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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>HER LORD AND MASTER</title> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1902" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="Her Lord and Master" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="48337" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-02-21" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Howard Chandler Christy" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Esther Mac Namara" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Martha Morton" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="Her Lord and Master" /> - -<link rel="schema.DCTERMS" href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" /> -<link rel="schema.MARCREL" href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" /> -<meta content="Her Lord and Master" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="/home/ajhaines/master/master.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2015-02-22T05:46:49.488017+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48337" /> -<meta content="Martha Morton" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Howard Chandler Christy" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="Esther Mac Namara" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2015-02-21" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="her-lord-and-master"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">HER LORD AND MASTER</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: Her Lord and Master -<br /> -<br />Author: Martha Morton -<br /> -<br />Release Date: February 21, 2015 [EBook #48337] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>HER LORD AND MASTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container frontispiece"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="you-locked-me-out-she-said-hysterically"><span class="bold medium">[Frontispiece: "You locked me out!" she said, hysterically. -<br />(missing from book)]</span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics xx-large">HER LORD -<br />AND MASTER</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics large">By MARTHA MORTON</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics small">Illustrated by</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics medium">HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY -<br />and ESTHER MAC NAMARA</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">R. F. FENNO & COMPANY -<br />18 East Seventeenth Street, NEW YORK</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">Copyright, 1902 -<br />By -<br />ANTHONY J. DREXEL BIDDLE</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">Entered at Stationers' Hall, London</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="small">All Rights Reserved</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Contents</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span>I.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-reunion">A Reunion</a><span> -<br />II.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#birds-of-passage">Birds of Passage</a><span> -<br />III.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#on-a-model-farm">On a Model Farm</a><span> -<br />IV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#springtime">Springtime</a><span> -<br />V.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#camp-indiana">Camp Indiana</a><span> -<br />VI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#guests">Guests</a><span> -<br />VII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-weaver">The Weaver</a><span> -<br />VIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-world-s-rest">The World's Rest</a><span> -<br />IX.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#in-an-orchard-of-the-memory">In an Orchard of the Memory</a><span> -<br />X.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#the-might-of-the-falls">The Might of the Falls</a><span> -<br />XI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#a-moonlight-picnic">A Moonlight Picnic</a><span> -<br />XII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#leading-to-the-altar">Leading to the Altar</a><span> -<br />XIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#england">England</a><span> -<br />XIV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#transplantation">Transplantation</a><span> -<br />XV.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#i-shall-keep-my-promise">"I Shall Keep My Promise"</a><span> -<br />XVI.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#an-escapade">An Escapade</a><span> -<br />XVII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#late-visitors">Late Visitors</a><span> -<br />XVIII.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#awakening">Awakening</a><span> -<br />XIX.—</span><a class="reference internal" href="#and-as-he-wove-he-heard-singing">"And as He Wove, He Heard Singing"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Illustrations</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#you-locked-me-out-she-said-hysterically">"You locked me out!" she said, hysterically.</a><span> </span><em class="italics">Frontispiece</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-d-call-the-picture-indiana">"I'd call the picture, 'Indiana.'"</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#catching-pollywogs">Catching Pollywogs</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#iiwhat-have-i-said-i-didn-t-mean-it">"I—I—what have I said? I didn't mean it."</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-will-have-love-to-help-me">"I will have love to help me."</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Foreword</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Her Lord and Master," by Martha Morton, -was first produced in New York, during the -Spring of 1902. The play met with great success, -and ran for over one hundred nights at the -Manhattan Theatre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Miss Victoria Morton, the sister of the -playwright, now presents "Her Lord and Master" -as a novel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The play is being produced in the principal -cities during this season.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-reunion"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Reunion.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Did the ladies arrive, Mr. Stillwater?" -inquired the clerk at -the Waldorf Hotel, New York, as a tall, -broad-shouldered man, unmistakably -Western in appearance, walked -smilingly up to the desk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bag and baggage, bless their hearts!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dark, distinguished looking man, -who was looking over the register, -glanced at the speaker, then moved -slightly to one side as the latter took up -the pen. Stillwater registered in a -quick, bold hand, and walked away. -The dark gentleman turned again to -the register and read:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horatio Stillwater, Stillwater, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Horatio Stillwater, Stillwater!" he -remarked to the clerk with a cultured -English accent. "A coincidence, I -presume?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," answered the clerk -laughing. "That often happens out -West. You see, Stillwater founded the -town. He owned most of the land, -besides the largest interests in wheat and -oil. It's a great wheat and oil centre. -Naturally the town is named after him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," acquiesced the Englishman, -staring blankly at the clerk. He -lit a cigar and puffed it thoughtfully for -about five minutes, then he exclaimed, -"Extraordinary!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beg pardon?" said the clerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I find it most extraordinary."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you referring to, Lord -Canning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was referring to what you were -telling me about this gentleman, of -course!" Lord Canning pointed to -Stillwater on the register.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" laughed the clerk, amused -that the facts he had given were still a -matter for reflection. "Yes, he's one -of our biggest capitalists out West. The -family are generally here at this time of -the year. The ladies have just arrived -from Palm Beach."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Palm Beach?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's south, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a winter resort?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning recommenced his study -of the register.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Horatio Stillwater," he read. -"Stillwater, Indiana. Miss Indiana -Stillwater." He reflected a moment. -"Miss Indiana Stillwater, Stillwater, -Indiana. Here too, is a similarity of -names. Probably a coincidence and -probably not." He read on, -"Mrs. Chazy Bunker, Stillwater, Indiana. -Bunker, Bunker!" He pressed his -hand to his forehead. "Oh, Bunker -Hill," he thought, with sudden inspiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Indiana Stillwater, Stillwater, -Indiana. If the town was named after -the father, why should not the State—no, -that could not be. But the reverse -might be possible." He addressed the -clerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you mind telling me—oh, I -beg your pardon," seeing that the clerk -was very much occupied at that moment—"It -doesn't matter—some other time." He -turned and lounged easily against -the desk, surveying the people walking -about, with the intentness of a person -new to his surroundings, and still -pondering the question.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Now," said Stillwater, after his -family had been duly installed, "let me -look at you. I'm mighty glad to see -you all again." He swung his daughter -Indiana up in his arms and kissed her, -then set her on his knee and looked at -her with open admiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Horatio Stillwater had never seen -any reason why he should be ashamed -of his great pride in his only child. -Indiana herself had often been heard to -remark, "Pa has never really recovered -from the shock of my birth. It was a -case of too much joy. He thinks I'm -the greatest thing on record."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, folks," he said, "I expect -you're all dead tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," said Mrs. Bunker, his -mother-in-law. She was a well-formed -woman, with dark, vivacious eyes and a -crown of white hair dressed in the latest -mode. "I could take the trip all over -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you miss us, father?" asked -Mrs. Stillwater, a gentle-looking, pretty -woman, with soft, brown hair and dark -blue eyes like her child's, only Indiana's -were more alert and restless. "Ma has -lovely eyes," Indiana was in the habit -of remarking. "She takes them from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stillwater put Indiana off his -knees and sat by his wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I miss you? Not a little bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your color's pretty bad, father," she -said, "and you look dead tired. -Perhaps," she rose impulsively, "perhaps -you've been laid up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, ma, no," he placed his big -hands on her shoulders, forcing her -down in her chair. "I haven't been -laid up. But I've been feeling mighty queer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was immediately overwhelmed by -a torrent of exclamations and questions -from Mrs. Bunker and Indiana, while -his wife sat pale and quiet, with heaving breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't know what's the matter -with me," he answered. "No, I can't -describe how I feel. No, I have not -been to a doctor, and I'm not going. -There, you have it straight. I don't -believe in them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pa!" said Indiana, taking a stand in -the centre of the room, "I want to say -a few words to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lord!" thought Stillwater, -"When Indiana shakes her pompadour -and folds her arms, there's no telling -where she'll end."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to ask you if the sentiments -which you have just expressed are -befitting ones for a man with a family?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother," said Mrs. Stillwater, "he -always takes your advice, tell him he -should consult a doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana has the floor!" said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it right that you should make it -necessary for me to remind you of a -common duty; that of paying proper -attention to your health, in order that -we should have peace of mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana had been chosen to deliver -the valedictory at the closing exercises -at her school. This gave her a reputation -for eloquence which she liked to sustain -whenever an occasion presented itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see your finish," she wound up, -not as elegantly as one might have -expected. "You'll be a hopeless wreck -and we'll all have insomnia from lying -awake nights, worrying. When we once -get in that state—" she turned to Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No cure," said the lady. "Nothing -but time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater sat with his hand in his -pocket and his eyes closed, apparently -thinking deeply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I've said all I'm going to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him expectantly. His -eyes remained closed, however, and he -breathed deeply and regularly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have finished, pa. Have you any -remarks to make?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's asleep, Indiana," said -Mrs. Bunker, with a peal of laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is not," said Indiana indignantly. -"He's only making believe—" She -bent down and looked in his face. -"You're not asleep, are you, pa?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, of course not; who said I was?" He -sat up rubbing his eyes. "Did you -get it all off your mind, Indy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You heard what I said, pa?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly; it was fine. You must -write it down for me some day, Indy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you close your ears and eyes -to the still, small voice," said Indiana, -jumping upon a chair and declaiming in -approved pulpit fashion. "The voice -which says, 'Go not in the by-ways. -There are snares and quick-sands. -Follow in the open road, the path of truth -and righteousness.' I want to know if -you're going to a doctor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I suppose I must, if I want -some peace in life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No ordinary doctor, you must -consult a specialist." She looked around -triumphantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her mother smiled on her in loving -approval.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A specialist for what, Indy?" Stillwater -asked drily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana met his eyes bent enquiringly -upon her, then burst into laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you've phazed me this time," -she said. Then she installed herself on -his knee. "Oh, I don't mean a specialist -at all. I mean a consulting physician—an -authority."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you're talking," answered Stillwater, -with a beaming smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana jumped off his knee. "An -ordinary doctor isn't good enough for -my father!" She gave a very good -imitation of a cowboy's swagger. "I'm -hungry, pa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, where are you going to have lunch?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like mine brought up," said -Mrs. Stillwater. "Are the trunks -unlocked, Kitty?" as a young, -bright-looking girl appeared at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes ma'am. Come right in and I'll -make you comfortable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have my lunch up here with -ma," said Mr. Stillwater. "What's the -rest of you going to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we'll go down and hear the -band play," said Mrs. Bunker with -exuberant spirits. "Come along, Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater was one of the men who had -risen rapidly in the West. He had -married at a boyish age, a very young, -gentle girl, and had emigrated from the -East soon after marriage, with his wife -and her mother, Mrs. Chazy Bunker. -He built a house on government land in -Indiana. The first seven years meant -hard and incessant toil, but in that time -he and the two women saw some very -happy days. His marriage had been a -boy and girl affair, dating from the -village school. One of those lucky unions, -built neither upon calculation or -judgment, which terminate happily for all -concerned. Stillwater was only aware -that the eyes of Mary Bunker were blue -and sweet as the wild violets that he -picked and presented to her, and that -she never spelt above him. His manliness -won her respect, and his gentleness -her love. Their immature natures thus -thoughtlessly and happily united, like a -pair of birds at nesting time, grew -together as the years went on until they -became one. After seven years of -unremitting work, Stillwater could stand -and look proudly as far as the eye could -reach, on acre after acre of golden -wheat tossing blithely in the breeze. -He had been helped to this result by -the women who had lived with the -greatest economy and thrift putting -everything into the land. His young -and inexperienced wife acted under the -direction of her mother, a splendid -manager and a woman of great shrewdness -and sense. He could look, also, on -the low, red-painted house, which could -boast now of many additions, and realize -that his marriage had been a success. -In that low red house Indiana first saw -the light, and, simultaneously, oil was -struck on the land. The child became -the prospective heiress of millions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The birth of a daughter opened the -source of the deepest joy Stillwater had -ever known. When Mrs. Bunker laid -the infant swathed in new flannels in his -arms, he was assailed by indescribable -feelings, altogether new to him. She -watched him curiously as he held the -tiny bundle with the greatest timidity -in his big brawny hands. Feeling her -bright eyes on his face he flushed with -embarrassment. Mrs. Bunker pushed -back the flannel and showed him a wee -fist, like a crumpled roseleaf, which she -opened by force, clasping it again around -Stillwater's finger. As he felt that tiny -and helpless clasp tears welled into his -honest brown eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There isn't anything she shan't -have," he said. And these words held -good through all the years that Indiana -lived under his roof. In a spirit of -patriotism, Stillwater named his daughter -Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She was born right here in Indiana," -he declared. "She's a prairie flower, -so we named her after the State."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The birth of a daughter appealed to -Stillwater as a most beautiful and -wonderful thing. It awakened all the latent -chivalry and tenderness of his character. -As he remarked to his friend Masters, -"A girl kinder brings out the soft spots -in man's nature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This feeling is a foreign one to the -European who always longs for a son -to perpetuate his name and possessions, -and after all it is a natural egotism when -there is a long and honorable line of -ancestry, but in all ranks and conditions -the cry is the same, "A son, oh Lord, -give me a son!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the boom which followed the -discovery of oil-gushers on the land, and -Stillwater looked steadily in the face, -with that level head which no amount -of success could turn, the enormous -prospects of the future, he thought, "It's -just come in time for Indiana." His -imagination pictured another Mary -Bunker, another soft and clinging -creature to nestle against his heart, another -image of his wife to wind her arms -about his neck and look up into his face -with trusting love. Instead, he had a -little whirlwind of a creature, a -combination of tempests and sunshine, with -eyes like the skies of Indiana, and hair -the color of the ripe wheat, upon which -his wife used to gaze as she sat on her -porch sewing little garments, nothing -as far as the eyes could strain but that -harmony of golden color, joining the -blue of the sky at the rim of the horizon. -The peace and happiness of the Stillwater -household fluctuated according to -the moods of Indiana. These conditions -commenced when she was a child, and -grew as she developed. The family -regarded her storms as inevitable, and -nothing could be more beautiful than -her serenity when they passed, nothing -could equal the tenderness of her love -for them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater, under high pressure from -his family, went to consult a noted New -York medical authority; a gaunt, -spare-looking man, who, after the usual -preliminaries, leaned back in his chair and -regarded Stillwater fixedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your liver's torpid, your digestion -is all wrong, and you are on the verge -of a nervous collapse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, doctor, what do you advise?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Complete change."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, don't send me too far. I have -big interests on hand just now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cessation of all business."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't know how I can manage that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get on a sailing vessel. Stay on it -for three months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should die for want of an interest in life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take my advice in time, Mr. Stillwater. -It will save future trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder how Indiana would like a -sailing trip," thought Stillwater. "If -the folks were along I guess we'd -manage to whoop it up, all right. Well, I'll -think it over, Doctor. Of course, I -couldn't do anything without consulting the ladies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater smiled in a confidential way, -as much as to say, "You know how it is -yourself." The noted authority answered -by a look of contemptuous pity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"See you again, Doctor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As he arrived at the hotel he was -hailed by Indiana, driving up in a hansom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been to see the doctor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; I've got lots to tell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jump in and we'll drive around the -park. The others won't be home yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater made a feint of hesitating. -"Perhaps I'd better wait till we're all -together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you can jump in anyway, and -come for a drive," said Indiana. "I'll -give him five minutes," she thought, -"before he tells me all he knows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The air will do me a whole lot of -good," remarked Stillwater, acting on -her advice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a clear cold day, in the latter -part of February, and the wind blew -keenly in their faces as they bowled -leisurely up Fifth Avenue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Indiana," after three minutes -perusal of the promenaders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, pa—it's coming," she thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How would you like to go on a -sailing trip for three months; the whole -kit and crew of us? We'd have -everything our own way; I'd see to that. -We'd run the whole show. On the -water for three months. What do you -think of it—eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bully!" shouted Indiana, throwing -her muff up in the air, and catching it -deftly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you'd like it," said -Stillwater, chuckling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did the doctor say, pa?" said -Indiana breathlessly. "What did he -say was the matter with you? Tell -me—you must tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Indiana, give me a chance. -I'm going to tell you. Didn't I start to -give away the whole snap?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But you're taking such a long time, -pa," she said, tapping the floor of the -hansom nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, when it comes down to it, -there isn't much the matter with me," -answered Stillwater reassuringly. "He -said something about a torpid liver."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Torpid liver!" echoed Indiana, -looking as if she were just brought face -to face with the great calamity of her life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, that's what I was afraid of," -said Stillwater. "Please don't go on -like that before your ma, Indiana. It's -not serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" echoed Indiana helplessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, it's nothing at all," Stillwater -laughed hilariously. "Torpid livers—people -have them every day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what else?" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, lots," answered Stillwater -confidentially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me this minute; I must know. -Don't you try and keep anything from -me, pa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, will you give me a chance? -Sit down! You'll be out of this hansom -in a minute. Something about digestion. -</span><em class="italics">That</em><span> don't amount to </span><em class="italics">anything</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana sank back with a sigh of relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And something about nerves—says -I must throw up business, that's all it -amounts to, for a few months."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you'll be cured?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Positively."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you shall, pop—you shall; do -you hear me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Indiana, what's the use of -your taking the reins and whipping up -like that? I've told you what I reckon -to do. Didn't I broach the subject of a -sailing trip?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma and I are good sailors," -remarked Indiana meditatively, "but -Grandma Chazy don't like the water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we'll jolly her along her all -right," said Stillwater easily. "Say, -Indiana," he put his mouth to her ear, -"Grandma Chazy wouldn't miss a -trick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed loudly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, this is what I call a wild and -exciting time, Indiana. If you took me -on many of these drives I think I'd get -rid of that 'slight nervous derangement' -the doctor was talking about. Sort of a -rest-cure—eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if I could only get on that -horse's back!" cried Indiana, "I'd -make him go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not that horse, Indiana," said -Stillwater chuckling. "All the sporting -spirit in you wouldn't make </span><em class="italics">that</em><span> horse -go. Suppose we think about getting -home?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Back to the hotel," he shouted to -the driver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't help thinking of Circus," -said Indiana sentimentally. "I wonder -if he misses me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You think more of that horse than -all your beaux, don't you, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana nodded and smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll have my hands full for a few -weeks before I go on that sailing trip. -I don't know how I'm going to manage it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you just </span><em class="italics">must</em><span>!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose we don't say anything to -the others till I make sure I can go. I've -got some big things on now, Indiana—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't go after you've worked -me all up about it—you'll keep on -grinding until you're past curing, until -one day you'll just drop down and die. -What do you care—and ma and Grandma -Chazy and—and I'll be left with no one -to look after us." She buried her face -in her muff, making piteous little gulps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm a fool," thought Stillwater, patting -her on the back. "The idea of -that little thing takin' it so to heart. I -didn't think she was old enough to -realize things like that. None of us -know how much there is in Indiana." His -heart swelled with gratitude at this -proof of devotion from his only child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Indiana, don't lose your grip -like this. I'm going, I tell you. I'm -going on this trip. There isn't anything -on earth that'll stop me. Hi! Driver! -Just run through and stop at Thorley's!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the hansom dashed up to Thorley's -Indiana gave a clear jump to the curb, -disdaining the hand her father held out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"American beauties!" said Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The salesman showed them a gorgeous -long-stemmed cluster.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the ticket," said Stillwater. -"My, they're fresh, Indiana." She -selected one and fastened it in her furs. -"I'll carry the rest for you. Now what -would the others like?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana flitted about selecting flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you like them sent?" inquired the salesman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Indiana, "we'll take them -right along."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," exclaimed Stillwater as they -were leaving the store, "I was just about -forgetting you were all going to the -opera to-night. Now, what flowers do -you want to wear, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, my dress is white. Hyacinths, -white hyacinths. Corsage bouquet, Miss -Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And ma, she likes the sweet-smelling ones."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, violets for ma. Violets, -Mrs. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we say violets for Grandma Chazy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think Grandma Chazy would like -something brighter," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carnations?" suggested the salesman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Indiana. "Pink -carnations, Mrs. Chazy Bunker. Send to -the Waldorf Hotel for this evening. -Don't make any mistake, please!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Duplicate the order to-morrow, same -time," added Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana hummed gaily to herself as -they drove off with their flowers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's forgotten all about it now," -thought Stillwater, with a satisfied glance -at her happy face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning noticed them when they -entered the hotel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was standing in the lobby through -which they passed, lighting a cigar -preparatory to going out. He recognized -Stillwater immediately, and stared -curiously at Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that is the daughter," -he thought, "Indiana." He smiled as -he puffed his cigar.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="birds-of-passage"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Birds of Passage.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Anything, if it's for your -good," said Mrs. Stillwater, -when the subject of the sailing trip was -broached. "Father, this is the finest -mignonette I've ever seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I suppose I'll be sick," added -Mrs. Bunker dolefully, as she helped -her daughter arrange the flowers, "but -I'll get used to the motion. As long as -we get somewhere sometime, and see -something that's worth seeing. Isn't -that vase a picture?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you must leave that to me, -Grandma Chazy. What's the matter -with Japan?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a chorus of delight. Indiana -jumped wildly up and down the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll run in and see the old man -to-morrow morning. He'll be glad to -hear I'm going to act on his advice. I -told him I couldn't pledge myself to do -anything until I had first consulted the -ladies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I guess," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's have lunch; then I must get -right down town. You won't see me -till dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their faces fell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we going to do with -ourselves?" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go shopping."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This seemed to be a happy idea, and -Stillwater congratulating himself that he -had suggested an entertainment which -appealed to them, kissed his wife, -remarking, "Now, don't you go and tire -yourself, mother. You can't travel with -these other young things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Stillwater, the following -morning, confided to the noted medical -authority that he intended to take his -whole family on a sailing voyage to -Japan, adding the clause, "We're going -to have a real good time," he sank back -in his chair, and regarded Stillwater with -an expression of patient endurance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I had impressed on you, -Mr. Stillwater, the necessity of absolute -rest and quiet. </span><em class="italics">Rest</em><span> and </span><em class="italics">quiet</em><span>; do you -understand me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly! Perfectly! That's what -I'm laying my plans for. Three months -on a sailing vessel—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">With your entire family</em><span>, which includes—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My wife, my daughter, and my -mother-in-law."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A wife, a daughter, and a mother-in-law. -None of them deaf or dumb, I -presume?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Now you needn't be -afraid I shan't have cheerful company. -They'll make things hum, I tell you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't doubt it for a minute. -Mr. Stillwater, I strongly advise this trip -without your family. With your family -I am as strongly against it. To be -confined for three months on a sailing vessel -with a wife, a daughter, and a mother-in-law, -would be enough to derange any -man's nerves, allowing he is perfectly -normal when he starts. Now, the -consequences in your condition—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, doctor, you're not sure of -your ground. You don't know my -family. They're devoted to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said the Noted Authority, -smiling blandly. "That is the trouble."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say now. They're not going to do me any harm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Intentionally, I hope not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course they have their little -squabbles, but I can manage them all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We might effect a compromise. -How old is your daughter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Eighteen. A perfect child. We can -do whatever we like with her." Stillwater -smiled involuntarily as he uttered -this unblushing falsehood, thinking "I -mean she can do whatever she likes with -us. My words got twisted, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, suppose we leave your -mother-in-law behind, and take your wife and -daughter. The latter, I gather, is -tractable and easily managed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Leave my mother-in-law behind! -Oh, I couldn't do that. She's making a -great sacrifice for my sake. She's awful -seasick but I promised her a good time, -once we get to Japan, and I mean to -keep my word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Noted Authority sighed. "You're -quite decided on that point?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite. Couldn't leave </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> behind. -Wouldn't hurt her feelings for the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no more to be said, Mr. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sailing trip's off, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Except you resolve to go alone. In -case of nervous derangement I always -advise separation. No family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, I couldn't presume to -argue with you, Doctor. But I'll talk it -over with the ladies. They'll never -allow me to go alone, though, I'm quite -sure of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is there any necessity to precipitate -matters so far?" said the Noted -Authority. "Would it not be easier to -announce at once quietly and firmly -your intention to go, avoiding all -preliminary discussion?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, you don't know my family; -they would not allow that sort of thing. -Doctor, are you married?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been a widower for some years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That explains—you've forgotten how -it is. You see, my family are a very -touchy lot—but I know just how to -handle them. We get along swimmingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As these domestic conditions seem -inevitable, further discussions seem -useless. </span><em class="italics">Talk it over with the ladies</em><span>. -Perhaps with the assistance of your wife, -your daughter and your mother-in-law -you may arrive at some decision which -will be agreeable to all concerned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly! Certainly! I'll do as you -say—we'll talk it over and we'll hit on -something between the lot of us. See -you again, Doctor. Good-by."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's pretty far gone already, I fear," -thought the Noted Authority after -Stillwater had departed. "Absolutely afraid -to act on his own responsibility."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think?" cried Stillwater, -bursting in on his family about -dinner hour. "He won't allow you to -go with me on that sailing trip. He says -I must go alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, pa, you go right back and tell -him that we wouldn't think of allowing -you to do anything of the kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His office hours are over now, Indiana," -said Stillwater, smiling placidly. -"Will to-morrow morning do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, father, it would just break my -heart to see you going off alone and -sick, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not to be thought of for a minute," -said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I told him you wouldn't hear of -it." Stillwater leaned back in his chair, -watching with evident enjoyment the -effect of his words. "He said that to -confine a perfectly normal person on a -sailing vessel for three months with his -wife, his daughter, and his mother-in-law, -would make him a nervous wreck for life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did he say that, pa?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Practically, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Brute," said Mrs. Bunker. "If he -once had the privilege of making my -acquaintance he might change his views -on the matter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He might fall all over himself to -become one of the sailing party -himself then," remarked Stillwater -chuckling. "Well, he said I should talk it -over with the ladies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a wonder he gave us that much -consideration," said Indiana loftily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I reckon he thought he was humoring -me. I guess he thinks I'm a gone -case." Stillwater slapped his knee. -"Well, I've been doing some tall -thinking on my own account and it's come to -this." He rose and looked at his wife. -"In the old days when I was coaxing -the ground, I never had these feelings, mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going back to nature. I'm -going to buy a farm. I know just where -to lay my hands on one in Indiana. -Spring is coming. I'm going to live on -it and work on it, till I'm a new man -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I second that motion," said Mrs. Bunker, -bringing her hand down on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I," cried Indiana. "We'll all -go farming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mother, you're not saying a word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smiled up at him. Her eyes -were full of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It—it will be like the old days," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here are the hats!" cried Indiana, -as Kitty, the maid, entered staggering -under the weight of a number of boxes. -They all became immediately interested -in the absorbing question of spring -headgear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you like this?" inquired -Mrs. Bunker, perching a black net -concoction on her carefully dressed head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very becoming!" answered Indiana, -after a critical inspection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suits you fine, grandma!" said -Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shows what you all know!" -remarked Mrs. Bunker, looking in the -glass. "It's entirely too old for me." She -placed it on her daughter's smooth -brown coils.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah!" cried Stillwater admiringly. -His wife, sitting under inspection, -looked inquiringly at Indiana. A -mirror held no significance for Mrs. Stillwater. -She was always supremely satisfied -with whatever her family approved -of, for her, in the way of personal adornment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll take that hat for ma," said -Indiana. "It's all right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Mary can afford to wear it," -said Mrs. Bunker. "I'm not young -enough for a hat like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ladies," exclaimed Mr. Stillwater, -looking at his watch. "This is a pretty -interesting show, but excuse me for the -liberty of reminding you that there's -another, starting at a quarter past eight, -at which we've made a solemn resolution -to be present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hear! Hear!" cried Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is now seven o'clock. Of course -you don't take as long to dress as I -do." He made quickly for the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a bit longer than other women," -cried Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we'll leave that question -open," said Mr. Stillwater, disappearing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That evening, as they were stepping -from the elevator in their wraps, ready -for the theatre, Mrs. Bunker uttered an -exclamation of intense surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker; I am delighted!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Lord Stafford, too!" She -shook hands with an elderly gentleman, -slightly foppish in appearance. "Well, -of all people in the world, to meet you -here to-night. I'm just ready to faint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't! Don't! Mrs. Bunker," said -Lord Stafford, with a laugh of intense -enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Stafford; Lord Canning; my -son-in-law, Mr. Stillwater; my daughter, -Mrs. Stillwater, and my grand-daughter, -Miss Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana," thought Lord Canning, -as he bowed ceremoniously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"These gentlemen were my constant -companions at Cannes last year," said -Mrs. Bunker. "We and the Jennings' -were together most of the time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad to know you, gentlemen! -My mother-in-law's often talked about -your kind attention to her abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kind attention is no name for it," -said Mrs. Bunker. "They gave me the -best time I ever had. And now that -I've caught them on American ground, -I intend to repay it with interest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I assure you, Mrs. Bunker, you -need feel no sense of obligation," said -Lord Canning. "Your companionship -was a source of unfailing pleasure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of this big town, -Lord Canning?" said Mr. Stillwater, -indicating his surroundings by a -comprehensive wave of the hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Extraordinary!" answered Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long are you going to be -here?" inquired Mrs. Bunker of Lord -Stafford, while her son-in-law was -probing Lord Canning's recently acquired -views of America.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we're only birds of passage, -Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So are we; but isn't it delightful to -meet on the wing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"On the wing; ha, ha! Delightful, -Mrs. Bunker! Delightful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We start to-morrow for California," -said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the day after we return to -Indiana," added Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In the summer we intend to -investigate Colorado."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a ranch up in the Rockies," -said Stillwater. "Why, this little girl," -he brought his hand down on Indiana's -shoulders, "learned to shoot up there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you just ought to have seen -her once cornering a grizzly. She shot -him, too—sure as I stand here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's a small matter," remarked -Indiana modestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We shoot bears every day in -America," she added airily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At these words Lord Canning looked -about him as though he fully expected -one to appear that moment, for the -purpose of allowing him to see Miss -Stillwater dispatch it with all possible speed, -and just as she stood there in her long -white opera cloak, holding a bunch of -hyacinths.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not here!" exclaimed Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No?" answered Lord Canning, -looking absently at her blonde -pompadour, every hair of which seemed to -quiver with a distinct life and -individuality of its own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana gave vent to a long peal of -merriment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—of course not!" Lord Canning -hastened to add. "Not </span><em class="italics">here</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We used to spend most part of our -summers in the Rockies," said Stillwater, -"but the last two or three years -the ladies have preferred the Adirondacks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We thought of giving ourselves a -month there in the autumn, before we -return to England," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now's my chance," exclaimed Mrs. Bunker; -"you must stay with us, and -we'll give you fine hunting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Plenty of deer in the North Woods," -added Stillwater. "You'll be heartily -welcome if you care to rough it with -us. Camp life, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should be only too delighted," -said Lord Canning. "What do you -say, Uncle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charmed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure we'll make you feel at -home," said Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At these words, uttered with such -heartfelt sincerity, the two Englishmen -felt at home that very moment. There -was a soft domesticity about Mrs. Stillwater, -which made itself perceptible -even in the brilliant crowded corridor -of the Waldorf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Lord Stafford," said Mrs. Bunker, -"take out your note book; and -I'll give you all necessary instructions -to reach us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I generally manage to get up there -in September," said Mr. Stillwater. -"But, if anything detains me for a short -while—you'll be in good hands."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we'll take care of you," said -Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning smiled. Indiana immediately -decided that his face, though -stern in repose, was not unattractive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, good-bye till the fall," said -Mrs. Bunker. "Lord Stafford, do you -remember that odd trick you had abroad, -of turning up unexpectedly, wherever -I happened to be?" She tapped him -playfully with a carnation from her -bouquet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! You see, I haven't lost -that trick yet, Mrs. Bunker!" He took -the carnation and fastened it in his -buttonhole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Lord Canning," said -Indiana. "Don't forget to look us up, -when you come to the woods. I'll show -you the sights."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning bowed, blushing with -embarrassment. No young lady, of the -tender age of Indiana, had ever before -spoken to him with such freedom, or -looked at him with such unconscious, -unabashed eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lively woman, Mrs. Bunker," remarked -Lord Stafford, looking after the -party, and inhaling the fragrance of the -carnation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He met with no response.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lively woman, eh?" he repeated in -a louder tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Lord Canning -absently, "very, very young; little more -than a child, in spite of her -self-assurance—and there's something about -her—something—quite—er—different!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-a-model-farm"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">On a Model Farm</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The peas are sprouting pretty -lively. The tomatoes are as -perky as the young generation. The -strawberries—well, they're saying, -'To-day we're here, to-morrow we're -gone.' You shall have strawberries and cream -for supper this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After delivering this report in his -own neat style, Stillwater rolled down -his shirt sleeves, threw aside his big -straw wide awake, and sank into a -rocker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you making, mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little dimity dress for Indiana to -wear about the farm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, history repeats itself on this -place. Are you commencing to make -dresses for Indiana again? I suppose -you're imagining she's a little fat tot, -and we've always been just here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not when I look at all this goods," -said Mrs. Stillwater laughing, "though -she's small, compared to what I was at -her age."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why don't you send to town for -some dresses," asked Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, because it's a pleasure to make -it myself, father, and the child loves to -see me do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bye the bye." Stillwater took a -handkerchief from his pocket, and -unfolding it, carefully disclosed what to -ignorant eyes was simply an ordinary -potato. "I'll have something to show -at the next county fair, that'll make -neighbor Masters feel like very </span><em class="italics">small -potatoes</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker, who was embroidering -red roses on white linen, handled the -potato with the air of a connoisseur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, you're working as hard on -this farm as if your living depended on -it," said Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My living does depend on it; I'd -have been under the ground before -long, if I hadn't taken to this. I -consider every potato which costs me ten -dollars, is equivalent to a doctor's pill."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear grandmother, a man who -works as hard as I'm working on my -farm, makes a living and nothing more. -I sat in my office and doubled my -capital without turning a hand, but that's -the pace that kills. Halloa, Glen," as a -young, good-looking fellow in knickerbockers -opened the gate. "Leave your -wheel right there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Mrs. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Glen; how's your mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thanks. Sends her love, and -father's quite his old self."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who cured him?" said Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was getting to be a regular -hypochondriac. We compared our symptoms; -they were about alike. I constitute -myself my own doctor. I buy a -farm, and a pretty thing it is, too. I'll -be wabashed, if he don't go and do the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but father happened to have his -farm, Mr. Stillwater," said the young -fellow, laughing. "It's been neglected -for years. It's not a model farm like -this, but we're getting it into shape." He -looked around, as though he missed -something or someone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say, Glen, what do you think of -this?" Stillwater proudly exhibited his -potato. Glen examined it with -professional interest. "You couldn't do -any better than that, could you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We don't try. You know what -father says, 'Farmin' ain't no fad with -my neighbor, Stillwater.'—I'll just fetch -a drink from the well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went off with a long, swinging -stride, and, returning in a moment with -a tin cup in his hand, seated himself at -Mrs. Stillwater's feet, on the step of the -farm-house porch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Fine tasting water, eh?" said -Stillwater watching him. "Cold as ice; -it's a fine thing to have a spring like -that, right on your ground."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen nodded, drinking slowly, and -fingering the dainty, pink and white, -flowered material on which Mrs. Stillwater -was working. He finally rose, -restored the tin cup to the well, -sauntered back and into the kitchen, and -out again, with a disappointed expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter, Glen? Lost -anything?" inquired Mr. Stillwater, -winking at the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen smiled. "Where's Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana. She went off on -Circus nearly three hours ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't she stop for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose she thought one's company, -two's a crowd," answered Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You never know when Circus is -going to cut up his games," remarked -Glen, gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me about Circus now," said -Mr. Stillwater scornfully, "don't I know -Circus by this time?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think anything could have -happened?" asked Mrs. Stillwater in -alarm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've yet to see the horse that Indiana -couldn't manage. I never saw two -people understand each other better -than she and Circus. He fretted and -fumed when she jumped on his back -this morning, then he did his great act. -Stood right up on his hind legs, and -looked around for applause. But she -sat him like a rock. The two of them -made the prettiest picture you ever saw. -Well, she got him so, that he trotted off -with her like Mary's little lamb. -Indiana has a way with a horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I hear her now," said Glen, -walking down to the gate, and flinging -it open.