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diff --git a/old/52019-h/52019-h.htm b/old/52019-h/52019-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 1343243..0000000 --- a/old/52019-h/52019-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14302 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ellen Levis, by Elsie Singmaster - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -.smaller {font-size: 75%;} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -.nh2 {font-size: xx-large; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - margin-bottom: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 30%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 35%; - margin-right: 35%; - clear: both; -} -hr.chap {width: 70%; - margin-left: 15%; - margin-right: 15%; -} - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - -table.toc { - margin: auto; - width:auto; - max-width: 40em; -} -td.toc1 { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: top; - padding-right: 1em; -} -td.toc2 { - text-align: left; - vertical-align: top; -} -td.toc3 { - text-align: right; - vertical-align: top; - padding-left: 1em; -} - - -.pagenum { - visibility: hidden; - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.eng {font-family: "Old English Text MT",serif;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -/* Poetry */ -.poem { - margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; - text-align: left; - font-size: 90%; -} -.poem-i { - margin-left: 10%; - } - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.tnnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } -.tnlist {margin-left: 2em; - text-indent: -2em;} - - -/* Spacing */ -.space3 {margin-top: 3em;} - -/* Page break at chapter */ -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} - - </style> - - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ellen Levis, by Elsie Singmaster - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Ellen Levis - A Novel - -Author: Elsie Singmaster - -Release Date: May 7, 2016 [EBook #52019] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELLEN LEVIS *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Ian Crann and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<h1>ELLEN LEVIS<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>A NOVEL</i></span></h1> - -<p class="center">BY <br /> -ELSIE SINGMASTER<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>Author of "Katy Gaumer," "Basil Everman," etc.</i></span></p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 88px;"> -<p class="center space3"> -<img src="images/image1.png" width="88" height="122" alt="" /> -</p> -</div> - -<p class="center space3"><span class="smaller">BOSTON AND NEW YORK</span><br /> -HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smaller"><i>The Riverside Press Cambridge</i><br /> -1921</span> -</p> - - - - -<p class="center smaller space3">COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY ELSIE SINGMASTER LEWARS<br /> -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</p> - - -<p class="center smaller space3"><span class="eng">The Riverside Press</span><br /> -CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS<br /> -U . S . A -</p> - - - - -<h2 class="space3">CONTENTS</h2> - - -<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">I.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Friend in Need</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">II.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen refuses to hear a Call</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">15</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">III.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Two Versions of the Same Story</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">22</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">IV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Slumbering Terror</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">32</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">V.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Levis speaks his Mind</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">39</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">VI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Studying in Vacation</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">48</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">VII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">An Evening Pilgrimage</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">54</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">VIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Matthew makes his Choice</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">61</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">IX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Growing Mind</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">73</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">X.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Unexpected Guests</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">83</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Change</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">92</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Quickening Terror</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">99</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Matthew comes Home</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">102</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XIV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Amos ventures into the World</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">108</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen is offered a Way out</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">120</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XVI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen solves her Problem</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">126</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XVII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Goldstein's Jewelry Store</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">133</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XVIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Clock runs down</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">141</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XIX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Fetzer engages a New Maid</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">150</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Master and Mistress</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">156</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Lost Sheep</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">163</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Crisis at hand</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">168</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Strange Journey</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">178</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXIV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">An Unhappy Scholar</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">184</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Projected Atonement</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXVI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Visit to Ephrata</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">196</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXVII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen's Dreams come True</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">204</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXVIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Fetzer's Eye is opened</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">214</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXIX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Grandfather and Amos make Discoveries</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">217</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Fetzer delivers a Sermon</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">226</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen remembers Brother Reith</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">233</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Grandfather plans a Crime</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">237</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Ellen undertakes to conquer herself</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">242</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXIV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Dark Tower</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">246</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXV.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">An Undelivered Message</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">257</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXVI.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Matthew and Ellen</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">261</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXVII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Bitter Wakening</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">272</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXVIII.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">A Quiet Hour</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">280</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="toc1">XXXIX.</td> - <td class="toc2"><span class="smcap">Fetzer closes a Door</span></td> - <td class="toc3"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">283</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap"/> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="nh2">ELLEN LEVIS</p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /> -<span class="smaller">A FRIEND IN NEED</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">On</span> a dismal day in March, four years before Ellen Levis was -born or dreamed of, the slight acquaintance of Stephen Lanfair -and Edward Levis was quickened by an unpleasant incident -into friendship. Both attended the University Medical School -in Philadelphia and both were ambitious, but there the resemblance -between them ended. Stephen, an underclassman, the -only son of a physician, had been started early and well in his -career, and was the youngest student; Levis, a Senior, had -fended for himself and was almost the oldest. Stephen had an -allowance which was not large, but which sufficed for all necessities -and some luxuries; Levis had only that which he earned -by tutoring, and by acting as substitute instructor, laboratory -assistant, and editor of the <i>Students' Quarterly</i>. Their acquaintance -began when Stephen, wishing to win a place on the editorial -board of the <i>Quarterly</i>, and conferring with Levis, had been -invited by him to become a contributor to the next issue.</p> - -<p>On the morning of that dismal March day Stephen sat, far -from Philadelphia, in the room which had been his father's -office in Chestnut Ridge, a coal-mining town above Wilkes-Barre, -waiting until it was time for the train which should take him -back to the Medical School which he had left to attend his father -in his last illness.