, Freedom. But even freedom did not thrill her. She +was too horribly tired. + +Idly she let her thought drift over the details of her home-coming. +Li Ho had been so surprised. His consternation at seeing her had +been comic. But he had asked no questions, and had given her +breakfast in hospitable haste. In the cottage nothing was altered. +It was as if she had been away overnight. And against this +changelessness she knew herself changed. She was outside of it now. +It could never prison her again. + +While she drank Li Ho's coffee, Dr. Farr had come in. He had been +told, she supposed, of her return, for he showed no surprise at +seeing her--had greeted her absently--and sat for a time without +speaking, his long hands folded about the green umbrella. This, too, +was familiar and added to the "yesterday" feeling. He had not +changed. It was her attitude toward him which was different. The +curious fear of him, which she had hidden under a mask of +indifference, was no longer there to hide. Even the fact of his +relationship had lost its sharp significance. She was done with the +thing which had made it poignant. Parentage no longer mattered. So +little mattered now. + +She had spoken to him cheerfully, ignoring his mood, and he had +replied irritably, like a bad-tempered child who resents some +unnecessary claim upon its attention. But she did not observe him +closely. Had she done so, she might have noticed a curious glazing +of the eyes as they lifted to follow her--shining and depthless like +blue steel. + +"I do not expect to stay long, father," she told him. "Only until I +find something to do. I am a woman now, you know, and must support +myself." + +She spoke as one might speak to a child, and he had nodded and +mumbled: "Yes, yes . . . a woman now . . . certainly." Then he had +begun to laugh. She had always hated this silent, shaking laugh of +his. Even now it stirred something in her, something urgent and +afraid. But she was too tired to be urged or frightened. She refused +to listen. + +In the afternoon she had sat out in the sun, not thinking, willing +to be rested by the quiet and drugged by the scent of pine and sea. +To her had come Sami, appearing out of nothing as by magic, his +butter-colored face aglow with joy. Sami had almost broken up her +weary calm. He was so glad, so warm, so alive, so little! But even +while he snuggled against her side, her Self had drifted away. It +would not feel or know. It was not ready yet for anything save rest. + +Li Ho had made luncheon, Li Ho had brought tea. Otherwise Li Ho had +left her alone. About one thing only had he been fussy. She must not +sleep in her old room. It was not aired. It needed "heap scrub." He +had arranged, he said, a little tent "all velly fine." desire was +passive. She did not care where she slept. + +When bedtime had come, Li Ho had taken her to the tent. It was +cozily hidden in the bush and, as he had promised, quite +comfortable. But she thought his manner odd. "Are you nervous, Li +Ho?" she asked with a smile. + +The Chinaman blinked rapidly, disdaining reply. But in his turn +asked a question--his first since her arrival. Had the honorable +Professor Spence received an insignificant parcel? Desire replied +vaguely that she did not know. What was in the parcel? + +"Velly implotant plasel," said Li Ho gravely. "Honorable husband +arrive plenty click when read um insides." + +There had seemed no sense to this. But Desire did not argue. She did +not even attend very carefully when Li Ho added certain +explanations. He had found, it appeared, some papers which had +belonged to her mother and had felt it his duty to send them on. + +"Where did you find them, Li Ho?" + +Instead of answering this, Li Ho, after a moment's hesitation, had +produced from some recess of his old blue coat an envelope which he +handled with an air of awed respect. + +"Li Ho find more plasel too. Pletty soon put um back. Honorable Boss +indulge in fit if missing." + +"Which means that it belongs to father and that you have--borrowed +it?" suggested she, delicately. + +"No b'long him. B'long you," said Li Ho, thrusting the packet into +her hand. And, as if fearful of being questioned further, he had +taken the candle and departed. + +"Leave me the candle, Li Ho," she had called to him. But he had not +returned. And a candle is a small matter. She was used to undressing +in the dusk. Almost at once she had fallen asleep. + +Now in the morning, as she lay and watched the shadows of the +leaves, she remembered that, though he had taken the candle, he had +left the letter. It lay there on the strip of old carpet beside her +cot. Desire withdrew her attention from the leaves and picked it up. +With a little thrill she saw that Li Ho had been right. It was her +own name which was written across the envelope . . . + +Her own name, faded yet clear on a wrinkled envelope yellowed at the +edges. The seal of the envelope had been broken. . . . + +Sometime in her childhood Desire must have seen her mother's +writing. Conscious memory of it was gone, but in the deeper recesses +of her mind there must have lingered some recognition which +quickened her heart at sight of it. + +A letter from the dead? No wonder Li Ho had handled it with +reverence. With trembling fingers the girl drew it from its violated +covering. + +"Little Desire"--the name lay like a caress--"if you read this it +will be because I am not here to tell you. And, there is no one +else. My great dread is the dread of leaving you. If I could only +look into the future for one moment, and see you in it, safe and +happy, nothing else would matter. But I am afraid. I have always +been too much afraid. You are not like me. I try to remember that. +You are like your grandfather. He was a brave man. His eyes were +grey like yours. He died before you were born and he never knew that +Harry was not really my husband. I did not know it either, then. You +see, he had u wife in England. I suppose he thought it did not +matter. But when he diea, it did matter. There was no one then on +whom either you or I had any claim. I should have been brave enough +to go on by myself. But I was never brave. + +"It was then that Dr. Farr, who had been kind through Harry's +illness, asked me to marry him. He was a middle-aged man. He said he +would take care of w both. You were just three months old. + +"I know now that I made a terrible mistake. He is not kind. He is +not good. I am terrified of him. But the fear which makes me brave +against other fears is the thought of leaving you. I try to remember +my father. If I had been like him I could have worked for you and we +might have