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at that boy!" said Stillwater. -"See, how his face lights up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's only natural," answered Mrs. Stillwater. -"They all feel like that towards Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Stillwater, watching Glen, -"not just like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," interpolated Mrs. Bunker, -"he's the same as the rest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," persisted Mr. Stillwater. "Not -quite the same. Look at him out there! -He's a fine lad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They glanced at him, standing -bare-headed, holding the gate and watching. -His small, finely shaped head, with its -well-modeled features, showing in relief -against the sycamore tree near the gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He fought well for his country," -continued Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are others," said Mrs. Bunker -tersely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," responded Stillwater, -while the clatter of horses hoofs -came nearer. "Not all of them went -like him—willing to give their heart's blood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hurrah!" cried Indiana, entering -the gate at full gallop, riding straddle, -breathless, hatless, her yellow hair -streaming behind her. Sitting aloft -Circus, who was a tall horse, she looked -like a little boy, a very young, tender, -pretty boy, whose hair his mother could -not yet bring herself to cut. She circled -the mound in the centre of the garden, -and pulled Circus up tightly at the steps. -He reared at the suddenness of the -check. Indiana sank forward on his -neck, spent with her ride, and circled -his head with her arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No more tricks, Circus," she -murmured. "The show's over; we're just -beat out, Circus." Glen took her in -his arms, and lifted her bodily off the -horse. A stable boy led him away. His -shining black coat was covered with -flecks of foam.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me a drink, someone!" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now, Indiana," pleaded Mrs. Stillwater, -"you're so warm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm parched, I tell you," said -Indiana, stamping her foot, and pressing -her hand to her throat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen ran quickly to the well, and -returned with the tin cup, which he held -to Indiana's lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slowly," he said, holding the cup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's warm," she said, snatching the -cup, and spilling the remainder of the -water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you stop for me?" -asked Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted to ride alone," answered -Indiana, sinking down on the step. "I -wanted to think—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think," echoed Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think," repeated Mrs. Bunker. -"Writing a book, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think!" said Glen. "If Indiana's -taking these notions, I guess I'd better -say good bye." He put on his cap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't mind them, darling," said -Mrs. Stillwater. She drew Indiana's -head down on her shoulder, feeling her -hot cheeks and forehead solicitously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's so warm—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the use of riding yourself out -like that, Indiana?" said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandma Chazy," cried Indiana, -starting up. "I'd rather have one mad -gallop like that if it were the death of -me, than take a slow gait for the rest of -my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!" exclaimed Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's only the sporting spirit in -her, mother," said Stillwater. "She -comes by it honestly." He smiled as -he recalled a few venturesome dealings -of his own within the last year, which -had not culminated as he would have -wished. Stillwater was one of the men -who could enjoy a laugh at his own -expense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was a devil in me, this -morning," said Indiana, fiercely, "and I -just rode it down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's only young blood, mother. -You can't expect her to be the same as -we old-timers." He glanced slyly at -Mrs. Bunker, who poked him with her -needle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was on the war path," said -Indiana. "If I hadn't gone out with -Circus, I—I—well, you'd have just -scattered, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bet yer life," chuckled Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is my dress finished?" asked -Indiana, burying her face in the pink and -white folds on Mrs. Stillwater's lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just a stitch or two more, dear. I've -been working on it all morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks so nice and cool. I want -to put it on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you shall, dear," said Mrs. Stillwater, -in the tone one uses to a fractious -baby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just leave my hair alone, Glen," -exclaimed Indiana, turning suddenly -around on him, with flashing eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Indiana," he said, meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come now, darling; come up stairs -and when you've had your bath, I'll -dress you up and brush your hair nicely. -It's all tangled."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't mean to be cross, Glen," -said Indiana, with a sudden change of -mood, as Mrs. Stillwater took her hand -and led her through the kitchen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's all right, Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen Masters had known Indiana all -her life. When she was born, the -six-year old Glen came to see the baby, and -stood by her cradle, sucking his thumb -in solemn-eyed wonder. Not having -any brothers or sisters of his own, he -adopted her immediately; and he loved -to be tyrannized over by the petted baby -girl, who kicked and scratched him one -minute, and the next caressed him with -her little, soft, fat palms. His father had -risen in the world very much the same -way as Stillwater. They had been -ranchmen together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater lit a meerschaum pipe and -puffed it slowly. Glen followed his -example.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's two birds building a nest -up in that sycamore," said Stillwater. -"Hear them twitter? They're just as -happy as can be."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen lounged on the step, looking -dreamily up at the sky.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, how are things going on over -at the farm?" inquired Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we'll show some livestock at the -County Fair that can't be beat." His -eyes smiled a challenge at Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No competition," chuckled Stillwater, -"but just you come over to the -barn. I want to show you something. -'Farming ain't no fad with Friend -Masters,' but I'll meet him at Phillipi."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you men once get with the -livestock, that's the last we see of you. -Dinner's ready as soon as Indiana's -dressed," said Mrs. Bunker, as they -sauntered off laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the custom of the family to -partake of dinner farm style, in the large -kitchen. The first bell, which Kitty -rang daily, was for the family, the second -summoned the farm hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen and Stillwater, by chance, not -by any intention of punctuality, emerged -from the farm, just as the first bell -resounded from the house. It was then -that Glen thought fit to stop and utter -a very vital question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stillwater, I want to ask you -what you think of my chances with—with Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen was oblivious to the fact that he -had not chosen a very propitious time or -spot, to broach such a subject. The -dinner bell had just sounded and Mr. Stillwater -had been working since five -o'clock that morning, to gain an -appetite. Then, the mid-day sun poured -down on them where they stood, and -an Indiana sun is hot in May.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your chances with Indiana?" The -repetition was merely a subterfuge to -gain time, as Indiana's father had not the -remotest idea how to answer her young -suitor. Glen's preference had been an -open secret for a long time; but he had -never openly broached the subject, not -even to Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh—oh, I think they're all right, my -boy—why shouldn't they be?" Stillwater -looked about him as though challenging -earth and heaven to contradict.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's exactly what I think," said -Glen, grasping the other's hand. "Why -shouldn't they be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater's heart sank as he looked -into the young fellow's glowing, hopeful -eyes. He strongly suspected that Indiana -would not accept her old playmate in -the character of a lover. But he could -not bring himself to tell Glen this. He -felt deeply for the son of his oldest friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've known her all her life, -Mr. Stillwater," said Glen, as though this -was a fact unknown to Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that so, my boy?" said Stillwater, -accepting the information seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And it is my conviction that I -understand her better than anyone living; -better even than yourself!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do?" said Stillwater. "Well, -that's wonderful!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is, and that's why I don't see how -Indiana could marry anyone else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anyone else but you?" repeated -Stillwater with deference.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely; anyone else but me. Can't -you see it yourself? A stranger wouldn't -understand her. He wouldn't have the -remotest idea how to treat her. I know -all her faults."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you positive about that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Positive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's a great thing to know the -worst beforehand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I can rely on your co-operation -in this matter, Mr. Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can," said Mr. Stillwater. "I'd -like to see it. I've known you from a -little lad and you're the son of my oldest -friend. I'm with you—you can figure -what that's worth." He himself knew -how little his wishes would weigh with -his opiniative little daughter, in such a -case. Glen also realized that fact only too -well. What they </span><em class="italics">said</em><span> was merely a -matter of form. They both felt there was a -certain etiquette attendant on the subject. -"Thank you, Mr. Stillwater. I'm -glad to think you consider me a proper -husband for Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't mention it, my boy! and now, -I want to give you a little advice. Don't -spring anything on Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen looked at him inquiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be too sudden—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana has already received several -offers, but I don't believe anyone of -them was a shock to her," answered -Glen dryly. He thought also, "How -can a fellow be sudden with a girl he's -known ever since she had short, yellow -rings curling all over her head, and -wasn't sure on her feet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She expected those offers, but she -never dreams of such a thing from you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't suppose she does," said -Glen, gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course, we can't tell anything -about </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>. One never knows what sort -of a notion Indiana's going to take. I -don't want to discourage you—but don't -stake your whole life on this thing, my -boy. It won't do—it never does."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen drew a deep breath, and turned -his head away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Put your cap on! The sun's hotter -than July."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Manila has schooled me to -this—and worse, if it comes." He -compressed his lips, and gazed ahead, past -the farm, to the utmost line of horizon, -and beyond that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a true soldier, my boy. Face -the music—we've all got to, sooner or -later."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dinner bell rang again with -menace in its brassy tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'd better go back to the house. -They'll give us Hail Columbia! Brace -up, Glen, and remember—I'm with you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Over on the farm-house porch Mrs. Bunker -was saying to Kitty: "It's the -last of those men, once they get with the -live-stock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here they are," said Kitty. "Why, -Mr. Stillwater! Dinner's ready long ago."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't get excited, Kitty; keep cool. -This is the hot part of the day. Do you -observe that the sun has approached its -meridian, Kitty? No occasion for rush -here. Rest and quiet, Kitty—that's my -cure. Say, look at Indiana! Isn't she -the sweetest thing that ever happened?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She peeped from behind her mother, -dressed in the simple pink and white -dimity. Her hair had been smoothly -brushed, and hung in one long braid. -She looked like a fair and happy child, -of not more than fifteen; laughing, -refreshed from sleep. Glen gazed at her, -but said nothing. His recent confession -to Indiana's father, had the effect of -making him conscious and tongue-tied. -There was a large orchard on the farm, -where lay the afternoon shade. The -family repaired there, according to the -daily custom, as soon as dinner was over. -Hammocks hung in the trees and Kitty -spread shawls on the ground, and -brought pillows galore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen sat in the midst of the group, -tuning his mandolin, which he kept at -the farm. Glen and his mandolin were -associated. All invitations issued to him -included the clause, "Bring your -mandolin!" He seldom made a social visit -without it, except on doleful occasions, -such as funerals or visits of condolence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was hailed with joy whenever he -appeared with his frank smile and his -mandolin. In the West, there is a keen -appreciation of impromptu pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the orchard the fruit trees had fully -blossomed, the grass was still a young, -tender green. Through the masses of -delicate pink and white color, shone here -and there, glimpses of the exquisite blue -sky. There is little to admire, as far as -scenery is concerned, in this flat country, -over which one can travel for miles -without seeing a rolling meadow, or a -sign of a hill. But one can rave over the -skies of Indiana, sometimes brilliantly, -sometimes softly tenderly blue. Their -peculiar azure is not reproduced in any -other country of the world. The color -ran out when the skies of Indiana were -painted, and never renewed, in order -that they should remain unique. The -secret belongs to the Universe.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="springtime"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Springtime.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"The blossoms are commencing -to fall," said Mrs. Stillwater, -shaking three or four petals off her -work. Her hands were never idle, and -they were now manipulating some fleecy -white wool. "What a pity it can't -always be like this—the trees look so -beautiful. I could content myself here -all summer—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I won't say that," said -Mrs. Bunker. "There's no place hotter on -earth, than Indiana in summer. But if -it would always be as pleasant as now—I -like the seashore in July—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean," interrupted Stillwater, -lying under a low-spreading apple tree, -with a handkerchief spread over his face, -"that you like the 'life' at the seashore. -There's no affinity between you and the -ocean that I know of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, have it that way, if you will. -I like 'the life at the seashore.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker looked defiantly up from -the red rose which she was embroidering, -with a little less energy perhaps, than in -the morning. "Particularly, as we are -buried alive in the Adirondacks during -August, September and October."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Buried alive?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Buried alive!" Mrs. Bunker looked -around triumphantly, enjoying the -sensation her words had occasioned. -Indiana had thrown down her book which -she was reading, lying on her back. Glen -stopped thrumming pensive snatches -of melody. Mrs. Stillwater gave her -mother a startled glance and Stillwater -threw the handkerchief from his face -and raised himself to a sitting posture.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I never saw such a woman! -Buried alive! Buried—why, you have -the camp filled with company. Didn't -I have to put up tents for them last year; -the place looked as if there was an army -bivouacing on it—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes; I can make a good time -for myself wherever I am—but when -we're alone there—it's so still, I'm afraid -of the sound of my own voice, and -jump for joy if I see a chipmunk -peeping out of its hole. There's something -spry about them, at all attempts. The -natives would do well to imitate them. -Such a slow lot—and those guides with -their drawling voices. The world just -stops, when you get up to the Adirondacks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm never so happy," remarked -Glen, "as when I'm in the forests and -on those lakes. It's the real thing. -City life goes against my grain, somehow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I always feel quite natural in the -woods," said Indiana. "Just as though -I belonged there, with the other wild -things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did those English friends of -yours say they were coming up, -grandma?" inquired Mr. Stillwater, in a -muffled voice, having again taken shelter -under the handkerchief, after recovering -from the last of the many shocks he -was in the habit of receiving from his -mother-in-law.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They said September, but I have a -shrewd idea they'll get tired of travelling -before then. They may arrive the latter -part of August. They'll be glad to see -a little home life once more."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends of yours, Mrs. Bunker?" -inquired Glen, with a slight frown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes; Lord Canning and his uncle, -Lord Nelson Stafford. They belong to -a representative noble English family. -I met them at Cannes last year—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning is a very distinguished -looking gentleman," said Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His face inspires trust, if I'm not -mistaken," remarked her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promised to show him the sights," -said Indiana, with a mischievous smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How kind and disinterested of -you," remarked Glen, in a very -sarcastic voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?" -demanded Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean you intended to make an -impression on him, by the time you -were through with the sights," answered -Glen, with a pale face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And supposing I did," said Indiana, -provokingly. "It wouldn't be the first -time I have made an impression, nor -will it be the last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, well, I suppose you must have -someone to flirt with," said Glen, resignedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, children, don't quarrel! You -know what that New York oracle said: -'Rest and quiet.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never flirted with you," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should hope not," answered Glen, -in a very dignified manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean by that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean that I intend to be taken -seriously, or not at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all gasped at this temerity from -such an unexpected quarter. Stillwater -peeped at Indiana from under the corner -of his handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No man has ever yet dictated to -me," said Indiana, majestically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's more than I'd do," murmured -Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men are generally only too glad if -I will tolerate them on any terms," -continued Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm not like others; but never -mind, Indiana—that's true enough—I -ought to be glad to be tolerated on any -terms." He smiled resignedly around -on the circle. He was afraid he had -gone too far. At all events, their little -skirmishes generally ended this way. -Indiana felt a slight misgiving as she took -up her book again. Glen, her slave and -comrade, was one person, but Glen, who -wished to be taken seriously, with a pale -set face and glowing eyes, was another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you making, ma?" inquired Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A little woolen cape, with a darling -hood attached, for Indiana. Just to put -on her when she's roaming after dinner -in the mountains. It's so chilly there, -when the sun goes down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're always making something -for her," said Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's the best mother I ever had," -remarked Indiana, proudly fingering -her little dimity skirt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater blushed with happiness, -and looked with almost tearful love on -this child, who showed such unparalleled -appreciation of her mother's efforts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sing 'My Georgia Lady Love,' -Glen!" said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen struck a few notes on his mandolin -and sang in a very pleasing baritone.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"My Georgia Lady Love, my Southern Queen,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>How your brown eyes do shine like stars above,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>There's not a girl can equal you,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My Georgia Lady Love—Love."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Kitty, you were never so welcome -in your life," said Stillwater, as Kitty -appeared with the tea-tray. She was -followed by a farm-hand carrying a table -and a camp-stool. Mrs. Bunker seated -herself, and commenced pouring out -the tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go ahead with the second verse, Glen!"</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"One day I said, 'I love you, Sue,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Believe me, gal, I will be true.'</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>She slowly dropped her head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then she softly said:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'Mister Johnson, 'deed I loves you too.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>My Georgia Lady Love, my Southern Queen."</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"There's a circus to-night," volunteered Kitty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Circus!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I want to go," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's stuff the big hay wagon full of -straw and pillows," cried Mrs. Bunker. -"It's full moon; we'll have a grand -ride, eh, Ratio?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ratio looked visibly delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you know what he said, 'Rest -and quiet.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pa, you're forever quoting that old -mummy," said Indiana. "He's like -the ghost in Hamlet. It's settled; we'll go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what's the matter, Kitty? -Got anything on your mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, sir; but Jim Tuttle's invited -me to the circus, and I'd like to go, if -the ladies don't object."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all, not at all," said Stillwater, -with an amiable wave of his hand. Kitty -left the orchard in high glee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She did well to ask you, instead of -me, sly thing," said Mrs. Bunker. -"That girl's too fond of pleasure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now grandma—we were young ourselves, once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak for yourself, Ratio. I'm -going to the kitchen to make some -taffy. There's just enough time for it -to cool. We'll take it along and give -it to all the youngsters."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, ma, there's a nice breeze -blowing, the sun's going down. What -do you say to a short spin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, get ready. I'll have the -buckboard here in five minutes." He rose, -shaking off the blossoms which -powdered his coat like snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's some on your hair, ma; -they're so pretty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana rose lazily from the grass, -also shaking off a shower of blossoms, -and leaned against a low-spreading -apple tree, extending her arms on the -branches each side of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen gazed at her, still thrumming -his mandolin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think you'll come to -Narragansett with us, this summer?" said -Indiana, looking idly up through the -branches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What for?" said Glen, gloomily. -"To see you dance and flirt with a lot -of—of simpering idiots."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed. Every time she -moved, the blossoms fell upon her -shoulders, neck and hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you like me to enjoy myself?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not with other men."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that's selfish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was silence, broken only by the -thrumming of the mandolin and the twitter -of birds from the recesses of the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's sad, the way those blossoms fall -on you, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana shook the branches, and -peeped out laughing through the thick -shower which followed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look like a part of the tree," -said Glen. "Like a wood-sprite, a -Dryad—or something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Or something," said Indiana, "is -very illustrative to the mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like you best as you are here about -the farm," continued Glen, watching -her steadily with his dark eyes, and -continuing his eternal thrumming. "Just -as you are now, in that simple dress -your mother made for you, with your -hair hanging like that—I always liked -your hair hanging—do you remember, -Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you always liked it, Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It went rather hard with me, when -you first put it up, and wore long -dresses. It seemed as though that were -going to be the end of all our good -times."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But it wasn't, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; you were the same old Indiana, -although you looked more—the woman. -Then you discovered your own power, -and you took to breaking hearts. You -were very apt at that business, for one so young."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You forget," said Indiana, with a -sly smile, "there was Grandma Chazy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true. An old soldier in camp -put you on to all the principal maneuvers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They both laughed, looking around -cautiously, like naughty children, as -though Mrs. Bunker might be hiding -somewhere among the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fought shy of you for awhile, -then—I was young and unworldly." From -Glen's seriously reminiscent expression, -he might have been looking back upon -another self of twenty or thirty years -ago. "And I could not justify your -practices at that time. I don't know -whether you noticed the difference in me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only that you made yourself scarce -when there was anyone else around."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I accepted the inevitable after a -while; but when I see you in the midst -of a crowd of men, dealing out dances -and smiles, you appear to me like some -stranger, with a marvellous resemblance -to a girl I once played with, called -Indiana. Here, in the country, and up in -the Adirondacks you are the real Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's nonsense! We can't be girl -and boy forever. There's something -else in life—I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," answered Indiana -impatiently, "but it's individual. People -must discover it for themselves—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you?" asked Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This sort of life is all very well, but -in order to develop, one must see the -world, must be of the world. I don't -believe in a groove."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your mother did," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How can you compare me to ma? -She's the old-fashioned type, bless her -heart!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at this day," said Glen -irrelevantly. "I believe in enjoying what -we have. This is one day out of life. -There'll never be another like this—not -just like this. The blossoms are going—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll come again, next year," -said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but we may be different, that's -the trouble. I'd like to keep this -day—everything is so young and tender and -spring-like—and you're part of it all. -The sun sinking over there; the rosy -clouds above our heads—there's a soft, -pink light on the whole orchard—it's -shining down, through the branches, -on your face. I wish there was an -artist—the best in the world—living -hereabouts. I'd jump on my wheel, -and bring him in a trice, with his -color-box and his canvas. But it would be -even too late—to catch this light. I'd -have him paint the whole thing with -you in the foreground, among the -blossoms—that glow on your face. I'd call -the picture, 'Indiana.'"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-d-call-the-picture-indiana"><span class="bold medium">[Illustration: "I'd call the picture, 'Indiana.'" -<br />(missing from book)]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"And you, Glen? You wouldn't be -in it at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd own the picture," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A slight breeze swept through the -orchard, bringing a snowy shower from -the trees. There was a tinkling of bells, -not far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The cows have just come home," -said Indiana. "Glen, what will you do -with yourself this summer, if you don't -go with us to Narragansett?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll stay with the folks, till you all -go up to the camp. Then I'll join you -on our old hunting grounds—if you -want me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why!" exclaimed Indiana. "It -wouldn't seem like the Adirondacks, if -you weren't there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen smiled gratefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are the folks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, thanks. They were talking -about you, to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ride over there to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll be glad to see you. They -love you just—just like a daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like people to love me," said -Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So do I," answered Glen. He gazed -around him. Nature so beautifully -revealed just then, inspired him to speak. -"There are not many days like this," -he thought, "and now, it is measured -by moments. Before it is over I will -tell her!" He leaned over his mandolin, -watching a little brown bug struggle -through the grass, then he gazed -upward. The rosy light still lingered on -the orchard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Before it fades, I will ask her." Stillwater's -caution recurred to him. -"'Don't spring anything on Indiana!' He -didn't make allowances for a moment -like this," thought Glen. "He -didn't think it was going to be such a -day." He was very pale, and his fingers -shook slightly as they laid the mandolin -down on the grass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think you could love me, -Indiana?" he said, simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, I've loved you all my life, Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean that way, Indiana." He -took up his mandolin again, nervously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know any other way, Glen," -she answered, pitifully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not now; but don't you think you could?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try me; let's be engaged for a little -while, then if you can't love me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen, it's no use—I've known you -too long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, you don't know what you're -saying—you're killing me, Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen! Glen!" She threw herself -down beside him, and smoothed and -patted his hair, soothing him as though -he had fallen and hurt himself. He -seized her hands, and held them tightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Life means nothing to me, without -you, Indiana—you're the key to it. -Look here; suppose I was given a -beautiful book to read, in a foreign -language—the greatest ever written—it -would be mere print, wouldn't it? But -suppose someone translated it for me, -and all its beauty became suddenly -revealed. You translate life for me that -way, Indiana; </span><em class="italics">don't you understand</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, Glen. But if I marry you, -that will be the end. You're too much -a part of the old life—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old life, Indiana? Isn't that -the best life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know what you're saying. -If I live to be a hundred, I want to live -true to the old life, to the old ideals and -the old truths, even the simple ones I -learned at home, when I was a little lad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a good fellow, Glen; shake -hands with me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you think about it, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dear! I hate to say it—but I -want to be straight with you. Something -tells me it's not the right thing for -us to marry. Don't say any more—don't -try to persuade me—it's no use."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't look like that, Glen! you'll -break my heart. Life isn't over for you, -because—of this. It's a beautiful world -still—look at the blossoms, look at the -day!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not the same," said Glen, holding -his hand to his eyes. "It'll never -be the same."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, it will, dear; after a while. -I don't want to lose you, Glen; you'll -be my dear old friend still. Say you -will!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember when I went to -the war, Indiana? You gave me a lock -of your hair, and I carried it over my -heart. It was a charm, a little yellow -lock—it brought me back to you alive. -You cried when you gave it to me, and -said, 'God keep you, Glen!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And I say it now! Wherever we -both happen to be, until I die, 'God -keep you, Glen!'" She broke down, -and sobbed on his breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He smoothed her hair mechanically, -murmuring, "A little yellow lock—I -carried it over my heart, always. They -might have found it if I hadn't come -back. I wish that I hadn't, now—I -wish that I hadn't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen! What are you saying?" She -held her hand over his mouth. "We'll -go on just the same; you mustn't say -anything to the others. We'll keep our -own secret, and you'll come to the camp -this August?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It'll never be the same," repeated -Glen, monotonously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly they heard the sound of -wheels, and Stillwater's voice shouting -to Jim Tuttle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must be getting home," said Glen -stupidly, like a person just awakened -from sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, aren't you going to the circus, -Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Circus?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't break up the party!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not a merry circus party, as far -as the younger members were concerned, -but the others were lively, and -failed to see anything strange in their -behaviour. Indiana asked someone to -dare her to jump down in the ring, and -ride better than the lady equestrian, but -they all wisely refrained from doing so. -Glen sat in the center of the wagon and -tinkled his mandolin faithfully, for the -amusement of the party. They dropped -him at his own gate, to which they -drove, singing hilariously, Kitty -bringing up the rear in a buggy with Jim -Tuttle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, neighbor Stillwater!" called -a voice from one of the farm-house -windows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's father," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, Masters!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this what you call 'rest and quiet?'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't believe in too much -of a good thing; good-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-night; good luck to you all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Merrily we roll along," sang Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen leaned against the gate after -they had gone, listening to their voices -in the distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have a good time, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The window closed. Glen laughed -bitterly, leaning against the gate; then -the laugh changed to a sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want much, I ask so little, -dear God; </span><em class="italics">only Indiana</em><span>."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="camp-indiana"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Camp Indiana.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I'm tired of the model farm. I -wouldn't care to spend another -spring here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, your love of change will -bode you no good, some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I come by it honestly, Grandma -Chazy—you're always on the go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't compare yourself to me, -Indiana. I'm an old woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd be hopping mad, if anyone -else called you that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can take a privilege which I -wouldn't allow to others," said -Mrs. Bunker, sweetly. "I mean I'm an old -woman compared to you, Indiana; I -have experience and discretion, to back -up my roving spirit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Em—n!" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was lying on a nest of pillows, -reading, surrounded by dormer -windows, in one of the upper rooms of the -farm-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at pa out there in the rain -with his rubber coat and hat. He's a -sight! Wonder if Glen will be over -to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Appears to me, you're always looking -for Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no one else to look for, -here, is there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Girls your age generally do attach -themselves to the man who's around."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm no more attached to Glen than -I ever was. Everybody likes him. He's -a good fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's true. Do you think you'll -marry him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's your opinion on that matter, -Grandma Chazy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you'd regret it all your life; -he's only a boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but he's a good fellow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said that before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen had kept away for a week or so -after the moonlight circus party, and in -that time became morbid and -melancholy. Indiana dominated him -completely. He racked his brain, hour after -hour, trying to remember the exact words -in which she had uttered such and such -a remark, with her exact tone of voice -and the exact expression of her eyes at -the time. Sometimes in his sleep he -heard her calling "Glen dear! Glen -dear! Glen dear!" her childish name -for him, in a helpless, frightened voice. -He would awaken with a terrible fear -that she might be ill or in trouble. -Compared with this awful anxiety -oppressing him in the night, his past misery -seemed nothing. He resolved that if -Indiana only kept well and happy he -would ask nothing more of life. Again, -he heard her laughing in his dreams, -mockingly, tantalizingly; laughing, -laughing, laughing, until his brain -reeled, and he thought, "This is the -laugh that drives men mad." Then, -when taking bicycle rides on the -moonlight nights of his week's absence, her -face seemed to flash upon him suddenly -in dark places, like that of a sweet ghost. -Haunted like this, the idea of seeing her -in reality once more was like the -conventional promise of Heaven. He resolved -to resume their old footing. "Indiana -wishes it, and anything is better than not -to see her." He appeared again at the -model farm, humble and deferential to -Indiana's slightest wish, grateful for her -every look and word. With her tender -heart and warm sympathies she pitied -him intensely. She tried to establish -their old comradeship. The loyal little -soul hated to lose a friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen felt life was worth living once -more. There is a magic flower, tiny, -and blue as the sky. This is the -forget-me-not bloom of hope. It sheds -a sweet and subtle fragrance which -enchants the soul, and charms the eyes, so -that they see a wonderful light on all -things. But when the flower perishes, -there is an end to the spell. The glamour -fades before the eyes, the soul is seized -with an aching grief. But the witch-flower -of hope will bloom again, if it is -not plucked by the root.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm getting a little bit tired of it -myself, here," remarked Mrs. Bunker. -"Well, it'll be time to pack up soon; I -expect to enjoy myself this summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana, watching the rain, forebore -to answer. There were times when -Mrs. Bunker's constant desire for pleasure -rather palled on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mid-summer at a fashionable seaside -resort proved to be merely a repetition -of other summers. Indiana enjoyed -herself, after the manner of the young and -thoughtless; dancing, bathing, flirting, -and laughing. But after the glare of -the sea and the kaleidoscope of life on -the shore, after falling asleep every night -to the echoes of the very latest dance -music, mingled with the eternal dash of -the waves, the woods beckoned her invitingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the middle of August before the -Stillwater's were installed in the -mountains. They arrived at the primitive -station early in the morning, and were -met by one of the two guides yearly -engaged for the season. There was a -large mountain wagon, without a cover, -awaiting them, and a pair of -fresh-looking ponies. Indiana jumped up -nimbly, and took the reins, while Haller, -the guide, packed in the rest of the -family and Kitty, all looking rather -sleepy, from their all-night travel. The -other servants had preceded them by -some days.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right!" shouted Indiana, starting -at a brisk trot. It was only twenty -minutes' drive from the station to a -landing, where they were met by a -trim little naptha launch with "The -Indiana" painted newly, in bright -letters, upon the prow. She puffed slowly -up one of the largest lakes in the -Adirondacks, buried in the very heart of the -mountains. The latter are higher in this -particular region, the scenery wilder -than elsewhere. Nature had designed -a beautiful color scheme from the lake; -the rich, vivid green of the banks, -fretted with enormous rocks and crags, -the darker background of the immediate -mountains, in their funereal dress of -pine and balsam, and beyond the pale -tracery of the distant ranges. It was a -dull morning, and the grey atmosphere -gave a touch of desolation to the wild -environment of the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's lonesome as the grave," said -Mrs. Bunker. "Throw me that cape, -please, Mr. Haller. I'm chilly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yer be?" said Haller, with a certain -contortion of his serious face, which -was intended for a smile. "Waal, 'tis -cool, mornin's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How are the evenings? Cold, I suppose?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller cogitated for the space of five -minutes. No one answers a question -thoughtlessly in these regions; and after -sojourning there some time, one learns -not to interrogate at random. "Waal," -he said at length, "'tis cool evenin's."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None of the leaves have changed -yet," said Indiana, after closely -inspecting the banks on either side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No; they ain't changin'. Waal, -thar's bin no frost, ter speak of—thar's -bin no frost, ter speak of."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it going to storm?" inquired -Mrs. Stillwater, shivering, with a heavy plaid -shawl wrapped about her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller looked at the sky. "Waal, -not yet awhile."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, your hat!" cried Mrs. Bunker. -A gust of wind had torn it off -her head. Haller deftly rescued it from -the lake and restored it to Indiana in a -dripping condition. She sat -bare-headed, enjoying the outlook, the moist -wind blowing her hair in large rings -around her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're in for it," said Mrs. Bunker. -When they started, the lake had been -grey and calm. Now, it was gradually -darkening, and dotted here and there -with white-caps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are yer skeert?" said Haller, looking -at Mrs. Bunker with one of his contortions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," retorted Mrs. Bunker, sharply, -"but I want to get to the camp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal, we're goin' there," said -Haller, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little while they came in sight of -the boat-house, elaborately rustic, and -pretty in design. Near it was planted -an enormous flag-staff, from which -waved a white flag bearing the name -"Camp Indiana" in red letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Camp Indiana, christened after the -only daughter of the owner, was the -usual log structure, but capacious in -dimensions, with a luxurious interior. -There were many adjuncts in the way -of out-buildings and summer-houses, -glimpses of which could be caught -between the trees. The camp owed much -to art, but rejoiced in one supreme, -natural beauty. This was a giant balsam -tree which Stillwater could not bring -himself to cut, and, therefore, had been -used in the construction of the camp -itself. The huge trunk supported the -balcony, and the lower branches were -entwined in the rustic railing. Thence -it rose, screening the front windows -up to the very roof, above which it -towered paternally. Birds innumerable -made their homes in the branches, and -chipmunks in the moss-covered trunk. -Every summer the little creatures ran -nimbly along the lower limbs, peeping -curiously at the sharers of their home; -and young birds, essaying to fly, met -with mishaps and fell into the camp with -broken wings and legs. The latter were -a great solicitude to Indiana. She -nursed them carefully, with a knowledge -founded on similar cases in the Rocky -Mountains. There, she had gained much -experience with birds and animals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though it was blowing strongly on -the lake, there was no wind at the camp. -No matter how the elements rage, there -is quiet among the trees, except for a -sighing whisper, to which one could fall -asleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Em—n!" said Mrs. Bunker, taking -a survey when she reached the balcony. -"Enough to give one the blues."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a huge deer-head over the -entrance, a trophy of Stillwater's first -year in the Adirondacks. The large -hall was decorated with many other -trophies from the Rocky Mountains and -elsewhere. Wild skins of every -description strewed the polished floors -throughout the camp. Logs crackled brightly -in the great, deep fire-place of the hall, -as they entered, emitting an odor of -pine. The large, brown eyes of an elk -gazed beneath the branching antlers -mildly down on the fire. A short, wide -flight of stairs was broken by a balcony -over the hall. From the railing hung -an antique, Persian silk rug, upon which -the fire played richly. Beneath the -stair-case and each side of the fire-place -were deep niches, comfortably furnished -with pillows, of which red was the -prevailing tone. Graceful jars of old -pottery decorated the shelves above, with -here and there a brilliant cluster of -peacock's feathers, or the rich plumage -of a stuffed bird, to relieve the dullness -of the clay. This decoration was -repeated in all the lower rooms, of which -there were many, one opening into the -other, giving a vista of fire-lit interiors, -the flames catching an occasional flash -of color from a red pillow or an Oriental -scarf hanging carelessly from a shelf. -The camp resounded to the crackling -of logs with the accompanying, healthy -perfume of the burning pine. Indiana -ran through all the rooms, looking out -of every window upon the lake. Those -of her own room opened directly into -the balsam tree which ornamented the -front of the camp. This room had been -built entirely of white maple. There -was simple furniture of the same wood. -The gleaming white walls and ceiling -served as a background for a continuous -Bacchanalian dance of shadows, cast by -the branches of the giant balsam -screening the windows. Here, also, logs -crackled cheerily in a deep, wide -fireplace, tiled with white onyx, which -reflected the flames in fitful opaline -gleams. White bear rugs strewed the -floor. Indiana, as she looked around -her, had visions of frosty, October -mornings, when she had put her feet -unwillingly out of bed into the warm -fur, and hopped over the intervening -space of cold floor to the fire. She -remembered awakings, when a breath -of balsam air swept like a cool hand -across her forehead. Open windows -and fires were Mr. Stillwater's strict -injunctions at the camp. Indiana, for one, -obeyed him. She had often opened her -eyes to see a chipmunk sitting on its -haunches, regarding her curiously. And -birds were in the habit of flying around -her little nest and out again to their own -nest in the tree. She stood for a -moment by the fire with a sense of glad -content to be once more in this white, -balsam-scented room. Then she ran -into her mother's room, and into that -reserved for Glen. On the mantel were -portraits of his mother and father. They -had insisted on his leaving some of his -belongings there last year, saying that -if he did so, he would be sure to come -again. Indiana inspected the portraits. -"I'm glad they're here," she thought. -"It'll be a welcome for him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker stood warming her -hands by the hall fire. "The dampness -isn't off the rooms yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They've bin closed s'long, yer see," -said Haller, lighting his pipe in the -doorway. "Waal, I opened up everything, -lettin' in the sun, soon as I -knowed yer was comin'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now that he's lit his pipe," thought -Mrs. Bunker, "it won't go out while -we're here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stalked leisurely through the -rooms, throwing a fresh log on every -fire, and looking about proudly, as -though he could well be congratulated -upon his preparations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything looks very nice, Henry," -said Mrs. Stillwater, "just as if we left -yesterday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Another pipe saluted Mrs. Bunker at -the entrance. It belonged to the second -guide, who was somewhat brisker in -appearance than Haller.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal, haow d'ye find things lookin', -ma'am?" he said, with a cheery laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're looking all right, William," -answered Mrs. Bunker, graciously. She -liked him better than Haller, who had -an irritating effect on her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will it be a good season for deer?" -said Indiana, running down the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>William puffed slowly and seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's going ter be a good season for -deer," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I hope so," exclaimed -Mrs. Bunker. "I promised those -Englishmen good hunting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If they come, there'll be good -hunting, Grandma Chazy," said -Indiana, moving close to her, and looking -significantly into her eyes. Mrs. Bunker -laughed vivaciously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ther' comin' down ter drink," -volunteered William.