</p> - -<p>He looked drearily and absent-mindedly out into the thick -mist which hid all but the immediate neighborhood, a dirty, unpaved -street, a stretch of sidewalk made of powdery black culm, -and the front of a large dim building, the "company store." He -saw not only what the mist revealed, but what it hid, a continuation -of the dreary street, running between a black hill and a -blacker culm bank, and terminating in a towering breaker,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> -shapeless and hideous in design. There was no color in the landscape; -all was a dense black or a soft, woolly gray. The company -store had once been painted red, but the red had long ago -been overlaid by black.</p> - -<p>With him sat the superintendent of the mine, Harry Kinter, -a plump, friendly young man with a pendent under lip and easy -manners. He slouched, cigarette in hand, in what had been Dr. -Lanfair's office chair, looking with dull, kindly eyes at his companion. -He was sorry for the distressed youth and was doing his -best to comfort him in a practical way.</p> - -<p>"Now I can get the old fellow from Hazelton to come up for a -couple of years, Stephen. He'll be good for that long, I'm sure, -and perhaps longer. But we must have your word to settle here -when you're through school; otherwise we'll try to get a permanent -man. The advantage to you would be a salary from the -beginning, which is what most young fellows don't get. Wouldn't -you like the place for the sake of your father? Perhaps the company -would be willing to pay you something to help you along -if they could have your promise."</p> - -<p>Stephen glanced toward the superintendent and then away, -unable to command his voice. He was tall and thin and the -looseness of his clothing and the length of his hair which he refused -to have trimmed by the Chestnut Ridge barber, as well -as his expression of fatigue, made him look forlorn. The offer -of a position indicated a willingness of the mining company to -take doubtful risks, since other lives could hardly be of much -importance to one who valued his own so little.</p> - -<p>His pale cheeks and swollen eyelids indicated not only the -weariness of nights spent in watching, but a copious shedding of -tears and also an acute present anxiety. Alas! it might be that -he would have no other place to go, that this dreary settlement -would be his sole refuge, a gravelike refuge, but a refuge none -the less. If, as he anticipated, disgrace awaited him at the University, -he might be only too happy to return to this inaccessible -spot whither it was not likely that a rumor of his misdeed would -ever penetrate, or where, if it did penetrate, it would be vaguely -understood and condoned. Physicians willing to bury themselves -in Chestnut Ridge were not so easily found that the mining company -could afford to be fastidious.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was not that Chestnut Ridge offered no opportunities to a -physician. One could not look casually out of the window at this -hour without seeing opportunities, even on a morning when -most of the world was hidden from view. Four out of the -ten women who stood gossiping in strange tongues before the -company store—Austrian, Hungarian, Bohemian, Lithuanian—would -need in a short time the attention of a physician. The -children tugging at their skirts were under-nourished. It was -still too early for the men of the night shift to have had their -rest and be on the street, but when they appeared their faces -would show the effect of the long hours spent away from the -sunlight and of the liquor with which they enlivened their -periods of idleness. There was no doubt that Chestnut Ridge -needed a physician.</p> - -<p>But such work would be done by Stephen only under compulsion. -Here his father had wasted his life; he had been at the call -of every foreigner, had spent day after day at the squalid bedsides -of suffering women, waiting upon uncleanness, and had -died at the age of fifty of blood poison, contracted in an emergency -operation performed hastily and without gloves, to save -two lives far less valuable than his own. He had apparently not -regretted his course; he had accepted his fate quietly and without -complaint and had been anxious only that Stephen should -understand exactly about his small inheritance. Afterwards he -lay low in his bed, his hands clasped across his breast, repeating -the poetry he loved, a little, lean, bearded man, with eager eyes -and a heartening smile, wholly unconscious of the loftiness of -his own soul.</p> - -<p>Presently he became confused and tried to remember a formula -which he frequently recited at the bedsides of dying patients, -sometimes in English for Protestants, but more often in Latin -for Catholics who could not be reached in time by the busy head -of a wide parish. It was a formula which for him explained the -world, made sacrifice easy, and a solution of all life's difficulties -certain.</p> - -<p>"I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and -earth," he said faintly and could go no further.</p> - -<p>He had looked at his son earnestly and Stephen had -prompted him, not without embarrassment. Stephen had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> -trained in the principles of the Christian faith and he had believed -them, but they were now with him wholly a matter of -rote; religion was not, he believed, a necessity of his life.</p> - -<p>Stephen meant to be not a general practitioner like his father, -but a specialist in the diseases of the eye like Professor Mayne -of the Medical School, and his ambition aimed not only at such -skill as Professor Mayne possessed and such fame as he had won, -but also at a similar accumulation of wealth. He did not expect -to attain his end without hard labor. He was a diligent student, -and he was willing to devote himself night and day to his task.</p> - -<p>His hopes of success were not unfounded, and his unusual -ability was appreciated not only by himself, but by his teachers. -He had won the First Year prize, and Professor Mayne had intimated -to him that of all the candidates for the position of interne -at the Ophthalmic Hospital he was most likely to be appointed. -Such a position as that at Chestnut Ridge should be given to -a man like his acquaintance, Levis, who had worked his way -through school and who had endured so much hardship that a -regular salary would be desirable, even with all the accompanying -disadvantages. He might even describe the place to Levis -and suggest that he apply for it, or he might mention his name -to the superintendent as a possible employee. He pitied men like -Levis with all his heart.</p> - -<p>But he might need the Chestnut Ridge practice for himself—let -him not forget that! He rose and walked up and down the -room, still without answering Kinter, who seemed half asleep.</p> - -<p>If only he had not imperiled his future by a piece of madness! -Having signified his willingness to contribute to the <i>Quarterly</i>, -and being immensely pleased and flattered by this opportunity -to shine, he was visited by the sterility of mind common to youth -which has a creative task set for it. When he was summoned to -his father's bedside, his article was not yet begun; indeed, he -had not yet selected a subject—and he had expected to make -with this contribution an impression upon the whole of the -Medical School and the Faculty as well!</p> - -<p>During an unoccupied hour when the fatal termination of his -father's illness was still in doubt, he had found in an old yellowed -medical journal in the drawer of the office desk, an article proposing -an ingenious and at the same time unfounded and actually<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> -ludicrous theory of the origin of cancer. The magazine was -published in England—he did not know how it had come into -his father's possession.</p> - -<p>The theory seemed to him novel and ingenious, though possibly -mistaken; he did not realize that it was ludicrous. In one -of those moments of madness which are part of youth, he condensed -the article, copied it, and sent it to Levis. The act was -like the occasional thefts of children who take pennies in order -to buy candy and who repent bitterly and are forever after -honest. He was ambitious as children are hungry; the desire for -fame was his strongest impulse and he could not let pass even so -small an opportunity to shine.</p> - -<p>As he sat by his father's bedside, where stupor had at last succeeded -paroxysm and the end had become the matter of a day, -he realized suddenly what he had done. It may have been that -the principles in which he had been trained reasserted their -power over him; it may have been that his father's face, which -looked in its sunken condition like the face of a tortured saint, -recalled him to himself; at any rate, he saw as by a lightning -flash the foolishness of his act.</p> - -<p>Having realized his mistake, he tried to remedy it. Calling -from his window to a passing miner, he sent a telegram to Levis, -"Do not publish my article." In a few hours he received word -that the magazine had gone to press. Levis had added a sentence -at which he groaned aloud, "Article all right."</p> - -<p>If the college officials detected his plagiarism, it would mean -the end of all his hopes. Professor Mayne would no longer distinguish -him by his commendation and friendly attentions; he -would have no chance of becoming an interne at the Ophthalmic -Hospital and thus of pursuing immediately his longed-for -work; he would have to accept the position at Chestnut Ridge -and bid good-bye to his proud hopes.</p> - -<p>It might be that he would have to suffer actual punishment. -The prize, which was to add a hundred dollars to his income, -might be taken from him and public mention might be made -of his disgrace. It would not be greatly to be wondered at if the -Faculty chose to assume that all his carefully wrought papers, -all his well-prepared examinations, were accompanied by a similar -dishonesty.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the midst of his distress, he realized that the superintendent -had waited a long time for an answer.</p> - -<p>"I'll have to think it over, Harry. It's time for me to start -now."</p> - -<p>Kinter rose lazily and lifted Stephen's satchel.</p> - -<p>"You let me hear from you in the course of the next few weeks; -and in the meantime we'll engage the old man for a year at least. -You won't find it so dreadfully dull here, believe me. It's possible -to get down to Wilkes-Barre on the evening train and back in the -caboose of the freight; gives you a nice long evening. I know some -girls and I'll introduce you to them. They have dances once -in a while. You'll get accustomed to it. I have. I guess diseases -are pretty much the same as mines, alike everywhere."</p> - -<p>In the train Stephen sat close to the window, a forbidding -shoulder turned toward a possibly loquacious seat-mate. His -very heart was sick, but he fancied that it was his body, made -so by the motion of the car. Usually he enjoyed the ride, first -through the region of breakers and culm banks which took on a -weird picturesqueness on a bright day, then along the upper -reaches of the Susquehanna and the narrow defile through which -the Lehigh passes at Mauch Chunk, and into the farm lands -farther down. He liked also to note the changing speech, the -foreign tongues in his own neighborhood, the broad Pennsylvania -German at Allentown, the less accented speech near Philadelphia. -But to-day nothing engaged his attention but his own -misery.</p> - -<p>On the news-stand in the station in Philadelphia he saw the -<i>Students' Quarterly</i>. He was tempted at first to pass quickly by -and thus put off for a while the final realization of his shame, but -he bought a copy and walked through the station to a bench so -placed that he could turn his back to all the world. When he sat -down he found that he was holding his breath, though suspense -was not exactly his condition of mind, since suspense implied -some hope, and he believed that there was none for Stephen -Lanfair.