been happy. Perhaps my mother was timid. I don't remember +her. + +"I don't know what to put in this letter, or how to make you +understand. I loved your father. He was not a bad man. I am sure he +never harmed anyone. He would have taken care of me all his life. +But he didn't live. It was Dr. Farr who found out about the English +wife. He pointed out that you would have no name and offered to give +you his. + +"I did you a great wrong. His name--better far to have no name than +his! I am sure it is a wicked name. So I want you to know that it is +not yours. You have no name by law, but I think, now, that there are +worse things. Your father's name was Harry Strangeways. His people +are English, a good family but very strict. I could not let them +know about us. They would never have forgiven Harry. It would have +been like slandering the dead. Do not blame him, little Desire, for +I am sure he meant to do right. He was always light-hearted. And +kind--always kind. Your laugh is just like his. Think of us both, if +you can, with kindness--your unhappy Mother." + +Long before Desire came to the end of the crumpled sheets her tears +were falling hot and thick upon them. Tears which she had not been +able to shed for her own broken hope came easily now for this long +vanished sorrow. Her mother! How pitifully bare lay the shortened +story of that smothered life. Desire's heart, so much stronger than +the heart of her who gave it birth, filled with a great tenderness. +She saw herself once more a little frightened child. She felt again +that sense of Presence in the room. And knew that, for a child's +sake, a gentle soul had not made haste to happiness. + +For that gay scamp, her father, Desire had no tear. And no +condemnation. Her mother had loved him. Her gentleness had seen no +flaw. Lightly he had taken a woman to protect through life--to +neglect, as lightly, the little matter of living. Desire let his +picture slip unhindered from her mind. + +There was relief, though, in the knowledge that she owed no duty +there--or here. The instinct which had always balked at kinship with +the strange old man who had held her youth in bondage had not been +the abnormal thing she once had feared it was. She had fought +through--but it was good to know that she had fought with Nature, +not against her. At least she could start upon her new life clean +and free. . . . + +A pity, though, that life should lie like ashes on her lips! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +Nevertheless, and despite the taste of ashes, one must live and take +one's morning bath. desire thought, not without pleasure, of the +pool beneath the tree. Wrapped in her blue kimona, her leaf-brown +hair braided tightly into a thick pigtail and both hands occupied +with towels and soap, she pushed back the tent flap and stepped out +into the green and gold of morning. + +The first thing she saw was Benis sitting on a fallen log and +waiting. He had been waiting a long time. In the flashing second +before he saw her, Desire had time to draw one long breath of +wonder. After that, there was no time for anything. The professor's +patience suddenly gave out. + +He had intended to begin with an explanation. But it is a poor lover +who can't find a better beginning than that . . . And what could +Desire do, with towels in one hand and soap in the other? + +When he released her at last, blushing and glowing, it was to find +the most urgent need for explanation past. + +"Idiots, weren't we?" asked Benis happily. + +Desire agreed. But her eyes questioned. + +"There isn't any Mary, you see," he told her hastily. "Never was; +never could be. (Let me take your soap?) Mary was a figment--mortal +mind, you know. Your fault entirely." + +"But--" + +"Yes, I know. But I did it to please you. I am a truthful person, +really. (Let me take your towels?) And I thought you had more sense- +-Oh, Desire, darling!" + +"But--" + +"Oh, I was a fool, too. I admit it. I thought you were fretting +about John. Fancy your fretting about dear old Bones! I thought--oh +well, it seems silly enough now. But the day I found you crying over +his photo-graph--" + +"Her photograph," interposed Desire shakily. + +"Eh?" + +"It was Mary's photograph. I found it on your desk." + +"It was John's, when I saw it." + +"Yes--but you didn't see it soon enough." + +"Oh--you young deceiver! But once you went to John's office and came +away smiling." + +"Why not? I went to find Mary. And I didn't find her. When the real +Mary came--" + +"There is no real Mary." + +"Oh, Benis--isn't she?" + +"She positively isn't." + +"But you said--" + +"I lied, my dear. It was a jolly good lie, though." + +"A lie is never--" + +"No, but this one was. You wouldn't have married me if I hadn't. And +you told a whopper yourself once. You said that children--" but +Desire refused to listen. + +Later on, as they sat together on the log with a squirrel hiding +provender in one of Desire's slippers and another chattering +agreeably in Benis's ear, he told her briefly the history of the +night. That is, he told her all that he thought it needful she +should know. Of the scraps of diary in his pocket he said nothing,-- +some day, perhaps, when she had become used to happiness, and the +cottage on the mountain was far away. But now--of what use to drag +out the innermost horror or add an awful query to her memory of her +mother's death? The old man was gone--let the past go with him. + +Desire listened silently. Sorrow she could not pretend. The +suddenness of the end was shocking and death is ever awful to the +young. But the eyes she lifted to her husband, though solemn, were +not sad. When he had finished, she slipped into his hand, with new, +sweet shyness, the letter which lifted forever the shadow of the +dead man from across their path. + +Benis Spence read it with deep thankfulness. Fate was indeed making +full amends. No dread inheritance now need narrow the way before +them. It meant--he stole a glance at Desire who was industriously +emptying her slipper. The curve of her averted cheek was faintly +flushed. The professor's whimsical smile crept out. + +"Let me!" he said. He took her slipper from her and, kneeling, felt +her breath like flowers brush his cheek. + +"It was a whopper, Benis," Desire whispered. + +Looking up, he saw the open gladness of her face. + +THE END + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Window-Gazer +by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay + diff --git a/old/wgaze10.zip b/old/wgaze10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..93738a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wgaze10.zip |