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Already!" exclaimed Indiana, with -a laughing glance at Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal, thar' ain't bin no rain ter -speak of—the springs is dryin' up on -the mauntings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Y—es!" corroborated Haller, -joining them with Mrs. Stillwater. "Ther -comin' down ter the lakes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor things!" said Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you pity them, Grandma -Chazy?" whispered Indiana, "I don't -mean the deer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not I," said Mrs. Bunker. "Wholesale -slaughter isn't the word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen joined them soon after their -arrival, but not before Indiana had -written him a special letter inviting him -to come. He had a certain pride where -she was concerned. They roamed the -woods together, renewing acquaintance -with all their old haunts, or rowed and -fished on the lake for hours with Haller -and William. Mrs. Bunker and her -daughter did not share their enthusiasm -for these sports. They enjoyed the lake -only in pleasant weather, when they -made trips in "The Indiana" with a -guide. Sometimes they were met at -the landing by the comfortable and airy -mountain wagon and the fresh mountain -ponies, to take them for one of the -beautiful drives in which that county -abounded. Occasionally, Indiana and -Glen would join them, changing off -with the reins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd like to write to the Smiths," -said Mrs. Bunker, one morning. "I -promised to invite them up here. But -you're so half-hearted about it, Indiana. -All you care for is to roam about with -Glen." She was standing on the -balcony of the boat-house, and did not see -Glen below on the dock. He smiled -grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can't blame her for one, -Mrs. Bunker," he called up, good -humoredly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed. She was sitting in -a boat. After having assumed several -positions in order to ship water, she was -now very busy bailing it out with a large -sponge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No offense, Glen," said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None whatever," returned Glen, -emerging, and bowing elaborately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The two of you are like a couple of -Indians," she continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here's Haller with the mail," cried -Indiana. He rowed swiftly towards -them in a light, narrow guide-boat. -Indiana took the letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I brought a letter for yer," shouted -Haller to Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why didn't you deliver it?" -answered Mrs. Bunker sharply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"</span><em class="italics">She</em><span> tuk it," he answered, chuckling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana stood up in the boat, -balancing herself admirably, and flung the -letter to Mrs. Bunker, then sat down -examining the other letters and papers -in her lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing for you, Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He overturned a boat and seated -himself upon it, smoking a pipe. Naturally -dark, he was burnt several shades darker, -from his hair to the loose, open collar of -his flannel shirt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're sitting right in the water, -Indiana. Your feet must be soaking -wet. Your mother ought to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana looked at him with a laugh. -He remembered her blue eyes had -given him that same arch glance as a -child, when he had discovered her in -some act of mischief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You always liked to put your feet in -the puddles," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I always had a passion for -puddles. As Grandma Chazy would say, -'it'll bode me no good, some day.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's from Lord Stafford," cried Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Indiana, affecting an -English accent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll be with us in a few days, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charmed!" said Indiana, standing -up in the boat, and screwing up her face -in imitation of Lord Stafford with his -monocle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen laughed heartily at the expense -of Mrs. Bunker's English friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's great, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You little rogue," cried Mrs. Bunker, -"I won't have you ridicule my friends. -Oh, I'm so delighted. You'll find them -lovely company."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ya—a—as," drawled Indiana, with -a bored expression, "delighted, I'm—" -the rest was finished in the water, the -boat capsizing suddenly. Indiana was -near enough to the dock to throw out -an arm to Glen, and he drew her up -laughing, but drenched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I knew you'd do it, Indiana," cried -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana, still clinging to Glen, as the -dock was slippery, smiled faintly, putting -her hand to her side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't hurt yourself, did you, -Indiana?" said Glen, anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I twisted my side a little—I wanted -to save myself, as I fell—that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she do, Glen?" called -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen lifted her up in his arms, and -carried her up to the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was a punishment for making fun -of people, wasn't it, Glen?" she said, -lifting her little wet face from his breast. -"Serves me right, don't it, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dear," he said, tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She tightened her arms about his neck. -"You always took care of me, Glen," -she said, childishly. His heart beat -violently against the little soaking bundle. -It was on his lips to say, "I always will, -if you'll only let me, Indiana." But he -refrained. Still, as he climbed, he felt -he was mounting the goal where his -heart could rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater ran anxiously to meet them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's nothing, Mary," cried -Mrs. Bunker, "she was cutting up some of -her pranks, and fell into the water."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just rub her side," said Glen, -delivering his burden, "she sprained it a -little, falling, and put some dry clothes -on her. You feel all right, don't you, -Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, Glen; thank you," said Indiana, meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker often remarked, "Indiana's -always good, when she's sick."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Indiana," said that lady, after -her granddaughter had been duly dried -and dressed. "Shall I read you the rest -of the letter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Indiana, lying on a couch -before the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'We have enjoyed our tour -exceedingly. My nephew has accumulated -much information which will prove of -scientific value—'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he's that sort, is he?" said -Glen, who was seated in a niche by the -fire. He rose, knocking the ashes from -his pipe, and sauntered out on the balcony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jealous already!" said Mrs. Bunker. -Indiana laughed, looking into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on with the letter, Grandma Chazy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen looked up into the giant balsam. -A chipmunk sat on one of the branches, -watching him. It was one which he -and Indiana had succeeded in making -quite tame. He searched in his pocket -for a nut. "Chip, chip, chip!" he -called, holding out his hand. Indiana's -words echoed in his ears. "You always -took care of me, Glen," with all the -innocent trust that they conveyed. "She's -known me all her life," he thought, -"there's no going against that. Now -these Englishmen will come and spoil -everything." He puffed savagely on -his pipe, still holding out the nut to the -chipmunk, who approached nearer and -nearer. "I'll have to take a back seat, -now, I suppose. I guess I'll get out of -the way, altogether, for a little while. -That'll suit me better." He caught -sight of Haller, below, planting ferns. -"Halloa!" he called.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller regarded him interrogatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any guides at liberty?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller pulled thoughtfully on his pipe. -Meanwhile the chipmunk grabbed the -nut, and disappeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Little rascal," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thar's Burt."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell him I want him for a week or two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning of the day when Mrs. Bunker -expected her guests, Glen signified -his intention of a temporary departure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, you are not going to leave us, -Glen?" asked Mrs. Stillwater, innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm just going off for a little sport."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when will you be back, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll be back in a week or so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's real mean of you, Glen," -said Indiana, pouting, "just as we're -expecting company, and men, too—and -Pa isn't here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, there won't be any deficiency. -Mrs. Bunker will see to that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're right! There won't be any -deficiency," and she added sweetly, -"though I don't like to see you go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mrs. Bunker. Here's -Burt for me, now." Burt was a blonde, -stalwart young fellow, about Glen's -own age. He rowed swiftly toward the -boat-house, smoking the inevitable pipe. -When he landed, he strapped one of -those deep baskets the guides carry for -provisions, on his back, and climbed up -to the camp. Mrs. Stillwater hurried -down to the kitchen, to assure herself -that Glen was well provided for on his trip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all descended to the lake to see -him go. When Indiana saw the -accoutrements for departure; the fishing -tackle, guns, and tent rigging, she -commenced to envy the two young fellows -going off together, and felt rather ill -used to be left behind, to do the tame -work of entertaining. Glen read her -face, and was inwardly delighted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're going to have a rare, good -time, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe you," said Indiana, ruefully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think there'll be enough -provisions, Glen?" inquired Mrs. Stillwater, -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen laughed. The laugh was echoed -by Haller and William, who were assisting -in the ceremony of seeing the young -men off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll have plenty of game, and -Burt's as fine as any French cook."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burt took his pipe from his mouth -with a flattered smile and a blush. He -was as shy as some young girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll feed on the delicacies of the -season. And there's the canned stuff, -which we'll reserve for emergencies." He -grasped Mrs. Stillwater's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you be afraid, Mrs. Stillwater. -We won't starve."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, he won't starve, ma'am. I'll -see to that," said Burt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we're hungry, we'll come -home." They both laughed heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think there'll be good sport, -Burt?" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burt, sitting in the boat, arranging his -paraphernalia, looked at her admiringly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There'll be sport," he replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Glen; are you going to take -your mandolin?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? It'll cheer us up nights, -by the fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burt grinned in visible delight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I won't say good-bye for such -a short time." He shook them all by -the hand. "Take care of yourselves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-bye, Glen—no, I won't say -good-bye. I hope you'll have a good -time, and come home safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Indiana." He waved -his hat to all and jumped into the boat. -Haller pushed them off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana ran down to the end of the -dock and threw her arms out to Glen. -"Oh, take me along!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Burt stopped rowing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right," said Glen, "there's room -for you; will you come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll take care of her, Mrs. Stillwater; -won't we, Burt?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, of course," said Burt. "She -won't starve—I'll see to that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be off, the pair of you!" cried -Mrs. Bunker. Burt took the oars again, -laughing, while Glen flourished his cap, -looking at Indiana, and Haller and -William shouted sportsman's jokes from -the shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There they go," said Indiana, -waving her handkerchief. She then sat -down on the dock, watching the boat -grow smaller and smaller. The strains -of the mandolin floated to them over -the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, you look as though you -hadn't a friend left. If I thought as -much of a person as that, I wouldn't -let him out of my sight."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Grandma Chazy, Glen's my best friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And look at your mother! She's -actually crying."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I hated to see him going off -like that—I—I'm so fond of him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ma's a good soul," cried Indiana, -jumping up and throwing herself into -Mrs. Stillwater's arms. "Yes, she is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I am not disputing that, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He was so set on going," said -Mrs. Stillwater, holding Indiana to her. "I -think it was because of those Englishmen. -He don't like strangers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pity about him," retorted Mrs. Bunker, -sharply. "Does he want to -monopolize Indiana altogether? He -went because he might be of some use -for once. He could have livened things -up a little nights with his mandolin, but -I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of -saying so. Well, I'm just as well -pleased. He might have been -unmannerly or bearish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not Glen!" said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, </span><em class="italics">Glen</em><span>," repeated Mrs. Bunker, -imitating her. Haller, who was washing -out "The Indiana" and observing at -the same time, gave vent to a long -guffaw. Mrs. Bunker looked at him -crossly. "I can't bear that Haller," -she said, as they climbed up to the -camp. "He's always making faces at me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When you think he's making faces, -he's only smiling, I tell you," said -Indiana. "He's a fine guide; what more -do you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wear your red dress to-night, -Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, ignoring this -last remark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think white is so much prettier for -a young girl," suggested Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, that's the conventional thing," -said Mrs. Bunker. "Well, let her look -like a bread and butter miss—I have no -objection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want to look like a bread -and butter miss," interrupted Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wear what your mother wishes, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm satisfied with anything," -apologetically murmured Mrs. Stillwater. -"Let the child please herself." She -looked questioningly at her daughter. -The latter, looking very self-important, -declined to commit herself just then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take your finger out of your mouth, -Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, sharply. -"It's time you stopped that baby habit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana, whenever she was making a -decision of any kind, still put her finger -in her mouth as a help to thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later, in her granddaughter's room, -Mrs. Bunker said in the voice of an -oracle. "Take my advice and wear -your red silk, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He won't think it's loud?" asked Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're too much of a child to look -loud in anything. But it will be so -effective and a little audacious. That's -what takes. He'll be sure to </span><em class="italics">see</em><span> you in -that dress." And, as she went, she -fired a last injunction, "wear your red -silk; it'll hit him right in the eye."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="guests"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Guests</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Meanwhile the travellers were -approaching their destination. -They had compared the Hudson River -with the Thames and the Rhine, and -were now watching the forest tracts and -the streams choked with logs awaiting -the elements.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle Nelson," said Lord Canning, -"this is the first time in my rememberance -that I have visited people I did not -know well, in a country I have never seen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford glanced sleepily at his -nephew from under his tweed travelling -cap. They were in the smoking car. -"There's a charm about everything -fresh and new," he murmured. "That's -what you're always saying, Thurston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There certainly is," said the other, -eagerly. "I realize it in this fresh, -young, healthy country. It has given -me many new sensations. I felt quite -old when I first came here—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old!" repeated Lord Stafford. "You?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just turned forty, my hair commencing -to grey." Lord Canning laughed, -and then sighed. "Yes," he continued, -smoking thoughtfully, "there is nothing -like fresh scenes. They give new food -for the mind—another impetus to life—a -man like myself needs such a stimulus—if -I should continue to rust in England, -I would shortly become—antiquated. -Do you notice that the trees are for the -most part conical in shape, Uncle Nelson?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You always were a restless character, -Thurston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nature designed me for an explorer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll never be satisfied until you -undertake that expedition to the pole—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never—unless—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unless what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A new interest should arise in my -life—necessarily something very absorbing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know of nothing, except—perhaps—a -woman. And as for that, every -mamma in England has despaired of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning laughed heartily, and -his uncle yawned and closed his eyes, -considering he had satisfactorily -disposed of the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are strangers to our host," -recommenced Lord Canning, after a short -survey of the vanishing prospect. "The -invitation was necessarily off-hand, but -very hearty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They do everything in an off-hand -way, over here," said Lord Stafford, -"at least, so it seems to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have been travelling too much -to judge very correctly of manners and -customs," answered his nephew. "And -have we met the entire family?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker!" exclaimed Lord -Stafford, sitting up and rubbing his -eyes. "Isn't she a lively woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater and daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little girl," said Lord Stafford, -sinking back on the cushions, "the -little, blonde girl, who had plenty to -say for herself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She did not really say so much," -returned Lord Canning, taking out -another cigar. "It was how she said it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, she conveyed the impression -that she was not backward," remarked -Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By the way, Uncle," the younger -man lit his cigar, laughing amusedly. -"Did I ever tell you of a peculiar dream -I once had?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dream?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About Miss Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you been dreaming about that -little girl?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't I tell you? I thought I had."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! You've been dreaming -about little Miss Stillwater—that's rich."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, wait until you hear it. Then -you'll have good reason to laugh. It -was quite too absurd."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The night before we started for the -West—the night we met Mrs. Bunker -at the Waldorf Hotel, in New York—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker—one never knows -what that woman is going to say -next—she is so—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She introduced us to the family, and -Miss Stillwater and I had some -conversation—not much, but quite enough, as -you will see—about bears."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bears?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She had been used to shooting -them, in the Rocky Mountains."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little girl—the blonde one?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little blonde one," repeated -Lord Canning, with a softer intonation. -"Well, I dreamt I saw her riding on -the back of a grizzly, over the highest -peak of the Rocky Mountains. She was -in full evening dress, and on seeing me, -she hilariously waved a bunch of -hyacinths—she carried those flowers the -night I met her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker had carnations—I took -one—ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was on my knees examining strata. -When I saw the lady riding towards -me, I rose and bowed profoundly. But -she returned my polite salute by -throwing her bouquet directly in my face—I -felt the blow, I smelt the hyacinths—then -I awoke—before the lady apologized, -allowing that she had that -intention. It was all so absurd and -incongruous, and yet so distinct. Miss -Stillwater looked as natural as life, and -sat the bear in such a graceful fashion—she -might have been riding a finely bred -horse in Hyde Park."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford, listening with closed -eyes, made an articulate noise. Whether -it was expressive of wonder, disbelief, -or ridicule, it was difficult to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what I consider most remarkable, -is that I saw the Rockies very much -as I saw them in reality, later on. I -explain this on the score of—suggestion. -Miss Stillwater has spent some time in -the Rockies. Naturally, our conversation -recalled them to her mind, and -she, of course, unconsciously suggested -them to me. It was quite—psychic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nightmare," murmured Lord Stafford, -sleepily, "what did you eat for supper?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," said Lord Canning, -disgustedly. "Don't attribute -everything to what one eats."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will, when you're my age. Now -it's 'suggestion', and 'quite psychic.' If -that little, dainty, yellow-haired Miss -Assurance had been an unattractive, -elderly person, she wouldn't have -suggested a pin's worth to you—beyond the -fact that she was ugly. I must say, I -never heard you go on like that before, -Thurston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go on like </span><em class="italics">what</em><span>?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, about your dreams. Only old -women tell their dreams. Ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are quite mistaken, Uncle -Nelson, dreams have been made the -subject of scientific research."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, poppycock! You'll be telling -fortunes in a tea cup next, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad you are amused, Uncle Nelson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am—it's rich—ha, ha, ha, ha!—Ha, -ha, ha, ha! Thurston, will you -oblige me, and tell when there's anything -to look at beside these interminable -forests? I'm going to nap a little."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning resumed his watch at -the window. "Beautiful forests," he -thought, "for the most part untouched -and untrammelled. We seem to be -plunging deeper and deeper into a -virgin region. I feel strangely expectant, -as though something were awaiting me -there. Something that I have hitherto -missed in my life—my sober, colorless -life—awaiting me there. If I should -tell Uncle Nelson this, he would ask -me what I had eaten for lunch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little while he became conscious -that the train was slackening speed and -felt the exhilaration, of most people, at -the idea of being transported higher -than the ordinary level.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle Nelson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is something else."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clouds—ha, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford looked disgustedly out -at the scurrying white masses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you want h'anything, your Lordship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about time you showed up, Flash. -Unstrap that plaid—it's beastly cold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It h'is, your Lordship—compared -to the 'eat in New York," carefully -tucking Lord Stafford into the plaid. -Flash was a young fellow, of the -ordinary English cockney type.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The train labored on painfully up -into the heart of the mountains. Lord -Stafford slept while his nephew smoked -and mused, watching the clouds, barely -perceptible now in the fading light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They felt a jerk, the train stopped -suddenly. Flash put his head in, "We're -a h'our and a 'alf late, your Lordship. -We won't h'arrive until h'eight o'clock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an infernal nuisance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'any h'orders, your Lordship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they finally arrived it was -pitch black night, no moon nor stars. -The rude little station was lit by torches -flaming in the mist and wind. Beyond, -impenetrable darkness. A storm was -brewing over the mountains. Haller's -face, as he greeted the travellers with -one of his contortions, looked weird in -the torchlight. They followed him out -to the wagon, in which they sank with a -sigh of relief. The trip, with the delay, -had been tedious. Haller whipped the -ponies up briskly. The wagon careered -recklessly from side to side as they drove, -and the wind drove the mist into their -faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you know your road, my -good man?" said Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's no risk of falling over a -precipice or anything of that kind, is -there? It's so confoundedly black."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller chuckled. "Them ponies -know the're way—the've been bred up -in these parts. I'd trust them sooner'n -myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed!" said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is this our destination?" asked Lord -Stafford, as they stopped at the landing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we ain't no ways near thar yet," -said Haller, with another chuckle. He -raised a lantern and showed them "The -Indiana" waiting at the dock, the lake -lapping against her sides.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Must we get in that?" said Stafford, -peering out into the darkness of the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal, yes; if you want ter go to -Camp Indiana. It's at the far end of -the lake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Camp Indiana!" repeated Lord -Canning to himself. "After </span><em class="italics">her</em><span>, of -course. They have a curious faculty -over here, of naming people after places -and </span><em class="italics">vice versa</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What sort of a boat is this 'ere, my -man?" asked Flash, after they were -installed and on their way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naptha launch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No danger of explosion?" he asked, cheerily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Waal, yer never can tell—yer never -can tell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning laughed heartily. As -they puffed along, the wind commenced -to wail dismally, echoed by the -mountains, until it seemed as though a pack -of wild beasts were howling in the night. -At intervals a camp fire enlivened the -prospect, blazing cheerily down on the -shore. The shadow-dance of the flames -on the water, together with the outlines -of human forms feeding the fire, -produced a fantastic effect on the travellers. -At Camp Indiana an enormous fire had -been kindled to welcome the guests. -The boat-house was lit up with different -colored lanterns. Haller shouted as they -passed in the dock, and was answered -by William, who hurried down and -assisted the disembarking. Haller, -holding the lantern, lit them up to the camp. -A flood of light streamed from the open -door, in which Mrs. Bunker stood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, here you are at last—so glad -to see you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She shook hands with them vigorously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My man Flash," said Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Kitty, show Mr. Flash the -gentlemen's rooms. What a nuisance the -train was late. The world stops when -one comes up here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater met them in the hall. -"I'm so pleased you have come," she -said in her soft gracious voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Mrs. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How do you do, Lord Canning?" -said Indiana with a hearty shake of the -hand. "Too bad the train was late. -It's what you must expect in these -primitive parts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning looked about him, receiving -the impression of warmth, light -and luxury, but no sign of primitiveness. -Coming out of the darkness and the -wind, into the brilliant hall, he was a -little dazzled, and for the moment was -at a loss for something to say to Indiana. -He stared at the brilliant little figure -standing near the fire, the flames -reflecting red lights from her dress on her -laughing face and her yellow hair, with -the Persian rug for a background. "An -Arabian night's vision," he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a tedious trip," said Indiana. -"You must be starved to death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so interested in my surroundings, -that I can plead no sense of -fatigue," answered Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a jolly fire," said Lord -Stafford. "It's like a glimpse of heaven -here, after that awful black night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker shortly led the way to -the dining room, where a shaded red -drop-light threw a rosy glow on the -well-equipped table, upon which reposed a -centrepiece of wild ferns. The easy, -natural manner of the hostesses soon -made their guests feel perfectly at home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't hesitate to smoke, gentlemen!" -exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, after -dinner. "This is Liberty Hall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We didn't expect this, Mrs. Bunker," -said Lord Stafford, as they walked -through the rooms, "when you invited -us to 'rough it' with you in the woods."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I assure you, Lord Stafford, that we -consider this camping out," laughed -Mrs. Bunker. "Now which chair are -you going to take? This one is -comfortable. Place it near the fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very artistic and most original," -said Lord Canning, surveying his -surroundings. "I have never seen -anything like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a note of simplicity in all -this luxury, even to the dress of the -ladies, which struck him agreeably. -Indiana sat in the midst of the group, -talking and laughing unreservedly. -Lord Canning, leaning back in a large -armchair smoking his cigar, listened -attentively, trying to find some clue to -her character in the careless words. -He finally realized this was foolish. -She was evidently little more than a -child, with no deep realization of life, as -yet; a child with her own charm. There -was no doubt of that. He gazed deeper -and deeper into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning, you are so absorbed -in the fire the rest of us might be -jealous," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no occasion for jealousy," -he answered, looking directly at her. -"But the fire is certainly fascinating—and -productive of thought. I have a -recollection of another, outside, which -welcomed us very cheerfully, when we -arrived. Is it still burning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes," said Indiana, "our camp -fire is still burning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to see it, may I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said Indiana rising, -"Lord Stafford, are you also curious?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh Miss Stillwater, I'm so comfortable, -don't ask me to go out again! this -is such a charming fire. Now -Mrs. Bunker, let me poke it. This is the way -we do it in England."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Run along, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, -sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Without, the night was still black, but -the storm had not yet broken. The -fire down on the shore lit up the lake -and the boat-house. Haller and -William were throwing on logs, and in the -red glare Kitty could be seen standing, -talking volubly to Flash, who listened -with deferential interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The boat-house looks very pretty in -this light," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's such a cozy room in it with -a fire," asserted Indiana. "We've had -rare, old times there. We go down -nights, and make things in chafing -dishes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a novel idea! And is there a -fire burning there now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes! The guides keep the fires -always going—when it's cold."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should like to see this cozy room, -where you make things in chafing -dishes. May I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly. Be careful, Lord Canning! -It's pitch dark, and you don't -know the way! There! I knew you'd -stumble—you'd better take my hand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I really think I had better," -said Lord Canning, helplessly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-weaver"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Weaver</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The storm spent its full force in the -night. The wind raged in the -clearings and upon the lakes. But -Camp Indiana, sheltered by the woods, -heard nothing of the angry elements -beyond the continuous sighing of the -trees, which, when the wind was most -fierce, grew into a painful sobbing -whisper. The pines of the North Woods -sing varied harmonies, always in a minor -key; sometimes, it is a sacred anthem, -sometimes a tragic prophecy, sometimes -a death chant and sometimes a sad lullaby, -such as a bereaved wife might croon -to her child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the guests emerged upon the -balcony in the morning the clouds still -shrouded the mountains and the lake. -There was nothing to be seen but a -white mist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are literally in the clouds," said -Lord Canning pacing the balcony. -"But what a soft rare air, and that -strong odor of pine; it is most -exhilarating." He drew a deep breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a magnificent tree," said Lord -Stafford. "They've built it into the -balcony. Look, Thurston! Isn't that -a unique idea?" He bent over until his -body was half in the tree. "By George, -there's a chipmunk!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Balsam!" exclaimed Lord Canning, -examining a branch. He ascended the -steps looking up at the tree. -"Magnificent! A natural ornament! What a -novel thought to make it a part of the -house. I am reminded of the roof-tree -of olden times, Uncle Nelson."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so!" said Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look!" continued his nephew. -"The clouds are rising—slowly. There -is the lake! How blue, and what beautiful -slopes—how rich in foliage. Such a -contrast in greens; the vivid emerald -of the maple trees, with the dark shade -of the hemlock and other pine varieties—there -is no green like theirs—and that -faint, very faint touch of red, here and -there—a foretaste of Autumn. Look at -those wild crags, with the trees rooted -in their clefts! This is a panorama of -clouds. How systematically they rise, -one veil after the other. The mountains -are just becoming perceptible—do -you see their shadowy outline behind -that last thin veil? It is rising—slowly—slowly. -Little fragments of mist are -floating everywhere. Upon my word, -it is quite unreal—like a dream scene."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! I'd advise you not to -broach the subject of dreams again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charming! The dark, rich blue of -those mountains, with the little mists -curling upon them, here and there. -That low cloud on the lake here, has -remained stationary. Ah, now it is -rising. Uncle Nelson, do you see anything?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning had suddenly discerned -in the mist, the phantom outline of a -female figure kneeling in a canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, by George! Do you think it -could be a peculiar form taken by the -mist?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Either that—or—it might be the -spirit of some unhappy Indian maiden, -a heroine of one of the legends of this -region. Ah, the sun is coming out—now -we shall see her disappear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the contrary, the sun striking -through the mist revealed Indiana -paddling a red canoe. Bareheaded, the -sleeves of her red blouse rolled above -the elbow, the sun caught her in a -sudden flash of scarlet and gold, so that -she seemed an apotheosis in the cloud, -of Lord Canning's Indian maiden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's Miss Stillwater!" cried his -uncle. "Ha, ha, ha—you with your -dreams and your Indian maidens."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning rubbed his eyes, -watching Indiana paddle toward the -boathouse with swift, unerring strokes. "Let -us go down and meet her!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, gentlemen!" exclaimed -Mrs. Bunker, joining them, as -they descended. "How did you sleep -last night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Extremely well, thank you, my dear -lady," answered Lord Stafford. "I -cannot speak for my nephew, he is -addicted to dreams. Ha, ha, ha. That -sort of sleeper is always rather restless. -Don't you think so, Mrs. Bunker?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This," said Lord Canning, indicating -the prospect, "is very charming, -quite unique in its way. I really cannot -remember seeing anything like it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford slipped. "Be careful, -Lord Stafford. It's the pine needles. -They fall year after year. You see how -soft and yielding they make the ground. -But it's slippery on an incline."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They reached the boat-house in time -to see Indiana jump from her canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An extremely picturesque little -craft," said Lord Canning, after they -had exchanged the morning greetings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Birch bark," said Indiana. -"There's another here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, a white one. But this red canoe -is very effective on the lake. We were -quite startled, when you first appeared. -Were we not, Uncle?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha. My nephew thought -you were the spirit of some Indian -maiden, who had died a tragic death."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You glided out of the mist in such a -wraith-like fashion," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was an Indian maiden"—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, keep those ghost stories for the -camp fire, Indiana! Before breakfast -is no time for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't forget, please, Miss Stillwater!" -said Lord Canning. "Positively -at the camp fire to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At the camp fire to-night," repeated -Indiana, in a tragic voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana can tell you any number -of legends about these parts. She -picks them up from the guides," said -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am always interested in the legends -of a country. There is so much to be -gleaned from them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Exactly, Lord Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. -"That's what I think."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shall look forward to hearing them -all, Miss Stillwater," said Lord Canning, -"by the camp fire of course. Every -night a story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like Scheherezade in the Arabian -Nights," said Indiana, "amusing the -sultan to save her head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha. Quite so, Miss -Stillwater," laughed Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I don't think my stories would -last a hundred and one nights, Lord -Canning," replied Indiana, putting her -hands behind her back, and meeting his -persistent gaze mischievously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too bad," he answered, contemplatively. -"I should hate to cut off that -head. Don't you know anything else -appropriate for a camp fire, which -might serve to amuse me, and prolong -your life. Can you tell fortunes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana's great at that!" said -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good—by cards or consulting the palm?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both!" said Indiana promptly. -"Learned it from the girls at school. I -can also tell your fortune in a tea cup."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, you must initiate me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha—I prophesied you'd -come to it—telling fortunes in a tea cup. -That's rich. Mrs. Bunker, I'll explain -to you—later!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What does he mean?" asked Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you by the camp fire, Miss -Stillwater. Can you interpret dreams?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford laughed with intense -enjoyment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a dream book, I'll study it up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, in view of your many accomplishments, -your head will be quite safe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How about yours?" she said, shyly, -bending down to take her jacket from -the canoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Quite so, Miss Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not sure about mine," he -answered, smiling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if you lose it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Sultan will meet his fate -philosophically, repeating, 'Kismet, and Allah -is wise, saith the Prophet.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Breakfast is served," exclaimed -Kitty, running breathlessly into the -boat-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You must be hungry," said Mrs. Bunker. -"You were up so early. Indiana -rises at an unearthly hour, here. -She's on the lake at six, sometimes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not be surprised if you should -see me also at that unearthly hour, Miss -Stillwater. I, too, have a passion for early -rising, in a place like this! There are -some beautiful boats here!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, this is a St. Lawrence. I -always take ma out in that. She likes -it, because it's steady. But it don't run -like this one—this is my pet. A real -Adirondack cedar wood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana," read Lord Canning. -"Everything here is named after you. -You're the prevailing spirit of the place. -Will you take me out on the lake after -breakfast, and teach me how to manage -an Adirondack boat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is a dangerous lake, Lord -Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "You -wouldn't think so, to look at it now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning turned and glanced at -the beautiful vista of the lake, sparkling, -blue and serene, between the mountains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A squall can come up, any minute—a -regular tornado—and blow you and -your shell of a boat to Jericho."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And what would you do, Miss Stillwater," -asked Lord Canning, in visible -alarm, "if you were out in your little -canoe, and were caught in one of these -sudden squalls?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Head for the shore. Besides, I'm a swimmer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you?" She looked very young -to him, standing there in her little, short -skirt and loose blouse, her hair blowing -about in the breeze, which came freshly -over the lake. Younger, even, than -when he had first seen her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Lord Stafford," said Mrs. Bunker, -after breakfast. "You, my -daughter, and myself, will take a trip in -'The Indiana.' The horses will be -waiting at the landing, and after we -have explored the lake, I think we'll -have time for a short drive. Will that -program suit you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Everything that you -arrange is bound to be delightful, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll leave the young people to -their own devices. Lord Canning is so -bent on learning to row an Adirondack -boat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Yes, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a dangerous lake, Lord Stafford—I -warned him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did, Mrs. Bunker—your conscience -can rest easily."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel I'm taking an advantage, Miss -Stillwater," said Lord Canning, lounging -comfortably in the bow of Indiana's pet -boat, "to sit here and let you do all the -work. Let me take the oars. I have -been watching you closely—I think you -can trust me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down!" commanded Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, what have I done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't change places in an -Adirondack boat, in the middle of the lake. -It would tip over, and we'd both flop -in." She laughed merrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her laugh has the vital ring of -youth," thought Lord Canning. "I -might learn to laugh like that again, if -she would teach me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen and I have often tried it, just for -devilment, but then Glen is more used to -these boats than you, Lord Canning—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I forgot. I think everyone -knows Glen—everyone does in America, -who happens to know us. He's one of -the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A relative?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a relative, and one of the -family," thought Lord Canning. "Young, -old or middle aged?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen's only twenty-four and -handsome as a picture."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Only twenty-four, and handsome as -a picture," thought Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wouldn't you like to smoke, Lord -Canning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's something of the witch -about you, Miss Stillwater. That's just -what I'm longing to do. You are sure -you don't mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana shook her head. Her cheeks -were glowing, her eyes sparkling from -the exercise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's very good of you, Miss -Stillwater." He lit his cigar leisurely, then -leaned back with a long sigh of content. -"You're a splendid oarswoman, Miss -Stillwater; such long, graceful strokes. -That splash of color here and there in -the woods—it's most effective—especially, -when it's reflected in the lake—like -this branch—look—we are just nearing -it—how gracefully it droops over the -water. It's most delightful here—near -the shore—let us linger a little -while—do you mind? There's no occasion for -this terrific speed, is there? That's -better—now we are merely gliding. -Lean back, Miss Stillwater! Won't you -have this pillow? Are you quite -comfortable? Are you sure you are quite -comfortable? These Adirondack oars -are very convenient—just let them -swing—I see—and take them up when you -are ready. A stroke or two, now and -then, will be quite sufficient to send us -along—not yet—don't disturb yourself. -No, we will not run into anything—I'll -see to that—you look very nice lying -there. The water is like a perfect -mirror here, under the trees—every leaf -and twig is reflected—beautiful—so -restful—I could drift like this—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought so," cried Indiana jumping up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, what is the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're caught in a tree!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why so we are—be careful—that -branch will strike your face—I think I -can reach it—a most obstinate branch—it -persists in bending your way. Well, -I can't blame it—there—how ever did -this occur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—you insisted on my leaving -everything to you—I yielded from pure -amiability—but I foresaw what would -happen, because you hadn't the slightest -idea where you were drifting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I know quite well, where I'm -drifting—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then how were we caught in this tree?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that's another story—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were certainly not looking ahead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then where was I looking? You -ought to know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were lying back with your -hands clasped behind your head, saying, -'I could go on like this forever,' or -something to that effect, and we went -plump into the tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Miss Stillwater—I'm a great -trial—you'll never take me out again, -will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I won't say that—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so glad you didn't. I think it's -rather a novel sensation to be caught in -a tree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything is a sensation to you, -Lord Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha. When you are my -age, Miss Stillwater, you will also -appreciate a new sensation. May I ask -the object of those violent efforts?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning—do you realize -you're on the tree as well as in it. -There's an immense branch extending -under the water, and with our combined -weight we won't get off in a hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is the hurry—there are no -trains to be caught, I believe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but I wanted to show you the -lake this morning—that would be -something. There is so much for you -to do and see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Restless little American spirit," said -Lord Canning. "Now if you will hand -me that oar—although I appreciate your -anxiety to show me everything without -delay—I, with my slow English methods—prefer -to take things by degrees—if -you have no objection, Miss Stillwater; -I am enjoying this immensely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Really," said Indiana doubtfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I give you my word. Now let me -have things my own way. There's no -necessity to show me the whole lake at -once. I would rather prolong the -pleasure—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're off!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Slowly, Miss Stillwater! we're drifting -once more. Ah, look at this giant -rock looming above us; how dark and -grim—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's called the 'Devil's Pulpit.' The -water right here is five hundred -feet deep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a moment ago it was quite -shallow. How black and impenetrable—'The -Devil's Pulpit.' I think I can -sniff an odor of sulphur. Five hundred -feet deep. How quickly the shallows -change to the depths—how quickly—don't -hurry—what a gruesome spot. -Just the place for a ghost story—that -Indian maiden we were talking of this -morning—will she do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, there was a certain tribe—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pardon me, Miss Stillwater. I forgot -that story had already been reserved for -the camp fire. Everything in its place."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How systematic—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't believe in taking all the good -things at once, like a greedy child—besides, -poor Scheherezade's head is at -stake! I would not deprive her of one -night's respite—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose you tell me a story, Lord -Canning—one of your adventures. You -have travelled so much, you must have -had a very interesting life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Interesting in one way—barren in -another. Don't lean over like that, -please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your uncle says you have a passion -for exploring."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I suppose it has never occurred -to you, Miss Stillwater, that this -passion for exploring, in a man of my -settled years—Miss Stillwater, I beg of -you to be careful, remember it is five -hundred feet. This passion for exploring -might exist only for want of another -interest—a dear and sacred interest—most -men of my age possess. Life has -withheld from me, so far—it's most -precious gift. I shall hold it the sweeter -when bestowed. Do you find it interesting -to peer into the depths, Miss Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very! They say—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, what do they say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That if you look into them long -enough, here at the Devil's Pulpit, you -are seized with an impulse to throw -yourself in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me; well, I have no fear for -you at present. But I shall take care -you do not come here unaccompanied. -What you have told me, however, is a -fact which has been often proved. -Whether it is a rocky precipice, five -hundred feet of water, or a human soul—the -depths have a dangerous fascination. -Are you afraid, Miss Stillwater? -Don't you wish to leave this dangerous -spot?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want my story, first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will persist in peering into the -depths—beware of them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not afraid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I don't think you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, the story."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes—the story—you're in the -mood to listen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes. Is it to be one of your -adventures?