</p> - -<p>Then his lips parted and his eyes dilated and a deadly paleness -spread over a countenance already white. The day of miracles -was not past; God did not mean him to be destroyed.</p> - -<p>He found the article, "A New Theory," and his name "Stephen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> -Lanfair." He found under his name a note: "This article -is not original, but is an abstract of a mistaken and amusing -but ingenious treatise by John Dalling, a famous London physician. -It was first published in England in 1837." The note, -a reader would have said, was placed there by the contributor -himself.</p> - -<p>Saint Elizabeth, finding in the fifteenth century the loaves in -her apron turned to roses in answer to her prayer, may have -been surprised. Stephen Lanfair, finding a similar benison in the -nineteenth, was stupefied.</p> - -<p>When the machinery of his brain began to operate, he tried to -fathom the mystery. He had not written the note himself, that -was certain—some good angel in the guise of a critic had saved -him, and the only person through whose hands the manuscript -had passed was Edward Levis.</p> - -<p>Having crossed the city he knew not how, he found Levis in -his poor room. He was as thin as Lanfair and looked, with his -black beard, twenty years older. He took off a pair of large spectacles -and bade his guest sit down. Stephen remembered having -heard that he had been a foundling, brought up at Girard College.</p> - -<p>He did not answer Levis's greeting, he simply held out the -magazine.</p> - -<p>"Did you put that note in, Levis?"</p> - -<p>Levis flushed. His nature was one of intense reserve and he -anticipated and deplored the unpleasantness of a confession. He -believed that he understood the boyish rashness which was to -blame for Lanfair's mistake, and he had added the note for his -sake as well as for the sake of the magazine.</p> - -<p>"I saw you had forgotten it," said he lightly.</p> - -<p>"Did you know the real author?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I saw this article alluded to humorously long ago in -Thurber's textbook and I looked it up. The old magazine is on -file here."</p> - -<p>"It is commonly known, then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I should say so, as a sort of absurdity. You see, of -course, that it is an absurdity."</p> - -<p>To this Stephen made no answer. He would have proved himself -a fool, then, as well as a knave!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Do you think many persons beside yourself would have -recognized it?"</p> - -<p>"I think it likely, and of course one would have been enough. -It was all right for you to send it in, though; it has roused a great -deal of interest; it shows we have a sense of humor. I was very -sorry to hear that you lost your father, Lanfair."</p> - -<p>Stephen would have liked to lay his head on Levis's shoulder; -instead he laid it on Levis's desk.</p> - -<p>"I didn't mean to add a note," said he in a thick voice. "I -meant to pass it off as my own. I have been a dishonest fool."</p> - -<p>Levis stirred uneasily.</p> - -<p>"We all have to learn lessons."</p> - -<p>Stephen was crying like a child.</p> - -<p>"Don't, my dear fellow," said Levis.</p> - -<p>Stephen lifted his head.</p> - -<p>"I promise you that never in my life will I do anything of this -kind again. It's nearly killed me. If my father had known—I -don't know what he would have felt or done or said. He would -have been heart-broken. When I'm tempted to do anything -wrong, anything of any kind, I'll think of you. I promise you -faithfully!"</p> - -<p>Levis smiled.</p> - -<p>"Promise yourself, Lanfair!"</p> - -<p>Stephen remembered at the end of the week to write his decision -to Kinter. He would not need, thank God, to go to Chestnut -Ridge and fix his eyes for the rest of his life upon the dirty -street and the dismal breaker and the ignorant, unclean women -who were so often and so direly in need of waiting upon! He -thought of his father with an almost intolerable tenderness of -heart. His father had suffered everything, cold and weariness -and loneliness and hunger of mind, separation from all that was -interesting and profitable, and finally martyrdom itself in a -ghastly form. His father was a saint; he would always remember -him and love him, but he would not need to follow exactly in his -footsteps. He would have a career of which his father would have -been unspeakably proud; he would establish principles by which -the whole race of eye specialists would be governed; he would -have an immensely wide influence, and it would all be his -father's doing.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>He told Levis about the position, feeling a little ashamed, and -was relieved when Levis explained that he had agreed to take a -country practice in Lancaster County.</p> - -<p>He was given the next day new reason to expect success. Professor -Mayne summoned him to his desk at the end of his last -class and congratulated him upon his answers in a recent examination. -Mayne was as large in body as he was in estate and his -manner expressed his opulence. He had a full round voice, he used -long words deliberately and with perfect correctness, and spoke -with an old-fashioned rhythm, which accented now important, -now unimportant words, as though he obeyed some queer quantitative -law. He seemed to be health of body and mind incarnate, -but an inherited susceptibility to mental disorder had forbidden -his continuing his race. Life, he believed, was on the whole -hideous if one stopped to consider it; but clever men did not -contemplate it, they simply secured for themselves all the -pleasures of the eye and the mind and the body that it was -possible to get without transgressing the laws of health and common -sense.</p> - -<p>Sitting at his desk, dressed in broadcloth, he looked pleasantly -at his pupil. Stephen's appearance had improved; his hair had -been trimmed after a homely bang-like fashion then prevailing, -sleep had refreshed him, and only the black band on his sleeve -distinguished him as one afflicted. His eyelids were no longer -swollen and his eyes had resumed a natural brilliancy which drew -attention away from his somewhat attenuated features.</p> - -<p>"I was interested in your contribution to the <i>Quarterly</i>, Lanfair. -Where did you discover that antediluvian absurdity?"</p> - -<p>"In an old magazine of my father's." Stephen could not suppress -the tears which burned his eyes. His relief from anxiety -softened his heart and the least expression of sympathy made -him almost hysterical. "He had evidently kept it because it -was a curiosity. He was a great reader. I didn't know that attention -had been called to it in Thurber's textbook until Levis -told me."</p> - -<p>"We cannot be reminded of a good joke too often. I had forgotten -it entirely. Continue your general reading; it will eventually -prove profitable to you, no matter what department of -medicine you select."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then, remembering that Lanfair's father had just died, Professor -Mayne invited him to dinner. His niece was to go with him -to the theater and they would dine at six o'clock at the New -Windham Hotel. His carriage was outside the building. Lanfair -might just as well accompany him now. Stephen followed down -the hall, his heart thumping.</p> - -<p>His heart beat still more rapidly when he was seated opposite -to Mayne and next to his niece in the hotel dining-room. The -girl, Hilda Fell, was a little creature in exquisite clothes who -looked up from under a pair of brows which almost met and -which gave to her face a willful and imperious expression. She -was very young and light as thistledown and was already spoiled -by wealth and idleness. The men whom she had known hitherto -were familiar with her type, but Stephen was not; he thought of -her as a charming princess, and when her bright eyes met his, he -looked back into them smiling, and not recognizing the intense -and somewhat unwholesome curiosity about life which animated -them. He had frequently heard of her as an orphan with a large -estate of which a great stone house on the river front in Harrisburg -near the governor's mansion was only a small part. She was -an object of interest to the students who knew her by sight and -who discussed endlessly her wealth and her fashionable clothes -and admired her free manners. There was a current rumor that -she smoked cigarettes, a habit then almost unknown among -women.</p> - -<p>Professor Mayne teased her and she answered saucily. He deplored -his own ill fortune, and still more that of this little creature -in whom the taint of insanity was darker than in himself. -He believed that his sister, Hilda's mother, would have developed, -if she had lived, a serious melancholia ending possibly in -suicide for which the family history furnished abundant precedent. -He was convinced of the present soundness of Hilda's -mind, but with him and Hilda the family must end.</p> - -<p>He looked at her and young Lanfair earnestly. Lanfair was -ambitious; he would improve and develop, and to him certain -matters could be explained. Before they parted he had invited -Stephen to his house.</p> - -<p>Stephen went from the hotel table to Levis's room. He asked -merely to sit there with his book before the fire, which was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> -only means of heating here where living was cheap. He was like -a child who finds assuagement for hurt in the silent company of -an older person.</p> - -<p>Levis smiled and went on with his work. It was not often that -students sought him out merely for the pleasure of his company -and he was touched by this youthful devotion.</p> - -<p>Nor was it often, at least during his occupancy, that a girl's -figure and a pair of dark eyes were visualized against the background -of the old mantelpiece. Levis himself did not give one -hour's thought in a year to women; he believed that he was growing -too old for love-making and that hardship had made him immune -to love. Certainly there was no profit in thinking of a state -of matrimony into which one was too poor to enter!</p> - -<p>Stephen contrasted his fearful anticipations with what had -actually occurred. He had expected to be by this time disgraced -and despairing. Instead he was at peace. He had been more honored -than he had dreamed of being, and now a new and wilder -possibility dazzled him.</p> - -<p>His thoughts recurred to his father, and he dwelt with gratitude -upon the self-sacrificing care which had always been his. If -his father had been willing to provide less generously for his education, -to stint his pocket-money, or to leave a smaller inheritance, -he might have had a larger library with which to make -Chestnut Ridge tolerable and an occasional journey for diversion -or improvement. He might even—Stephen flushed a little -as this notion came into his mind—he might even have contracted -a second marriage, his first having ended tragically with -Stephen's birth.</p> - -<p>Stephen avoided thinking of the piety which was after all his -father's distinguishing characteristic, even though he was aware -that his father would rather have bequeathed to him faith than -money, and that his effort to recite the Creed was not a last reassurance -to himself as it had seemed, but a final reminder of -the faith without which he believed his son would perish. Stephen -saw him clearly as he lay in his bed and heard his voice -reciting the treasured verses which he had memorized in dreary -journeys over the bleak hills. The lines which he repeated -most often acknowledged with what was to his son a ghastly -frankness his dire plight:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"In the hour of death, after this life's whim,<br /> -When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,<br /> -And pain has exhausted every limb—<br /> -The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him."