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not exactly. I'm not in the mood -to relate an adventure. That will keep -for another time. This is a charmed -spot, you see—as its name would -denote—a spell has been laid on me, in the -shadow of this rock, and I am obliged -to speak the words that come into my -head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I won't consider you responsible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—not here." Lord Canning -folded his arms and gazed down into -the impenetrable depths. "There was -once a weaver. He wove a dull, gray -woof—always the same gray woof. -Sometimes, he would look up at the -rich blue of the morning sky, then go -on weaving his gray web. Sometimes, -he would glance at the sunset, and -marvel at the gorgeous hues of the -clouds—but there was never a gleam of -color in the web, that he wove—it was -always the same, dull gray. Sometimes, -the laughing face of a child would peep -into his—and he would gaze longingly -back—yearning to snatch the blue of -the eyes, the gold of the hair—for that -colorless web which Fate had set him to -weave. Once he dreamed that a sudden -burst of sunlight streamed upon him, as -he sat at his loom. He put up his hand -and drew down the rays one after the -other, weaving them into his work. -And as he wove, he heard singing—a -choir of beautiful, jubilant voices. The -web, transformed into a gleaming fabric -of light, gladdened the soul of the -weaver. Then he awoke, and saw the -dull, gray woof in the loom. He went -on, patiently weaving the web which -Fate had given him. But his soul -cherishes the hope—that some day, -perhaps, his dream will come true."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-world-s-rest"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The World's Rest</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Indiana lay back with closed eyes. -Lord Canning's deep, well-modulated -voice, soothing her alert faculties -into a dream of consciousness. He -looked at her as he concluded. The -innocence of her face, with its closed -eyelids, appealed to him. She looked -very childish, lying at the foot of the -giant rock. Without any comment, she -looked out on the lake. He lit a cigar -and smoked it in silence. Both were -thinking of the weaver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you feel that icy breath from -the rock, Miss Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed. "We come for that -on hot days, and lie in the shade and -read. It's always cool here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who is 'we'—may I ask?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen and I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen again," thought Lord Canning. -"I have an absurd feeling against -another having been here with -her—another, who is only twenty-four and -handsome as a picture—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana commenced to row.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Going? Perhaps you are right—this -is a dangerous spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"People are not so carried away with -the Adirondacks at first," ventured -Indiana. "But they grow on them after a -while."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lord Canning, studying -her attentively. "I find a great many -things grow on me in this part of the -world. Why do you laugh, Miss Stillwater? -Have I said anything amusing? -I should like to learn how to laugh like -that. Will you teach me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"May I have the first lesson now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I can't give you any lessons—you -must just listen, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see—just listen. It is shallow -again—what a beautiful white, sandy -bed—how restlessly the minnows -dart—here and there—backwards and -forwards. They symbolize the activity of -your nation, Miss Stillwater. Oh, what -a cunning little stair-case cut in the -rock—it looks so inviting—I should like to -get off and climb it, and sit up there in -the trees—may I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Indiana, "there are so -many other pretty places, I want to -show you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I have a fancy for this—obduracy -itself. Well, will you promise to take me -here again another day—do promise!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sun was long past its meridian, -when they reached home. Mrs. Bunker, -her daughter and Lord Stafford, were -watching from the boat-house balcony. -Lord Canning was rowing, without a -coat, bareheaded. Indiana, comfortably -ensconced in pillows opposite, was -employed in spattering water over his face, -regardless of his laughing remonstrances. -Their voices—Indiana's high-pitched -but sweet, mingled with Lord Canning's -deep tones—were carried by the clear -air over the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allow me to thank you for a delightful -morning, Miss Stillwater," said Lord -Canning, ceremoniously, as he helped -her from the boat. He stood looking -looking back on the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you coming, Lord Canning?" -asked Indiana, her foot on the little -rustic staircase leading from the dock -up into the boat-house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment, if you please," said -Lord Canning, still looking at the lake. -"I want to fix firmly in my mind all the -details of this delightful morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How slow these Englishmen are," -thought Indiana, "and yet—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You naughty child," said -Mrs. Bunker, beaming on Indiana. "Do -you know it's almost two o'clock! Lord -Stafford is starving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your mamma is 'worried to -death about you,'" said Lord Stafford. -"Ha, ha, ha, ha! How am I getting on, -Mrs. Bunker?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bravo, Lord Stafford, you are an -apt pupil."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blame Lord Canning," said Indiana. -"He does not like to hurry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed," added Lord Canning -in an injured tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He would insist on going in and out -all the nooks along the shore."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," asserted Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He persisted in exploring everything. -He has such a thirst for information—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," interrupted Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And of course, when he took the -oars, I was powerless. I'm thankful -we're home this early."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They all climbed slowly up to the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you take my arm, Mrs. Stillwater? -Your daughter has forbidden -me to wear a hat, and has been throwing -water on me in the sun, as she wishes -me to acquire a certain reddish shade -of tan, which prevails here, and which -your two guides possess to an enviable -degree. She was quite impervious to -all my scolding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana always has her own -way, Lord Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Evidently. I was almost obliged -to take the oars by force. She wished -to row the entire morning, and I -thought that was entirely too much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana will never give in that -she's tired. When she was a child she -was the same. She'd play until she -dropped asleep on the ground from -sheer exhaustion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed," said Lord Canning. -"Then I was quite right. But we -had a very exciting argument—it almost -caused a quarrel—and I rather -congratulated myself we were in such an -isolated spot. I don't wish to convey -that Miss Stillwater actually lost her -temper—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana," interrupted Mrs. Stillwater, -reprovingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you young folks propose -to do this afternoon?" inquired Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning is very anxious to -see the Notch," said Indiana. "I -thought I'd drive you all over there."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your daughter has been describing -certain falls, Mrs. Stillwater, whose -tremendous power have worn a gorge -in the rock, and which supply water-power -for this entire region. Most interesting—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, a very picturesque spot." said -Mrs. Bunker. "Lord Stafford, I'm -sure you'll be charmed with it. We -must start immediately after lunch—it's -a long drive."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And if Miss Stillwater is to drive, -I'm afraid she will be taxing herself too -much, after rowing the greater part of -the morning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana likes to be always on -the go," said Mrs. Stillwater. "I'm -afraid she'll wear herself out some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense, Mary," exclaimed Mrs. Bunker, -sharply, "she's as strong as a horse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your granddaughter is athletic," -said Lord Canning, "but of a very -slender build. It is her nervous activity -that keeps her up, rather than strength. -On the whole, I prescribe rest this afternoon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker -mildly, "you could show Lord Canning -that cunning little brook in the woods, -back there—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dearly love little brooks in the -woods," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I can show him that any time," -said Indiana, "before breakfast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we say to-morrow, before -breakfast—can I depend on that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. And this afternoon we'll drive -to the High Falls," replied Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They were still at the table when -Haller presented himself. "Be yer -goin' ter drive ter the Notch this -afternoon? If ye be, it's nigh on ter three -o'clock. Yer can't get back fore dark. -William's waitin' at the -landin'." Mrs. Bunker rose precipitately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get ready, Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I insist on Miss Stillwater resting -for ten minutes at least. Don't you -agree with me, Mrs. Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed, Lord Canning. But -I can never force Indiana to lie down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I will endeavor to see what I -can do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be accomplishing wonders -if you can persuade Indiana to do any -thing against her will."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come, Miss Stillwater. There's a -hammock out on the balcony—waiting -for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I must get ready for the drive, -Lord Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now let me have my way, Miss -Stillwater. Ten minutes, more or less, -does not count. I don't approve of -this rush after meals. This is a wonderful -hammock—so comfortable—different -from most hammocks. I tried it this -morning—simply a piece of canvas -stretched flat. I shall take it in my -head to sleep out here one fine night. -Are you comfortable? Now, Miss -Stillwater, you have been very good to -take this rest, and I am deeply indebted -to you. I shall be still more so if you -will try to forget the fact that you are -going anywhere. Simply make your -mind blank; now, don't raise your head -and look at me like that. I mean -it—make your mind a blank. Is it -impossible for you to keep your eyes shut, -Miss Stillwater? Not even for ten -minutes—in truth, only eight now. I have a -pocket Tennyson—I will read you a few -extracts; I always carry some literature -about me. In travelling among so many -shifting scenes, a thought now and then -from a great mind goes largely toward -establishing one's equilibrium. By the -way, I had this Tennyson with me this -morning. I might have read to you on -the lake. Still, we did not feel the -want of it, did we? Time passed so -quickly—almost too quickly. Dear me! -'In Memoriam' is my favorite poem—which -is yours, Miss Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine," said Indiana, dreamily. -"Let me see—'Evangeline' is very beautiful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A charming pastoral—I suppose it -would be the favorite poem of a young -girl who knows nothing of life—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana sat up suddenly in the hammock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You make a great mistake, Lord -Canning. I have travelled all over the -United States. I have come in contact -with the world. I have a very shrewd -idea of life—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lie down, Miss Stillwater, please. -That was a very unhappy remark of -mine. So you have a very shrewd idea -of life. I'm obliged to take your word -for it—but, pardon me, you look very -young for a person who has such a -profound knowledge of the world. Now, -don't talk back at me—remember, you -are resting. Please shut your eyes—shut -them—it's only three minutes now. -I forbid you to open them again. -Returning to our original subject—'In -Memoriam' embodies a philosophy -which appeals to me. We must read it -together. I suppose you have not given -it especial study?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think such a poem should be read -with someone else. I am very familiar -with it. I may be able to throw a light -on passages that may appear obscure to -you, and, perhaps, ultimately succeed -in imbuing you with my own love for it. -This—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Oh, yet we trust that somehow good,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Will be the final goal of all—'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Indiana," called Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprung from the hammock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me! it isn't—yes, it is—eleven -minutes and a half." "Provoking," -thought Lord Canning, as Indiana -disappeared. "I don't seem to have any -time alone with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He very soon found himself in the -little naptha launch, 'Indiana,' with the -rest of the party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't this jolly?" said Lord Stafford. -"We seem to be always on the go, here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, I'm not going to let you -stagnate," replied Mrs. Bunker. "There's -a different place to see every day, and -when you've seen everything the -hunting will commence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We couldn't have a nicer day for a -drive," remarked Mrs. Stillwater. "It -has rained all night, and there won't be -any dust."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, if a storm don't come up while -we're out," said Mrs. Bunker. "You -never can tell what's behind these -mountains. They're always brewing -something. Don't you ever let Indiana -get you out in that sail-boat—while I -think of it, Lord Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Mrs. Bunker, I will not let her -get me out in that sail-boat. There, I -put my foot down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you will," said Indiana, -propping her chin on her hand, "won't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning smiled back into her -eyes. "Well, perhaps," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Bunker. -"Indiana makes everyone do as she -wishes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you your Tennyson here, -Lord Canning? I should like to look -through it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave it to her, and then two heads -were soon bent, in a discussion, over the -book. Lord Canning started, when they -reached their destination, and Haller -gave a spring to the dock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Already," closing the book, "this -has been most interesting, Miss -Stillwater. You have a very clear and -fresh conception. It's a great pleasure -to read with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indiana has always distinguished -herself in her studies," said -Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can believe that," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the ponies sped along with their -swift, firm trot, Indiana explained to -him the different points of interest in -the country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Indiana, you're taking the -old road—that's the longest," as she -made a sudden turn from the highway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And the prettiest, Grandma Chazy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, do as you like. We'll never -get home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thinking of home already, Mrs. Bunker. -We're just started. This is -awfully jolly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, we'll see how jolly you'll -think it, Lord Stafford, when you're -kept till nearly nine for your dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear me, is it so serious as that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We follow this all the way," said -Indiana, pointing to the narrow stream -on whose banks they were driving.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charming to hear, that delightful -gurgle. I am so fond of the sound of -water!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A very narrow path," said Lord -Stafford, peering over the banks. -"One lurch to the right, and we're -over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The banks are propped with logs," -explained Mrs. Bunker. "That is done -every spring. The force of the water -in winter breaks them down. They're -none too safe now, I believe. But -Indiana would take this old road!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am so glad you did," murmured -Lord Canning. "The continuous perspective -of this winding stream is charming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drove on they were surprised -now and then by little green islands, -very small, sometimes merely clumps -of trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mysterious little islands," said -Lord Canning. "So lonely, set here -and there in the stream, like little -green shrines, for those who wish to -pray."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have more imagination than -many would credit you with, Lord -Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not understood by many—I -would not care to be—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do be careful, Indiana," said -Mrs. Stillwater, as they bounded over a frail -bridge built on logs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have no fear, Mrs. Stillwater. -Your daughter is managing these ponies -admirably—" he added to Indiana—"with -those small hands. May I relieve -you presently?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you—I am not tired. I -should fear to trust you. One must -know the roads."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gradually the low musical gurgle of -the stream deepened into a more -significant undertone. Indiana made a -sudden cut to the left and turned out, -after crossing a bridge, on another -narrow road overlooking a deep ravine. -From its depths they still heard the -voice of the stream, growing into an -angry murmur. After a while, on the -right, rose a high, craggy mountain-wall, -with sparse foliage growing in its -crannies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford peered down into the -ravine. "What a wicked looking place. -We're quite on the edge, Miss Stillwater. -Our lives are in your hands—and -that terrible mountain on the right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It shadows us like fate," said Lord -Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is a mysterious voice warning -us from the ravine. Remember, that -was once the low cooing murmur of a -placid stream."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a lesson in that," said -Mrs. Bunker. "Never trust a woman with -a soft cooing voice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha! Quite so, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a sudden change," remarked -Lord Canning, "from a fairy pastoral -to this mysterious wilderness. Are -these sudden changes common to the -country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Common to the country—and the -women," replied Indiana, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, Miss Stillwater," said -Lord Stafford. "You know Pope's -familiar couplet—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>Women like variegated tulips show,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'Tis to their changes, half their charms they owe.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Do you echo that sentiment, Lord -Stafford," asked Mrs. Bunker, archly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, really, that's a difficult -question, Mrs. Bunker. One is bored by -monotony, of course—but sometimes -these sudden changes can be deucedly -unpleasant—ha, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is the river," explained -Indiana, pointing to a black rushing current, -murmuring angrily below them. They -watched it for a mile, sometimes writhing -slowly in its rocky bed, like a long -black snake, while the angry murmur -grew faint and then rose again as the -water rushed on with renewed power, -frothing madly over the holders and -rocks which barred its progress. -Suddenly before them rose the blue, distant -peak of one of the giant mountains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You wish to climb all the mountains?" -inquired Indiana. "This will be -the first—it is the nearest. I have -climbed it." Lord Canning surveyed -it with interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And will you climb it with me again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose so. I climb it every year. -It's only four miles from our camp to -the trail."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always driving with this blue peak -before us," remarked Lord Canning, -after a while, "reminds me of the high -aims we set for ourselves, and which we -never seem to reach—the ideal of the -true artist which he despairs of ever -attaining—but, still, his eyes fixed on that -pale blue peak of perfection in the sky, -he forgets the bitter materialisms of life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana bent down and gazed at the -dark current.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not look down, Miss Stillwater. -That is the river of Biting Reality. Close -your ears to its threatening murmur—gaze -with me before us. I am under -the delusion that I have discovered this -region. Naturally, I wish to christen -everything myself. I would make that -distant peak—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is called—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, Miss Stillwater, I do not wish -to know—I will christen it—humor -me—I am one of those harmlessly insane -people with one delusion. I name that -peak the Mount of Perfection. You -said you would climb it with me. It is -a very arduous ascent, and you are -young and 'frail.'" He looked down -into the laughing eyes. "But when two -climb together the stronger helps the -weaker. All I ask—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is that once in awhile you will smile -up at me—as we climb—in order that I -shall know you are not tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will smile," said Indiana. "That -is not much to ask—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but will you smile brightly, so -that I may know you have not lost -courage; will you smile trustfully, so -that I may feel you have implicit faith -in any way I choose to lead—will you? -Ah, well, I won't say any more—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Listen," interrupted Indiana. Far -away he heard a faint roar. "The Falls."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will christen them later. That -distant sound is very fascinating. I -really cannot say yet what it conveys to -me. But these falls are the culmination -of the river—they typify some crisis in -life—some great emotion into which all -others are submerged."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He leaned back, with folded arms, -watching the dense woods which had -replaced the craggy mountain-wall, and -listening to the growing roar of the -falls. The air here was laden with -balsam. Sometimes an icy breath from the -deep woods, into which no sun could -penetrate, fanned their faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not yet named the lake on -which we spent this forenoon. I hereby -christen it Lake Dangerous, as a -warning to those who might be deceived -by its apparent harmlessness. All ye -unwary ones, take heed of sudden -storms, deceiving shallows, unfathomable -depths, and certain rocky places, -where supernatural powers are at work -to steal the precious secret of the soul!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this dramatic proclamation -Indiana gave vent to a ringing peal of -laughter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the joke, Indiana?" called -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Lord Canning is talking the -greatest amount of nonsense."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your nephew isn't near as serious -as when I met him at Cannes," observed -Mrs. Bunker. "Indiana brightens -everybody up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, Mrs. Bunker. Now -hadn't you better use your arts to -brighten me up?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have I been doing all this -time? Wasting my sweetness, I see."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha! yes, Mrs. Bunker. -You had better commence all over -again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they drove on the sound of the -falls grew into a loud roar. Miniature -rapids could be seen, now and then, as -the river emptied itself into small rocky -basins, then plunged onward. Finally, -Indiana slackened pace at a rustic bridge, -where they alighted. This bridge led -by short flights of steps to other -ascending bridges spanning the falls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll sit down by the water," said -Mrs. Stillwater. "I don't like to cross -the falls. They make me giddy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They saw her comfortably installed -on a large boulder beneath a tree, near -a spot where the river wandered off in -a placid mood. Then they climbed -the frail stairs leading to the different -bridges, pausing at each to gaze closer -at the fierce rush of the waters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a wild, dark glen!" exclaimed -Lord Canning, looking about him, as -they reached the last bridge. "Those -majestic pines stand like sentinels -watching the falls." He gazed down -into the enormous gorge called The -Notch, into which the falls dashed, with -a deafening sound, sending up a -blinding shower of spray. "How the water -seethes and boils and bubbles! It is -like a gigantic cauldron. Magnificent -for witches! What poisons, what -love-potions and charms they could brew -down there! Just the place for a conjuration!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'd say that if you saw the place -by moonlight. It looks simply unearthly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should love to see it by -moonlight. May I?" He looked pleadingly -at Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," she said, meditatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," interrupted Mrs. Bunker. -"We'll have a moonlight picnic, -just as soon as there is a moon. -Probably my son will be here then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My handkerchief is quite wet," -said Lord Stafford, wiping the spray -from his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take mine," offered Mrs. Bunker, -holding up a wet morsel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my dear lady, of what use -would that be?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love the spray," remarked Indiana, -taking off her hat and leaning over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, stop that! Lord Canning, -will you hold her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Allow me," said Lord Canning, -putting his arms about her and bending -himself to gaze down into the falls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Their tremendous rush and power -awoke a responsive chord in his own -breast. He was conscious that what -had been first an impulse with him was -rapidly becoming a force, as wildly -impetuous in its way as that upon which -he was gazing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In one part of the glen some logs had -been stacked under the trees. Lord -Canning secured one. "I wish to test -the force of the water," he said. It took -all the strength he possessed to raise -the log high in the air and fling it down -into the falls. There, it was lifted and -tossed by the eddying current, then -whirled onward, out of sight, as though -it had been a leaf. "Tremendous power! -Miss Stillwater, you have gazed long -enough into the witches' cauldron."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They ascended slowly, behind Mrs. Bunker -and Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us rest a little while," said -Lord Canning. "I should like to sit in -this mysterious glen and listen to the -falls as we hear them now—on the bridge -they were too deafening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down beneath one of the -immense pines, which looked down on -the falls. Lord Canning closed his -eyes and leaned back on the deep -green moss. It was a spot where the -sun seldom penetrated. "I christen -these the Magic Falls," he said, after a -few moments, in which Indiana idly -plucked the moss. "Listening to them -one loses all sense of past or future. -Here, just before we reach the falls—but -in view of them, within sound of -them, before we are carried away by -their impetuous rush, rendered dizzy -and blinded by their thunder and -spray—one can rest. This is one of life's -lulls. We all deserve to rest one day -in a spot like this, deeply shaded and -carpeted with moss, within sound of the -Magic Falls. Here the world stops, -for once,—the world, with all its pros -and cons, its clear and valuable logic, -of which one grows very weary. The -world itself must tire sometime of its -plentiful stock of common sense. Then, -I christen this The World's Rest."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-an-orchard-of-the-memory"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">In an Orchard of the Memory</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Lord Canning and -Indiana finally rejoined the -others, they were made the subject of -much reproval and interrogation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Blame me, Mrs. Bunker!" said -Lord Canning. "Dinner is a fact -that I had forgotten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apparently," answered Mrs. Bunker, -who looked wonderfully well -pleased considering her impatience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is something new for you, -Thurston. You always used to be -quite punctilious in the matter of meals."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, Uncle Nelson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning has lost his memory -for the time being," explained Indiana. -"He is just a trifle demented—by his -own confession."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be alarmed, good people!" -said Lord Canning, with a far-away -look. "I belong to the harmless -variety. Miss Stillwater, who is my keeper -for the present, can testify to that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes, quite harmless! He has -only one delusion. He believes that -he has discovered the Adirondacks, and -he christens everything that he sees, -with a name of his own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they made their way to the wagon, -Lord Canning read an indescribable -expression on his uncle's face, which -amused him greatly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston never went on like this -at the country houses we visited in -England," reflected Lord Stafford, on -the homeward drive. "It seems that -people act differently abroad from their -manner at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't take the old road home, -Indiana!" cried Mrs. Bunker as they -started. "It's too long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The sun is sinking," observed Lord -Canning, "but all we know of it here -in the woods is this soft, golden haze. -This is the most beautiful time to -drive. The others may be hungry, but -I think we have arranged it very well, to -suit ourselves. How still the woods are -at sundown! Look at their deep, rich -green in the golden light! Do you -hear that musical murmur? It's one -of those tiny brooks—we have just -passed it. You are to show me one -to-morrow near the camp. What time -before breakfast? Eight? Half-past -seven? Say seven. Now do not be late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the light gradually faded, they felt -a touch of frost in the air. Its -exhilarating effect was heightened by the -rapid speed the ponies had taken on -the homeward road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandma Chazy wants me to take -the new road back. It's a short-cut," -whispered Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't like short-cuts," murmured -Lord Canning, crossly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, you're not—well, what do -you think of that girl, Lord Stafford?" As -Indiana took the forbidden road, -both she and Lord Canning laughing -with intense enjoyment. "Just like -naughty children, aren't they, Lord -Stafford?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha! yes, Mrs. Bunker," -laughed Lord Stafford, edified beyond -description at hearing his serious -nephew, with a scientific bent, classed -in the category of naughty children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope cook won't mind," ventured -Mrs. Stillwater, with a worried expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten to one she will, Mary. But -don't get worried over that yet. You -can have an hour's peace of mind -before she gives you notice."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's so hard to get another up here, -or I wouldn't care," added Mrs. Stillwater, -apologetically. "You see I -should have to telegraph Mr. Stillwater—and -he would have all the bother of -getting us one, putting her on the -train, you see—and then, Lord Stafford, -she mightn't suit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, Mrs. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't allow a small matter of cooks -to annoy you, Mrs. Stillwater," said -Lord Canning. "In case of emergency -call on me. There are certain -dishes which I pride myself upon. If -cook has the bad taste to leave us, we -will camp out in earnest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're very good, Lord Canning," -replied Mrs. Stillwater, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you ever tried these special -dishes, Lord Stafford?" inquired Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha, ha! no, Mrs. Bunker, -My nephew is developing accomplishments -which surprise me, to say the -least, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Isn't this fascinating! Look at -the soft, dim perspective of the stream -winding off there! The little islands, -mysterious and fairy-like, in the -deepening light! Those low clouds -floating in the glassy surface—the picture -fading imperceptibly, as we gaze! That -gentle, continuous ripple with it all! -There is no poetry to equal this. None -which could convey such a sense of -infinite peace and calm," enthused Lord -Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love this old road," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, too, love this old road," echoed -Lord Canning, fervently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they finally emerged upon the -open country there was still a dull, -fiery streak in the western sky. In this -fiery streak the evening star, rising -slowly above the dark-blue outline of -the mountains, glimmered faintly, a -pearl in a ruby setting. As they drove -on in the growing night, lights gleamed -from scattered homesteads; the clear -cold air blew keenly in their faces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm thinking longingly of that -glorious fire in the hall," said Lord -Stafford, rubbing his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There'll be a heavy frost to-night," -remarked Indiana. "I can feel it. You'll -see a great change in the foliage to-morrow."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is most exhilarating. I have -been watching that long twilight in the -west. How clear and bright it is there! -This is a purely Northern sky," -exclaimed Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A week later they received word -from Mr. Stillwater that he was coming -for the remainder of the season. Lord -Stafford was present when the letter -arrived, and notified his nephew in this -wise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pa's coming!" he exclaimed, bursting -into Lord Canning's room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pa's coming!" he repeated, in a -feminine falsetto.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you mean, Uncle Nelson?" -interrogated Lord Canning, in an -irritated voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm repeating Miss Stillwater's -words, 'Pa's coming!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" Lord Canning gazed out of -his window at the lake, thinking. "So -papa is coming. Well, all the better!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He arrives to-morrow, the fifteenth. -They're arranging a deer-hunt for the -day after. The guides are jubilant that -the real business of the season is to -commence. They've been idling so -long. Haven't you opened your letters -yet, Thurston?" noticing the pile of -letters on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have read my mother's—here it -is. She is well, thank God!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you're going off without opening -the rest of your mail—part of it -arrived two days ago. There might be -something important."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have an appointment with Miss -Stillwater. That is the most important -thing at present."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—what—where are you going?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, if you must know, Uncle -Nelson, I am invited to help her catch -pollywogs down here by the lake. She -does not like to be kept waiting. I'm -in a great hurry, Uncle Nelson. Ha, ha, -ha, ha!" He rushed out of the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford sank into a chair, -holding his sister's letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I don't know what to make -of Thurston. It really looks as though -that little thing has bewitched him—that -little blonde thing—it's too absurd!—ha, -ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!—she's -clever, though!—she runs the -entire tribe of them—mother, father and -grandmother. She can turn Thurston -round her little finger—em—en! -Perhaps I ought to devise some means of -getting him away from here. I -promised his mother to look after him. But -then the hunting is just about to -commence, and I've been looking forward -to it—so long—besides, what would -Mrs. Bunker say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Catching pollywogs was one of -Indiana's favorite recreations. She kept -them in bottles for the pleasure of -seeing them turn into frogs.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 68%" id="figure-31"> -<span id="catching-pollywogs"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="Catching Pollywogs" src="images/img-215.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">Catching Pollywogs</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look at this little one! How -beautifully green and speckled!" She -held the little squirming, slippery thing -fondly in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish I were a pollywog!" said -Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This remark, coming from such a -source, appealed to Indiana's sense of -humor. She laughed until the tears -rose to her eyes, while Lord Canning -surveyed her with a deeply injured -expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's most unkind of you to ridicule -my ambitions in this way, Miss Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And such lofty ambitions, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They were—once, but they have -gradually diminished, until now I am -quite satisfied to be a pollywog—but -that one in your hand, you understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana put it into the bottle, then -leaned back on the soft ground -clasping her hands behind her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tired—so soon? But you weary -of most things like this, I have -perceived—a truly feminine trait." He lit -a cigar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was one of those fair, bright -autumn days, when one could imagine it -was June instead of September, were it -not for the glorious splashes of color -that enlivened the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you notice," said Indiana, -gazing upward through the pines, "how -near the sky seems to us here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lord Canning, "heaven -seems very near to me here"—he bent -down, looking into her eyes—"very -near, and sometimes very far—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The sound of a mandolin floated to -them over the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen!" cried Indiana, starting up. -Lord Canning rose also, self-contained -and somewhat pale. They watched the -boat growing larger. Burt was rowing -and Glen playing, "My Georgia -Lady-love." Indiana stood up and waved her -handkerchief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why does he play that now?" she -thought. "He played it that day in -the orchard—when he told me—and I -was sorry for him. It was such a -beautiful day! He said there would -never be another—maybe there won't.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Way down in dear old Georgia State,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>We parted—but she said she would wait—'"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>sang Indiana, to the familiar strains. -"There were so many apple-blossoms, -and they were falling—falling over my -face, my neck, my hair. The sky was -so blue when I looked up through the -blossoms—a different blue from this—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'She slowly dropped her head,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>And then she softly said:</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>'Mister Johnson, 'deed I loves you too.''</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We cried and made ourselves miserable—I -wanted to kiss and comfort him, I -wanted to whisper what he wished to -hear—but something held me back. I -was sorry for myself as well as for him. -I wanted to please everyone—his folks -and mine—but I couldn't. I didn't -know then—I was waiting for this. But -I'm sorry for Glen—so sorry!" She saw -the boat through a mist of tears and the -mandolin sounded far, very far away, as -though Glen were still playing it in the -orchard of her memory, where the -blossoms fell, in a last rosy glow of the sun.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning watched her, jealous -of the new expression on her face. He -realized she was carried away by some -recollection in which Glen held a part. -"A boy-and-girl affair, probably," he -thought. "There is always a boy-and-girl -affair, but it seldom amounts to -anything—very seldom."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen joyfully recognized Indiana -waving from the shore. "Looks as -though she'd been standing watching -for me ever so long, but that's too much -to expect." Burt rowed slowly in, while -Glen waved his cap, gaily. Indiana -ran down to the dock to meet him, -slowly followed by Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Glen, here you are at last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glad to see me back, Indiana?" he -asked, holding her hand, while Lord -Canning stood discreetly in the background.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cause—Lord Canning, this is Glen -Masters, my old friend and -playmate—the Right Honourable Thurston Ralph -Canning, Viscount. Right?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Perfectly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen's a character," continued -Indiana, "he hates cities."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do, sir," said Glen, rather -aggressively. "But I'm not out of the swim. -I keep myself thoroughly posted upon -politics and literature of the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He fought in the Spanish-American -war," said Indiana, putting her hand -proudly on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And when it was over," laughed -Glen, "I came, like Cincinnatus, back -to the plow. My father's been working -a farm this spring for his health, and -I've been helping him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Character, brain, muscle," observed -Lord Canning. "That is the stuff -which has made the American nation -what it is to-day." He extended his -hand to Glen, who grasped it without -enthusiasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mail for me, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, it's all up in your room." He -took his coat and several other things -from the boat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you have a nice time?" asked Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'll tell you all about it later. -We had a fine time, lots of sport. I -must go and shake hands with the folks -now, and read my mail. See you later, -sir." He swung his coat over his -shoulder and saluted them, military -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you take me for a walk, Miss -Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana looked hesitatingly up at the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, perhaps you would prefer to -stay and talk with your old playmate. -Do as you feel inclined, Miss -Stillwater." But he looked distinctively -aggrieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," said Indiana, carelessly. -"There is plenty of time for that. He -will tell us his experiences around the -fire to-night. Where would you like -to go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, let us simply follow one of -those little 'trails' through the woods—one -of those charming little trails, which -one loses, and finds again, like a broken -thread of thought, in the forest. There -is always the murmur of some distant -stream, which one vaguely hopes to -reach—and sometimes a glimpse of blue -sky through the dark pines."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-might-of-the-falls"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">The Might of the Falls</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"She doesn't look a day over -thirty! Remarkable!" said -Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She grasps the ideas I present to -her with astonishing quickness," -answered his nephew, absently. "A very -bright, eager mind. She has innate -refinement and tact—for all her -unconventional freedom of manner, which is -only the outcome of her unconsciousness—and -that is, after all, her particular -charm, her unconsciousness. I -catch a glimpse, now and then, of a -certain wildness of spirit. I fear she -would beat her wings against—certain -fetters—unless—unless—well, it is -most interesting to watch the phases of -this young, tender nature—the product -of a new civilization."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, who in the world are -you talking about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Stillwater, of course!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought so. You were talking -about the young one and I was talking -about the old one. It's very -irritating—you've done that before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When did I do it before? And be -kind enough to explain who you mean -by 'the old one'?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker, of course."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Mrs. Bunker!" repeated Lord -Canning, with a sarcastic intonation. -"I presume I have the same right to -talk about Miss Stillwater as you have -to talk—about Mrs. Bunker, Uncle Nelson!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one's disputing your right, but -you're continually talking about her!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't aware I monopolized the -conversation to that degree."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you do. You're continually -'studying' her and relating the results -of your observations. I should think -you would know her by heart before -you left her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unfortunately, so far, I have not -been allowed an opportunity for such -extended knowledge. I'm rarely left -alone with her long enough for a proper -interchange of ideas. There are always -so many plans and excursions on foot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, you're off with her all -the time, somewhere!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for long," said Lord Canning, -gloomily. "Before one is aware, it's -lunch or dinner—meals are so -interfering! What's that?" Lord Stafford -peered out of the window. They were -sitting in his room, which was flooded -with moonlight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's that Masters fellow. He's -playing his mandolin on the lake. -Fancy, at this hour!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They smoked for awhile in silence, -listening. It was long after twelve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're going on a moonlight picnic -to the Falls to-morrow night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Mrs. Bunker told me. We -drove there our first day here—don't -you remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning looked at his uncle in utter contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do I remember? What a delightful -day it was, that first day! And -how many delightful days we have had -since! Let me see. We have been -here going on four weeks—is it possible?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That poor chap," with an -inclination of his head toward the lake, -"seems awfully cut up about Miss -Stillwater!" Lord Stafford watched -his nephew closely. "Why don't you -retire and leave him the field? You -may as well, you know, first as last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no intention of doing it—first -or last!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil you haven't!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle Nelson, I have made up my -mind to marry Miss Stillwater!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good God! Your mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother will be satisfied with -whatever is to result in my happiness. -This is the only thing in my life I have -ever intensely desired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Think it over—well over. You -may change your mind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have thought it over. You -remember when I climbed Mt. Marsy -with Haller. The night we spent on the -summit—I never closed my eyes. In -the morning I watched the sun rise -over the forests, mountains and lakes. -Such a young, rejoicing world! And I -stood above it all, sleepless, miserable, -old! The questions I had asked all -night seemed vain and trivial. I was -simply answered. 'Be happy!' said the -new-born world, bathed in dew and light."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promised your mother to look after -you," insisted Lord Stafford, weakly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His nephew put up his hand in -laughing remonstrance, then grew -instantly grave. "Do you remember -that log I threw in the Notch? How it -was tossed and whirled onward, like a -leaf, by the might of the falls? I am as -helpless in the force that has now taken -possession of me. I have ceased to -reason. I am going—wherever the -falls will send me." He drank deeply -from the glass which stood at his elbow, -Lord Stafford regarding him helplessly. -They talked into the small hours of the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Late in the afternoon Stillwater sat -in a sunny corner of the balcony, -reading the Herald. One hand held -a nut, which a chipmunk was -speculatively watching in the shadow of -the big balsam tree. Whenever he -ventured near, a rustle of the paper sent -him scampering back to the branches, -It was the first week of October and -they were having Indian summer. The -evergreens on the borders of the lake -were a sombre background to the -gorgeous autumn color of the beech and -maple trees. The mountains were -covered with an Oriental carpet of blended -browns, greens, and reds. Mrs. Bunker -came out on the balcony, shading -her eyes to look on the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No sign of them yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long are your English friends -going to stay?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker leaned carelessly against -the rustic railing. "I'm sure I don't -know. Lord Stafford is a devoted -sportsman, and his nephew is accumulating -information about the country. -They're both taken with the place, and—the -people in it," she smiled, in a -self-conscious way at her son-in-law. He -looked at her closely. She wore a -tailor-made gown, showing the fine lines of -her tall figure. A scarlet cape dropped -carelessly off her shoulders. Masses of -silvery hair, piled artistically on top of -her head, presented a striking contrast -to her dark, youthful eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandma Chazy! You don't think -of marrying again?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker laughed as though her -sense of humor had been irresistably -touched. "I can't help guying Lord -Stafford. He looks at me with those owl -eyes, and takes all my jokes for solemn -earnest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will flirt, Grandma."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, while there's a breath left in -my body—but I'm not the only -marriageable candidate in the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, keep your match-making -hands off Indiana," he said, rising and -throwing down the paper. "I won't -have it. If she marries away from us, -it will break her mother's heart. If I -thought you had any such schemes in -your head—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wouldn't you like to see Indiana -Lady Canning?" she asked sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" exclaimed Stillwater decidedly. -"My girl's a good, little Yankee and -she shan't emigrate." He passed up -and down the balcony, talking excitedly. -"Yes, there's rich emigrants and poor -emigrants—and it's leaving your country, -bag and baggage. England's got the -flower of our women already, and of -course, now the men are following suit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You talk like a backwood's man," -said Mrs. Bunker, contemptuously. -"You've never been abroad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. You can do the globe-trotting -for the family. Is there anything better -than this—in Europe?" He gave a -comprehensive sweep of his head -toward the lake and the woods. "Those -Englishmen are wild over the -place." Mrs. Bunker folded her arms patiently, -while he continued his restless promenade. -"Hit me between the eyes with -the Jungfrau—what's the matter with -the Rockies? All the snow I -want—there. Where can you see another -Niagara or a Yellowstone Park—or a -stretch of balsam woods, like we have -here in the Adirondacks—or a—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Horatio," interrupted Mrs. Bunker, -"your spread-eagleism is wasted -on me. You can be sure of one -thing—when Indiana marries, we won't be -consulted. She'll please herself—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stillwater brought his hand -down on the railing. "She can have -anything the world affords—but I won't -buy her a title!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker swept inside, laughing -good humoredly. Seating herself by -the fire in the hall, she took up a -square of chamois upon which she was -embroidering the head of an Indian -chief, in full war-paint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The others not back yet?" asked -Glen, entering presently. "They're -making a day of it." He placed the -gun he carried in a corner of the hall -and threw himself into a chair by the -fire. "Those Englishmen are having -the time of their lives. Lord Canning -monopolizes Indiana, without considering -whether it's agreeable to her—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's not the kind to sacrifice -herself, Glen," said Mrs. Bunker, smiling, -and setting colored stones among the -feathers on the forehead of the Indian chief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen stared into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think they've been here quite -long enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're jealous," said Mrs. Bunker, -laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her with kindled eyes. -"I am," he answered. "I confess -it—horribly jealous!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again Mrs. Bunker laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't take me seriously, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the trouble. I'm trying to -laugh you out of this thing for your -own good." She laid down her work -and looked at him sympathizingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know you mean all right by -me," he said with a sigh which was -almost a sob. "But you needn't try to -laugh me out of it—you can't do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Glen, you're making it -very hard for your yourself! Take my -advice for once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't laugh me out of it," he -repeated, burying his face in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll talk to you just as if you were -my own—I've often wished I had a son. -I could have done so much for him—I -could have made something of a son of -mine. You are a young fellow, with -every advantage that money can -give—handsome, and healthy, and clever. -The world's before you. Rise up and -be a man! Crush this thing under your -feet! Don't consider your life is over -before it's begun—because you can't -have the first thing you happened to -wish for. Love isn't the only thing in -life—especially for a man. Look at the -sphere a man has for his activity! I -sometimes feel like shaking some of you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't understand—you don't -know—what a hold it has taken of me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense! Make an effort! It's -in you. You're a soldier—there are -other battles to be fought beside those -on the battlefield."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know. And I'll fight—when I -must. It hasn't come to that yet. I -haven't given up hope. Don't talk to -me as if I were a coward. I went off -to Manila, and I loved her then. I -didn't know when I wished her good-bye -but that it might be the last time I -should ever see her. But it wasn't so -bad as this man walking in here, a -perfect stranger, and trying to steal her -under my very eyes—when I've known -her all my life. And what does it -all mean? Fine talk—a little extra -polish!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning's a very interesting -man—a man who holds a high position -in England. Indiana also has her -future to make. You mustn't expect -because you've played with her as a -child—well, what is the use of talking -sense to you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You mean well by me, Mrs. Bunker, -and I thank you for it—you may -be even right in what you say. You've -travelled a great deal and met hosts of -people, and you're very experienced, -but you don't understand. This has -been growing in me before I knew—growing -with my growth—and growing -after I knew—it's tearing a flower from -the roots!" He rose abruptly and -leaned against the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come out," called Stillwater. "What -are you sitting over the fire for? The -sun feels fine to-day! This is great -weather! I'm half sorry that I didn't -join the rest and bring down a few -birds. Here's a boat coming in now. -Lord Stafford's man with Haller."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see anything of Indiana -nowadays, since those Englishmen have -been here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stillwater looked at him significantly. -"Well, they'll be gone soon—then -we'll have her all to ourselves -again, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stillwater, you—you don't -think Indiana cares for that man, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No!" replied Mr. Stillwater, scornfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a man of position," said Glen, -"and she's flattered—that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all," repeated Stillwater, -putting his feet up on the rustic railing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And another thing," Glen lowered -his voice, "I suppose Mrs. Bunker's -been getting in some of her fine -work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater winked. "You can -depend on that. Hi, Flash!" Flash ran -up, the bottles in the lunch-basket he -carried rattling loudly. He bowed -obsequiously, out of breath, as he neared -the camp. "What sport?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Magnificent, sir! Partridges as -thick as rabbits! Their lordships and -the young lady h'is a coming, sir."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That'll do," as Flash stood bowing -and scraping. "I can't stand the -crawling ways of these English -servants," remarked Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Neither can I," said Glen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Mr. Flash, look where you're -going!" exclaimed Kitty, as Flash ran -precipitately against her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Miss Kitty!"—he bowed -exaggeratedly—"ten thousand pardons!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give an account of yourself! Where -are the folks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're h'on the lake. We 'ad a -fine day's sport! I've never seen 'is -lordship in good temper for twelve -consecutive hours before. And their -h'appetites, bless 'em!"—Flash whirled -the basket in the air—"the h'eatables -'ave vanished and they've drained the -bottles!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's good!" said Kitty, relieving -him of the basket. Flash sank down -on a rustic bench with a sigh of fatigue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the lordships are enjoying -themselves?" Kitty seated herself beside -him and looked meditatively at her -shoes. "A lucky day for them when -they fell in with the Stillwaters! We -are celebrated for being magnificent -entertainers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you?" said Flash, with a stare -that comprehended every detail of -her trim personality. Kitty was a -source of much entertainment to him, -besides being an unending study and a -continuous novelty. Kitty, conscious -of the stare, rose with a toss of her -chestnut head. "I'm going down to -the lake to watch for the folks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stay 'ere, Miss Kitty!" pleaded -Flash. "Don't compel me to mount -this 'ill again!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's really no necessity that you -should accompany me, Mr. Flash." She -deposited the basket within, and -strolled down through the trees. Flash -surveyed her from where he was -sitting. Her smooth, shining hair was -mounted by a modish black bow. She -wore a little dainty, ruffled apron.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very neat!" he murmured, then -rose with an effort and caught up with -her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a big thing, as you say in -h'America, to be 'unting and 'unting for -miles and miles, and still be 'unting on -your own 'unting grounds."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say so! Mr. Stillwater -bought up all that land you're talking -about, years ago. It's worth ten times -more now than what he paid for it. It's -for that model farm."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'if all you've been telling me h'is -true, I'm glad. I'm an h'expert on -farming. I 'ave never seen h'anything -like you describe, h'even in Devonshire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The farm's only a fad of Mr. Stillwater's. -You should see our home in Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I say, Kitty," he looked confidentially -in her face, "'ow much is 'e -estimated at? Say two 'undred thousand pounds?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kitty laughed contemptuously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three? Five?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Flash, you're quite a nice -young man, but you're very unexperienced. -A man who knows how rich -he is, is not a rich man in America. -He's only well off. Mr. Stillwater has -reached that stage where money is -never even mentioned!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"H'is it possible!" exclaimed Flash.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think I see the folks. So in -future, Mr. Flash, when they say a -man's rich in America you will -understand he is not limited to figures."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>William was rowing them all in. -They were talking and laughing in the -highest spirits. Mrs. Bunker came -down through the trees in her scarlet -cape, still holding her work.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A most enjoyable day's sport, -Mrs. Bunker," said Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did bravely to-day, Miss Stillwater," -praised Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not </span><em class="italics">Still*water," said Indiana, in a -drawling voice. "Still*water</em><span>."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid I shall never conquer -your proper names. As for your -wonderful charms—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll give you a lesson," interrupted -Indiana. "Suppose you saw a chubby -little partridge over there in the scrub -fern and wanted to bag him—what -would you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning took his gun and levelled -it in the direction indicated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should say, I'm afraid the little -fellow's out of gunshot, but I'll try."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's not American—to be afraid!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, you'd guess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—guess—when there's game to -bring down! Never!" She seized -her gun and levelled it at him. "I'd -just bag him! Aren't you afraid?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," looking at her meaningly, -"ready and eager to be sacrificed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana dropped her gun, laughing -rather coquettishly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good hunting, Indiana?" asked -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good hunting, Grandma Chazy," -answered Indiana, with a comprehensive -look at Lord Stafford. "You see -we know our Kipling, Lord Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've ordered tea in the boat-house," -said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you did. It would be a -pity to leave the lake to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Up in the cozy little room of the -boat-house the logs were crackling. -Gay sporting prints adorned the green -walls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will you have this chair, Miss -Stillwater? Right this time? So glad! -It was quite an effort, I assure -you." He thought as he drew her chair near -the fire—"Perhaps I shall not be obliged -to make the effort long. What an endless -source of pleasure it will be to call -her—Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you're all dying for a cup -of tea," said Mrs. Bunker, seating herself -at the tea-table, while Lord Stafford -sank into an arm-chair near the fire, -warming his hands at the blaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are the rest?" inquired Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father and mother are having -their tea together on the balcony. -They're perfectly happy. I believe, -Glen's there too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devotion of your father and -mother is very touching to me," -remarked Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They've always been like that—ever -since I can remember," said Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very beautiful to see, in these -days of marital indifference and -incompatibility."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll be lovers to the end of the -chapter," declared Mrs. Bunker. "And -there's Lord Stafford enjoying his -single blessedness. Think what you're -missing!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Yes, Mrs. Bunker, but -at present this delightful cup of tea is a -great consolation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have you found most interesting -in the States, Lord Canning?" -asked Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I should say—" he hesitated, -holding his cup and gazing -contemplatively out at the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be afraid to commit -yourself," added Mrs. Bunker, quickly. -"You English hate to make a positive -assertion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quite so, Mrs. Bunker," returned -Lord Canning amusedly. "We think -more slowly than you do—and you have -asked me a very difficult question."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll answer it for you," volunteered -Indiana. "Your uncle has come to -America to shoot things, and you for -scientific purposes—ostensibly. But -you spend night after night over your -brandy and soda, discussing the -American woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable!" ejaculated Lord -Stafford, adjusting his monocle and -staring at Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How did you find us out, Miss -Stillwater?" Lord Canning laughed heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford drew his chair closer -to the tea-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you not a very remarkable -woman, Mrs. Bunker, even in this -country of remarkable women?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll find women like me all over -the States. You see we don't become -old before our time—to make way for -the girls. I had my daughter to rear, -and I did it as well as I knew how. -Then I superintended my granddaughter's -training. Now she's a woman, -I'm commencing all over again on my -account." She laughed heartily at the -serious countenance with which Lord -Stafford heard her explanation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable, Lord Stafford, or -bewildering—which?" She smiled -archly into his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Charming, this time, charming, I -assure you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lake looks so blue and enticing -from here! Shall we drink our -second cup on the balcony, Miss Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana assenting, Lord Canning -brought her empty cup to Mrs. Bunker. -"Make yourself comfortable in -the hammock, Miss Stillwater. I will -be out directly, with a fresh supply."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't spill it, Lord Canning! -Really your hand is very steady—a -good sign! Another—with me, Lord Stafford?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will take another with you, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He returned the cup and leaned -comfortably back in his chair, enjoying -the cosiness of his surroundings—the -proximity of the fire, the blue lake -shining in the distance, and the -domestic picture afforded by Mrs. Bunker at -the tea-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is it that a good catch like you -has escaped the matrimonial anglers so -long?" she asked confidentially, as she -sipped her tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford stirred his cup in -amused embarrassment, quite at a loss -for an answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, why don't you marry?" continued -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—er—I'm rather sensitive about -being asked such personal questions," -gasped Lord Stafford. "My own -sister never asked me that!" He -resumed a reminiscent expression. "She -asked me if I should marry, but never -why—never why!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll tell me, won't you?" urged -Mrs. Bunker, sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, by George, I declare I've -never even asked myself that question!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I should be quick! Start an -investigation committee and find out -something about yourself. You don't -know how long you are going to live."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker, one never knows -what you are going to say next."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lake has a ruby necklace," -remarked Lord Canning, looking up -from his note-book, in which he had -been writing while Indiana rested in -the hammock. The deep red coloring -of the bank mirrored along the shore -as far as one could see. "Ah, there is -Mr. Masters going out in a canoe!" He -watched Glen's well-knit figure as -he paddled with swift, unerring strokes, -clearing a perfectly straight line down -the centre of the lake. "A very fine -specimen of young manhood," he -thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later there was a tinge of rose on -the mountains, gradually fading into -purple. Glen remained on the lake -watching the sunset. His solitary -canoe rested in a spot commanding a -view of White Face Mountain—that -which Lord Canning had called the -Mount of Perfection. Its giant shadow -lay on the lake, with the purple glow on -its towering peak. He was discouraged -and depressed. The transient -purple glow on the water reflected -itself in his spirit for the moment. Then -it faded, leaving the dark shadow of the -mountain on the lake and a chill in the -air. He paddled slowly homeward. -He had isolated himself from the rest -lately and spent his time restlessly -roaming the woods with his gun, which -lay for the most part neglected beside -him, while he asked constantly of a -blue patch in the pines why he should -be robbed of his birthright of -happiness. The pines, bending and sighing -over him, whispered always the same -consolation, as a sad nun, weeping with -the stricken, will speak the lesson of -submission she has learned, and, -knowing nothing else, repeat it many times -again.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-moonlight-picnic"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A Moonlight Picnic.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>They were all jubilant during -dinner at the prospect of the -moonlight picnic. When they emerged -'The Indiana' waited at the dock, -illuminated with colored lanterns. The -camp-fire burned brightly as usual. -Haller sat on the steps with a lantern, -ready to light them down to the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just eight," said Stillwater, looking -at his watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No hurry," assured Mrs. Bunker. -"This is to be an all-night affair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller chuckled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dissipation in the woods—fancy!" -remarked Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The electric lights on the balcony -were arranged to give only a subdued -glow. Glen played his mandolin softly -while coffee was served, his eyes fixed -on Lord Canning and Indiana, who -were talking in a very gay, lively strain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Pacific coast is a great -hunting ground, Lord Stafford," began -Stillwater. "I've heard stories about -bands of elk that once roamed the San -Joaquin Valley in California, living on -plains same as the buffaloes—miles -away from anything like cover."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable!" said Lord Stafford, -while Haller listened with -open-mouthed surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see there was no demand for -them before the discovery of gold, but -when the miners came they wanted -meat. And then there were travelling -bands of bloodthirsty explorers. They -and the miners murdered everything in -sight—the white man generally does. -I was told that the great novelist -Dumas landed there in 1849, and one of -his first performances was to kill an elk -in Sacramento Valley."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, an interesting fact! These -vast herds of elk retreated—where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To the Great Red Woods."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haller," called Glen, "I'd like to -climb White Face to-morrow; it's such -clear weather."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Tis clear," replied Haller. "Liable -to have snow on White Face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you going to put me in your -book?" asked Indiana. "Am I the -type of American woman you will describe?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am not going to put you in my -book," answered Lord Canning. "I -am going to put you—well, never -mind. You are not the type—you are -a type."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's so," assented Indiana. -"The states are too large for any one -distinctive type of woman. We all -have that 'must-be-up-and-doing' kind -of spirit. You call it 'nervous -activity.' The Southern girl is neutrally -active; the Eastern girl aggressively -active."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The Western girl—" suggested -Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Judge for yourself." She stood -before him, her hands clasped behind -her. "Physically light weight, but -strong. I can climb a tree, vault a -fence, ride a horse bareback, straddle -and side-saddle. Mentally -light-weight, but bright, with an enormous -faculty for devouring literature, good, -bad and indifferent. I love good music, -and the impressionist school of -painting. Character undeveloped; -politically, an expansionist. I believe in the -imperialistic policy, in annexation—stretching -out and grabbing everything -I can get."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bravo! Charming!" exclaimed -Lord Canning, clapping his hands. -"You are most interesting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As a study—or—or—a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Both," said Lord Canning. "When -I cease to study your imperfections, I -commence to love them." He bent -over her, looking into her eyes. Glen -struck a discord on the mandolin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suggest that we start," interrupted -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning stood seriously gazing -into the fire in the hall, while the ladies -donned their wraps. His face -brightened when he saw Indiana on the little -balcony behind the Persian rug. She -had put on a long white circular. The -hood, edged with swansdown, made a -pretty frame for her little flushed face. -Her eyes, with their dilating pupils, -looked dark under the yellow hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come down, little snow maiden! -Or, are you afraid you will melt away in -the heat of the fire?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He met her at the foot of the stairs, -and took her hand in a tender pressure. -Mrs. Bunker coughed slightly behind -them, and Indiana ran quickly out on -the balcony, leaving Lord Canning -under the amused fire of Mrs. Bunker's -bright eyes. She shook her finger at -him, and would have followed Indiana, -but Lord Canning did not wish to be -taken so lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker," he said in a low, -intense voice, grasping the balustrade, -"one moment, if you please. It may -not be considered anything in America -when a man of my age is seen holding -the hand of such a very young girl, but, -I am not a believer in light -sentiment—flirting, perhaps, would be the term. -I love your granddaughter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's easy enough to see that," -laughed Mrs. Bunker. It was always -amusing to her when people took -themselves so seriously. "You have -my good wishes. I have always thought -very highly of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She held out her hand, which he -pressed gratefully in his. "Thank -you, Mrs. Bunker. Have you any idea -if—if she cares for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The little minx is too smart for -me," answered Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is so non-committal," said -Lord Canning. "I know she esteems -me and all that; at times, I have fancied -that I even interest her. But as to—" -he gazed gloomily into the fire. "Well, -it will be necessary for me to clinch -things very soon, time is passing with -dangerous rapidity—but still passing. -Mrs. Bunker, when I met you in -Cannes over a year ago, I did not know -what a great influence you were fated -to throw on my life. If she loves me, -I will never forget that it is through you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't thank me—yet," said Mrs. Bunker, -shrewdly. "Wait until you're -married a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I have no fears on that score," -asserted Lord Canning, with a very -self-confident air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know Indiana. If you -attempted to cross her, she'd tear your -hair out!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodness gracious!" exclaimed -Lord Canning, laughing heartily. -"Don't think you can frighten me by -a little thing like that!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I thought so," reflected Mrs. Bunker, -"I wouldn't have told you, no -matter how true it might be. Oh, -nothing would stop you now, Lord -Canning!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing! I have lived a very -matter-of-fact life—never very miserable, -or the other extreme. I have had -great satisfaction in my work. Now -it's time I snatched a little happiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed it is," said Mrs. Bunker, in -a soothing voice. Men, to her, were -like big children—to be humored.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had moved gradually toward -the fire. "These logs," continued Lord -Canning, "are a magnet towards which -my eyes have been drawn every night -since I came. If you knew what I see -in them—such a sweet domestic -picture, a vision of true happiness!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, don't depend too much on -Indiana's domesticity," said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We generally gauge a daughter by -her mother, in England," stated Lord -Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, it's different over here. The -young generation are so precocious—so -far ahead of the mothers."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not call it an advance. The -daughters would do well to copy their -mothers in their allegiance to the -home. I hope, if Indiana does me -the honor to consent—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you can have that out with -her. She may be a model of domesticity, -but you never know how a girl's -going to develop. You can't be sure -of everything"—she laughed -mockingly—"that's the risk of marriage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am staking everything on this one -card—marriage," said Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why will you men play so high?" -queried Mrs. Bunker, laughing again, -as she swept out on the balcony.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" echoed Lord Canning, -looking into the fire. His dark eyes -smiled at what he saw there—the -picture he had described in the glowing -logs, had been his answer. "Yes, it is -time I snatched a little happiness—how -little, after all! The rest of my natural -life seems short enough to love her in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're going, Lord Canning," called -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hurried out, offering his arm to -Indiana, as the procession followed -Haller down to the boat-house. The -lake by moonlight was a scene of such -mysterious beauty that no one felt -inclined to talk. Lord Canning was -somewhat disposed to question the -reality of his surroundings. He was -drifting down a silvery sea of -enchantment, Indiana's white-robed form at -his side. Oblivious of criticism, he -scarcely took his eyes from her young -face, etherealized in the moonlight. -Glen watched his loverlike attitude, -with growing anger. To the various -camps along the lake, the illuminated -launch, passing with the faint strains of -the mandolin, presented quite a fairy-like -spectacle. Later, driving through -the country, they were all talkative and -lively, regaling the night with choruses, -Glen playing and singing with a gayety -he was far from feeling. Stillwater, -who drove, complied, unhesitatingly, to -a request for the old road. Lord -Canning sat silent and spellbound the -entire way, watching the stream winding -before him—touched with tremulous -waves of silver; the little islands -dreaming in a moonlit haze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>William had been sent over to prepare, -early in the afternoon. When the -party arrived, the falls were illuminated -by colored lanterns, decorating the -rustic bridges, and hanging from the trees. -They added a fantastic beauty to the -natural wildness of the spot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sure I am dreaming," said -Lord Canning, as he stood alone with -Indiana on one of the rustic bridges, -listening to the roar of the waters and -watching the many-colored lights -trembling on the moonlit falls. "Studying -late into the night, I fell asleep in my -library at home. Jennings will come -in soon and poke the fire, and I shall -awake—in England!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At twelve they sat down to a large -supper-table. Kitty, Flash, and the two -guides were in attendance. Lord -Canning related some interesting -adventures, and Stillwater taxed his memory -for humorous experiences, which met -with the hearty appreciation of his -guests, who were very susceptible to -the dry wit of the American. Glen -complied whenever he was asked to -sing, between the stories, but otherwise -he was distinctly out of tune with the -prevailing high spirits. He had been -wrought up to the highest pitch of -jealousy, by the absence of Lord Canning -and Indiana from the rest, before -supper. The entire evening appealed to -him more as a nightmare than a festivity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends," began Stillwater, in -response to a toast from Lord Canning, -"I'm in the best of health and spirits. -My family are all around me"—he -rested his hand on his wife's head—"I -hope to keep them so, for many a long -day. We can't reckon on the future, -but to-night I'm a happy man!" He -kissed his wife, whose eyes had filled -with a quick rush of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana jumped up and threw herself -upon his breast, with a very sure -premonition that she would soon leave him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our host again!" proposed Lord -Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His nephew drank the toast, feeling -a sense of guilt that he was destined so -shortly to ruffle the calm sea of -Stillwater's domestic horizon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My distinguished guests have announced -their intention of returning to -England"—holding Indiana against his -breast. "May they find their dear -ones well and happy, and Godspeed to -them!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Godspeed to them!" echoed Glen. -"And a quick leave-taking!" he thought -grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker's happy philosophy was -colored for the moment with a tinge of -pessimism. "What a blind game it -is," she whispered to Lord Canning. -"He may be wishing 'Godspeed' to -the baby I laid in his arms. Look at -Indiana, she hasn't raised her head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, Indiana," said Stillwater, -"aren't you going to drink 'Godspeed' -to them?" He held the glass -to her lips, raising her head from his -breast. Their eyes were all upon -her,—Lord Canning's tenderly anxious, his -uncle's laughing, Mrs. Bunker's -significant, and Glen's suspicious and -jealous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Godspeed to them!" she repeated, -gaily raising her glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When they finally arose from supper, -Glen immediately disappeared. "I -must get away from that awful white -light," he thought, walking restlessly -through the dark woods. "It's beating -on my brain and driving me mad." -His soul foreboded very truly that -Indiana was lost to him. The soul is our -Cassandra. It mourns and prophecies, -while the heart is forever holding a -carnival. A young girl decking herself -with flowers for a fete. There is a -shrouded form behind her in the -mirror. It whispers, "Those flowers are -blossoms of death. The fete for which -you are robing, is a funeral." But, -unhearing, unseeing, thinking of lovers -and dancing, she decks herself in the -mirror, a song on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Scarcely knowing where his feet -were leading him, he found himself -on the bridge directly over the falls. -"She never notices me—I don't exist -for her!" He looked down into the -falls. "Living's only a fever after -all—a mad fever of longing and jealousy. -I'd gladly end it, down there—if it -wasn't for the folks. Ambition! glory! -I'd fling them all to the winds for the -choice of pressing her little yellow -head to my heart, just once, to still -this horrible throbbing! If I had been -brought home wounded and dying, -she'd have sobbed beside me, and I'd -have comforted her in my weak arms. -Then she might have said, 'I love you, -Glen dear!' just to make me happy—before -the end. I would have fallen -peacefully asleep then, blessing her. -A happy death, to have died for my -country, holding her to my breast, as -my life bled away. Better than -this—this fever called 'living'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A hand was laid on his shoulder. -"We're going home, my boy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm sorry"—he pressed his -hand to his forehead—"I'm sorry that -you were obliged to look for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater scrutinized Glen's set, -white face. "The Englishmen are -going. Things will come your way—soon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'll never come my way," sighed -Glen, "except, perhaps, when I've -ceased to care."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nonsense!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It seems to me that nothing is -worth what I've been suffering—not -even Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She isn't," assured Stillwater, -unhesitatingly, delighted at this conclusion. -"Turn over a new leaf. Show her -you're indifferent. She'll think all the -more of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford was patting the ponies, -while Haller arranged the harness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you'll be kind enough to jump -in, Lord Stafford," cried Mrs. Bunker, -"we may reach home in time for -breakfast! Come now, Haller, you've -been fumbling long enough with that -harness!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Haller grinned at Lord Stafford. -"That woman's full of life," he -remarked, "I admire her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The devil you do!" exclaimed Lord -Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they started they all sung "On -the Banks of the Wabash."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The moon was fading when they -embarked on 'The Indiana.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The lake presents an unearthly -appearance in this silver twilight," -remarked Lord Canning. "It is -vanishing quickly. There's still a parting -gleam touching the dark pines here -and there—lingering like the last caress -of a dying hand. Everything is -becoming vague. The world is fading -away from us. How fascinating—these -last few moments before the dawn. -Ah, it is breaking! That suggestion -of dark shore—this pale light on the -black lake. Why, we are on the River -Styx. Haller doesn't look unlike -Charon. I can see you dimly, Miss -Stillwater—a little ghost in your white -cloak. We are all ghosts." He -lowered his voice. "I am positive that -Mr. Masters sitting there, with his -mandolin, could not present a more tragic -figure if his eternal punishment were to -play for the amusement of all the -shades crossing to Hades!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana laughed. Glen bit his lips -savagely. It sounded to him like the -mocking laugh he had heard in his -dreams, on the farm in the West, that -miserable week when he had exiled -himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morning mists floated above -them, growing denser. The clouds -reflecting in the glassy lake, exposed -only a fringe of red foliage. Gradually -the mists were tinged with a faint -opaline glow, deepening gradually. -The sun rose as they neared Camp -Indiana.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="leading-to-the-altar"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Leading to the Altar.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Glen did not renounce his -original intention of climbing White -Face mountains. He slept for two -hours, breakfasted, and started for -White Face trail at ten o'clock. There -was no one stirring at the camp. -When he returned it was four in the -afternoon. He found Indiana lying in -the hammock on the balcony, Lord -Canning, seated beside her, reading -poetry aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen threw himself into a chair. -"I'm pretty well used up!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think so," said Indiana, -"climbing White Face after being up -all night! I'll order some tea for you, -and then you'd better go to bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She sprang from the hammock and -disappeared, returning again in a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Indiana. I'm glad I -went. It was magnificent! The view -as clear as possible, and snow on the -summit!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought we might see you and -Haller from the lake, but I couldn't -get Lord Canning away from the camp -to-day. He was so lazy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning smiled. He had his -own reasons for staying home, having -resolved not to let the day pass without -speaking to his host of the subject of -Indiana. So far there had been no -opportunity. The family did not appear -until lunch-time, and ever since, -Stillwater had been closeted, writing -business letters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though excessively fatigued, Glen -felt immeasurably better for climbing -White Face. The physical tax had -cleared his brain. He had been -exhilarated by the cold, rare air on the -summit. He drank his tea with a -pleasurable sense of lassitude, and, his -eyes fixed on Indiana swinging in the -hammock, replied rather absently to -Lord Canning's questions regarding -the ascent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning rose, closing his Tennyson. -"I think I'll stroll down to the -lake, Miss Stillwater, if you don't -mind." He smiled at Glen, with a feeling of -generosity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana looked after him thoughtfully -as he strolled down through the -trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a thorough gentleman—so -unobtrusive. He never asks prying -questions—and he's never in the way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too slow for me," replied Glen, -watching her narrowly. "But I suppose -you must have someone to flirt with."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana swung slowly. "Perhaps—I'm -in earnest—this time!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen rose and grasped her wrist -tightly. "Don't say that, Indy! -While you're single I shall never give -up hope. Now, what's in the way? -I'm not your inferior in education. -Do you know any handsomer fellow -than I?"—with a grim affectation of -humor. "If it's for money—I have all -you'll ever want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must marry a man of the world. -I want to live in the world. We're -both undeveloped—I'm not a woman -yet, nor you a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't consider I'm not a man," -said Glen scornfully, "until I have -conquered no end of women, and have -their broken hearts for trophies, like an -Indian with a string of scalps. I love -one woman, and if she won't have me—well, -I'll not give up until I see her -tied pretty tightly to another man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not worth it, Glen." She -caught his arm, gazing earnestly up -into his face, "I'm not worth all your -devotion."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know you have faults enough, -but, God help me, I love you all the -better for them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everybody loves my faults," said -Indiana, impatiently. "That's the -trouble with me. If I could only find -some one who would hate them and -try to cure them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't be harsh to you, Indy. -If you killed me, I'd die blessing you. -You nearly did for me once—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, it wasn't your fault—you were -too young to know better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana sprang from the hammock. -"Glen, what wasn't my fault?" she -demanded, fiercely. "What did I do? -You shall tell me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right. But don't get in a -temper. I swore I'd never throw it up to you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't tease me, Glen," said Indiana, -imploringly, "tell me—quickly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen pushed his hair back from his -right temple. "Do you see that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," uttered Indiana, in a frightened -voice, "a deep, white scar."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You did that." She recoiled, -looking at it in horror. "You threw -a pair of scissors at me—in one of your -tantrums."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, no, no!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were too young to remember, -and they took you away so that the -sight of the blood shouldn't frighten -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Glen!" cried Indiana, "how -could I? And you're always so -good—you never even hated me for it. -Oh, Glen!" She took his head in her -hands and kissed the scar impulsively. -"Forgive me—forgive me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, is there a chance for me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not going to marry that -Englishman?" he said, fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He hasn't asked me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Would you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know, Glen. Promise me -you won't say anything to him about -that," pointing to the scar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've never thought of it myself," -said Glen, sadly, "since then. I'm -sorry I told you if—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad -I know. It hurts me, though—right -here." She put her hand to her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'm blue, but I'll get over it. -To think I could hurt you, or anybody, -like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indy, don't think about it. -This scar is healed—long ago. You've -hurt me here, far worse than that." He -took her hand and pressed it to his -heart. "There's a wound here it'll take -many a long day to heal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Glen! Oh, Glen!" she moaned, -piteously, trying to wrest her hand -away. But he held it tightly over his -heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know what you want—I -don't believe you know yourself—I -don't believe you realize what you're -doing—you're too young to know. -You're throwing away a rare, pure -love, Indiana, as though it were a -soiled ribbon. I'm not a man of the -world, but I know what that means in -life—you don't. It's all that counts in -the long run. I don't say another man -couldn't love you, but no one will ever -love you better—remember that, won't -you? And that mine is not a love -which has sprung up suddenly—it has -taken deep roots in my life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's horrible to think I could hurt -anyone like that," repeated Indiana, -mechanically, looking at the scar on -his forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the least. Think of the -wound here," he repeated. "You -could heal it, Indiana." He opened -his arms. He might have won her by -his very insistence, if it were not that -the idea of another—a different life -from what she had known—had shed -its glamour upon her, the glamour of -the new and strange. She would not -trust herself to look at his dark, -quivering face, but turned away and mounted -the stairs, slowly, to her room, seeing -him very clearly as she went, standing -with his arms extended.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Later, Mrs. Stillwater found Glen -sitting alone on the balcony, looking -vacantly on the lake. He did not -notice her, until she went up to him, -putting her arm about his neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indy won't have me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've asked her, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm so sorry, so sorry." She -smoothed his hair gently. "I've always -hoped it would be—some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't given—up—hope—yet," -he said, doggedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kept smoothing his hair, until -Lord Canning joined them. Then Glen -rose abruptly and went up to his room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Our young hero seems depressed," -said Lord Canning, quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's about Indiana," replied -Mrs. Stillwater, very much distressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's a fine fellow, but, if you'll -pardon me for saying so, Mrs. Stillwater, -he's not the right husband for -your daughter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He understands her better than a -stranger would. He'd get along with -her, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it so difficult to get along with -her?" enquired Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I didn't mean that," replied -Mrs. Stillwater, quickly. "There's no -one more lovable and easy, if she's -studied."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think of me as a -husband for your daughter?" said Lord -Canning, quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning, you're not in earnest?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not? I should like to take -my place in the matrimonial competition, -if you have no objection."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at him, standing there -with such apparent composure. "What -objection could I have to a man like -you? But, I'm not the one to be -consulted. Whatever Indy decides, I must -be satisfied with. Oh, dear! Oh, dear!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Stillwater, the idea is -evidently disagreeable to you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh no, not at all. But Indiana's -so young, and you live so far away—and -she is so unfit to be alone—without -us. But don't consider me—I have -nothing whatever to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I had a pressing correspondence -to-day, Lord Canning," said Stillwater, -emerging upon the balcony. His wife -put her hand on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father! Father!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, mother, what is it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning wants to marry Indy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does he?" asked Stillwater, -composedly. "Too bad—too bad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His wife sighed heavily, and was on -the point of leaving them, when Lord -Canning took her hand, looking -sympathetically into her eyes. "Why not -stay and help me out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I really must go—Indy's waiting -for me. I never let anyone do -anything for her. I always lay out her -dresses, and brush her hair, and wait on -her. She gets cross if I don't—and I -love to do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't approve of me, Mrs. Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do," she answered, tremulously. -"I like you very much—you're such a -nice, modest man for your position. -Will you—" she hesitated, he still held -her hand, looking inquiringly into her -eyes, "will you wait a while and think -it over before you ask Indy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have waited and thought it over -well," replied Lord Canning, in a very -decided tone. "I know this is very -unusual, but, for the life of me, I -couldn't ask a young woman to marry -me until I was sure I would be -acceptable to her parents."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are, you are," assured -Mrs. Stillwater, quickly, "but it will be a -great trial to lose her—that's what I was -thinking of—only that." The tears -rushed to her eyes. She turned and -mounted the stairs, hastily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother is naturally upset when she -thinks of Indy getting married," said -Stillwater, who had been gravely listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally," agreed Lord Canning. -"Suppose we walk down to the lake," -he added, with an Englishman's dislike -of being overheard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marrying young runs in our -family," remarked Stillwater, as they -descended the steps. "My wife was -sixteen, when she married, and grandma -only fifteen. There's always somebody -turning up, wanting to marry Indiana. -But she's never been serious about -anyone, I'm happy to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning looked meditatively -upon the ground, pushing, with the tip -of his shoe, the thick layer of pine -needles. Finally he looked up, -smiling. "If I could make her serious -about me, would you object?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why should I?" asked Stillwater, -dryly. "I don't have to live with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," replied Lord Canning, -accepting the remark in a serious -sense, "there's no possible necessity -for it." Stillwater gave an involuntary -chuckle, and, seating himself on a rustic -bench built between two trees, offered -his would-be son-in-law a cigar. "I -ought to feel very much honored, Lord -Canning, but I haven't reached that -stage of imperialism, although my -mother-in-law is a fiend on that -subject. American women generally are. -They're natural imperialists. They head -a despotic monarchy at home." He -laughed heartily, while his guest -surveyed him gravely, lighting his cigar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stillwater, I hope you do not -consider my title against me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not at all, not at all," -smoking, in a very comfortable position. -"It might help you with Indiana. It -would be a new fad for her. You -know we all have our fads. It's a good -thing for us, too. Personally I like -you. I like you very much. -But—er—" he hesitated, studying the lake. -There was plainly something on his -mind which he considered should be -said. Finally he rose, placing his hand -kindly on Lord Canning's shoulder. "I -want to give you a quiet piece of advice, -and if you don't take it I want you to -consider it as never having been -said—will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, sir," said Lord Canning, gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't marry my daughter!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It'll never pan out. Your ways are -not her ways; her thoughts and your -thoughts are as far apart as—as if she -spoke Chinese and you Pennsylvania -Dutch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stillwater, I am not easily -frightened. The more difficulties I -encounter, the more determined I am -to win."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, don't misunderstand me," -added Stillwater, quickly. "My -daughter's no worse than any other man's -daughter—women, as women, are all -all alike. But we understand and know -how to get along with them. I married -very young, and I continued to live -with my wife, my mother-in-law, and -my daughter, all different dispositions, -without quarrelling."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I have observed and admired -the equilibrium of your household. It -would be very valuable to me to know -how you manage it. Will you let me -into the secret, Mr. Stillwater?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Easy enough—I give in!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You give in?" Lord Canning asked, -incredulously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Every time," replied his host, -proudly. "I never stand out against -them, so they can't quarrel with -me—and when they quarrel between -themselves, I agree with them -all—separately." He looked at his guest with a -self-congratulatory expression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm afraid I could not adopt that -method," he said quietly, flicking the -ashes from his cigar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There," Stillwater exclaimed, -triumphantly, "I told you it wouldn't -do!" They heard Mrs. Bunker laughing in the -woods with Lord Stafford, and presently -she came through the trees, in her -scarlet cape, bare-headed, followed by -her guest carrying a wicker basket, -brimful of balsam sprigs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've been balsaming," she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I beg pardon," remarked Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Balsaming," she repeated. "That's -what they call it here—picking balsam." She -knocked his forehead lightly with -her forefinger. "See it now—or shall -I get a hammer?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed. "My stupidity must try -your patience at times, Mrs. Bunker."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wanted some to fill the pillow I -am making for Lord Stafford to take -to England—when he goes." Lord -Stafford offered her his arm, and, -laughing, they continued their way to -the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then you haven't much faith in -our speedy departure—although you -drank the toast last night, Mrs. Bunker?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in yours—your nephew's, yes. -But I don't imagine you'll go with him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably not, Mrs. Bunker. Under -certain circumstances, I might -consider it advisable to prolong my trip. -And I must say the prospect of remaining -in America is delightful to me—most delightful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The fact is, Lord Canning," continued -Stillwater, "we spoil our children. -We know it, but we can't help -it. The girls, mind you—the boys are -easy enough thrown on the world—but -the girls," he smiled fondly, "the -pretty, little, delicate girls—how can -you help spoiling them? You should -have seen Indy—" Lord Canning's face -assumed an expression of deep interest. -"A doll—you could have put her in a -quart pitcher. She'd roll up her little -sleeves, and fight and sass me—we'd -roar at her. As she grew up, it grew -with her, and now when she gets in a -temper, we all scatter till she's over it. -And then she creeps under your coat, -like a little, white mouse, and loves you -so, with her pretty hands and her soft -face. Now, what can a man do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Canning regarded his host -reflectively. "You begin early to make -a rough road for the girl's future -husband, don't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! Our people understand -that every man is under the thumb of -his wife, and is proud of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This assertion sounded astounding -to the listener. Before, however, he -could grasp its full value, he caught -sight of Indiana's white dress among -the pines. As he watched her coming -toward them, her head making a light -advancing spot among the dark trees, -Stillwater's friendly warning faded from -his mind as completely as though it had -never been given.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It all rests with her now," he thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why so serious?" said Indiana. -"Let me into this secret discussion. -If it's not snow and ice, and the North -Pole, I know more about it than Lord -Canning—and if it's not farming, I -know more about it than pa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess I'll let you fight it out with -Indiana," remarked Stillwater, dryly. -He looked at her, with a sigh, then -climbed slowly up to the camp.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We were discussing many things," -said Lord Canning, bashfully. "Marriage; -the training of children—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Marriage—with pa?" replied Indiana, -with a laugh. "He's absolutely -ignorant on the subject."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable," said Lord Canning, -"considering he's seventeen years married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, that was only a boy-and-girl -affair. In those days it was a farm, a -wife to do the housework—and they -always lived happily."