</p> -</div> - -<p>He resisted not only this memory, but others, a tiny, dismal -schoolhouse, half filled by a little flock of mourning women and -children bereft of husbands and fathers by a cruel death; he -saw weeping eyes and sad faces in which apathy had followed -tears. He hated all sorrow and trouble and he connected religion -with them. Religion was for the old, the dying, the afflicted, -the needy, and he was none of these.</p> - -<p>He looked from time to time gratefully at Levis bending over -his books. Whatever good fortune should be his, Levis should -share. Levis had saved his honor, had saved him from pitfalls for -the rest of his life. He would never, never forget him.</p> - -<p>For the most part, however, he thought of himself, of his excellent -marks, of his grasp of the subjects which he studied, of -admirable Professor Mayne, and especially of Professor Mayne's -niece. He had, he was sure, the ordering of his life in his hands; -he could make it what he chose.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN REFUSES TO HEAR A CALL</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Outside</span> the Saal or meeting-room of the old Kloster all was hot -and bright in the sunshine. The thick grass in the enclosure which -surrounded the group of strangely fashioned buildings was ready -for cutting, the foliage was at its greenest. Ellen Levis could see -between the two wings of a bowed shutter the sloping plot and -half of a willow tree whose plumy branches hung motionless in -the still air. She could see also sheep feeding in the fields across -Cocalico Creek and in imagination she played with them and -with herself a childish game, making a silly wager that a certain -black lamb would come again into sight before Grandfather -Milhausen had finished his lengthy exposition of trine immersion. -It was Saturday morning when most children were, like -the lambs, at play, all but the children of the Seventh-Day -Baptists.</p> - -<p>Presently, when her eyes grew tired of the glare of sunshine, -she turned them upon the scene nearer at hand.</p> - -<p>In the meeting-house all was cool and dim. A soft golden light -fell upon the worn benches, the long tables running the length of -the room, the pulpit covered with a white homespun cloth, the -ancient stove. All was old and strange and brown with the stain -of time. Hung upon the wall, close to the heavy beams of the ceiling, -were crumbling paper charts with intricate and graceful lettering -which had been made in 1740—it was natural that now, -after almost two centuries, the inscriptions should be faded and -dull.</p> - -<p>The congregation sitting motionless in the shadowy place had -an unearthly aspect. There were three young mothers, with heads -bent in somnolent maternity above the infants in their arms; -there were a few older women whose heads were likewise bent; -there were half a dozen men; and last of all, a few children, -dressed like their fathers and mothers in clothes which betokened -indifference to changing styles.</p> - -<p>Only Ellen Levis and her brother were clad in any modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> -fashion. Their mother, long dead, had been a Seventh-Day Baptist -and their father, who was not a church member, not even a -worldly Lutheran, sent them to the meeting at the Kloster because -of a promise made to her.</p> - -<p>The two children, Matthew, a sturdy, blond boy of sixteen, -and Ellen, who was almost two years younger, sat a little apart -from the others, Matthew with his arms folded like the brethren, -and Ellen close beside him. Sometimes she laid her head for a -moment on his shoulder. She was a child of intense affections to -whom the sight and touch of the beloved object gave unspeakable -satisfaction. Matthew was to go to school in the fall to study -medicine and at the thought of separation from him tears came -into her brown eyes.</p> - -<p>The meeting seemed interminable. It was not always possible -for the little flock to gather together on the Seventh Day, and -once assembled they communed long together. This evening -after the solemn ceremony of Foot-washing, the Lord's Supper -would be celebrated, as was proper, as an evening feast.</p> - -<p>The attendance was comparatively large, all that remained of -the Ephrata flock having gathered, as well as a few members -from Franklin and Bedford Counties; and Grandfather Milhausen, -feeling the occasion to be important, was delivering himself -of the fruits of a lifetime of meditation. He proved the necessity -of baptism; he proved that baptism by sprinkling had no -warrant in Scripture; he dwelt in conclusion with passionate outpouring -of words upon the efficacy and comfort of trine immersion.</p> - -<p>His voice, now loud, now soft, kept throughout a monotone. -His hearers grew drowsy, slept, woke again, changed their positions, -and slept once more. The little black lamb came again -and again into the field of Ellen's vision, fifty accurately counted -automobile horns sounded from a curve near by, and each -member of the congregation was in turn gazed at and meditated -upon.</p> - -<p>"I like Sister König because she is so very fat and when she -is not in meeting she smiles pleasantly.... I pity Brother -Reith because they had to take his wife to the asylum, but -I do not like him.... I pity Sister Herman because she had to -be baptized in the cold creek last winter. I should choose the -summer. I should"—there was a slight admonitory motion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> -of the shoulder against which she leaned. But she was disturbed -only for a second; then she settled her plump body still more -closely against her brother's arm. He was tired, she was sure, -and she was very, very tired. Grandfather's eyes, lifted a moment -ago toward the ceiling, were bent now upon his congregation. -He must see that they were tired, that they longed to go, -but he took no heed of their misery.</p> - -<p>Once more Ellen returned to her musing. She journeyed -through the strange old building, passing from the meeting-room -into a kitchen where, long ago, meals were prepared for -visiting brethren, and climbing up into large empty lofts which -had been their dormitories.</p> - -<p>Then she sped in imagination out the door of the meeting-room -and across the angle between the Saal and Saron. In Saron -had lived a conventual sisterhood, young women who had left -their fathers' houses, and older women who had left their own -homes and their husbands and children, to pray, to spin and -weave, to letter the old charts, and to sing morning, noon and -midnight, strange, attenuated music from a latticed gallery.</p> - -<p>The old building was an enchanting place—if only one were -sometimes allowed there alone, so that one might dream without -the guiding admonitions of Grandfather, to whom these -women were all saints. Here were old spinning-wheels and a -curious tower clock which struck the hours, and pieces of pottery -and old books and still other elaborate charts. Climbing a -narrow, winding stairway, one came to tiny cells where the -sisters had slept on narrow benches fastened to the wall, with -blocks of wood for pillows. Ellen pictured them lying stiffly; -sometimes she imagined them falling with a crash from their -narrow couches; sometimes she fancied herself pursued by them, -and taking refuge with Matthew or her father. They wore, she -seemed to remember, thick white dresses, tied about with ropes. -The poor things lay now, dead and done for, in the little cemetery -between the meeting-house and the road.</p> - -<p>After a long time she resumed her meditations upon the subject -of immersion.</p> - -<p>"I would not like to be baptized when the water was high, -either. I would do like Millie König"—her eyes turned toward -one of the youngest of the sisters, a girl about Matthew's age,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> -with a meaningless, saintlike beauty. "I would take a nice day -like Millie." She looked again at the downcast eyes and the -crossed hands. "I hate Millie," said she calmly. Then her -weariness became acute. It was dreadful to have to sit here -while the world went on, dreadful, dreadful. She began to pity -herself and saw her whole life wasted.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she was acutely disturbed. It was not alone the admonitory -motion of Matthew's shoulder; it was the preacher's -eyes, bent directly upon Matthew and upon her. She sat upright. -Something was going to happen after all—she anticipated -that it was something more trying than the monotony.</p> - -<p>"There are those in our midst who should be of us," said -Grandfather, with jealous passion. "The children of a good -mother who was a Seventh-Day Baptist should follow in her -footsteps, should go down into the cleansing flood and there -wash themselves clean of sin, should make a fresh start in the -world, should put upon themselves the badge of separation. -They have heard the call many times; they must be no longer -disobedient to the heavenly vision. Brother Matthew, Sister -Ellen, is it well that you should postpone what is right for you -to do, that you should longer reject the peace of God?"</p> - -<p>Ellen's head turned sharply, her eyes seeking her brother's. -A shaft of sunshine fell upon his thick, light hair and across his -smooth cheek. For a long time he did not answer and an awful -fear began to take shape in her heart. Was he not going to -answer, to get somehow between her and the dreadful eyes, the -deathlike beard of Grandfather? Still he sat motionless.</p> - -<p>Grandfather lifted his arms in supplication.</p> - -<p>"Father in Heaven, Thou that takest care of the least of -Thy children, Thou who rejoicest over each lamb brought into -the fold, help us in this hour!"</p> - -<p>Ellen leaned forward and grasped the edge of the seat with -both hands. Was not Matthew angry, would he not be angry, -would he not take her and himself away from this glittering, -searching eye? She thought with sick longing of her father, -so comfortable at home, or riding to see a patient. No one would -dare, she was certain, to talk to him about his soul, or to suggest -that he should take off his clothes and put on a long black robe -and kneel in Cocalico Creek and let Grandfather dip him back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> -and forth! Neither would Matthew submit to such indignity. -Outraged and insulted, she tried to find his hand to assure him -of her sympathy.</p> - -<p>But her hand was not taken. Matthew sat motionless staring -at the floor. Her eyes sought the watching faces. Mothers had -lifted their heads, the few fathers in Israel bent forward. Sister -Herman was crying. Sister Millie's eyes were different from the -rest; their expression was sharper and more eager; they were -hungry eyes, bent upon Matthew's thick, light curls. Without -understanding, Ellen hated her even more vehemently. Her -hand, creeping into Matthew's, would not be withstood.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Matthew, let us go home!"</p> - -<p>Holding her hand, Matthew rose. It seemed that only the -blood of his mother filled his veins. The love of the soil was in -him and of the heavy, unthinking, comfortable life which his -mother's people had lived for generation upon generation, life -founded upon a conviction that in the next world all would be -well. He could not remember his mother, but he had thought -much about her.</p> - -<p>He took now the most important step of his life. Inclination, -inherited tendencies, and a piety, deep and authentic, though -narrow, indicated his path.