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wish it were as simple a matter -with you as with your mother," -ventured Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm different from mother. If I -were not, you would not—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked Lord Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, nothing," stooping to pick up -a sprig of balsam, which had fallen from -Lord Stafford's basket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let us follow that little trail down -there beside the lake," suggested Lord -Canning, "do you mind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The day had been sunless. The evening -was still and gray, the air soft and -balmy, without a tinge of frost. Through -the trees that fringed the trail, they -caught glimpses of the glassy lake -mirroring the gray floating clouds, and -great masses of autumn color, with -sometimes the intervening dark shadow -of a group of pines.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men to you are like a large -correspondence, which is read carelessly, -'answered' scribbled on the envelopes, -then piled into pigeon holes—forgotten."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I always throw old letters away," -said Indiana, sweetly. "I never accumulate rubbish."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" said Lord Canning. He -walked beside her for a little while, -thinking deeply. "How silent it is -here," he remarked, finally. "This -soft carpet of pine needles muffles every -footstep. It seems sacrilege almost, to -speak. This trail seems to me like a -dim, narrow aisle of a church, leading -to the altar." He looked upward at -the glimpse of gray sky. "Indiana, I -am a very serious man. I accept life as -worth living only with serious -aims." They emerged upon a small open -space in the woods, dimly lit, with a -Turkish carpet of many-colored leaves. -He drew Indiana down upon a fallen -tree, covered with silvery patches of -gray-green moss. "My ideal of a wife -has been an intellectual woman of my -own world and standing. But your little -hands have bowled over, like a set of -ninepins, all my long cherished traditions -and ideas. You have taken possession -of me, in a way which terrifies me. I -am miserable away from you. I am -miserable with you. I am restless, -sleepless—you flit before me like a tantalizing -will-o'-the-wisp, whose light draws, -maddens me. My pen is idle, my mail lies -upon the table—unanswered. Tell me, -have I a chance with you—or let me go. -Let me put the ocean between us, for -self-preservation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't wish you to think I trifle -with marriage because I have refused -several offers," said Indiana, seriously. -"It's not waywardness or frivolity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You admit, in your feeling for me, -reason has no place. And that your -ideal of a wife is something entirely -different from myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lord Canning. "Reason -has no place. It is love—love alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want you to know me as I really -am, then—if you are willing to take the -chances—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Willing!" He raised her hand to -his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very much spoiled," Indiana -continued.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have all the imperfections which -make you charming to a lover, you will -have all the virtues which will make -you—divine to your husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must have my own way—even -when I'm wrong. I'm fond of change, -nothing pleases me long. I'm quick -tempered, spiteful—but I'm always -sorry for it, after—always."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sweetheart, I have watched you -closely. I have seen glimpses of -splendid feeling and heart in you, that have -become choked by indulgence. Other -conditions will develop the good that is -in you—I am quite confident of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked through the trees at the -gray lake. "I could be different—it is -in me—but—somehow—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He watched her face, caressing her -hand. "You will love my mother, dear. -She is a type of English womanhood. -She is not strong, and has lived a retired -life for many years. Our house may be -quiet for you—at first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll -make it lively enough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling!" He tried to draw her -into his arms, but she resisted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What more, pretty penitent?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I want you to promise me that -when I'm mad and want to do -inconsistent things, and have my own -way—when it's not good for me—I want you -to promise me, no matter how much -you love me—that you won't give in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He laughed at her earnest little face. -"I'm afraid I shall—I feel now as if I -shall let you do anything, I love you so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then I won't marry you. I've -tried to control myself, but I can't, -because everybody's so afraid of me. It -makes me much worse. You're the -first man I've ever taken seriously."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you love me, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No. I'm tired of the model farm—I'm -tired of Grandma Chazy—I'm tired -of Washington and New York, and I -want to go to England." His expression -sank at this frank avowal, only to change -again at her next words. "I—I feel -that marriage to me must mean the -changing of every condition—or—" she -looked imploringly into his anxious -eyes, "I won't make a success of my -life—and I want to be something more -than I am—something better." She -added quickly, "And, I wouldn't marry -you, if I did not think I could love -you—some day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I believe in the love which comes -after marriage," he said firmly. "Given -a fairly matched pair, the man the -stronger, and there's no danger. I'm -sure I shall make you love me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you promise—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise, no matter how much I -suffer, I won't give in." He clasped -her into his arms, and kissed her -passionately. A sudden wave of color -surged over her face, and she drew -herself away, with downcast eyes. He -watched her anxiously, holding her -hand. Then he persuaded her to sit -down beside him on the moss-grown -trunk. "A little sleeping soul has been -given my into my care," he thought, -smoothing her hair gently. "I must -cherish it until it wakes. After waiting—after -infinite patience—her love, when -given, will be all the sweeter. I shall -prize it more than if it had been easily -won. We must wait for the most precious -things in life. That is the supreme -lesson to learn—how to wait—so we -shall be worthy of life's golden gift, -when it comes. It must come—the -very power of my own love for her—the -very force of my will, must bring it. -Life owes it to me—her love." He -touched his lips to her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, let's go and tell the folks," -said Indiana.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="england"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">England.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Jennings!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer leddyship!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought I heard carriage wheels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet, yer leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning sighed, and Jennings -sank stiffly on his knees and poked the -fire, as he had done innumerable times -within the hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her leddyship will be ill," he -mumbled to himself over the fire. -"It's a terrible strain for her leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look again! I thought I heard -them—this time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings rose with difficulty, pushed -aside the heavy draperies that screened -the library windows, and peered -through the fog.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet—yer leddyship." He -adjusted the curtains carefully with his -shaking fingers. "Will I bring the -tea, yer leddyship?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Jennings, I will have tea with -my son and his young wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His lordship may not arrive for -sometime—yer leddyship may be faint."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but nevertheless, I am firmly -resolved to wait, Jennings." She -closed her eyes with an expression of -resignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, yer leddyship," said -Jennings, in a heart-broken voice. He -left the room noiselessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning sat motionless in her -large arm-chair near the fire. -Approaching seventy years of age, there -were still remnants of beauty in those -fine, delicately cut features, slightly -pinched through illness. Her calm, -impassive face seemed to have -outlived every stage of emotion, or lived -through the emotional stage, without -having experienced the emotions. For -twenty years since the death of her -husband she had maintained the strictest -seclusion. A cobweb of ivory-tinted -lace rested on her white, carefully -dressed hair, and a fichu of the same -was drawn over her attenuated shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The room in which she sat was a -proper frame for her personality. It -was filled with objects, some of rare -value, that had mellowed with age. -The years had taken from everything -its element of aggressiveness. The -tapestries, the paintings, the books, the -furniture, blended into harmony of soft -and faded hues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning suffered considerable -excitement at the prospect of seeing -her only son once more, after an -absence of ten months, not to speak of a -certain anxiety regarding her -daughter-in-law. Thurston had written, "I will -not describe Indiana. I wish you to -form your own impressions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear son had no idea I would -suffer any suspense regarding his -wife," she reflected, "otherwise he -would have written me every -particular. He doubtless thought I would -have every confidence in his judgment. -And my fears have probably not the -slightest foundation. It seems -impossible that my son should select a woman -for his wife who would be unfitted for -the position. And yet, it appears -strange he should have gone so far -away from home to choose a daughter -for me. It is quite natural I should -have preferred him to marry a woman -in his own sphere, from another old, -conservative English family. I should -have felt surer, then, that there would -have been no after-complications. There -are so few left of the real conservative -families. The watchword of the others -is 'Progress.' They grasp, all too -quickly, every new idea that claims -to be an improvement on the old. But -we are more careful—we cling to our -traditions—our old ideals of life. -There are none better. There is Lady -Isabel Waring—still unmarried, not a -beauty—but great caste—great caste. -She would have been devoted to me." Lady -Canning sighed and opened her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings was lighting the candles in -the tall, many-branching candelabras -on the mantel. The Canning mansion, -in common with other old London -homes, had been fitted up with every -modern improvement, including -electric lights; but Lady Canning, when -she was alone, still clung to the -old-fashioned candle-light, claiming it was -softer, more agreeable for her eyes. -Jennings was still allowed to perform -the function of many years, much to -his delight. He had a deep-rooted -hatred of all innovations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This suspense is quite natural," -thought Lady Canning, "in spite of -my confidence in Thurston. I am a -mother. A mother fears everything—and -hopes everything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings suddenly paused in his -occupation and inclined his head, -listening. Then he blew out his taper, and -hurried to the window. "They're -here, yer leddyship! Yer leddyship!" His -voice quivered with excitement, -and he looked apprehensively at his -mistress, as though he feared she -might faint or give way in some -respect. She rose, supporting herself -upon a cane.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings," she said in a strong -voice, "you had better join the other -servants in the hall. You will be the -first for whom your master will look."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ye—es, yer leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am prepared for anything," -thought Lady Canning. "But no -matter how unfavorably I may be -impressed at first sight, I must control my -feelings for Thurston's sake. He will -naturally be sensitive regarding her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston presented a beaming face -to the servants, lining the hall, as he -entered with his bride. Before he -greeted them, he took Indiana in his -arms and pressed a kiss on her lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome to your new home, my -dearest wife! I'm glad to see you all," -he added, in heartfelt tones. -"Jennings, you're looking well!" He -pressed both the old man's hands in his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Welcome home, yer lordship, yer lordship!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, this is Jennings. You've -heard me speak of him. He's been in -the family since I was a child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana's blue eyes smiled into those -of the old Scotchman. "How do you -do, Jennings?" she said, with a friendly -handshake. Jennings carried her hand, -with a shaking motion, to his lips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His lordship's young wife," he -murmured, looking with ecstatic -delight into her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My mother, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her leddyship's well, yer lordship. -Her leddyship's in the library."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He hurried before them, but Thurston -rushed past him, carrying Indiana -on his arm, his hand clasped on hers. -They laughed back at the old man, and -he echoed the laugh childishly, with -tears in his eyes. "You can't -announce us, Jennings!" cried Thurston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning was still standing, with -stately repose, by the fire. There was -no trace, on her calm face, of the -agitation she had been suffering, beyond an -expression of pleasurable anticipation—the -only visible sign of feeling in which -she would allow herself to indulge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear son!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held her in a prolonged embrace. -When he finally released her, she -applied a morsel of lace to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My wife, mother," he said in a -voice of immeasurable content and -pride, placing Indiana in her arms. -"Your daughter, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning was conscious of -holding a morsel of humanity in her arms -and of pressing her lips to a childish -cheek. Then, as she surveyed her, she -received an impression of something -very young and small, with the -coloring of an apple-blossom, whose -deep-blue eyes met hers, struggling between -consciousness, laughter and tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Realizing that her vague fears had -no worse foundation than this childish -creature, daintily costumed, her relief -was so great that she took her in her -arms again and pressed another kiss on -her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Though Thurston had been perfectly -confident of the effect Indiana would -produce, he was none the less delighted -at this mark of favorable impression.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear child," said Lady -Canning, "you must look upon me as a -mother—you are still too young to be -without one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In order to control her tears, Indiana -bit her handkerchief, which she was -nervously rolling in her hands. The -difference between her mother's last -despairing kiss and the touch of Lady -Canning's calm lips, was too strong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You no doubt wish to go to your -apartments now, my dear," said Lady Canning, kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I should," agreed Indiana -with a little, nervous laugh. She was -quite indifferent about going to her -apartments just then, but there was -such a sure assumption of her -acquiescence in Lady Canning's tone it was -almost equivalent to an order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, ring for Watson. We -will have tea presently. You are -longing for some tea, my dear, are you not?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Indiana, feeling that it -was expected of her to say so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Watson, show Lady Canning her -apartment. They have been newly -furnished for you, my dear child, and I -have not only followed Thurston's -written injunctions, but, in addition, -carried out some of my own." Thurston -raised her hand, which he was holding, -to his lips. She smiled on him fondly. -"I hope you will like your rooms, Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure I shall, Lady Canning," -said Indiana, with a bright smile and a -mental resolve to like them very much. -She had recovered from the tearful -stage and felt now quite equal to her -surroundings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you will find your maid a very -competent person—she brought the -highest references," added Lady Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston led her to the door, -pressing a kiss on her forehead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is everyone old here?" thought -Indiana, as Watson, a very elderly woman -with snow-white hair, led the way, -mounting the stairs with difficulty. "I -don't like old people to wait on me. I -shall feel more like waiting on -them." However, she found the maid Lady -Canning had selected, a very young, -cheerful person. The gloomy -impression she had received below was -counteracted by her own suite of rooms, -which were cheerfully and lightly -furnished, in the daintiest of coloring. -The boudoir was hung in shades -varying from rose to palest pink; the -ceiling hollowed and tinted to imitate -a sea-shell; fairy-like crystal fixtures -gleamed from the walls. There were a -few treasures of art here and there -amidst the draperies. A Greuze, hung -in the best light, attracted Indiana -immediately. Pink roses filled every -available spot, in fragile vases of -Venetian glass of the dolphin design. -Indiana felt an impulse of gratitude toward -Lady Canning for these preparations, -in which loving care and the most -exquisite taste were apparent. Minute -attention had been paid to detail—no -possible contrivance for her comfort -overlooked. The maid told her that -Lady Canning, herself, had arranged -the flowers in the boudoir and upon -the dressing-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must have acted like a fool at -first," thought Indiana, fastening a -pink rose, from one of the vases, in the -breast of her travelling-dress, before -going down. "When she said -something about being a mother to -me—that set me off. Poor ma! I hope she -isn't fretting. I can't forget dad yet, as -he looked when he wished me -good-bye." Stillwater had not allowed his -wife to go down to the steamer—he -thought she had suffered enough. -Mrs. Bunker remained with her -daughter. When Indiana waved her -handkerchief as the steamer left the dock, -he thought of the day when she was -laid in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She is very young, Thurston," -remarked Lady Canning, after Indiana -had left the library, "a mere child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mere child," echoed Thurston, -with a very tender intonation. "You -are right, mother." He sat down close -beside her, taking her hand in his. -"Yet I was instantly attracted to her. -You, too, will soon feel the charm that -she exercises, all unconsciously. I -have no words to tell you how I love -her." His face grew very serious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is quite enough to recommend -her. She must certainly have -exceptional qualities. A very fortunate -girl to have inspired such a love in -you—I daresay she fully realizes that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston smiled involuntarily. Indiana -took his devotion as a matter of -course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has a winning smile," said -Lady Canning. "I could see she was -quite effected by the warmth of my -reception—I no doubt remind her of -her own mother. She is very young to -marry and leave home. But perhaps -after all her youth is in her favor. She -is such a child it will be easy to mould -her—don't you think so, Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—yes, of course, mother," -answered Thurston, pulling his mustache -in some perplexity. He foresaw an -endless vista of trouble in case of any -perceptible effort to mould Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We must not expect too much of the -child," continued Lady Canning. "Be -sure you do not make such a mistake -in the beginning, Thurston. Coming -from a place where there is no idea of -caste, she will naturally make many -mistakes. It will take time before she -can fit into her position as she should. -You see, Thurston, I am ready to make -every allowance for your wife."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He bent down and kissed her frail -white hands. There was a large -measure of reverence in his love for her. -"I have given Indiana my Greuze, -Thurston."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your Greuze, of which you've -always been so fond?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes. I believe in the influence of -fine arts upon the young. Your wife's -mind is now budding out, drinking -every new impression as eagerly as a -flower drinks the dew. It is for us to -see that those impressions are of the -highest nature."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana entered, very bright and -smiling. She went immediately up to -Lady Canning and kissed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know how to thank you for -all the trouble you have taken, Lady -Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning smiled in a gratified -manner. "I am amply repaid, if you -are pleased, my dear child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings then brought in the tea. -He looked so aged, Indiana felt like -jumping up and taking the tray from -him, at the same time pushing him -gently into an arm-chair. He was a -little, thin old man with sharp features -and blue eyes, his snow-white hair -plastered smoothly on each side of his -head. He had been in the family since -a boy, and, as is generally so in such -cases, his individuality, his interests, -or, properly speaking, his entire life, -had become absorbed in those whom -he had served. His position now was -purely nominal, consisting principally -of light duties, which kept him in near -proximity to the family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning, talking in her low, -distinct tones, dispensed the tea from -a very old massive tea-service. -Indiana noticed that she never raised her -voice, and she dropped her own insensibly. -She was, wisely, not too profuse -in her praises of her apartments, quick -to see that Lady Canning was not of a -nature to appreciate much demonstration. -But she continued to show her -gratitude delicately by an opportune -remark now and then.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not heard much from your -Uncle Nelson," remarked Lady Canning. -"Oh, don't worry about him," laughed -Indiana. "He's enjoying himself -immensely—isn't he, Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my darling. He has really quite -assimilated himself with the American -life, mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed! You surprise me. One -would have thought at his age, that -that would have been very difficult—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, not at all," interrupted Indiana. -"You see, my grandmother has taken -him in charge. They go out together, -everywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grandmother," repeated Lady -Canning, raising her eyebrows. "And -she is able to go out—everywhere?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana gave vent to a burst of -merriment, then checked herself, suddenly. -Her laughter had sounded very loud in -those quiet surroundings. "Grandma -Chazy enjoys life more than any of us. -She's full of health and spirits."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable, is it not, Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Women don't grow old in the States, mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They take all they can, out of life, -to the last gasp," explained Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should not like to censure women -of another environment to my own," -said Lady Canning. "But at a certain -age, I think it better fitting to prepare -oneself for the next life, than to still -seek enjoyment from this. How does -it appear to you, my dear child?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana hesitated, then met Thurston's -eyes fixed anxiously upon her. "As -you say, Lady Canning, I think it would -be better fitting," she answered, seriously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad you agree with me," said -Lady Canning, well pleased. "From -this one example, Thurston, I am -inclined to think that my ideas and -Indiana's run very much in the same -groove."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it seems," he answered, stroking -her hand, and watchful of Indiana, -whose face, however, maintained its -serious expression. From this -conversation, Lady Canning was artfully led -by her daughter-in-law into delivering -a homily on the seriousness of life, and -the necessity of control, where the -pleasure-loving instincts of the young -were concerned. Indiana took every -opportunity of agreeing with her, sitting -up stiffly, like a flaxen-haired doll, in the -high backed chair, nodding at intervals, -and with an expression of grave -self-importance, that contrasted oddly with -her rosebud prettiness. Meeting -Thurston's eyes, which were fixed upon her in -open surprise, she frowned reprovingly, -and drew herself up a little more stiffly. -"This is a very happy moment for me," -said Lady Canning, with a gentle sigh, -"to have you with me again, Thurston—with -your wife—I can hardly realize -it yet. I think Indiana and I are going -to be very congenial, Thurston. Come -here, and sit down by me, my dear child."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana obeyed, and Lady Canning -took her hand and patted it gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I have a son and a daughter. -I hope you will be happy in your new -home, my dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, Lady Canning," said -Indiana, "I intend to be happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's right. Now, though we -have much to say, I think it advisable -to reserve it for this evening. It is best -that I should rest until dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope this has not been too much -excitement for you, mother," said -Thurston, solicitously, giving her his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pleasant excitement will not harm -me, but I must be careful. I will see -you at dinner, Indiana." She kissed her -on the forehead. Thurston led her to -the door, Indiana accompanying them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I did not know you were such an -artist in dissimulation, Indiana," said -Thurston, taking her head in his hands -and gazing into her mischievous eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To what are you referring, may I -ask?" she inquired, in a dignified tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, the tactics you have begun -with my mother. She thinks you are a -perfect paragon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And, am I not?" drawing herself up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Thurston, laughing -and kissing her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana found dinner a slow and -tedious ceremony. It was noiselessly -served, without the clatter of a dish or -the sound of a footfall. At intervals, -Jennings' old face peered into hers, -consulting her wishes in a whisper. -Their places were set very far apart at -the large, round table, handsomely -equipped with heavy silver and crystal, -as though for a formal banquet, and -decorated with white roses and maidenhair -fern, in honor of the bride. She -had selected from her trousseau a -French gown of white satin, showing -her childish neck. The maid had -dressed her yellow hair in puffs in the -correct English style. She was very -quiet during dinner. Her head still -felt a little unsteady from the steamer, -and when Thurston or Lady Canning -spoke, their voices sounded very far away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her impressions that first night in -her new home were most indistinct. -She had a floating conception during -dinner of old mahogany, silver, and -armor. Later, in the library, as she -listened to Thurston entertaining his -mother with details of his American -trip, she was the victim of a feeling -of unreality, inspired by surroundings -altogether new and so entirely old. -The candle-light seemed to point, with -long, mysterious fingers, to the books -which lined the walls, indicating dark -and magic secrets locked between their -ancient covers, and to waver upon the -faded figures in the Gobelin tapestries -until they appeared to move, endowed -with life. Lady Canning, leaning back -near the fire, with her fine, pinched -features, her white, fragile hands -resting motionless upon the arms of her -chair, seemed like a figure moulded in wax.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When his mother retired, Thurston -took Indiana through the house. -Jennings solemnly preceded them, -lighting up the rooms. Standing in the -background, he nodded his head from -time to time in corroboration, as -Thurston explained the family portraits and -related the histories of various heirlooms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the first months in England -slowly passed, Indiana's single life -seemed like a dream to her. Her -marriage proved the changing of every -condition, as she had wished. And -she preferred to think she had acted -for the best. One fact gave her a great -and unselfish pleasure. She had won -Lady Canning's love, completely, by -pursuing the artful policy with which -she had started, based on a very shrewd -idea of the elder woman's character.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston missed her old spontaneity, -and watched her closely, unknown to -her. His loving solicitude, which -often tried to discover delicately if she -missed her old life, or if there was -anything lacking in the new which he -could supply, only made her impatient. -She professed to be perfectly happy, -yet he sometimes felt as though he had -caged a bird, who refused to sing. -Still the bird had flown willingly into -his hand. His tender worship had -won nothing from her, so far, but an -amiable tolerance. They were in the -position of queen and vassal. His -pride suffered bitterly at times. His -hope that she would learn to love him -had grown into a great and secret -longing. He felt it to be the only solution -of them both. His very existence was -now based on this consummation. -The best of life is given to building a -beautiful fabric of spider's webs, -colored with the passing tints of the -rainbow—because there is an everlasting -charm in that which fades before the -eyes, and can be demolished by a touch.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="transplantation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Transplantation.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Lord Stafford arrived in -England some months later. -He drove up to the house one Sunday -morning an hour earlier than he was -expected. Lady Canning and Indiana -had not yet come home from church. -After welcoming him, with tears of joy, -Jennings tottered upstairs to tell -Thurston. Lord Stafford went into the -library and, with a sense of happiness -to be again in his old surroundings, -toasted himself once more before an -English fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle Nelson!" exclaimed Thurston, -rushing into the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, my boy!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Relinquishing his hand, Lord Stafford -subjected his nephew to a critical -survey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Thurston, laughing, -"is the examination satisfactory?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've changed—for the better," -answered his uncle with a puzzled -expression. "More vivacity. In fact, -you've grown younger."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll explain. I was an old bachelor. -Now, I am a young married man." They -both laughed heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So the international combination has -panned out, as we say in the States?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Worked like a charm from the -start," said Thurston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable. And with your mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother has completely succumbed -to Indiana, and spoils her shockingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very glad of that, I'm sure. -I've been homesick ever since I saw -you off with your bride, but I was -really afraid to come home until the -new wife had fitted into the new -conditions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't know my Indiana. -Wait until you see how well she fits -into the new conditions." They heard -the sound of carriage-wheels. -Thurston hurried to the window, his face -lighting up. "Here they are—here's -my wife!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford met them at the door -of the library. "My dear sister!" -folding her in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nelson, I'm very glad to have you -at home, you wanderer! You look -marvellously well, and tanned by the -sun. Have you seen our dear little -daughter? Where are you, Indiana?" Thurston -had drawn her to the fire and -was taking off her gloves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here, dear Lady Canning," said -Indiana demurely, with a strong effort -at an English accent. "How do you -do, Uncle Nelson?" She offered her -cheek, which he kissed, then surveyed -her with great curiosity. She looked -the personification of English -maidenhood, dressed in a plain, gray gown, -without any pretension to style of cut. -A little bonnet, tied under her chin, -rested on her yellow puffs. She stood -there, very demure and quiet, still -holding her prayer-book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how do you find our sweet -child looking, Nelson?" inquired Lady -Canning, sinking into an arm-chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By George, I should say I found -her very much changed!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the better, dear Uncle -Nelson?" said Indiana, sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When we transplant a flower," -remarked Lady Canning, "we must -watch it very carefully for a time, lest -it wither in the process. Indiana is a -most flexible little person. She -appears to have taken root in our soil so -easily. She had not been here a week -when she was perfectly at home."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thanks to your good advice, Lady -Canning. You have taken so much -trouble with me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To be frank, Nelson, Indiana was -a most agreeable surprise. When -Thurston wrote me that he had -selected a wife in the wilds of America, I -felt ill with fright. I couldn't find out -anything about the place, and the name -suggested horrible visions of -half-breeds and wild girls who climb trees -and ride horses bareback."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"America is a very large country, -dear Lady Canning," said Indiana. -"There are tree-climbers and bareback -riders in the uncivilized parts, I -believe." Thurston turned away to -conceal a laugh. "In fact, I myself must -have appeared—er—strange to you at -first, did I not, dear Lady Canning?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no! Only a little rasping quality -in the voice, which has since greatly -modified."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That is our climate, dear Lady -Canning. The sharp winds have a -tendency to pitch our voices in a high key."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And your gowns, dear, were a little -too modern—too expensive for a young -wife. You don't mind my saying it, -Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana gave her an angelic smile. -"I am so grateful to you. Lady Canning -has given me the real English taste -in the selection of a gown," parading -before Lord Stafford, who, inserting -his monocle, inspected her seriously. -"Dowdy, isn't it?" she whispered, -as Lady Canning bent over the fire, -warming her hands. "I adore Irish -poplins, Scotch plaids, English -cheviots—and seed-cake. My first bonnet! -Isn't it a love?" She tossed her head -waggishly in Lord Stafford's face, so -that a bunch of Prince-of-Wales -feathers tickled his nose. "So -unbecoming!" she added in his ear. Lady -Canning turned, with an expression of -smiling satisfaction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In my time, dear, as soon as a girl -married, she wore a bonnet with strings. -That's always the sign of a matron in -England. You know there must be -something to distinguish the married -from the single woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, certainly, I approve of it," -said Indiana. "Then there can be no -fear of any mistakes being made by -strangers." She heaved a deep sigh -of conscious virtue. Lord Stafford -dropped his monocle and fell into a -chair, laughing unrestrainedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You've caught on, Indiana! Ha, -ha, ha, ha! As they say in the -States—you've mashed them cold all 'round! -Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear Nelson," said Lady Canning, -severely, "what do you mean by such -expressions? They appear to me very -vulgar. Is it really American, Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all, dear Lady Canning," -said Indiana, reassuringly. "Those -expressions you have just heard," she -shivered slightly, "are mere -barbarisms. They are used only by the -natives of the uncultivated wastes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The natives. A sort of dialect, I -suppose, my darling. Go and lay off -your bonnet and smooth your hair."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana pouted rebelliously at -Thurston. "May I go?" Sweetly, "Thank -you very much."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She kissed Lady Canning and walked -demurely to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Remarkable!" murmured Lord Stafford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The child has perfect manners," -commented Lady Canning, with a sigh -of content, as Thurston followed -Indiana from the room. "One would -think she had been born and bred in -England, thanks to my policy, from the -very beginning. I don't allow her to -call me mother—the child's too young. -It's a better moral effect—and, with a -little tender firmness, combined with -just a spark of dignity that awes, I have -accomplished wonders. I shudder to -think what would have been the results -if I had not been here. Thurston -spoils her shockingly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, does he? Very wrong of him, -very unwise, I'm sure."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, is it not? But it's turned -out very gratifyingly. You know how -averse I've always been to Thurston -marrying a modern woman—one of -those editing magazines, forming clubs -and racing women?" She shuddered. -"When Thurston broke it to me, I -was very doubtful of the results—very. -But his heart carried him away. I don't -wonder at it. She's so bright, so clever, -so amusing, so lovable. She must have -come from very fine stock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very," answered Lord Stafford, -seriously. "You should see Grandma -Chazy Bunker. She 'beats the band'—as -they say in the States." He -regarded the ceiling with an expression -of delightful reminiscence, which -broadened gradually into a laugh. He -rose suddenly and approached his sister. -"Helena, I am going to let you into -a little secret." He looked around -mysteriously, then added, in a loud -whisper, "Indiana's people are in -London. They came over with me from -America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her father, mother, and grandmother, -and, as they say in the States"—Lady -Canning braced herself from -the shock which inevitably followed -this remark—"'they're going to make -Indiana's hair curl!'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Speak English, if you please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They're going to give her a surprise party."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning looked at him -incredulously. "Do you mean to say -they're going to drop down on that -poor child without sending her word?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can bet your sweet life on it! -Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" He sank into an -arm-chair, overcome with mirth. The -entire affair was a huge joke to him, -irrespective of the fact that his sister -failed to perceive the humor of his -communication.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What an undignified proceeding!" -said Lady Canning, in shocked tones. -"Her grandmother, too!" Lord Stafford -went off into another paroxysm of -mirth. "Why, the highest respect is -due to their age in the way of preparation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In America there's nothing gives -so much pleasure as springing things -on a person. The surprise party is a -national institution."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning rose to her feet, -perceptibly agitated. "My dear brother, -think of the shock to Indiana. It -might be serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'She won't turn a hair'—as we say -in the States. She's a thoroughbred! -Ha, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very glad you told me. I must -go and make some kind of a toilette -to receive them, and the housekeeper -must be apprised."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear sister, 'don't put yourself -out'—as we say in the States."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor Indiana! Most unheard-of -proceedings!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>During dinner Indiana plied Lord -Stafford with questions about her -family, all of which he answered seriously, -with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. -Lady Canning regarded her -unconscious face with growing sympathy. -She went to her rooms immediately -after dinner. "I shall not make my -appearance," she thought, "until all -the excitement is over. I am upset -enough as it is. I can scarcely look at -that poor child—I feel so badly for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana, entering the library -demurely, and seeing that Thurston and -Lord Stafford were alone, rushed -toward them with a shrill little cry. She -laughed as they both started to their feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm only giving vent to my -repressed exuberance. I can be natural -with Uncle Nelson, can't I, Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not be natural with my -mother? It pains me to see you -playing a part with her. She's not such a -dreadful person."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana smiled comically at Lord -Stafford, sinking down upon the -hearth-rug at his feet. "The -ingratitude of men! He asked me to make -his mother love him, and to succeed it -was necessary to adapt myself to her -ways. If I had argued with her, he -would have disagreed so radically it -would have been impossible to live -under the same roof. I know that it is a -necessity at present, so I agree with her -in everything. Consequently, I'm the -best, the most lovable girl in the world. -All the same, I own her, body and -soul—that's my method of subjugation. -Of course, he's not satisfied. Nothing -I do pleases him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Uncle Nelson, I'm frightfully -good," continued Indiana, ignoring -Thurston, whose eyes were fastened -upon her in mute and tender reproach. -"I've never been so good in my life"—she -clasped her hands, raising her -eyes to the ceiling—"I feel like an -angel—so sweet, so obedient, so -ordinary. Thurston doesn't appreciate it. -He doesn't love me as much as he did -before we were married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!" exclaimed Thurston, -seriously, "how can you say that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought he was a gentleman of -leisure, and he works harder than a -farm hand. He sits up half the night, -reading and studying. If I had known -he was such a great scholar I wouldn't -have married him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, do you mean that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No,"—serious face—"I was only -joking. Uncle Nelson, do you think -he will ever be a great man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford glanced amusedly at -Thurston. "I hope so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, as great as Thomas Carlyle? -Don't say yes, because I'll run away. -You know what Jane Carlyle said about -the wives of men of genius? They're -more miserable even—than—than -doctors' wives. Thurston has symptoms. -He sits up all night and writes like -Carlyle. Between times the old crank -used to go out in the back yard, and sit -on the fence and smoke a pipe—in his -night-shirt. That's the next thing I'll -get."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two men laughed heartily. "You -little witch," exclaimed Thurston, -catching her up in his arms and kissing -her, "you are simply irresistible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, I'll give you an imitation of -a chipmunk," cried Indiana, in high -spirits, jumping up on a lounge, and -imitating to perfection a chipmunk -sitting on its haunches and nibbling a -nut. Lord Stafford applauded, while -Thurston watched the door, his mind -divided between admiration for his -little wife's clever imitation, and fear -that his mother might enter during the -performance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you remember the night we all -went on a moonlight picnic to the -Falls—and Glen was so jealous—poor -Glen!—and we sang 'On the Banks of the -Wabash'?—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'Oh, the moonlight's fair to-night along the Wabash,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>From the field there comes the breath of new-mown hay,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Through the sycamores the candle-lights are gleaming,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>On the banks of the Wabash, far away.'"</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Her voice quivered and she sank -upon the ground, sobbing like a child, -with her head against the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston made one quick step -toward her and gathered her up in his -arms. "My darling, don't cry! You -break my heart." He pressed her to -his breast, smoothing her hair -mechanically. A hopeless expression had -settled in his eyes. Lord Stafford -looked at them miserably, then -considered the best thing to do, under the -circumstances, was to make his escape -in the quietest manner possible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston sank into a chair, holding -his wife closely to his heart. "I know -you're homesick—unhappy," he -whispered. "I feel it, and I'm helpless -against it. What can I do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing of the kind," she said, -lifting her head suddenly. "There—I -frightened Uncle Nelson away!" She -slipped from his arms to the floor. -"I'm not homesick. I mean—not all -the time." She gave a piteous little -gulp. "That song upset me, and I -had a terrible longing just to get a -look at dad and mother and Grandma -Chazy, and then pack them all home -again." Thurston heaved a sigh from -his heart. "I wish you wouldn't take -me so seriously, Thurston," she -continued, in an aggrieved voice. "Don't -watch every quiver of my eyes, and -think it's a tragedy. Discipline's a -very good thing for me—I like it. But -I wish you wouldn't believe every word -I say. It's aggravating enough when -your mother does it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll try not to. But I want to -follow your thoughts—I want to be one -with my wife." He drew her to him, -gazing with yearning tenderness into -her eyes. "It's difficult to—to adjust -my slow emotions to your rapidly -changing ones. You force my -sympathy—and repel it—in a breath. -Your moods change with the minutes. -But all that wouldn't matter if I were -sure you were learning to love me—to -give only a little, in return for my deep -affection. That would set my heart at -rest and smooth away all difficulties." He -looked beseechingly into her eyes. -But she silently evaded his glance. -Her face had grown suddenly very -serious. "Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I was thinking—perhaps it was -wrong to marry you—but I did not -love anybody else—and I will try."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, if you knew how your -words stab me. You have a terrible -capacity for torturing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now you're sorry you married me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sorry!" he repeated, intensely. -"I'd give up my life sooner than -you—I try to control my love, but I can't -keep it always smothered. I don't -want to frighten you, child—for you -are only a child yet—but I shall keep -my word when I said I will make you -love me." He pressed her passionately -in his arms. "Indiana!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston!" she murmured, for the -moment yielding to his embrace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A discreet cough sounded in the -room. Thurston released his wife -instantly. Jennings came toward them, -holding a salver out with a hand which -shook more than usual. There was -also a certain rigidity in his face, from -the effort to conceal emotion of some -kind. Thurston took the card from -the salver, with a vague impression that -there was something strange in -Jennings' behavior. Then his own -expression changed into incredulous -surprise. He read, with a rising inflection -of the voice which ended in a shout:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater—Mrs. Chazy -Bunker, Indiana, U.S.A."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-shall-keep-my-promise"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"I Shall Keep My Promise."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Indiana, with a scream of joy, -flung herself into her father's -arms. He had followed Jennings -closely. Also Mrs. Stillwater and -Mrs. Bunker. The latter embraced -Thurston exuberantly, then Mrs. Stillwater -threw her arms about his neck, and -immediately tore herself away from him, -crying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That'll do, father. Let me have -one kiss—oh!" She was almost -hysterical with excitement. "That'll do, -father." He finally gave Indiana over -to her mother, who pressed her to her -breast, with inarticulate expressions of -love. Stillwater then shook hands with -Thurston, who had met the onslaught -calm and smiling, though inwardly -rejoiced for his wife's sake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," said Mrs. Bunker, with a -beaming face, "pass her round."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You dear old things," cried -Indiana, "this is what I call a surprise! -Now sit down, all of you." She pulled -her father and mother down on the -lounge, sitting between them. -Mrs. Stillwater gazed at her, speechless with -happiness. Stillwater smoothed her -hair tenderly, pressing her head against -his breast. "Tell me all the news. -How's everybody at home? Anybody -engaged—or married? How did you -happen to come? What put it in your -heads? How long are you going to -stay? How—?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good gracious!" exclaimed -Mrs. Bunker, "one at a time, Indy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston stood aside, watching Indiana's -radiant face, with an unselfish joy -and an impulse of gratitude to the -kindly chance which had brought her -loved ones at the very moment when -they were so urgently needed. Then -he withdrew quietly, thinking she -would like to be alone with them. He -also wished to acquaint his mother with -the surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've come over only for one -thing," said Mrs. Stillwater. "That's -to see you, Indiana. After you left, -and the excitement was over, I couldn't -settle down again. My body was there, -but my heart and soul were following -you over the water. I don't know how -we ever let you go," her eyes filled, -"and I couldn't stand it any longer. I -had to come over to see for myself if -you were happy." She looked -yearningly into Indiana's face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear mother," said Indiana, -tenderly, pressing her cheek to hers, -"my dear, kind, loving mother!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mary," said Stillwater, severely. -"It's done now, and we must make the -best of it." The spectacle of his wife -and child clasped in each other's arms, -affected him to an intense degree. -During the term of Indiana's -engagement and marriage, he had found it -necessary to be stern with his gentle -wife—without stringent measures—from -pure fear that she would collapse -utterly. His severity served also as a -moral brace, when he himself was concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings entered in his usual noiseless -fashion. "Would yer little leddyship -like tea served?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, if you please, Jennings," -answered Indiana, assuming her English -accent. "Father, Jennings has been a -butler in our family all his life." Every -eye was centred upon Jennings, who -bowed with a most self-congratulatory -expression, and walked proudly from -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Em—em—lack of ambition," said -Stillwater, "that's the trouble with this -country. I could see it before I was -two hours landed. The Britishers are -too well-satisfied with themselves. Life's -too easy. They haven't had to grow -up with a new town—they ought to have -been in my shoes, eh, mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker walked about, surveying -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father—mother—grandmother!" -exclaimed Indiana, taking the centre of -the room. "I have married into a great -family. None of your new nobility. -We are one of the few unadulterated -families in England, which has never -married out of its sphere—except in my -case. And I shall assimilate, not -diverge. No one speaks of progression -here. All are sublimely content. New -ideas are shunned, as modern depravity, -by her ladyship. Look about you, at -these old family relics—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I expect to see a ghost every -moment," interrupted Mrs. Bunker, -affecting to shiver.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's like a nasty old vault," whispered -Mrs. Stillwater, confidentially, to her -husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing better than us," -remarked Indiana, with a toss of her -head. "Nothing, from an ancestral -point of view."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, drop that English accent," -said Mrs. Bunker, sharply, "it's too -affected."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush!" answered Indiana, looking -toward the door. Thurston entered, -with Lady Canning on his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana approached her with a very -marked change of manner, speaking in -soft, low English tones. "My dear -Lady Canning, I have had such a -delightful surprise. This is my father and -mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Mrs. Stillwater, I am really -delighted. And Mr. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And this is my grandmother," continued -Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your grandmother!" exclaimed -Lady Canning, staring in surprise at -the vivacious and essentially modern -woman before her. Mrs. Bunker, on -this occasion, wore a very becoming, -extremely youthful hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's difficult to realize, isn't it?" -remarked Mrs. Bunker, laughing and -flattered at Lady Canning's -astonishment. "We consider it criminal in -the States for a woman not to look at -least ten years younger than she really -is. I've always been regarded as a -remarkable woman for my age."