</p> - -<p>"I have thought about these matters for a long time," he -said slowly. "I believe that we should be baptized by trine immersion, -that there is no salvation outside it. I believe that -we should observe the ordinance of Foot-washing because our -Lord commanded it. I believe in the holy kiss and in the communion. -I believe we should be a separated people and that -we should keep the peace, not going to law, and not making or -engaging in war, and observing temperance and charity. I am -ready to be immersed when it seems best. I am—"</p> - -<p>But he could say no more. Even so well thought out a declaration -proved difficult to deliver. Sister Herman began to sing, -a high, shrill song, not the strange part singing of a century -and a half ago, which had become merely a tradition, but a -modern revival hymn,</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"The Lord's my strength,<br /> -In Him I'll trust,<br /> -A Shelter in the time of storm."</p> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> -<p>Sister König joined and the tenor of Brother Amos fell in. -Brother Amos, a nephew of Grandfather Milhausen, was only -twenty-one, but he was a school-teacher and had already been -appointed a preacher.</p> - -<p>The music caught Ellen by the throat; it seemed to drown her -in thick, overpowering emotion. An inner voice admonished her -to yield; that it was easier to yield, better to yield, to give up -one's own desires, one's own will, to walk in an appointed path. -Matthew grasped her hand closely and then laid his other hand -upon it. He was undemonstrative and his unwonted gesture -softened her heart still more. For him she had fetched and -carried all their short lives; he believed that she would obey now -as she had always obeyed, and he would bring her into the -kingdom.</p> - -<p>Grandfather had not finished his appeal. He looked down at -Ellen and it seemed that his bright eyes burned her through. She -thought of a dreadful picture of God and the judgment, she -thought of every wrong she had done; of disobedience, of impertinence -to the housekeeper, of excursions into forbidden -books, of wandering thoughts in meeting. She heard him plead, -she felt Matthew's hand clasp hers still more closely. Like -Matthew she was compelled suddenly to decide, but unlike -Matthew she had not thought on these things, and except in -amused speculation the possibility of being immersed or of baring -her feet before the women had not occurred to her.</p> - -<p>Then Ellen made the choice by which she was to abide. The -blood which flowed in her veins was different from that in her -brother's; the paternal inheritance was paramount, the choice -was, after all, made for her. Though Matthew's caress thrilled -her with delight, she rose unsteadily. She saw in all eyes a -pleased conviction that she was about to imitate him; she noticed -for the first time that Amos's eyes could gleam like her grandfather's, -and she trembled. Standing for a moment she was -a pleasant picture, a round and still childish figure whose -future appearance was not to be certainly prophesied, but possessing -two features whose beauty would be for years to come -certain, thick, curly, brown hair, now braided primly, and dark -eyes shaded by lashes so black that they seemed immeasurably -deep and tender.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<p>Suddenly she felt wings given her. Out of the brown shadows, -across the shaft of light which illuminated the bent, blond head -of her brother with a symbolism marked by the congregation, -she fled. The sunlight, the green grass, the trees, now waving in -a gentle breeze, and most wonderful of all, the unlimited blue -sky, seemed to hold out welcoming arms. She began to cry and -to run as she cried. She feared that she might be pursued. -Though she was not afraid to drive Matthew's young horse, she -did not think of taking him, but sped on foot up Mount Zion -toward the bounds of the enclosure, across the site of a more -ancient church to the hill-top. There she usually looked down -through a thick bit of virgin woods toward the smoothly flowing -Cocalico, and beyond to pleasant Ephrata. But now she -opened the rude fastening of an old gate, and ran across a field -past a tall monument, toward a pair of arms of whose welcome -she was certain. There was peace, and not in the dim cavern -from which she fled!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /> -<span class="smaller">TWO VERSIONS OF THE SAME STORY</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> Ellen had beaten her way with gasps for breath up the -slope beyond the meeting-house, she slackened her pace. She -began to doubt pursuit, and besides she could now trust to her -power of swift locomotion. For a while she kept inside the fences -on the grass borders from which a dash into the wheat would -have been easy, but after she had gone half a mile she wormed -her plump body between two spreading rails and took to the -road.</p> - -<p>The sense of escape from prison was not new; many times -when church was over she had looked up and round at the arching -sky and the waving trees and had danced her way out to -Matthew's buggy, and sometimes, from behind the safe shelter -of its curtain, she had made atrocious faces at the back of Millie -König's sleek head.</p> - -<p>Presently, her joy at having escaped was tempered. She did -not like to have the brethren consider her wicked. But penitence -weakened and finally faded entirely away, its departure hastened -by reflections of a nature common to mankind. Millie -had copied her sentences in school—it did not make much difference -what Millie thought of her. Brother Herman was notorious -for his keenness in trade and he had cheated her father -when he sold him a horse. As for Grandfather—she was sorry -to hurt his feelings, but Grandfather was old. It is very easy to be -good, Ellen believed, when you are old.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the full import of the morning's events was clear -to her. She was free, but Matthew was in prison! As she walked -on she began to cry again. Perhaps he would let his beard grow -until he looked like Grandfather and Amos and like the pictures -of Father Friedsam and Brother Jabez and all the worthies of -the past. He would not belong to her; he would belong to all -those grim and pious people. Most dreadful of all, he would belong -to Millie. At this, she stopped short in the road, remembering -Millie's possessing eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<p>Again she began to run, dashing through the little hollow -made by the creek, where the odors of fresh earth and the intense -sweetness of elder blossoms would at any other moment -have made her loiter. The creek bounded her father's farm and, -taking a short cut, she left the road and crossed a meadow and -then ran along the edge of a field of corn until she came to a gate -which let her into the yard.</p> - -<p>The Levis house was one of the large, many-windowed brick -houses common to the neighborhood. It was built solidly and -its correctness of proportion gave it a comfortable beauty. -The porch was not a part of the original structure, but had -been added, as running water and other conveniences had been -added within. Behind the house stood a large barn. The place -had not the trim look of adjacent farms; there was a good deal -of brush along the fences, the fences themselves needed rebuilding -and the woodwork of the house needed paint. After looking -carefully at the premises an observant person would have made -up his mind that the owner was neither by taste nor by inclination -a farmer.</p> - -<p>The property had one glorious beauty, the thick and lofty -grove of oak trees which stood behind and above the house -and barn. They were a landmark for miles. In them hundreds of -birds nested and squirrels played and scores of little creatures -had their homes. In spring anemones and hepaticas were to be -found beneath them and nowhere else in the immediate neighborhood; -in summer they spread a thick canopy of shade, and in -autumn they burned with a glowing red. In them in all seasons -the wind spoke continuously, now in a whisper, now in thunderous -diapason.</p> - -<p>Dr. Levis sat on the porch of his house, his pipe in his hand, -his tall, thin figure comfortably disposed in an old rocking-chair. -He had long since got rid of his black beard, and he looked, if -not younger in body, at least younger in spirit, than in the days -of his friendship with Stephen Lanfair. This morning he had -seen a few office patients and had paid the two visits which were -all that were needed by his healthy clientèle, and he was now -waiting comfortably until the rural mail carrier should leave his -newspaper.</p> - -<p>He received little mail besides his papers and magazines and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> -an occasional printed notice from the University. A connection -with one's Alma Mater soon lapses when one has formed no -close friendships, and he had formed but one. He looked very -sober when he thought of Stephen, not chiefly because Stephen -had forgotten him—he was a boy with a boy's short-lived -enthusiasms—but because Stephen had succeeded so well and -he had succeeded so little. The possession of a fair practice, -a productive farm and two fine children might be thought to -represent a sufficient attainment, but there was in his heart a -bitter sense of dissatisfaction and disappointment. He had been -tricked, bewitched; forgetting his superiority and immunity to -love he had married soon after leaving the University, and had -thus fettered himself for life.</p> - -<p>He heard the first thump of Ellen's small but heavy shoes on -the porch steps and moving with the physician's swift response -to sounds heard during sleep, he sat upright, his pipe slipping -from his hand. Then, seeing that it was only Ellen come from -church, he sank back and closed his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Are you back? Come pick up Father's pipe and tell him -about the sermon."</p> - -<p>Rendered speechless by the consciousness of her misery and -of her tear-streaked face, Ellen moved no farther, and hearing -no advancing step and feeling no warm creature against his knee, -Levis opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Why, Ellen, dear, what's the matter? Why are you home -so early? Where's Matthew? Come here quickly!"</p> - -<p>Blinded afresh by tears, Ellen started toward her accustomed -sanctuary.</p> - -<p>"What a heavy Ellen it is! Is there anything the matter with -Matthew?"</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head. There was nothing the matter with -Matthew in the sense in which her father spoke, yet there was -everything the matter with him.</p> - -<p>Suddenly tears seemed an inadequate expression of her trouble. -Her father's face, seen above hers, was pitying, yet a little -amused. The woes of childhood were so small—he wondered -whether it was a sick kitten or a lame horse that had stirred -Ellen's tender heart.</p> - -<p>"Now, Ellen, tell me what is the matter."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen sat up and dried her eyes on her father's large, smooth -handkerchief. She remembered—oh, blessed relief!—that of -course her father could stop Matthew. Matthew was to go away -to learn to be a physician; he could not be a Seventh-Day Baptist!</p> - -<p>"I ran away from meeting," she confessed, feeling the first -doubt of her course.</p> - -<p>Levis's face was grave, but his eyes twinkled.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"It was so long and I got so tired looking at half a tree and a -little grass, and at the brothers and sisters and Grandfather's -white beard."</p> - -<p>"Why, Ellen!" Levis frowned, not in anger, but so that he -might concentrate both physical and mental vision upon his -daughter.</p> - -<p>Now Ellen revealed the heart of the trouble.</p> - -<p>"Grandfather preached at Matthew and me!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, he did!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and Matthew made a speech about believing in everything. -He's going to be immersed, Father, and he will be at the -Foot-washing. They wanted me to, but I ran away. I couldn't -stand it."</p> - -<p>"Why couldn't you stand it?"</p> - -<p>Ellen laid her hands across her plump body.</p> - -<p>"It makes me feel all tight here. And I couldn't bear to take -off my shoes and stockings."</p> - -<p>"No," answered Levis. "I should think you couldn't! Can -you remember just what was said to you and Matthew?"</p> - -<p>"Grandfather said we ought to come to the meeting and get -into the cleansing flood. It was very dark and uncomfortable."</p> - -<p>"And what did Matthew say?"</p> - -<p>"He said he'd been thinking about these things for a long, -long time and he thought it was all right. Then they sang about -a shelter and they prayed over us. Grandfather said we were the -children of a good sister."</p> - -<p>Levis put Ellen off his knee and began to walk up and down -the porch. He knew his own origin as little as he knew the origin -of his unusual name, which the neighborhood turned into Lewis, -but he believed himself to be entirely Anglo-Saxon and he hoped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> -that his children were Anglo-Saxon rather than Teutonic. Left -alone, Ellen ran after him and took his hand and walked with -him, a quaint imitator of his step and carriage.</p> - -<p>"Can't you stop him, Father?"</p> - -<p>"We shall see."</p> - -<p>"If you told me to stop it—that is, if I were doing it—you -know I'd stop, don't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen tightened her hand on the three fingers which it held.</p> - -<p>"I'll never do what you don't want me to do."</p> - -<p>Levis made no answer, but exchanged the three fingers for a -whole hand. After a while he stopped walking long enough to -light his pipe. At that moment a buggy turned into the lane, not -the well-painted, swiftly moving rig of Matthew, but an older -vehicle in which the housekeeper had driven to town to do her -Saturday shopping. Levis provided ample transportation for all -his family.</p> - -<p>"She's coming, Father," said Ellen in a whisper.</p> - -<p>Levis stepped off the porch, calling, "Home so soon, Manda?" -and received a solemn nod from a large, white, and somewhat reproachful -face. He went round the house and down to the spring -house and up a slope into the woodland which was his pride. -There he sat down on a fallen tree and bade Ellen sit on a stump -opposite him. She smiled and blinked her reddened eyes. It was -her favorite spot and she liked to have her father here with her.</p> - -<p>Suddenly Levis leaned forward. Ellen's news shocked him into -the recollection of important plans, sometimes dreamed of and -smoked over, sometimes forgotten for long periods, sometimes -recalled with a pang of self-reproach, and again forgotten. It was -his fault that Matthew had impulsively committed himself to -this foolishness—the separation from Grandfather Milhausen, -which would be complete in the fall when Matthew went to -school, should have been brought about long ago. Ellen showed -more common sense, but he had neglected her also, and for all -her protests she might hold some of these foolish ideas. He had -meant long since to take her education in hand. Amos Milhausen's -instruction was good as far as it went, but it was now inadequate. -He began to her astonishment to ask queer questions.</p> - -<p>"How many bones are there in the human body?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I don't know. I think Matthew knows."</p> - -<p>"What is the shape of the earth?"</p> - -<p>"Round like a ball and flattened at the poles."</p> - -<p>"What are the poles?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Why are the days shorter in winter?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. Matthew knows."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to let Matthew do all your knowing?"</p> - -<p>Tears came again into Ellen's eyes. Matthew had abandoned -her.</p> - -<p>"I'm at the head of my class," she boasted in feeble self-defense. -"I can write good compositions and do any kind of -examples and I'm excellent in geography."</p> - -<p>"I should think it would be a very simple matter to stand at -the head of your class!"</p> - -<p>"It is," confessed Ellen. "I don't work hard at all."</p> - -<p>But now Ellen worked very hard. In the next half-hour her -father drew from her small head all the knowledge which it contained -and tried to find a great deal more than had been put -there. A few times, for sheer nervousness and shame, she cried. -The amount of her knowledge seemed infinitesimal, the abyss of -her ignorance unfathomable. It was all the more humiliating because -when the catechization was over, her father started to the -house without reproving her for her dullness. It was hard on one -who had prided herself on her brains!</p> - -<p>Matthew returned, driving slowly, a grave expression on his -handsome face. Having unhitched his horse he came round to -the porch where the flutter of a short skirt vanishing indoors did -not escape him. He was deeply angry with the anger of a superior -toward an inferior or an elder toward a child. He could not understand -Ellen. For the first time in her life she had not been -willing to go his way, and she had marred what would otherwise -have been a perfect experience.</p> - -<p>Hitherto he had not thought much about his father or his -father's convictions, his father's neglect of church having been a -condition with which he had always been familiar, but now it -seemed unnecessary and wrong. Realizing in his new devotion -that it was his duty to admonish his careless parent, he prayed -for opportunity and strength.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> - -<p>The three Levises ate their dinner silently, the housekeeper -sitting with them. She had, seen close at hand, an air of patient -endurance under affliction. She had expected, according to custom, -that the man of whose house and children she had taken -such good care for so many years would marry her, though she -had already been married twice and was somewhat older than -he. She had even, being hopeful of Dr. Levis, discouraged the advances -of a neighboring farmer. The short lives of her two husbands -and the oaklike hardness of Levis made her lot a very disappointing -one. Having just heard of the marriage of a friend, -she was more than usually depressed, a condition which did not -escape her master, to whom her mournful disposition and her extraordinary -combinations of English and German were sources -of deep and silent amusement. He could not always remember -her expressions, but Ellen could repeat them at length. "Unsere -number iss 1 long and 2 short and sis very hart zu's distinguishe," -she would say into the telephone and be perfectly understood by -the person at the other end. Or, "I sink it will give rain," or, -"Ach, Ellen, what do you make, then!"</p> - -<p>At another time, with amused recollection of Mrs. Gummidge, -Levis would have rallied her back into cheerfulness, and, unconsciously, -into some hope, but to-day his thoughts were upon his -own affairs. He did not hear when she invited him to a second -helping of potatoes, a piece of absent-mindedness which seemed -insulting and which would furnish her material upon which to -brood through the long afternoon.</p> - -<p>When dinner was over, Matthew followed his father to the -porch. Levis looked at him curiously. He had something to say -to Matthew, but it seemed also that Matthew had something to -say to him! Matthew took his seat in a rocking-chair, and another -prayer for strength concluded, spoke.</p> - -<p>"Father, Ellen behaved very badly in church."</p> - -<p>"Ellen told me about it," said Levis.</p> - -<p>"She ought to be punished."</p> - -<p>"That is, she told me her side of it. Perhaps you'd better tell -me yours."</p> - -<p>"Well, Grandfather made a fine address about immersion. -Then he said that since we children had such a good Christian -mother, we, too, should be immersed and come into church. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> -said that I would. Then he spoke kindly to Ellen and she got -up and ran out in a senseless way."</p> - -<p>"Ellen was frightened."</p> - -<p>"She's old enough not to be frightened. She has an immortal -soul. She should have obeyed me. And you have an immortal -soul, Father," said handsome Matthew. "Would you not become -converted and be immersed? It is a very blessed condition."</p> - -<p>In delivering this quotation from Grandfather, Matthew's -voice had a slightly hollow ring, as though even he were aware that -the situation had unusual aspects.</p> - -<p>Levis rose and knocked the ashes from his pipe.</p> - -<p>"Suppose you come into the office, Matthew," said he crisply. -"It will be easier to talk there."</p> - -<p>Within doors Levis walked up and down. He did not seem to -belong here in this country office, with its simple fittings, its -serviceable but unmodern appliances, its outlook on farmland; -he belonged in a city where he could attend fifty instead of five -patients in a day.</p> - -<p>"Matthew," said he frowning, "until this morning, it never -occurred to me that it would be necessary to speak to you as I am -going to speak. But I've been overreached and deceived. I don't -blame you; you too have been a victim. If you're old enough -to take the stand which you took this morning, to describe the -convictions of your heart before strangers, you're old enough to -hear what I have to say.</p> - -<p>"You have always had smooth sailing; you can't understand -what it means to be without living kin, to be bound out, to suffer -intentional or unintentional slights, to have always to overcome -difficulties, to deny yourself a little more when you've already -next to nothing, to be cold and hungry and miserable. I wouldn't -wish you to know; I want never to think of the miseries of my -youth. I've done my best to shield you from all hardships; but -it won't hurt you to know that such hardships exist.</p> - -<p>"Through it all, I was determined to be a physician, and that -is what I succeeded in becoming—older than most men when -I graduated, but eternally grateful.</p> - -<p>"I came into this neighborhood to begin a practice, or rather -to take a practice temporarily. I didn't expect to stay beyond -a year, but I married here and your mother would not leave."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p>For a moment Levis paused and looked out at the fields and -the woodland and the empty sky. Old conflicts in which he had -lost, old miseries, old thwartings came back to him, and especially, -painted against the woodland, a face, exquisite in line, -delicate in coloring. The face before him resembled it in outline -and in expression.</p> - -<p>"After she died, I couldn't go away because of you and Ellen. -I couldn't take you, neither could I leave you; so I stayed here. -I've brought you up according to my best judgment, and I've -made you good children.</p> - -<p>"Before your mother died, I gave her a promise. She was concerned -that you should be 'saved'"—Levis's voice laid a -lightly scornful emphasis on the "saved." "She held the strict -notions of the Seventh-Day Baptists, and I promised I'd do -nothing to alienate you from her father and would let you go to -church. It was foolish, but your grandfather promised to exact -no religious vows from you. I felt that his promise was unnecessary. -I didn't dream that children brought up in a household -where English was spoken, with books at hand, would return to -the fifteenth century!"