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The costume is deceiving," -answered Lady Canning, regarding -Mrs. Bunker's fashionable attire with -disapproving eyes. "At first glance I -thought you were a young woman, -Mrs.—er—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bunker," smiling graciously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker. However, on close -inspection, I see you are not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having thus summarily thrown cold -water on Mrs. Bunker's enthusiasm, -Lady Canning proceeded on Thurston's -arm to her usual chair by the fire, -Lord Stafford, entering shortly after, -exchanged laughing greetings with his -fellow-travellers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lady Canning, I wouldn't harbor -any old bachelors," remarked Mrs. Bunker, -her irrepressible spirits rising -to the surface again. "If he were my -brother, I'd just turn him out, and he -would be obliged to marry for a shelter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker," said Lord Stafford, -"I once heard a Yankee farmer say, -'An old hoss that's been jogging along -a good many years alone, is always -good to jog along a few years more, -but if you yoke him with another hoss, -he's winded at once, and goes to the -wall.' Ha, ha, ha, ha!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana, who was sitting at the -tea-table, strained her eyes and ears, trying -to hear everything that was said. At -one time she became so absorbed, -making anxious and involuntary comparisons -between her relatives and Thurston's, -that she forgot to pour out the -tea, while Jennings stood anxiously -watching her, waiting for the cups.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And how do you find your daughter -looking, Mrs. Stillwater?" inquired -Lady Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater, sitting near the elder -lady by the fire, shook her head -dolefully. "Her color's not as high as it -used to be. I suppose it's living in -these dark, musty rooms. And she's -used to flying about in the open air."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother!" exclaimed Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is it, Indiana?" answered -Mrs. Stillwater, starting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana gave her a warning glance. -"You don't take sugar, do you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, dear," answered Mrs. Stillwater, -quite oblivious to the glance, -"Don't wait on me. Shall I pour the tea?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, dear Mrs. Stillwater," -said Lady Canning. "Indiana always -does her duty as mistress of the house. -No doubt you miss her very much. I -can understand that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell you frankly, I was very -much against it, she's the only one we -have. I begged her not to do it. I -even warned Thurston against her. -One must give in to Indiana in order to -get along with her, and, living with a -mother-in-law, I was afraid of it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning laughed quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother!" exclaimed Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, dear," answered Mrs. Stillwater. -She went over to Indiana and -bent over her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Stop that," whispered Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater looked at her with a -piteous expression, then sank down -into a chair near the tea-table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This cup is for Lady Canning. -No, Jennings, I'll take it to her myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater watched her jealously -as she waited on Lady Canning, and -drank her tea with a vague feeling of -disappointment in her reunion with -Indiana. Mr. Stillwater inspected, with -interest, various objects in the room, -walking about with Thurston, their -cups in their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a solidity about all this, -which speaks for itself," said -Mr. Stillwater. "It's no use talking, a man -can't buy it." Thurston called his -attention to a tapestry. "Yes, I -know—Gobelin—very fine. I admire it right -here, because it belongs here. But -when our millionaires import other -people's old furniture, even that of -princes and cardinals, and put it in -their brand-new American homes—it -seems to me snobbery. The only -value of an antique is when it belongs -to a nation."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I agree with you, Mr. Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After some further conversation, -Lady Canning said, gently, to Indiana, -"My darling, will you excuse me now? -I know you have much to say to your -people." She shook hands graciously -with them all. "Now, when will you -come and dine with us?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, we'll run in any old time," said -Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We won't wait for invitations," -added Mr. Stillwater. "We'll run over -to breakfast or supper, just as the spirit -moves us. We'll take possession while -we're here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will always be very welcome -whenever you care to come," answered -Lady Canning. "But we are not used -to being taken unawares." She bowed -with a set smile, as she left the room -leaning on her brother's arm. But her -presence was still felt by a perceptible -chill in the atmosphere. Thurston, -however, soon dispelled the restraint. -He took them through the house, entertaining -them with histories of different -family relics, to which they listened -with interest. Then they adjourned to -his own particular den, where all the -trophies of his travels were collected. -Finally Indiana carried them off to -her apartments, leaving Thurston in -his den. When they were all comfortably -installed in the boudoir, Indiana, -leaning on her mother's breast, looked -thoughtfully up in her face and then at -the others. She could scarcely realize -that they were substantial creations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana Stillwater," said Mrs. Bunker, -"the way you crawl to that woman -is very un-American."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In England it's the custom for people -to pay great respect to their elders."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's a nice slap in the face for -us," remarked Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandma Chazy, you don't want -the deference due to age," answered -Indiana, propitiatingly. "You won't -for many years, I hope. Think of -treating ma and pa like that. They -wouldn't like it a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Mrs. Stillwater, "we're -satisfied as long as you love us. But -don't let anyone else take our place." She -pressed her lips to Indiana's soft -hair, crying silently. Indiana -tightened her arms about her mother's -waist, unaware of the tears that were -falling on her yellow puffs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, then," said Mrs. Bunker, -"just put on your things and come and -have supper with us at the hotel. All -the Americans in town will be there, -beside the English celebrities. Come -along. I'll show you the whole push."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'd love to go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll have a good time, if it is -Sunday night. Well, what are you sitting -there for? Get your things on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must ask my husband," said Indiana, -slowly, the eager sparkle suddenly -dying in her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker sank down in the chair, -from which she had sprung in her -enthusiasm. "Indiana Stillwater, I never -thought you would turn out such a -spiritless kind of a woman. Of course -it's none of my business, but if you -start in this way, you'll lose your entire -individuality."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not so, Grandma Chazy. I do -just as I like. I allow no one to -compel me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're quite right to ask your husband, -and, if it's against his religious -views, you stay home and read the -Bible to his mother." Mrs. Bunker -went to the mirror, arranging her hat, -as if the question had been settled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not so!" exclaimed Indiana, -rising and stamping her foot. "You -don't understand the conditions of life -over here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the thing in London now, to -dine out on Sunday nights. You can't -tell me, Indiana Stillwater."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It may be the thing, but we don't -do it. Must I tell you again I have -married into a very conservative family?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're not good enough for you, -now," replied Mrs. Bunker, sarcastically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll always love my own people, but -I won't be blind to their faults. We -lack culture and repose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may be right, Indy," said -Mr. Stillwater, hitherto a silent -listener. "But if you keep cultivating a -field of wheat right along, you'll cultivate -it till it doesn't produce anything. -They're running to seed fast here—and -we're still bearing strong. Repose! -Let them have it. Thank heaven, we -youngsters are always on our feet. -Now, mother!" Mrs. Stillwater was -crying. At the sight of her tears -Indiana capitulated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll come, mother," she said, -despairingly, throwing herself on her -knees beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling!" cried Mrs. Stillwater. -"Don't you think we ought to ask -Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll ask him, of course," said Indiana, -"but I'm sure he won't come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll manage without him," said -Mrs. Bunker. "On second thoughts, -I think we'll send for you, Indiana." She -looked significantly at the others. -"We'll send for her at eight o'clock." They -nodded. "That'll just give you -time to dress. We've another surprise -in store for you." They all laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, don't tell me. It's so nice to -look forward to something one don't -expect."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take off that dowdy thing," directed -Mrs. Bunker. "Go back to your -trousseau."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We turned you out better than -that," commented Stillwater, looking -her over. Indiana pouted like a child, -teased. Thurston emerged from his -den as they descended the stairs. Lord -Stafford also joined them below in the -library.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston," asked Stillwater, taking -him aside, "has she broken out -yet?" Thurston shook his head, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater took Indiana in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Goodbye. God bless you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker kissed her vehemently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I couldn't let you go," whispered -Mrs. Stillwater. "If I wasn't sure I'd -see you to-night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana sank into a chair as they all -left the room, Thurston and Lord -Stafford accompanying them to the door. -Her thoughts were in a whirl. Her -pride had been hurt at the idea her -family should think she was not utterly -a free agent, and that was one of the -main reasons why she had consented to -join them that night. Then they -brought her old life back so forcibly. -If her relatives had suffered in -comparison with Thurston's, her present -life now suffered in comparison with -the old—its freedom, and lack of -obligation. She realized now that she -had been truly queen of her own -territory. She heard them all laughing and -talking below. Gradually their voices -died away, the voices of her old life. -She felt a sense of loneliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was early spring, when Jennings -made it a rule to light the candles later. -Everything in the room had faded into -the growing dusk. The old objects so -easily blended with a waning light. -Indiana heard Thurston laughing heartily -with Lord Stafford, as they ascended -the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All in the dark, sweetheart!" He -touched the electric button of the lamp -on the table, revealing Indiana, buried -in one of the big chairs, gazing dismally -before her. The smile died on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, go on! Don't mind me!" -exclaimed Indiana. "Laugh at them! -Ridicule them! Tell me you don't -want them to darken your doors again. -I'm ready for anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!" exclaimed Thurston, -justly hurt at this unreasonable -outburst. "How can you? I wasn't -laughing in that way. I find your -people very witty and amusing. As for -separating you from them, I hope we -shall see as much of them as we -possibly can. Grandma Chazy is a new -creation for us. We simply revel in -her. She'll make a sensation -wherever she goes. I shouldn't wonder if -she would marry well and settle down -in England. There now, the storm's -over." He smoothed the hair back -from her forehead with a soothing -touch. "Poor little thing, she's had a -shock. I hate surprises myself. Lie -down for an hour and rest. Come," -lifting her up from the chair, "I'll put -you on the sofa."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no!" protested Indiana, -"there's no time. I—I have promised -to go out." He looked at her in -astonishment. "The folks wouldn't take 'no' -for an answer," affecting not to notice -his surprise, "and naturally, they want -me with them as much as possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naturally!" said Thurston, coldly. -If she wished to go out with her family, -why had she not consulted him first, he -thought, instead of considering it -sufficient to merely apprise him of her -intention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't ask you to waste your night," -she said, carelessly, endeavoring to make -it apparent that she was quite innocent -of any departure from the conventional -order of things. He looked at her -again, in astonishment. Why should -she assume a night spent with her was -wasted? It was an evident fact he was -not wanted. "But, you can call for -me," she wound up, airily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, they've mapped out a programme," -she answered, irrelevantly. -"Grandma Chazy knows what's to be -seen." She turned to leave the room, -as though summarily dismissing the -subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am only your husband, it is true, -but I think I have a right to know, if -my wife goes out, where she is going."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana paused half way to the door. -"I'm going to dine with them at the -Cecil, where they are stopping." He -was silent. She waited, in some suspense, -for a remark, her hand on the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sorry to disappoint you—but I -cannot permit you to go," he said, at -length, slowly. "It's not the place for -Lady Canning. It may be all very well -for strangers—sight-seers—but London -is our home. These places are resorts -for foreigners, professional women, -men-about-town, and others, who delight to -bask in the public eye. I have another -reason. I do not wish you to be seen -in public, until I have formally presented -you—as my wife." He approached her -and removing her hand gently from the -handle of the door, led her back into -the room. She went unwillingly, her -head drooping. "Indiana," he put his -hand under her chin and lifted her face, -so that her eyes met his. "I don't wish -to force you, but to convince you. -Admit it would be a very foolish and -inconsistent thing to do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, but that's just why I want to -do it," she answered, wilfully deaf to -the note of appeal in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You child! Come now," he forced -her gently to lie down on the sofa. -"Quiet that eager little mind of yours," -tucking her carefully in a rug. "Shut -those restless American eyes and sleep -for a while. Dream yourself into good -humor again." He closed her eyes, -patting her cheek tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, they've got a surprise for -me," she said, piteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What, another!" he exclaimed. -"Your nerves won't stand any more -surprises to-night. Now, in one hour, -I shall come in and awaken my sleeping -beauty with a kiss." Indiana made a -little grimace and shut her eyes tightly. -He watched her for a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep already," bending over her, -"or sulking—which?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She flung the rug from her, -suddenly sitting up. "Thurston, I want -to go. Thurston, why can't I go?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because you yourself have acknowledged -it would not be right," he answered, -coldly. Her small, red lips -drooped plaintively, she coiled herself -up on the sofa in a disconsolate -attitude. Thurston stood watching her. -The sad, little face staring at the fire, -stirred his sympathy. This was the first -request he had ever refused. He felt -an impulse to press her against his heart -and beg her not to grieve—to tell her -that he felt her disappointment far deeper -than she herself could have any idea of. -But pride prevented him. He had -lately been chary in his demonstrations. -His nature, which at first had sung a -pæan over the mere fact that she was -his, rejoicing in the lavish display of its -love, gradually conscious of no hint of -response, only a tacit acceptance, had -crept back into its cloak of reserve. -He suffered from the repression, -becoming at times the victim of a terrible -discouragement—that sinking of the -heart, inevitable to the thought that one -has given one's very best in vain. He -realized what a frail structure he had -builded—that beautiful fairy fabric of -spider's webs, illuminated with the -tints of the rainbow. Standing, -watching Indiana, Thurston remembered the -day when she had promised to marry -him—that gray, soft, still evening in -autumn. It had been like a tender -poem. He had likened the little path -between the trees upon which they -walked, to the dim, narrow aisle of a -church, leading to the altar. It had -led them to the altar, but he had failed -yet to realize the dream, the infinite -suggestion beyond. He felt they were -still kneeling there. He and the -church had done their part. It needed -Indiana only to make the bond -complete. He suffered in a great measure -for her sake alone. Could she respect -her own womanhood as his wife when -she failed to love him, he asked -himself. She, too, might be suffering, -without his knowledge. The little -figure maintained its disconsolate position. -It was only a trivial matter, after -all, but he did not want her to harbor -the least resentment against him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana," he said, tenderly, placing -his hand on her head, "do you remember -the day I asked you to be my wife? -Do you forget already the condition -upon which you accepted me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What condition?" asked Indiana, -innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That I should not give in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed Indiana, falling -back on the sofa. If he brought up -that justification, there was no longer -any ground to argue upon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never in my life broken my -word once given. This is our first -difference. I must keep my promise to -you. No matter how much I suffer, I -will not give in." He tucked her in -the rug again, extinguished the lamp, -and left the room.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="an-escapade"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">An Escapade</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Indiana, lying in the dark, tossed -restlessly. Scattered scenes and -personages of her old life and the new, -floated through her mind, jumbled in a -rare confusion. She counted and -multiplied to induce sleep. Finally she -thought of the formula children repeat -when they play hide-and-seek—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"'Ena, mino, mina, mo,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Catch a nigger by the toe.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>If he hollers let him go.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>Ena, mino, mina, mo.</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>You're it—I'm out!'"</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Out of everything," she added, -with a sob. "Oh, I can't sleep!" She -tossed the pillows about desperately, -feeling nervous and irritable, angry -with herself, angry with Thurston and -her family. The room was suddenly -lit from the lamp on the centre-table. -Indiana's dazzled eyes saw a tall figure -standing before her. "Glen!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings retreated with a chuckle of -delight. Indiana threw her arms about -her old playmate's neck, and was on -the point of kissing him, but drew -suddenly back at the recollection that he -had been her lover as well as her comrade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bet you forgot, for the moment, -you were married—now didn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana nodded. Tears were not -very far from her eyes. He pressed -her hands, looking into her face. He -felt both pain and joy—pain that she -was another's, and joy at beholding her -in the flesh once more, no matter -under what circumstances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you were the surprise," said -Indiana, a little shyly. He looked so -manly, so strikingly tall and handsome, -as he stood there in his evening -clothes. His dark eyes gazed at her in -an unmistakably tender fashion. "Just -as though I were not married at all," -thought Indiana, with a sudden uprising -of wifely virtue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was the surprise," answered -Glen, releasing her hands slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was just trying to sleep, and, -thinking of the old days when we -played tag together and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Glen, eagerly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, never mind," answered Indiana, -brushing the tears from her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The old days," repeated Glen, -staring into the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They seem so far away, and it's -only a few months, Glen. So much -has happened—I suppose that's the reason."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at her intently. There -was a wistful expression in her eyes. -She was paler and thinner, more -thoughtful. He gathered his own -conclusions from her appearance, aided by -certain hints which the family had let -fall. He knit his brows in a fierce scowl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the matter, Glen?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My old thoughts are working on -me again—that's what it is—your -mentioning the old days. They were the -best after all, Indiana. Why, people -are always raving over sunsets. You -should have heard them on the steamer -coming over. But once I saw a -sunset far off in an orchard in -Indiana—there's never been anything to -compare with it since—there never will -be—to the end of time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down, Glen. Tell me all about -yourself. You've changed so much for -the better, I'm quite bewildered."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's worth crossing the ocean to -hear that—from you," said Glen, with -a superior air. "But I won't sit down -here—the place chokes me. I've -brought a hansom, and we'll jump in -and take a spin about, till it's time to -join the folks at dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not going," said Indiana, -without meeting his eyes. "My husband -won't let me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your husband won't let you? Poor -child—so it's come to this!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana's pride rose in arms. "Don't -waste any sympathy!" she exclaimed, -her eyes flashing. "I'm perfectly -happy, I assure you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you look it," said Glen, -skeptically. "I understand it's a case of -jealousy. He's trying to wean you -from your own people. I suppose I -won't be allowed to see anything of -you either. I'm glad they let me in -this time, to get one glimpse of you. -Next time it will be 'Not at home' -or 'Engaged.' I'm very sorry you -couldn't come this one night. It'll -spoil the evening for all of us, and I -had so much to tell you. But I won't -keep you. Good-bye."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Glen!" cried Indiana, clenching -her hands and stamping her foot. "How -can you act like that? I'm no prisoner. -I can go if I want to—but I don't want to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That makes it worse than ever," -replied Glen, seriously. "We sympathize -with you, in the other case, but now -we must have the pride not to beg -when you turn upon us. Good night!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was more than Indiana could -bear. "Glen, I'll go!" she exclaimed, -desperately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came back slowly into the room, -his eyes shining with joy. "Will you, -Indiana?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just sit down and I'll slip into a -dress. I shan't be long, Glen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We'll have a good time, altogether, -this one night." Her resolve, once -taken, she threw scruples to the wind. -Glen, walking restlessly up and down -the room after she had gone to dress, -spied her photograph on a cabinet. -First looking suspiciously around him, -he took possession of it and kissed it -passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor little thing," he murmured, -gazing on the photograph, and seating -himself in a comfortable position, his -feet on the table. "Now the first blaze -of glory is over, and you find—you're -in for life—what are you going to do, -little western bobolink, with your wings -clipped, and your little eyes peering -over the cruel ocean? Oh, you'll never -complain—you're too proud." He let -the photograph fall, and buried his face -in his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana rang for her maid, and -dressed in feverish haste. She wished -to leave the house without coming in -contact again with Thurston. Slipping -quietly down the stairs, she saw a light -in his den. The door was not quite -closed, and she peeped through the -crack. He was sitting at his table, -reading, in a patient attitude, his head -propped on his hand. She passed the -door, then, moved by a sudden -impulse, went back and looked at him -again. There was something which -appealed to her in the solitary figure -sitting there, in a pose so passive as to -almost suggest hopelessness. She -noticed the touch of gray in his hair, -under the lamplight—that, too, appealed -to her. She felt vaguely that his was -not the face of a happy man, and also, -in a vague sense, her conscience -reproached her for being responsible. -She remembered they had always been -together since their marriage. Neither -had taken any pleasure apart. She -would have liked to have kissed him -good-night, and gone with his sanction—but, -she told herself, that would be -impossible to gain. With an involuntary -sigh she sped down to the library. -Glen was still sitting, his face buried in -his hands. The photograph had fallen -on the floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here I am, Glen," throwing her -white wrap in his lap. "It's not -necessary to ask you how I look. I've -completely stunned you." He looked at -her with worshipping eyes. She had -donned an airy, diaphanous white -gown, and her cheeks were glowing, -her eyes sparkling with excitement. -"You've been looking at my new -photo. Do you like it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, so-so," he answered, indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now I'm going to leave a message -for Thurston." She sat down to the -table and drew some writing materials -towards her. Then she gnawed the -end of the pen in some perplexity, -looking a little grave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're afraid," said Glen. "You're -sorry—you'd like to back out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," answered Indiana, -drawing herself up indignantly. "I -know just what my husband will do. -He won't say a word to anyone—he'll -jump in a cab and follow me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then—a family row."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all. My husband is too high-bred -for any public display of feeling. -He'll look cold and proud, I'll quiver -my eyelids—and—he'll kiss me—that's -all." She smiled triumphantly as she -scribbled a hasty note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," agreed Glen, with a sigh. -"You could soften anything—even stone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know that my husband is -an H.F.R.G.S.?" sealing the note.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is he? You quite astonish me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, what is it? Of course you -don't know. Honorary Fellow Royal -Geographical Society. They want him -to lead an expedition to the North -Pole. If I had said 'no,' he would have -gone. It was a toss-up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What a shame he didn't go," -remarked Glen, shaking his head -dolefully. "What a loss to science! Ha, -ha, ha, ha, ha!" He laughed so heartily, -Indiana felt obliged to join him. -"How jolly I am!" he thought, bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm so excited!" exclaimed -Indiana. "I love uncertainty of any -kind."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Women are born gamblers," observed -Glen, fastening her wrap under -her chin. Jennings entered, in answer -to the bell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings," said Indiana, with an -indifferent air, "there's—there's a note -on the table for—your master."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer little leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—I shall be—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hear someone coming downstairs," -whispered Glen. "Quick, or -Bluebeard will cut off our heads!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel like a bad boy, playing -truant," laughed Indiana. "Scoot!" They -ran, giggling quietly, into the -hall. Jennings, with a horror-stricken -face, tottered to the window, pushed -aside the curtains hastily, and pressed -his face against the glass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford, entering the library -then, saw him in this position and -heard the sound of wheels. "Who's -driving off, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings started. "Her—her—little -leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford looked at him incredulously. -He had just been talking with -Thurston, and Indiana was not likely to -go out without him. They always -remained at home on Sunday nights. -"Impossible!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her little leddyship's gone out with -a gentleman from America," said Jennings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A light broke on Lord Stafford. -"Oh, evidently young Masters," he -thought. He sank into a chair by the -fire, pulling his moustache contemplatively. -"Thurston was apparently -unaware of the fact—something's up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston came into the library a -moment later. "I thought you were -dining out to-night, Uncle Nelson." He -rubbed his hands, holding them -over the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford lit a cigarette, trying -to appear unconcerned. "I shall be -off in a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm as hungry as a bear," said -Thurston, cheerily. "I must go and -find Indiana. I left her asleep here. -She is usually dressed and down by this -time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—Thurston," commenced Lord -Stafford. But Thurston had left the -room before he could speak. Jennings, -still standing near the window, -was a little, old figure turned into -stone. "By George," muttered Lord -Stafford. "A pretty mess, this."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana's not upstairs!" exclaimed -Thurston, when he entered again. -"She may be with my mother. I did -not think of that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her little leddyship's gone out, -sir," said Jennings, shrinking into the -shadow of the curtains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Impossible!" exclaimed Thurston, -loudly. "I left her asleep here." Lord -Stafford put his hand warningly -on his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her little leddyship left a note," -continued Jennings, peering over the -table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston instantly saw the little -white note lying among the books. -He seized and read it quickly. His -first expression of incredulous surprise -faded away. His face became impassive.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Will I serve dinner at eight, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," answered Thurston, -calmly crushing the note in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lord Stafford looked at him -inquiringly, as Jennings left the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She has gone with Glen Masters to -dine with her people—at the Cecil—and -asks me to fetch her," said Thurston, slowly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then it's all right." Lord Stafford -felt, in a measure, relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not all right, by any means, -Uncle Nelson," answered Thurston, in -the same repressed voice. "My wife -has gone against my express wishes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, by George! Too bad!" exclaimed -Lord Stafford, sympathetically. -"You'll go and fetch her, of -course?" Thurston failed to answer. An ash -dropped loudly on the hearth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Thurston, finally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I go and fetch her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No." The frozen monosyllable -dropped from his lips like an icicle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are you going to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I am going to wait up for my -wife—like a good, obedient husband," -he said, bitterly, dropping into a chair.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="late-visitors"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Late Visitors</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The great bronze clock on the -mantel struck eleven. Thurston -paced the library restlessly. His -mother had retired, as usual, a little -after ten. He had thought it best to -keep from her the fact of Indiana's -escapade; excusing her absence from -dinner on the score of a nervous -headache, due to the surprise she had -received that afternoon. He had -impressed upon his mother the necessity -of perfect rest and quiet, for that night, -at least. Lady Canning had promised -not to disturb her, confiding to -Thurston that she had anticipated his wife -would suffer bad effects from such a -"cruel shock," as she expressed it. -He wished to save Indiana from the -blame his mother would be sure to -attach to her, if she knew the truth. He -could not brook the idea that his wife -should fall one iota from her esteem. -And he also wished his mother's belief -in his happiness to remain undisturbed. -She would have suffered intense anxiety, -on his account, if she had suspected -there was any flaw in his marital -relations. He hoped that some blessed -future period would see his union, with -Indiana, established on the solid rock of -mutual love. Until then his unhappiness -was his own secret, one which he -guarded jealously. The inference his -household might take from Indiana's -action, was a source of great mortification -to him. He went to the window -and looked out. The thought rankled -in him that if she had felt the slightest -respect or love, she could not have -treated his wishes with such contempt. -When he turned back into the room, -Jennings was standing at the door, -looking at him wistfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, what is it?" he asked, in a -quick, sharp tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll keep up the fire, sir, it's a bit -sharp out to-night," answered Jennings, -apologetically. Thurston continued to -pace the floor, while Jennings piled fresh -logs on the fire, shaking his head and -muttering, as he was sometimes in the -habit of doing. Suddenly there was an -imperative knock upon the front door. -"Ah, here she is, now, sir!" exclaimed -Jennings, struggling to his feet. "Here's -her little leddyship." He hurried from -the room, chuckling with delight. -Thurston's eyes were illumined with a -sudden flash of joy and he rushed to the -door to meet his wife. But the -movement was an involuntary one. On -second thought he sat down to the -table, took up a book and endeavored -to appear disinterested. "Why," he -thought, remembering anew the facts of -her absence, "should he act as though -she had done nothing wrong. That in -itself would be a condonation of her -offence." He turned his head slowly, -as Jennings came back to the room, -followed hurriedly by Stillwater, -holding his overcoat and opera hat. -Thurston rose, his expression of cold and -assumed indifference changing to one -of deep disappointment and anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's my wife—where is she?" -he demanded, with an uncontrollable -burst of passion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"She's all right, my boy, she's all -right," answered Stillwater, in a -conciliating tone, beneath which there was -a trace of embarrassment. "She's at -the hotel, with mother and Grandma -Chazy. And I came to bring you back -to finish up the evening with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, very much," said -Thurston, sinking into his chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, you're mad. You won't be -so foolish as to make a fuss about -nothing." Thurston looked at him, in -incomprehending surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Stillwater, do you know that -my wife left the house against my -express wish and command? Drove away -from my door on Sunday evening with -a gentleman not her husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I know all about it, my boy," -answered Stillwater. "But it was only -Glen—just the same as her own -brother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My household does not know that. -The appearance of such a proceeding is -not favorable."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know—but it's Indiana's way of -doing things," said Stillwater, rather -impatiently. "Just because you said -she shouldn't, she would. Now, if you -handled her a little better—you'll -excuse me, but I've known her longer -than you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may have known her longer, -but I doubt if you understand her -better. As to handling her, as you call it, -I will never stoop to bribe or cajole her -into doing her duty."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right," continued -Stillwater. He was there on an errand of -conciliation, and, though his son-in-law's -argument seemed absurdly precise and -conventional, and he assured himself that -he did not approve of any such cut-and-dried -policy, he was determined to carry -out his intention. "I approve of the -stand you are taking, but commence after -we're gone. It seems rather mean to -spoil mother's holiday, doesn't it? Now -come along, and Indy will receive you -with open arms. It'll be all right, I -promise you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston felt irritated by his -father-in-law's free-and-easy good nature, his -light way of disposing of a matter -which struck the core of all that was -sacred to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am very sorry to mar your pleasure," -he answered, firmly and coldly. -"This is the first time my wife has -openly defied my wishes. It must be -the last. If I give in, it will be the -beginning of endless repetitions. And I -shall fall in line behind her, like a good -American husband."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater took a slight exception to -these last words, uttered in a bitterly -sarcastic tone. "It's not such a -terrible thing to be an American -husband," he said, in an offended voice. -"I'm one—I don't look very bad on it, -do I?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston smiled. "My dear father-in-law, -if I were an American, I would -consider it the acme of bliss to be in -the leading-strings of my pretty wife. -But I'm an Englishman and—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're not built that way," interrupted -Stillwater, with an explosion of -mirth. Thurston shrugged his -shoulders and joined in the laugh. "Come -along, Thurston," said Stillwater, -feeling more at his ease. "Come along. -She's only a mite. She's done wrong, -she knows it, and she's mighty -uncomfortable." Thurston's spirits rose at -this. Then she was not utterly without -heart or conscience, where he was -concerned. Stillwater watched his face, -keeping his hand on his shoulder. -"Now come, and when you get her -home, read her the riot act."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston shook his head. "I'm -very sorry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater's expression became -serious. He had at first intentionally -made light of the matter. Now, as -Thurston's resolution remained -unshaken, things commenced to assume -a graver aspect. "Now, look here, -Thurston, we won't have her staying -over night with us. The place for a -young wife is under her husband's roof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then use your authority to convince -her of that fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you think I haven't done so, -already?" asked Stillwater, now intensely -grave. "Do you think I came here -alone to-night without doing all I could -to get her to come with me? She -never told us, until the evening was half -over, that you forbade her to go—on -account of Sunday, and your mother, an -old-fashioned kind of a woman. Well, -we wanted to clear her out then and -there—we begged, and we prayed, and -we bullied her, and she gave it back to -us, as good as she got it." He laughed -at the remembrance of the scene in -their rooms at the hotel. Thurston -listened in anxious suspense. "And -Grandma Chazy became so mad she -nearly slapped her. But do you think -she'd budge? Not a foot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston went over and sat down on -the lounge near the fire, his head on -his hand, in a hopeless attitude. It -was becoming worse and worse. She -persisted in her defiance and contempt -of him, showing it openly to her -family. She had no compunction for what -she had done—none. Before Stillwater's -arrival, he had allowed himself -to think of her coming to him, asking -prettily for forgiveness, or even one -look from her deep-blue eyes would -have been enough. He would have -taken her then, so gladly, so thankfully, -to his heart. If he had reproached -her, it would have been tenderly—the -chiding which is in itself love. If she -had made one step towards him, he -would have met her with three. But -she would give him no chance to show -her how freely, how generously, he -could forgive for the asking. It is easy -for love to ask forgiveness of love. -But when there is none—this secret -wound pricked him sorely. His head -sank lower on his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on, come on," said Stillwater, -persuasively. "She don't mean -anything. And I'll tell you something—she's -afraid to come home. I know -that little, uneasy laugh of hers—with -her eyes full of tears. She's done -wrong, she's sorry, and she wants you -to come and make it up. Won't you -come, Thurston—won't you?" He -bent down, looking into the younger -man's face. There was a pathetic -appeal in his voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston shook his head. "When I -think of you three old people, helpless -against that slip of a girl—it appalls me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Stillwater took his hat and coat from -the chair where he had laid them. -"Then I'll tell you what it is—she -won't come home until you do come -after her. That's her ultimatum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston rose. "And this is mine," -he answered, sternly. "My mother's -house closes at twelve o'clock, and if -she does not return at that time, the -doors will be closed for the night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll tell her," said Stillwater, with -an indescribable expression. "I warn -you," pausing at the door, "you're -making a very hard time for yourself. -Good night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston stood motionless, thinking -deeply, for some moments after Stillwater -left the room. Then he rang for -Jennings. The old man responded, -with an anxious expression. -"Jennings, Lady Canning may not return -to-night," said Thurston, in a measured -tone. "She will probably remain -with her people. Naturally, she wants -to see as much of them as possible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lock up at the usual hour and go -to bed. If she is not here by that -time, she will not return."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer lordship." After he left -the room, as he was crossing the hall, -he heard a slow, familiar step, a soft -rustle of silk, on the stairs. He looked -up with a sudden throb of fear, and -saw Lady Canning descending. He -knew she thought his little mistress was -ill in bed with a headache, and the -contingency that she might come home -at any moment appalled him. He -hurried back to the library. "Milady, sir, -milady!" he ejaculated. "She's -coming down the stairs."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heavens," thought Thurston, "I -thought she was safe for the night. -Don't look so anxious, Jennings."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Lady Canning entered, he -greeted her with a bright smile, -taking both her hands in his. Jennings -pushed a chair up to the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, this is unusual. What -keeps you up at this hour?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've had so much to think of, since -this afternoon. I wasn't at all sleepy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at Thurston with -wide-awake, luminous eyes, as he placed a -footstool under her feet. "How is -Indiana? Is she sleeping?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," answered Thurston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm glad of that, poor little thing! -Such a cruel surprise! The excitement -was too much for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, the excitement," repeated -Thurston, mechanically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings left the room, after he had -brushed some imaginary ashes from -the hearth and arranged the curtains. -Thurston showed no sign of the strain -under which he was suffering, as he -talked gently with his mother. Once -in a while his eyes sought the clock, -and his ears, preternaturally sharpened -by anxiety, heard an imaginary hansom, -bearing Indiana homeward. Their -conversation reverted to his wife's people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't object to the father and -mother," said Lady Canning. "We -have one great point of sympathy—our -love for Indiana. But the -grandmother—Thurston, is she quite well -balanced?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston laughed. "She's a shining -light, mother—a prominent -member of women's clubs." Lady -Canning shuddered. "A very shrewd, -clever woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's wonderful how people differ in -their conception of things," said Lady -Canning, with a sigh. "If she were -my mother, I should consider it necessary -for her to have a personal attendant. -What do you think she said to -me? That 'I ought to make more out -of myself,' and if I would come over to -the hotel, she'd fix me up." Lady -Canning looked at her son with a -shocked expression. He laughed -involuntarily, and she finally joined him, -seeing the amusing side of Mrs. Bunker's -remark. "Well, we'll get along -with them, won't we?" continued Lady -Canning, taking Thurston's hand -affectionately in hers. "They have given -us our Indiana. I'm going to make a -great effort for her sake. I'm going to -present her myself at the first -drawing-room of the season."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother!" exclaimed Thurston, in surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I'm coming out of my retirement, -after twenty years, and we'll make -a sensation, I promise you." She patted -his hand, feeling that the grateful love -in his eyes was ample reward for all -this resolution had cost her. "She's -brightened my life so much since she -came. I'm beginning to take an interest -in things, for the first time since I -lost your dear father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm very glad of that, very glad, -mother—and happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, may I creep in and kiss her -good-night, when I go upstairs?" asked -Lady Canning, rising.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't, mother," answered -Thurston, quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't wake her," assured Lady Canning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think you had better not, -mother," said Thurston, in the same -quiet tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, just as you say. I can't -blame you, even if you are -over-anxious. Give her my love and a -kiss." She paused at the door, -looking thoughtfully in his face. "We -must love her very much, Thurston. -And if there are any faults, we must -deal gently with them, because—she is -very young, and from what I saw of -her people, she could have had no -bringing up whatever."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed strange to hear his mother -pleading for Indiana just at that -moment. "Good-night, mother." She -put her arms about his neck and kissed -him. He threw himself in a chair, after -she left the room, feeling deeply -depressed. "If there are any faults, we -must deal gently with them." His -mother's words always carried their -own weight. Her unconscious -intercession had touched his heart. He was -ready to do everything, to make every -extenuation, but he felt a dull -premonition that Indiana would ask for none. -Neither would she care. This was the -worst. His hidden wound throbbed -painfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings crept into the room. When -he saw Thurston, sitting with his head -bowed upon his hands, his face became -an image of distress. He looked at the -clock, then back again to the hopeless -figure in the chair. Thurston raised -his head suddenly. "What are you -prowling about for, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I just looked in to see after that -danged fire," said Jennings, in confusion, -tottering to the fire and poking -the logs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston smiled. "There's no sign -of it going out, Jennings. Find a more -plausible excuse."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Won't you have a cold bite, sir?" -asked Jennings, piteously. "You never -touched the dinner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston shook his head, opening a book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A glass of wine, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, Jennings. Don't bother, -there's a good fellow—and don't come -crawling in and out continually. I -can't read; it disturbs me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, sir," in a heart-broken -voice. He went to the door, then -tottered back again. "Another log on, -sir, if you're not going to bed? But -perhaps you are going to bed?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I shall sit up and read." The -page before him was a blur. It lacked -but a few minutes of twelve. If she -would only come, no matter how—whether -stormy, sulking or weeping—if -she would only come. Even at the -very last moment, to show him that she -had, at least, some compunction—that -she realized, in even a slight measure, -what was owing him!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After putting another log on the -fire, Jennings opened the window and -looked out. Then he closed it, with a -sigh, and stood in the shadow of the -draperies watching Thurston, with his -heart in his eyes. The clock -commenced to strike. Thurston, sitting -with his head over his book, ceased to -hope. Every silvery chime fell on his -head with a dull weight of pain. What -had she not left him to infer from the -fact of her not coming? Contempt, -indifference, even fear. At the last -stroke of twelve he raised his head and -looked over at Jennings. The old man -was the image of misery. Answering -the command in Thurston's eyes, he -slowly took a bunch of keys from his -pocket. "I'll only put up the chain, -yer lordship, in case—" He looked -imploringly at Thurston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lock it fast," answered Thurston. -"Take the key out as usual, and go at -once to bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man made a silent motion of -assent, and tottered to the door. -Suddenly there was a loud knock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, here she is at last!" cried -Jennings. "Here's her little leddyship!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston sprang to his feet with an -involuntary exclamation of joy. "My -wife, my Indiana," he thought. "She -has come at the very last moment—a -sudden impulse to do right. Thank -heaven!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings entered slowly, followed by -Glen Masters.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="awakening"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">Awakening.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"This is rather a late visit, Lord -Canning," began Glen, in a -slightly embarrassed manner. He also -refrained from offering his hand. "But -I—I left the folks about ten o'clock, -and I—I've been driving about the city -trying to collect my thoughts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston silently offered him a chair, -suffering the reaction of his sudden -access of joy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana told me you generally sit -up after she retires, so I waited late to -find you alone and have it out with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston met Glen's intense gaze -with one of polite surprise. "Oh, -indeed! I was not aware there was any -subject to be thrashed out between you -and me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana's unhappy. I can't see -it—it—it—breaks my heart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are a very young man, sir," -answered Thurston, coldly, "and -closely connected with my wife and her -family, otherwise I should consider this -a piece of impertinence."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't mean it in that way. I'm -square and above board, and I hate -anything clandestine. This is a case of -a husband and wife, and another man -who loves her. I'm the other man. -Now kick me out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should assuredly do so, if you -were an Englishman. But in your -case I will only beg you to explain -your meaning—I am always willing to -learn." He felt obliged to take Glen -seriously, yet he was conscious of -feeling amused, in spite of his suffering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—have a cigarette?" asked Glen, -offering his case. Though he had been -braced with confidence when he -entered, he felt now very much -embarrassed and at a disadvantage. -"Indiana won't be likely to come in, will -she? I hope she's safe in bed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it's not likely," answered -Thurston, evasively, taking a cigarette, -which he omitted to light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want to keep her out of it, if I -can," said Glen. He leaned back in -his chair, smoking. "I'm not much -of a talker, and this helps me." He -puffed furiously. "But I'm a great -thinker. I've lived alone a considerable -part of my life, and my way of -doing things may not be considered -strictly constitutional. However, that -don't say I'm wrong."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," Thurston assured him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you believe that the pursuit of -happiness is the highest aim of life?" -asked Glen, in a very important manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That depends whose happiness a -man is pursuing. You are evidently -after mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha! Very good. But I mean, is -making others happy the highest aim?