</p> - -<p>"The Gospel is the same now," said Matthew neatly.</p> - -<p>"I agree with you. Everything is the same as it has been, always." -Levis spoke with sarcasm. Then he went on—"You can -have no deep conviction of sin. You have committed no great sin."</p> - -<p>"You don't know my heart, Father!"</p> - -<p>"I know you and your heart. I've had you under my eyes ever -since you were born, and I know you're neither gross nor -wicked. You can't be repentant except in a sentimental, superficial -way; neither can you know that the doctrines of the -Seventh-Day Baptists are right and others wrong. You know -no others."</p> - -<p>"I—" began Matthew.</p> - -<p>"You're under my control, you're supported by me. You'll -go to college in September as we planned and then to the Medical -School, and when you're through you shall decide about the -Seventh-Day Baptists. If your religion is what you think it is, -delay will make no difference; it will rather strengthen you. This -will be a test which you should welcome."</p> - -<p>"I do welcome it, Father."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<p>A slight contraction of the muscles changed the expression of -Levis's face. Meekness—that was one of the weapons of Abraham -Milhausen's daughter!</p> - -<p>He felt an almost irresistible desire to pour out upon his boy -all the heretical beliefs, all the unorthodox speculations which -had for years filled his hours of meditation, to fortify him with -skepticism against the foolish hopes built up by the Christian -religion. He believed he had, like the Stoics, the possession of his -own soul. Once he had expounded his convictions to the boy's -mother and she had withdrawn herself physically and mentally -until she died. But the world would take care of Matthew!</p> - -<p>"You don't suppose that all wisdom is incarnate in Grandfather, -do you, Matthew?"</p> - -<p>"He's only a human being," answered Matthew, with the -same trying neatness of response. "But even children can understand -all that is necessary to be saved."</p> - -<p>Levis rose.</p> - -<p>"Well, my boy, when things begin to seem puzzling to you, -your father may be able to help."</p> - -<p>Matthew rose also. He was tired and he had many things to -think of. He looked at his father with strong disapproval; he -thought of Grandfather's saintliness and the pretty face of Millie -König. His father lit a cigarette; it was as alienating an act as -could have been committed.</p> - -<p>"I think Ellen should be punished for disturbing the meeting," -said he. "It shamed me for her."</p> - -<p>"I'll attend to Ellen," promised Levis with a satisfying grimness.</p> - -<p>But, having reached the doorway, Matthew suffered misgivings.</p> - -<p>"You don't mean that I'm not to go to church at all?"</p> - -<p>"Not to the Seventh-Day Baptist church."</p> - -<p>"Not this evening!"</p> - -<p>"Not at all," was the decisive answer.</p> - -<p>Having opened his lips and closed them, Matthew withdrew, -backwards, and went upstairs.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /> -<span class="smaller">A SLUMBERING TERROR</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was not because of ingratitude or altogether because of forgetfulness -that Stephen Lanfair had neglected his friend. Their association -had continued as long as circumstances made the seeing -of one another possible. When the longed-for interneship was -won, Levis had been for two years out of the Medical School and -Stephen was preoccupied with the straight, dark gaze and free -and saucy manners of Hilda Fell. After Hilda had seen him, she -had, for reasons as yet unexplained by psychologists, forsworn -all other company. He was awkward, he knew none of the lively -give-and-take of her set, he was grave in manner and thought; -but she would have no other. Her passion for him assumed an -ominous intensity; she was happy only when she had before her -a definite prospect of meeting him, she was unhappy when the -character of the meeting was such that she must share his attention -with others.</p> - -<p>Mayne related frankly the history of his family, but Stephen -found in that no impediment to marriage. The insanity appeared—at -least he received that mistaken impression—invariably -in early youth. Apparently Hilda's mind was sound. Her education -had not been of a very solid quality; in fact, she could do -little more than write a presentable note and she did that as seldom -as possible, and of general information she had none. But -Stephen believed that association with him would largely supplement -her knowledge. He believed that Mayne had not given her -the proper sort of education and that she would learn from him -with delight. He could not know or dream that the slightest opposition, -even the thwarting of her whims, would reveal her -fundamental instability. Until now life had brought everything -to her; it had demanded no adaptations on her part.</p> - -<p>He explained to her new and interesting cases which came -under his eye, entirely unaware that all her enthusiasm for his -profession had its origin in his arm across her shoulders. It was -when he was discussing his work that Stephen was at his best.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> - -<p>His marriage, consummated at the end of his course, seemed -to him an incredible piece of good fortune. A poor man from a -little coal region town, he had none of the wealth or influence -which he had always supposed must, even in America, be the -contribution of the bridegroom to an alliance with a name so -important. He visited before his graduation the gray house in -Harrisburg and saw in the city the solid business block, and outside -the city some of the farms which poured their revenues into -Hilda's lap. He believed himself to be lifted by fortune high -above the average of mankind; not only above the great level -mass at the bottom of the social pyramid and the dull, superimposed -layer which he had learned to call <i>bourgeois</i>, but also above -the stratum of educated men and women who lacked comfortable -wealth, and above the stratum of rich men and women who -had no intellectual pleasures. He had, he believed for a month -after he was married, everything.</p> - -<p>He began then dimly to discern the chasm which divided him -from Hilda. His keen mind, delivered from its first blindness, -could no longer fail to see that her ignorance was not the result -of a poor education, but of natural inability to learn. She failed -to grasp the simplest of scientific principles; she could not understand -the structure of the eye or remember its chief parts; she -made Stephen ridiculous by misquoting him.</p> - -<p>He dwelt a little longer in the paradise which he had created -for himself. It was absurd to require in an exquisite creature like -Hilda the interests natural to an older woman or to a student. -Compared with the young women whom he had known in the -University, she was immeasurably attractive and she could not -be expected to possess every perfection.</p> - -<p>It was not long, however, before he understood clearly that -her dullness to the passion of his life, his profession, was due not -only to ignorance but to indifference. Their first quarrel was -precipitated by his announcement of his plans for the future.</p> - -<p>"New York is the place for us to live. Each country has one -center; England has London, France has Paris, and the United -States has New York." Stephen often spoke in this sententious -fashion in his youth. "There the world currents—"</p> - -<p>"But we are not going to live in New York," said Hilda -quickly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because I don't want to. I'll go there for a few weeks as often -as you like in the winter, but I'm going to live in my own house. -In New York you're nobody unless you're worth millions and -millions; in Harrisburg you can be somebody for a good deal less -than that."</p> - -<p>"In Harrisburg!" Stephen was not aware of his absurdity -until Hilda pointed it out to him.</p> - -<p>"I should think that any one who had lived in Chestnut -Ridge with a breaker before the door would find Harrisburg -heaven!"</p> - -<p>Stephen flushed. He had poured out to her in a moment of -unique confidence a description of Chestnut Ridge. With it he had -told her not only about his father's life, but about his death, and -it was unfeeling to recall the conversation in this scornful fashion.</p> - -<p>"I have my living to earn!"</p> - -<p>"Your living!" repeated Hilda. She uttered a delicate and -good-natured pleasantry. "I thought you married me for that!"</p> - -<p>Stephen made no answer. After a while, when he could go without -seeming to be angry, he left her on the porch of the hotel -where they were spending their honeymoon and went to walk -alone. He was shocked, amazed, even appalled.</p> - -<p>Once more and only once he broached the subject.</p> - -<p>"I am exceedingly anxious to do well in my profession, Hilda," -he said earnestly. "New York is the only place where a man -can really have a brilliant success."</p> - -<p>Hilda shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I've made my plans."</p> - -<p>In the end, after six months abroad, Stephen hung out his sign -upon the Manning Street wing of Hilda's house and there practiced -his profession for seven or eight months in the year. The -other months he spent in her train, journeying from one fashionable -American and European resort to the other. During these -excursions he was idle except for stolen visits to clinics and lectures, -and he was constantly unhappy. He still had faith in his -own powers and he realized that his best years were passing and -that other men and even younger men were winning honors -which should have been his. He knew that Hilda believed that -she had made generous concessions in allowing him to practice at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> -all. He knew that her friends—though her associates could -scarcely be called friends, so light were the ties that bound them—thought -him exceedingly lucky, but he believed that his colleagues -held him to be a fashionable quack. He held himself to be -the most unhappy of men.</p> - -<p>Further opposition to his wife's decisions was impossible. He -learned before the second month of his married life had come to -a close that a woman given to hysteria could not be argued with, -could not be made to see reason. His ambition was, he knew -now, stronger than his affection and he would never be able to -gratify it. He came to envy quiet, poor men like Edward Levis, -especially those who remained unmarried, who could live their -lives in freedom.</p> - -<p>He had one or two grossly unpleasant quarrels with Hilda. -Once, after she had laughed at his awkwardness in the presence -of an acquaintance, he took her to task for a habit which he -found more and more odious.</p> - -<p>"The boys at the University used to say that you smoked -cigarettes, but I never believed them."</p> - -<p>They were alone in his bedroom—whose bare floors and almost -blank walls acted as sounding-boards for Hilda's shrill denunciation -of his prudishness. Terrified, he closed the door quickly.</p> - -<p>Within a year her malady took a not uncommon form. He had -been, he realized when the ugly scene was over, very stupid not -to have recognized earlier the obsessive jealousy and rage which -she must have felt for some time, but he had not dreamed that -the young nurse in his office, who was pretty, but ignorant of -everything outside her profession, could have attracted more -than a casual glance. When Hilda began to accuse him, he listened -dumfounded, on his cheek a gray paleness which added -ten years to his age.