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Possibly. My highest aim at present -is to see my wife perfectly happy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, that's the point. And, as we -both want the same thing, there will be -no difficulty in joining forces and -accomplishing it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I fail to see how you can help to -those results," remarked Thurston, far -from being infected with the same -friendly spirit of co-operation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's what I came to tell you," -said Glen, boyishly. "I'm the only -one who really understands Indiana. I -know how to get at her true feelings -better than all her folks put -together." Thurston half smiled at this -assertion, which frankly ignored him—the -husband. Glen puffed his cigarette, -thoughtfully, watching the rings of -smoke, as they widened and disappeared. -"I saw the end of it from the -first," he continued, in a superior tone. -"Like all young girls, Indy wanted -something new. I'm not blaming -her—but—she's not happy. She never -can be happy, away from her own -home and people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you here as my wife's ambassador?" -asked Thurston, icily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, no, not exactly," responded -Glen, uneasily. "But she didn't -object, when I told her I was going to -have it out with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will be interesting to know what -your intentions are against me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I want to tell you the thing -don't work—I don't see how you could -expect it. I want, in a perfectly open -and straightforward way, to discuss the -means to the desired end—her happiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston smiled wearily. "This -would all be very farcical if there were -not a very serious question for me at the -root of it, and which my wife's conduct -to-night has made me realize very -keenly. I suppose she was discussing -me, during your rather unconventional -hansom-ride this evening?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she was—and—er—not favorably. -Now, what do you propose to do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston rose, answering, very -sternly and coldly. "Prove to my own -satisfaction if it is true, that my wife is -not, and never can be, happy in her -new home. I shall not ask her, -because she does not know herself what is -good for her. I am egotistical enough -to think that I understand her better -than her own family—and even better -than you. And I am convinced that a -few years away from her own country, -and her own people, will convert the -spoilt child into a splendid, -self-controlled woman. If I am mistaken, I -assure you, the way of retreat shall be -made very easy for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—how long will it take to discover -all this—a lifetime?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About twelve hours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen looked at him thoughtfully, -feeling that, owing to his jealousy, he -had always been unjustly prejudiced -against Indiana's husband. There was -a consciousness of right, a dignity in -Thurston's bearing, which impressed -him. And beneath the calm, cold -manner in which he had spoken, Glen -recognized an undercurrent of pain. -It dawned on him, suddenly, that the -other's composure was only repression, -and the man was suffering. He also -appreciated the unfailing courtesy with -which he had been treated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lord Canning," he said, rising, "I -don't feel near as confident, as I did -when I came in. I was sure my -platform was a just and equitable one, but -since I've been watching you and listening, -I begin to feel a little ashamed of myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No occasion for it, I'm sure," -Thurston replied, kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a fine fellow, and if Indiana's -not happy with you, it's not your fault. -It's the fault of your nationality—that's -the only weak point I see in you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An Englishman and his nationality -cannot be so easily divorced as a -husband and wife," said Thurston, -significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen held out his hand. "Lord -Canning, although it's against my own -interests, I—I wish you luck."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank you, sir. One moment, -please," touching the bell, "the house -is already closed for the night." They -waited silently until Jennings appeared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Show this gentleman out, Jennings. -Then lock the door securely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer lordship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said Glen. He -stepped back to the fire, where -Thurston was standing, adding, -confidentially, "You won't see me again. I -shall keep out of the way. I won't -move a step in this matter until I am -quite convinced the case is hopeless -with you. Good night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he reached the street, he -found the cabman asleep on the box. -He touched him on the shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where to, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anywhere—only drive," slipping -a sovereign in his hand. The cabman -whipped up his horse furiously. He -had been following similar instructions -since ten o'clock. It was now past -midnight, and the handsome young -American still persisted in his strange -whim. He refrained, however, from -fatiguing his brain with futile questions, -realizing the fallacy of such a -proceeding, when a sovereign reposed -securely in his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Glen leaned comfortably back, lighting -a cigarette. His dead hopes had -risen that day from their ashes, and, -like beautiful, deceiving phantoms, had -melted into air. His equilibrium, the -fortitude it had cost him so much to -gain, had been shaken to their foundations -by the thought that his cherished -dream might still materialize. He saw -Thurston's white, suffering face as he -calmly said he would make the way of -retreat very easy for Indiana. Well, -he was worthy of her love. That was, -at least, one solace. And he would -win it in time. It was his right. With -a sigh for his transient vision of -happiness, the beautiful Fata Morgana which -had charmed his eyes for such a brief -space, Glen gathered all his moral -forces to banish Indiana from his mind. -His manhood was firmly building itself -on the foundation of these accumulated -efforts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston, still sitting up in the -library, vainly attempted to read. It -seemed as though his life were falling -about him in ruins. He was mortified, -humiliated, and incensed at Indiana. -If she had no love for him, she could, -at least, have shown more respect for -the sacred tie which bound them, and -should have refrained from discussing -their relations and publishing the fact -of her unhappiness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings crept in. He gave a sly -glance at Thurston, who, with his head -bent over his book, appeared to be -reading. Then he opened the window -softly and looked out. Hearing -nothing, he closed it, but still waited, -listening, in the shadow of the curtains. -He felt it incumbent on him to share -his master's vigil. Although he would -not presume to express an opinion to -Thurston, he had a firm belief that his -little mistress would come home that -night. Jennings' head swayed, and he -dozed, his head against the window. -Thurston, sitting with his head in his -hands, was only dimly alive to his -surroundings, his consciousness dulled, -not by drowsiness, but a species of -stupor. A knock sounded, very low -and timid—then again, louder, more -decided. Thurston started. Jennings, -awakened suddenly, rubbed his eyes, -wondering if he had heard aright. -The knock was repeated, doubly and -imperatively. Jennings hurried to the -door, but Thurston, with a quick -stride, brought his hand heavily down -on the old man's shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's her little leddyship, sir. It's -her—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The words died on his lips as he met -his master's determined gaze.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Draw those curtains," directed -Thurston, in a low, set voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings obeyed. There was -another knock. Thurston extinguished -the lights. "She's at the door!" cried -Jennings, desperately. "I must let—I—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have said my doors will not be -opened to-night—and I mean to keep -my word. If you make one move to -undo what I have done, in spite of the -affection I have for you, I shall dismiss -you on the spot."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man's head sank on his -breast. "That I should live to see -this night," he sobbed. "I love -her—little—leddyship—and she—out -there!" He slowly took the keys from his -pocket and laid them on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston listened intently. "She -has gone back to the cab," he thought. -"She is speaking to the cabby." He -heard the door of the cab slammed and -the sound of receding wheels. "She -has returned to the hotel. A little -longer, and I might have—" He put -his hand to his head, which was -burning. "Jennings, I'll try and get an -hour's sleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall I help you, sir?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you. I shall probably -come down again." He mounted the -stairs heavily to his room, and threw -himself, dressed as he was, upon the -lounge. It was only to live, again and -again, through the scene which had -been enacted below. He heard the -knock—first faint, then louder, still -louder. He saw Jennings break down, -sobbing, then take the keys from his -pocket and lay them on the table. He -listened intently. He heard the door of -the cab slam. He heard it drive away—over -his heart. She had forced him to -this. And he had kept his word to her. -He had not given in. She would never -know, never care to know, perhaps, what -it had cost him. He tossed restlessly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings still waited below in the -library. Thurston had said he would -come down again. There was no -light but the fire, near which the old -man stood, a little, heart-broken figure. -Suddenly the sound of low sobbing -fell on his ears. He lifted his head -quickly, listening like a watchdog. -Then he went to the door and looked -into the hall. Hearing nothing, he -approached the fire again. The faint -sobbing continued. Jennings shivered -with a slight sensation of fear. The -sound was uncanny in the dark room, -at that hour. Again he listened, -every nerve on the alert. "It's -outside," he suddenly concluded. He -went to the window, opened it and -peered out. The night was not utterly -black, but lit faintly by the rays of a -watery moon. Jennings distinguished -a white object below on the steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings!" called a familiar voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God! Her little leddyship—on the -steps—in the cold!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it you, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yer little leddyship," he -whispered down, his body half out the -window. "I can't open the door, yer -leddyship. Hush! don't call out—wait!" He -tottered to the hall, in fear -of Thurston, and listened. Hearing -nothing, he tottered back, trembling -with excitement. "Yer little leddyship, -there's those little iron bars—can't -you find them? Put your hand -through the ivy underneath. Ah, -that's it. Now, if you could climb -up, you're such a light, little body—I'd -swing you easy enough over the -balcony. That's right. Be careful. Ah, -my heart stopped beating. Now, hold -on with one hand and put up the other -as high as you can." He drew her up -gradually; she jumped lightly over the -balcony and into the room. The fire -was burning brightly. She crouched -before it, shivering, and warming her hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I'm so cold!" she cried. -"I'm chilled to the bone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hush," whispered Jennings, in -mortal fear. "Speak lower, yer little -leddyship, if you don't want to ruin me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the meaning of this?" exclaimed -Indiana. "Where's my husband?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Asleep! You heard me, why didn't -you open the door?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The master took the key from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana rose from the fire with a -horror-stricken face. "He heard me, -then—he knew I was there?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You won't tell him I helped you in, -yer little leddyship?" asked Jennings, -clasping and unclasping his hands, in a -nervous, frightened fashion. "He said -he'd dismiss me on the spot—and he -always keeps his word."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, he keeps his word," repeated -Indiana, in a dazed tone, leaning -against the table. "I won't tell—and -I'm in now, thanks to you. It's a -terrible thing to be locked out on a -cold night." She shivered, folding her -arms across her bare neck and shoulders. -She had left her wrap on the -step, in order to be disencumbered as -she climbed up to the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings," called Thurston's voice. -"Are you in here? I thought I heard -someone moving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go," whispered Indiana. Jennings -slipped quietly from the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston, feeling his way to the -table, pressed the electric button of the -lamp, then started slightly at beholding -Indiana.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She faced him with clenched hands, -panting with rage and excitement. -"You locked me out," she said, hysterically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you came in by the window," -answered Thurston, coldly and calmly, -giving a comprehensive glance at the -open window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You heard me knock, and you left -me on the doorstep."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You had due warning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you sent me a nice message -with my father—to make me look -ridiculous in the eyes of my own family. -I waited purposely till after one o'clock -to prove to them that I was no servant, -compelled to come home at a stated -hour, or have the door shut in my -face." Her fingers tore nervously at -her gloves. "You are my husband—not -my jailer, I am your wife—not your -prisoner, to be let out on parole. I -give you full liberty of action—if you -do not give me the same, I shall take -it. How dare you leave your wife out -on the doorstep, like an outcast?—how -dare you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I dare do whatever is for your good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My good!" she repeated, with a -cold laugh. "I am a child, then, to be -lectured into silence, to be terrorized -into submission. Ah, you do not know -me! I will not live with you—I will -never forgive you—until you come on -your knees to me—on your knees!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have not asked forgiveness. It is -for you to do that. My wife must not -outrage my sense of dignity and -propriety. You have hurt and wounded -me beyond pardon. The sacredness of -my home relations has been violated -and coarsely discussed. I am ashamed -to raise my head before my own servants. -And to make it, at last, -unbearable—your old sweetheart calls me to -account for your unhappiness. It is -too galling—too humiliating!"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 58%" id="figure-32"> -<span id="iiwhat-have-i-said-i-didn-t-mean-it"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""I—I—what have I said? I didn't mean it."" src="images/img-435.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"I—I—what have I said? I didn't mean it."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," exclaimed Indiana, "Glen -did come, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At your invitation," said Thurston, -quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What of it? He would not have -locked me out—insulted me. Oh, I'm -sorry I ever married you!" Thurston -gave a suppressed cry of pain. "I -mean it. I have never known a harsh -word in my life. You—to treat me -like this! I won't stand it, I tell -you!" Losing all control, she took up a -paper-cutter and snapped it in pieces in her -rage. "I hate you—standing there -like ice! I hate—" Thurston looked -down into her face with an expression -of horror and rushed from the room, -slamming the door. "I—I—what have -I said? I didn't mean it, Thurston," -murmured Indiana, with a sudden -revulsion of feeling. She stretched out -her hands piteously, helpless and -groping, like a frightened child. -"Thurston, I didn't mean it. There was a -rush of red before my eyes—it blinded -me." She sank on her knees with a -feeling of terror at the remembrance. -"Thurston, I'm afraid," she sobbed, -shudderingly. "Don't leave me here -with myself." She struggled to her -feet, trembling from head to foot. -"Thurston, I'm sorry—forgive me—I -love you—I—" She fell blindly -against the door, then sank to the -ground, shaking with sobs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the storm passed, her exhaustion -was so great she felt powerless to mount -the stairs to her room, and lay there on -the floor, beside the door, throughout -the night. Though stiff with cold, her -moral distress would scarcely permit -her to notice this physical discomfort. -She was clutched tightly in the grasp -of a terrible dread. That this sudden -tidal wave of love had rushed over her -heart too late. And if this proved true, -she felt she would no longer have the -courage to live. The fact had so -suddenly awakened in her consciousness, -as a flower might spring at once into -full and perfect bloom, that her -husband's love alone gave life significance. -She fell, at intervals, from pure -exhaustion, into a short, troubled sleep, -awakening always with a remembrance of -Thurston's horrified face as he rushed -from the room, closing the door, as -though he would shut her forever out -of his life. When daylight came, she -rose with an effort and threw herself -upon the lounge.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="and-as-he-wove-he-heard-singing"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">"And as he Wove he heard Singing."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Jennings, entering the library -at an early hour that morning, -started when he saw his little -mistress lying there, still in her gown -of the night before, one arm hanging -listlessly down, her face buried in the -pillows. The light was still burning in -the lamp on the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yer little leddyship," said Jennings, -softly, bending over her. She -stirred and raised her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wasn't asleep, Jennings," she -answered, in a pathetic voice. She looked -like a little, pale wraith, in her white, -crushed, tulle gown, a fragment of a -cloud blown by chance into the old, -gloomy room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You left this on the doorstep, yer -little leddyship." He held her long, -white wrap over his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I? Oh, so I did!" She took -it and wrapped it about her shoulders, -shivering. "I've been here all night -long, Jennings," piteously, "and I'm -so cold!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor bairn!" exclaimed Jennings, -indignantly. He hurried from the room, -then returned in a moment, and busied -himself making a fire, muttering to -himself—"Poor bairn, it's a shame, a -shame!" Indiana watched his operations -with interest, as she crouched, shivering, -on the lounge. "Now, yer little -leddyship." He wheeled a large -armchair before the fire, and she nestled -into it, holding her hands to the flame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pile on the logs, Jennings, pile on -the logs. That's right—a big, big -blaze. Oh, I shall never be warm -again. Who's that?" starting up, as -some one knocked at the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one will come in, yer little -leddyship," said Jennings, soothingly. -"I ordered some tea and toast for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tea and toast," repeated Indiana, -blissfully. "Tea and toast."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings took the tray and closed the -door, then drew a small tea-table up to -the fire. She watched him eagerly, as -he poured out the tea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, thank you, thank you, Jennings," -she said, gratefully, taking the -cup from his shaking hand. "Oh, -that's good! I've never tasted such -delicious tea. Is it a new kind?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings shook his head, handing -her the toast. "Yer little leddyship -must be very hungry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jennings, I can trust you—I know -you won't say anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, yer little leddyship."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did I do so very wrong, did I, that -I should be treated like this?" She -caught her breath with a sob, the tears -rising to her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was cruel, cruel, yer little -leddyship," answered Jennings, in a -heart-broken voice. "There, there—have -another cup of tea—that'll comfort yer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do the servants all like me, Jennings?" -asked Indiana, eating the sugar -out of her tea, like a child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They'd go through fire and water -for yer little leddyship, every mother's -soul of them," answered Jennings, -enthusiastically. "And my lady—she's -taken on a new lease of life."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana smiled brightly through her -tears. "How long have you really -been with the family, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty years, yer little leddyship," -said Jennings, turning out the light -and arranging the books on the table. -"My father was gamekeeper for his -lordship's grandfather, and when I was -ten years old I was taken into the house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sixty years," repeated Indiana, -dipping her toast in the tea and eating it -with relish. "And have you never -thought of bettering yourself, Jennings?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings drew himself up proudly. -"Impossible to do better. It's a great -satisfaction to look back on my life, -and feel I have always done my duty -faithfully."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it is a great pleasure to -serve those whom we respect," said -Indiana, looking at him with interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's more than pleasure, yer little -leddyship. To serve the right master, -it's pupil and teacher, friend and -friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The handle of the door turned slowly. -Indiana, who had been coiled up, like -a kitten, in the big armchair, put down -her feet, which had been tucked under -her, and straightened herself stiffly. In -her nervousness she almost dropped -her cup, and she looked piteously at -Jennings, as though for help. It could -be no other than Thurston, as the -servants would have knocked, and no -one else rose so early.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was right. When he entered -and saw the picture by the fire—Indiana, -sitting in her white wrap, with the -tea-tray before her, and Jennings -standing near—he paused for a moment. -Jennings took the tray and left the -room. Thurston felt neither curious -nor interested to know why she had -stayed there all night. He himself had -not closed his eyes. He had -summoned all his strength to make a -certain resolution, one which he -considered imperative, after his wife's -passionate avowal of hate and regret. -All else—things which at another time -he would have accounted strange—seemed -trivial and unimportant. He -had relinquished all hope of winning -his wife's love. He saw himself -weaving the gray web of his life until the -end. Indiana gave one swift glance -at his face as he approached the fire, -then quickly averted her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have weighed existing circumstances -as fairly as possible, and have -concluded that our case is hopeless," -began Thurston, without preliminaries. -Indiana, her hands tightly clasped, her -eyes gazing straight before her, -listened with strained attention. "I have -tried to awaken you, gradually, to the -personal responsibility of your new -position. My confidence was strong in -my own power to win a love that, to -me, was worth waiting for—worth the -winning." He covered his eyes with -his hand, then went on, with an effort. -"My courage has gone. The dread of -a repetition of last night's -frenzy—degrading to us both—between husband -and wife—horrible!" His agitation -would not permit him to continue. -He turned from her and paced the -room. Finally, he stopped and looked -at her motionless figure. "Have you -anything to say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her lips trembled, she shook her -head, trying to restrain an hysterical -outburst of sobs. Then she rose to go -to her room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One moment," said Thurston, -sternly. "I do not wish your maid to -see you like this. You must help -yourself this morning, and—I shall -breakfast with my mother. When you are -quite composed and ready to receive -her, she will come to you—as she -thinks you retired early last night with -a headache."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, she doesn't know!" exclaimed -Indiana. "I'm glad of that—very glad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your people were talking of going -to Paris in a week or so—you will go -with them—on a pleasure trip." Indiana, -leaning against the table, lifted her -eyes wonderingly to his. He met her -gaze, proudly and relentlessly. "You -will go with them to America—on a -pleasure trip. I will break it to my -mother, slowly—that you are not -coming back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A deathlike faintness passed over -Indiana as she listened to his calm, -passionless voice, pronouncing sentence -upon her. She could not, at that -moment, utter a word of pleading or -remonstrance. He seemed like a rock -of relentless justice, against which she -might hurl herself, only to be dashed -in pieces.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You see, I have made it very easy -for you to drop the shackles of the -tyrant and regain your lost and coveted -freedom," he added, bitterly. She -grasped the edge of the table -desperately with her small hands. "If you -had only loved me," cried Thurston, -despairingly, "it might have been -different! But how could I expect it? -You have never been taught to love—to -sacrifice for love. Only to be -loved—to demand sacrifices from -others." Gathering all her strength, Indiana -moved to the door. He held it open -for her, and she passed him with -averted eyes, looking dazed and hopeless. -"Indiana!" he cried, involuntarily, as -she disappeared down the long hall. -By a great effort he prevented himself -from rushing after her. Sinking down -in a chair, he buried his face in his -hands. He had spoken the final words -between them—there was no retraction -now. But so utterly had the serene -and smiling little witch taken possession -of his heart, he felt, that in exorcising -her he was plucking it bodily from his -breast. Only the necessity of appearing -composed before his mother rescued -him from succumbing utterly to his -despair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana had not heard Thurston's -smothered cry. She climbed the stairs -laboriously, clinging to the banisters. -There seemed to be iron weights -hanging to her limbs. But this was the -result of lying for so many hours on the -hard floor, in the cold library. -Consciousness, too, seemed fading away -from her. She only wished to retain it -until she reached her room; then, she -felt, she would be quite satisfied to part -with it forever. Thurston's last words -echoed in her ears, "You have never -been taught to love—to sacrifice for -love—only to be loved—to demand -sacrifices from others." That was what -Jennings meant when he said that he -looked back with satisfaction on his -life, knowing he had served a loved -master faithfully. Even Jennings -realized the spirit of love, while—reaching -her bed at last, she pushed back -the covers and coiled herself in its -soft depths. Thoughts floated mistily -in her brain. "I have missed many -things—to love, to serve, to sacrifice. -Perhaps it was not all my fault—not -all." She lapsed into unconsciousness, -but it was the unconsciousness of -which nature makes use to soothe -exhausted and tired humanity—sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At noon she awoke of her own -accord, wonderfully refreshed morally -and physically. Things assumed a new -aspect. The very knowledge of her -love gave her happiness. One -supreme fact remained, in spite of all that -had passed—she loved her husband, -and he her. It was impossible, she -argued, that her conduct of last night -could have utterly killed a love as deep -as she knew his to be. The only -barrier between them was his wounded -love and pride, one which she thought -she could easily break with her two -small hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings knocked, and whispered -that Mrs. Bunker and her father and -mother were below. He had told -them she was asleep. Did she wish to -give any message?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't say anything. I'll be down -in a little while, Jennings." She -dismissed him with a reassuring smile and -a nod.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Her little leddyship looked so -smiling—maybe it's all come right again," -thought Jennings, in delight, as he -descended the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So they're all there," mused -Indiana. "I shall act as if nothing -is the matter." She continued the -process of dressing, without a maid. -A cold bath brought the bloom back -to her cheeks. Her eyes were very -bright, yet tender. She donned an -airy, rose-colored morning-gown, -dotted here and there with black velvet -bows. Standing at her dressing-table, -putting another black velvet bow in the -fluffy, yellow puffs of her hair, a -sudden misgiving assailed her—that her -power to win him back might not be as -strong as she imagined. She shivered -at the remembrance of his stern, -implacable face, when he entered the -library that morning. What if he would -not retract his words, remaining strong -in his determination that they should -part? Her face looked piteously back -at her from the glass. "Well, I, too, -am strong—very strong," she thought, -bravely. "I am his wife—and I love -him." She bent forward and kissed -her face in the mirror. "Good luck -to us, Indiana," she said, with a laugh, -followed by a rush of tears. "We'll -fight for our happiness—won't we?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The family were sitting below in the -library with Thurston and Lord Stafford. -No one, so far, had ventured a -remark or asked a question relating to -the night before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker, finally, tired of discussing -matters which did not interest her, -and anxious to know something relating -to the subject uppermost in all -their minds, went to the window, -pretending that she wished to see if her -hansom was still waiting, well aware -Lord Stafford would follow her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look charming this morning, -Mrs. Bunker," remarked Lord Stafford, -gallantly joining her, as she -expected, in the window embrasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So Indiana is sleeping it off," -observed Mrs. Bunker, confidentially.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am sure I don't know," answered -Lord Stafford, twirling his moustache.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were with Thurston when we came?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Lord Stafford, indifferently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, he told you?" queried Mrs. Bunker, -in an exasperated tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston said nothing, and, of -course, I couldn't ask."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you English are the closest-mouthed -people. They've had a row. -Haven't you any curiosity to know how -it ended?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm burning to find out," answered -Lord Stafford, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's nothing burning about -you—except your cigar," said Mrs. Bunker, -contemptuously, "and that's going out."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So it is—thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let me hold the match, your hand -is trembling, mine is as firm as a rock."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, I'm getting on—but you have -discovered the secret of eternal youth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had a time getting her home," -said Mrs. Bunker, in a low voice, -ignoring this last remark. "Do you -think her mother and father had -any influence with her? Not a bit. -Grandma Chazy did it. I sent the -poor, deluded parents to bed, and I -put on a wrapper and fussed about my -room, while she sat by herself in the -parlor, working herself up into a rage about -her husband's tyranny, and rushing to -the window, every time a cab passed, -to see if he was coming. Well, I grew -tired of this, so I went to bed. When -she had worn herself out, she put her -head into my room. 'Grandma Chazy, -where shall I sleep?' 'On the sofa, -dear. Throw your cloak over you. -I've only a single bed, or I would offer -you half.' She slammed the door, in a -rage. About a half hour later, -'Grandma Chazy, I guess I'll go home.' 'Is -that so, dear? Going—good night.' And -I fell asleep, apparently."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mrs. Bunker," remarked Lord -Stafford, "if I ever marry, it shan't be -an American."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh yes, you will, because you say -you won't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, then I shan't marry at all—that's -the safest way."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The most dangerous," assured Mrs. Bunker, -mockingly. "A man is never -safe from marriage until he is married."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ha, ha, ha! Very good. Mrs. Bunker, -you are really the liveliest woman -I have ever met."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I'm not going to waste my -day here," said Mrs. Bunker, -decidedly. "I want to see the shops and -take Indiana along. Thurston," -advancing into the room, "I'm dying to -see Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston looked at her gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Mrs. Bunker, I have plans -for the future, which it is best you -should know before you see Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. and Mrs. Stillwater looked anxious, -but Mrs. Bunker took his words lightly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't make any plans, Thurston. -And don't look so serious. You've -made up your mind to something—I -can see that—but she'll upset it all in a -jiffy. You don't know Indiana."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," answered Thurston, without -relaxing his gravity of expression, "and -I never shall. Mr. Stillwater, your -daughter is very anxious to go with -you to Paris—and I have consented."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, how good of you to let -her!" cried Mrs. Stillwater, innocently. -"It is the only thing to complete my -happiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't approve of it," said Mrs. Bunker.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am about making arrangements -for a long trip—for scientific -purposes," continued Thurston, in a slow, -mechanical voice. "I will be away -from England for some time, and I -think it advisable your daughter should -go home with you—until my mission is -over."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mr. Stillwater folded his arms, -looking keenly into Thurston's eyes. -"Well, of course, nothing would suit -us better; but, my dear fellow—is it -good for a young married couple to -separate so soon?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, it is not good."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then must you go?" asked Mr. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston raised his eyes, meeting -Stillwater's piercing glance, steadily. -"I must go."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Stillwater was so overcome with -joy at the prospect of having Indiana -at home once more, she failed to see -anything strange in the arrangement. -"Of course, we're sorry, Thurston, but -if you're obliged to go away, it's quite -natural you should want to leave -Indiana with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I, for one, don't like it," added -Stillwater, decidedly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How long do you expect to be -away?" inquired Mrs. Stillwater.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For several months—perhaps -forever." His voice broke. He turned -from them all and leaned his forehead -against the mantel, gazing with -hopeless eyes into the fire. The others -looked at one another in apprehensive -silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, everybody," said a -gay, sweet voice. They all looked, in -relieved surprise, at Indiana, smiling in -answer to her greeting. Her cheeks -were as rosy as her gown. Her eyes -seemed to laugh with happiness. -Thurston stared at her, aghast at this -apparent heartlessness. "Her eyes -have not looked so happy since I -married her," he thought. "It's the -prospect of freedom. My resolution was -well taken—I'm glad, for her sake. -What a charming little face—like a -cherub. Ah, if she had only loved me!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana went to Lord Stafford, with -outstretched hands. "Dear Uncle -Gerald, you want to kiss me good-morning, -don't you? Well, you shall." She -put up her mouth to be kissed. -Then she flitted airily to Mr. Stillwater, -put her arms about his neck and -nestled to his breast. "You dear old -pop, I love you so!" She rubbed her -face against his. "I was naughty last -night, wasn't I? Don't tell anybody. -You forgive me, don't you? There!" She -kissed him a number of times, and -then floated out of his arms, a -rose-colored cloud, over to her mother. -"You old goosie, you were afraid I -wouldn't come home. Why didn't -you take me by the shoulders and push -me out? But you couldn't be harsh -with your little Indy, your baby, your -only one. I love you so!" Mrs. Stillwater -pressed her joyfully to her breast, -murmuring caressing words, and kissing -her hair. Finally, releasing herself, -Indiana looked at Mrs. Bunker, -undecided how she should approach -her. She had been severely scolded -by that lady the night before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Bunker frowned at her, then -smiled. "You little monkey," she -said, then shook her finger warningly. -Indiana answered by a good-natured -grimace, then she went to Thurston.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good morning, Thurston," she -said, after a swift glance, demurely -offering her cheek. Thurston hesitated. -"Ah, here's dear Lady Canning," continued -Indiana, artfully, still standing in -an expectant position. Thurston bent -down quickly and touched his lips to -her cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have been so worried about this -child," said Lady Canning, taking -Indiana's outstretched hands, when she -had greeted the others very graciously. -"I wanted to see you last night, dear, -but Thurston wouldn't let me. Are you -sure you feel quite well again?" She -seated herself, drawing Indiana to her -side and looking anxiously in her face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Splendid," replied Indiana, sinking -down on her knees and putting her -arm about Lady Canning's waist. "It -was a bad spell—while it lasted, but -when it passes off I always feel better. -I won't have another for a long time—I -hope never." She peeped slyly -under her eyelashes at Thurston. "A -bad spell is good for something—it -makes me realize how much everybody -loves me, and how much I love -everybody—and I do love you, dear Lady -Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darling!" murmured Lady Canning, -quite overcome, pressing Indiana's -head to her breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There now, who can resist Indiana," -said Mrs. Stillwater. "Darling, -your husband says you are going to -Paris with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I?" asked Indiana, in a surprised -voice. She turned to Lady Canning. -"I want you to scold Thurston, -dear. He's too good. He's given in, -because they're dying for me to go to -Paris with them. But I wouldn't think -of such a thing. I wouldn't leave -him—or you, dear Lady Canning."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Indy!" exclaimed Mrs. Stillwater, -in a hurt and jealous tone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana," said Stillwater, watching -her face, "Thurston says you can home -with us, if you like, while he's on his -trip."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What trip?" asked Indiana, quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Is it possible you have not given up -that idea, Thurston?" questioned Lady -Canning, severely. She turned -apologetically to Mrs. Stillwater. "He always -had an insane desire to go to the North -Pole, but I thought marriage had cured -him of it. Indiana, put your foot down -on that idea, once and for all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I put my foot down!" exclaimed -Indiana. "Oh dear no—he's the -master. But let us hope he will think -better of it." She folded her hands -severely, bearing with the highest degree -of equanimity the astonished looks of -her family.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston, who at first could scarcely -give credence to what he heard, -concluded she was playing the hypocrite in -order to win sympathy for herself, and -at the same time divert it from him, -putting him in the character of a -heartless husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That little monkey's playing for -something," thought Mrs. Bunker, -"and she'll win her game, as sure as -I'm her grandmother. Well, Indiana, -it's settled, then, that you're not going -to Paris with us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grandma Chazy, I'm a married -woman," answered Indiana, with an -offended air, "I can't be running about -like a young girl." Lady Canning -nodded approvingly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must get out of this," exclaimed -Mrs. Bunker, desperately. "I feel -choked for air. We're going to do -some shopping. Indiana, do you want -to come?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, considering Indiana was so -ill, I think it advisable for her to -remain quietly at home to-day," said -Lady Canning. "But I should be very -pleased to have you all dine with us -this evening."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana heard Lady Canning with a -sensation of relief. She was suffering a -tension of suspense. And she felt that -to go out with her family and keep -up this semblance of light-heartedness -would have been an unendurable strain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There, what did I tell you?" -remarked Mrs. Bunker to Thurston, -when they were on the point of leaving. -"Where are your plans now?" He -made no answer, standing, determined -and pale, by the mantel, and following -Indiana's every move as she flitted -from one to the other, kissing them -good-bye. "Good morning, Lady -Canning," said Mrs. Bunker. "I wish -I had your complexion. Yes, I do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come early," pleaded Indiana, -clinging to her mother, "and we'll have a -good, long talk before dinner, my -dearest mother—and—and—after -to-day we'll spend all our time together."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's a shame you can't go -with us. You're perfectly well?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, Lady Canning's right—I have -a headache. I was excited last -night—at the hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your color's so bright—perhaps -you're feverish," observed Mrs. Stillwater, -anxiously. "Indy, is it all right -between you and Thurston?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes—mother—it's all right." Mrs. Stillwater -looked at her with an anxious -expression. But Indiana met her gaze -hopefully. "Don't worry, mother," -she said. "I love Thurston, and he -loves me—so it's all right, isn't it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, my darling," sighed Mrs. Stillwater, -greatly relieved.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Even if—if things don't go as they -should sometimes," said Indiana, -wistfully, "they come right after a -while—don't they—when people really love -each other?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing matters, so long as you -love each other," Mrs. Stillwater -assured her, with the wisdom of her long -matrimonial experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana watched them driving off, -from the window—her mother and -father in one hansom, Mrs. Bunker -and Lord Stafford in another. The -latter had manifested a desire to go -shopping. He thought seriously of -joining the party on their Parisian trip.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston," asked Lady Canning, -in a very serious voice, "is there -anything wrong between you and your -wife?" Indiana, at the window, -listened with every nerve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing, mother," answered Thurston, -purposely refraining from one -glance at the little figure standing in -the shadow of the curtains.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then what has driven you to this -sudden resolve? How could you think -of doing such a cruel thing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean to do it, mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lady Canning looked at her son with -very displeased eyes. "Thurston, you -are developing an exceedingly bad -temper. You—you have never before -acted in such an inconsistent, -inconsiderate manner. And with such a sweet -wife. You don't deserve her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mother, don't scold him," said -Indiana, pleadingly. Thurston cast on -her an indescribable look.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Jennings appeared then, and announced -that the carriage was waiting -to take Lady Canning for her morning -drive. She sat in displeased silence, -until her maid brought her bonnet and -cloak. Before she left the room, she -turned severely to Thurston. "I do -do not wish to see you again until you -tell me you have abandoned this fool-hardy, -heartless idea, for good and all." She -took Indiana in her arms. "My -darling, forgive him, for my sake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will, dear Lady Canning," said -Indiana, angelically. "I—it's very -weak, I know, but I couldn't be angry -with him—no matter what he did." Thurston -stared at her, aghast at such -hypocrisy. Indiana led Lady Canning -out into the hall. "Don't worry," she -whispered, as Jennings held the door -open for her to pass to the carriage. -"It will be all right, I'll manage -him." When she returned to the library, -Thurston was staring into the fire. -She approached quietly, and he raised -his eyes, to see her standing meekly -before him, her hands clasped in a -childish fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have played your part well," -he said, bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana raised her eyes supplicatingly, -then dropped them again. "I -wasn't acting," she said, innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's well that you can be so light-hearted, -when I am suffering tortures," -he continued, with an involuntary burst -of grief and bitterness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, I was acting—but I felt the -part. I do love everybody, and I want -to be good again and make up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cease playing the spoilt child," said -Thurston, wearily. "Last night's -performance can never be repeated under -my roof—never shall be. You can tell -your own story. Paint me the brutal -husband—the tyrant. I shall not -contradict you. I am resolved upon one -thing—to leave England." He stared -hopelessly into the fire again, leaning -his forehead on the mantel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose it's no use—asking -you—to—forgive me," she said, watching -him sharply. He turned quickly, and -she dropped her eyes. "If—if there -won't be a repetition," she continued, -her lips quivering like those of a child -on the verge of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You cannot change your nature," -he replied, coldly, not allowing himself -to believe in the sincerity of this -contrition.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-33"> -<span id="i-will-have-love-to-help-me"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""I will have love to help me."" src="images/img-474.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"I will have love to help me."</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, and that's why you're very -wrong in being so hard with me. I -was good, wasn't I? For three months -and then, when the folks rushed -down on me, like a river breaking a -dam, I broke out—that's all." She -raised her arms, with a long, despairing -sigh. "Thurston, if you will go -away, may I stay with your mother?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, you don't know how I -suffer—you cannot. As long as all the -love is on my side, my wishes will be -commands to you; my plans for your -welfare and happiness—domination. -There should be no such question -between a man and wife who love each -other. It could not have ended otherwise. -A union without the sacred seal -of love—is cursed." He went from -her to the door, terribly agitated, -wishing they could part finally, then and -there, in order to spare himself the -further torture of looking at -Indiana with the thought that he had -renounced her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thurston, you'll shake hands with -me—won't you?" she asked, imploringly, -a look of terror dawning in -her eyes. He extended his hand, -with averted gaze. Indiana grasped -it quickly, then held it for dear life. -"You shall listen to me," she pleaded, -in a voice vibrating with intense -emotion, her breast heaving, her eyes -dilating, until they looked almost black -under the yellow hair. "I won't let you -go until you've heard it. All my life -I've queened it over people, delighting -to feel my own power—to make the -poor things who loved me bend to my -will. Last night I saw the horror in -your face when you turned from -me—leaving me alone with my -uncontrolled, undisciplined nature. -Thurston, how could you expect me to be -different? It wouldn't be natural if I -were. I wanted to queen it over my -husband—to be put up on a pedestal -and worshipped. I thought it was -enough if I let him love me—but I -never knew it was better to love than -to be loved, to serve than to be -served." She looked into his face with -piteous eyes, and said, in a low, -frightened voice, "Thurston, take my two -hands—hold them fast—while I step -down from my throne—and then, when -we stand together, side by side, I can -whisper in your ear—I never could up -there—that I love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, for God's sake, don't play -with me again!" he cried, passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She drew his head down to her and -kissed him. "Thurston, husband," -she murmured, in a low, wondering -voice, "I love you better than myself."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana!" He pressed her to his -heart, with the feeling that they were -on holy ground, even standing at the -altar, and the sacred seal had just been -set to their union.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana raised her head, the tears -trembling on her lashes. "I'll never -break out again."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, you will, but next time I will -have love to help me. Indiana, look at -me—look at me. I cannot realize -it—my wife loves me! Do you remember -one day, in the Adirondacks, out on -the lake, at that weird place called the -Devil's Pulpit? I think—yes, it was -the first day I spent with you—you -wanted a story, and I gave you a part -of my inmost life—do you remember?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I remember—how clearly I -remember. The great, black rock -hanging over us; the blue mountains -in the distance; your voice, telling me -of the weaver—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indiana, his dream has come true—at -last. 'And the web, transformed -into a gleaming fabric of light, -gladdened the soul of the weaver.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indiana drew a little space away, -quoting his own words, with uplifted -hands, "'And as he wove he heard -singing, a choir of beautiful, jubilant -voices.'"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thurston looked into her eyes, then -held out his arms. "I hear them, Indiana!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">The Invaders</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">By JOHN LLOYD.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>12mo; cloth; illustrated. $1.50.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The story is one of ranch life and of the -troubles with the so-called cattle-thieves, -which eventuated in -one of the most dramatic incidents of the -ever-dramatic West—the famous "Rustler War."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The cattlemen alleged that their fight -was one against -"Rustlers"; their opponents contended -that they were but honest homesteaders, -whose only crime was that of fencing in their -possessions, thereby destroying the open -range. Owen Wister's great story, "The -Virginian," gives the cattlemen's side of the -controversy; "The Invaders" is written from -the opposing viewpoint.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Into this stirring history, the hero, John -Thorpe, a tenderfoot, is precipitated, and it -is his part in the struggle that furnishes the -thread of the story. The love plot -introduced early in the tale enlivens the story -and sustains the reader's interest throughout.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">Fanny Lambert</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">By HENRY DEVERE STACPOOLE.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>Author of "The Crimson Azaleas," "The -<br />Blue Lagoon," etc., etc.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>12mo; cloth. $1.50.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The two chief figures in this story are -Fanny Lambert and -her father, two entirely unconventional -characters, delightfully simple and -unworldly. The book is full of irresistably -humorous touches, irresponsible fun -being, in fact, its -characteristic feature. The lesser figures, down to the -merest thumbnail sketches, are all incisively drawn.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">For Charles the Rover</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">By MAY WYNNE.</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span>12mo, cloth $1.50</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Author of "Henry of Navarre," etc., etc.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A rattling good story of love and intrigue in good old -Ireland in the days and for the cause of -Charles the Rover.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Of all the days that's in the year</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>The tenth of June I love most dear,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>When sweet white roses do appear</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>For sake of Charles the Rover.</span></div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>"Our noble Ormond, he is drest,</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>A rose is glancing at his breast;</span></div> -<div class="line"><span>His famous hounds have doffed his crest,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>White roses deck them over."</span></div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>R. F. FENNO & CO., 18 East 17th St., N.Y.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>HER LORD AND MASTER</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48337"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48337</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. -Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this -license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ -electronic works to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and -trademark. 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