</p> - -<p>As he listened to her coarse tirade, the shrill accents seemed -to ring like an unpleasant soprano aria against a clearly accented -rhythmic bass, the voice of Professor Mayne. He had received -the impression from Mayne that the family malady never appeared -after early youth, but had he understood him aright? -Horrified he looked into an abyss to whose precipitous wall he -had come blindly, but with the blindness of a madman or a fool.</p> - -<p>"But, Hilda," he said slowly, "I am married to <i>you</i>."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> - -<p>Hilda uttered a laugh which expressed hideously a variety of -emotions—mollification, for his dismay was disarming; amusement, -for his innocence was laughable, and even a little shame. -Stephen's mind was clean; he looked at her as his good father -might have looked.</p> - -<p>For a short time she seemed a little disturbed; she regarded -him with uneasy inquiry as though she suspected his horror and -his inability to forget her outbreak. But he found presently that -she watched the coming and going of his patients and that she -interrogated his employees with such clever slyness that they -did not know they were being questioned. Her jealousy noted -only the women with whom he was connected professionally, especially -those who were alone with him in his office, and between -them, young, middle-aged, or old, she did not distinguish. His -dismay at her ignorance had not escaped her; it was the center -of her consciousness, the <i>idée fixe</i> of her madness. She misinterpreted -the present and falsified the past, ascribing to Stephen -infidelities in the days of their courtship. Her obsession was hideous, -but by no means unprecedented; frequently the newspapers -rejoiced in the airing of similar or more sordid cases. Recently an -innocent patient waiting in a doctor's office had been shot dead -by a suspicious wife.</p> - -<p>Mayne, hearing his story from a terrified Stephen, grew white, -then shook his head. He laid the case before his intimate friend -Dr. Good, who was an alienist and brought him once or twice to -Harrisburg to spend the night. It might be necessary eventually -to have Hilda go—Dr. Good always put his prescriptions as -delicately as possible—to a sanatorium, but there was no immediate -danger. Mayne breathed more freely, and only Stephen -knew by what eternal vigilance over himself and her the peace -was kept, or apprehended the unpleasant and even perilous results -which might follow upon its breaking.</p> - -<p>His life was not entirely without pleasures, unhappy as it -appeared to him. After the first rush of Hilda's fashionable -acquaintances, who came filled with curiosity and went away -baffled and irritated by his gravity and silence, there applied a -more desirable clientèle. He treated the poor in the city hospital, -serving them with a pleasure which he did not analyze, but which -had its source partly in the satisfaction of returning some of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> -the service which hundreds of working men and women poured -out upon Hilda and her kind, and partly in a deep and unrecognized -discontent with his own life. He thought often of his father -with a childish turning to the one human being who had loved -him deeply and unselfishly. He believed that he still regarded his -father's devotion to others with impatience, his life, based upon -a simple and childlike sense of duty, as wasted. He did not know -that unhappiness had begun to alter the opinions which were -the product of youth and good health and material prosperity.</p> - -<p>He performed cures which astonished himself. A Mrs. Fetzer, -a plain little Pennsylvania German woman, suffered at the -hands of a drunken husband a gunshot wound in her face, and -he was called to the hospital when it seemed that the sight of -both eyes was lost. A nurse, Miss Knowlton, who had frequently -attended his patients, faced him one day with defiance and told -him that she was going blind and that according to half a dozen -doctors there was no help for her. A Miss MacVane came to his -office and laid her case before him—she was a private secretary -with no other means of support than her own earnings, and her -eyes were failing.</p> - -<p>He saved one of Mrs. Fetzer's eyes and found for her a place -in his house, of which she gradually took entire charge in a manner -which suggested now a guardian angel, now a watchful -dragon. He cured Miss Knowlton and she replaced a younger -nurse in his office. Miss MacVane became his secretary; she could -not be entirely cured, but with expert treatment and unremitting -watchfulness she might retain a measure of vision for a long time.</p> - -<p>He thought, grimly contemplating his assistants, that Hilda -could find no fault with these ladies. Fetzer, as Hilda called her -after an English fashion, was irremediably disfigured; the insertion -of an artificial eye was out of the question and she wore a -black patch. Miss Knowlton was tall, her features were large, -her red hair was no Titian glory, but was thin and pale, and she -had pale blue eyes and skin without color. Miss MacVane was -short and heavy and her dim vision increased her natural awkwardness. -All three women were of the type by which the world's -tasks are accomplished, who take little or no recreation, who do -without all luxuries, who desire apparently but one reward, the -consciousness of duty done.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen's sense of safety, however, was founded upon a mistaken -analysis of Hilda's jealousy. He did not realize that she -attributed to him no lust of the eyes, that she believed that it was -intellect only which attracted him. She hated Miss Knowlton -and Miss MacVane and every one with whom he talked about -his profession. She hated even Fetzer, though she could not do -without her.</p> - -<p>He had begun, not without a chastening recollection of his -first contribution, to send articles to medical magazines, and he -believed that if he could have a year uninterrupted by idle journeying -he could produce a valuable work on infectious diseases -of the eye. When his first article was finished he thought of sending -a copy to Edward Levis, but Levis seemed as far away as -his father, and he could not renew the acquaintance in so informal -a way. He would some day—no, soon—look him up.</p> - -<p>Life had still other satisfactions. A sense of his own ignorance -and lack of early opportunity kept him constantly seeking for -education. He was interested in art and music and in sciences -other than his own and he tried constantly to increase his information -about them. During his early married life he had -bought a small original painting and Hilda had expressed her -approval—it was, she said, a more becoming fad for a gentleman -than diseases. He had then ceased to buy pictures until his own -income warranted it.</p> - -<p>He might have found congenial friends—the city was not inhabited -entirely by men and women of Hilda's type—but he -knew that his friends could not be hers. It was better to avoid all -social connections than to rouse groundless but hideous suspicion.</p> - -<p>As the years passed it seemed likely that Hilda's malady -would grow no worse. Her uncle felt no more anxiety, and Stephen -relaxed into a certain peace of mind. He became thirty-five, -then forty. He believed that the course of his life was laid -out, and that, unsatisfying as it was, it was still happier than -that of the mass of mankind. There were moments when he said -to himself that there was no reason for his existence or that of -any one else, that human life was ephemeral and purposeless; but -he put aside quickly all metaphysical speculation because it recalled -his father's last hours and the deep concern in his sunken -eyes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /> -<span class="smaller">LEVIS SPEAKS HIS MIND</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Levis</span> was the only member of his family who had a great deal -to say on the Sunday following Matthew's declaration of faith. -At meals Matthew ate with his eyes fixed upon his plate, and -Ellen wiped away an occasional tear. Several times since the sad -events of yesterday she had tried to open the door of Matthew's -room, to tell him that she was sorry she had made him ashamed -and to lay before him the reasons for her conduct, but the door -was locked. Lying in wait outside had been productive of no better -results, for, appearing at last, he had quietly brushed her -aside. Manda was more mournful than the young people. She did -not weep, but the tip of her nose showed that she had wept in -the recent past.</p> - -<p>When supper was over, Levis addressed his family, one after -the other.</p> - -<p>"Matthew, what are you going to do this evening?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to bed," answered Matthew in a low tone. "I promised -to help with the wheat in the morning. Soon it will be a loss."</p> - -<p>Levis's eyes twinkled. Matthew had lately shown an inclination -to observe that his father's methods of farming were not -those of the thrifty neighbors.</p> - -<p>"Manda, where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"In my church," Manda answered in a tone at once humble -and reproachful. She was always a person of few words, but her -ability to express a variety of meanings with a <i>H'm</i> or with the -valuable <i>So!</i> of the Pennsylvania Germans made a large vocabulary -unnecessary.</p> - -<p>Again Levis's eyes twinkled and again he thought of Mrs. -Gummidge, ever mourning for "the old one."</p> - -<p>"And Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Ellen's tears refused to be longer restrained. She rose from her -chair and went to her father.</p> - -<p>"Matthew won't speak to me. I went up seven times to tell -him that I was sorry and he wouldn't open the door."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<p>Levis led Ellen into his office.</p> - -<p>"Matthew is best left alone. He'll come round, never fear! I -have a visit to make which will keep me out till after dark. There -is a book and Matthew will hear you if you call. If you get -sleepy, go to bed."</p> - -<p>Levis kissed her and put on his hat and went away. He did -not carry his satchel of medicines nor go to the barn to put his -horse into the buggy, but walked down the short lane to the -road. Ellen watched him until he reached the gate, and stood for -a moment listening to the church bells in Ephrata. When he -went on his way, she turned with forgetfulness of all troubles to -"David Copperfield." The first paragraphs puzzled her, but she -did not linger. Mercifully, one did not need to understand everything -in a book in order to get intense enjoyment out of it.</p> - -<p>Levis retraced Ellen's journey of yesterday, except that he -climbed no fences, but kept to the road until he reached the -strange group of old buildings in the hollow, now more uncanny -than ever in the twilight. They were entirely dark, and about -them in his imagination ghosts seemed to wander, some of them -saintly and all pitifully deluded. These old buildings had -trapped him; entering them from curiosity soon after he had -taken the practice of the old doctor, he had come out bewitched, -unable to free himself, the course of his life changed.</p> - -<p>Midway between an outer and an inner gate he stood still. -He was in the little enclosure beside the public highway -where for a hundred and seventy years the Seventh-Day Baptists -had buried their dead. Here were no ornate monuments, but -a few rows of simple stones, some sunk deep into the soil. One, a -little larger and whiter than the rest, seemed to invite contemplation. -Levis glanced at it, hesitated for an instant, and then went -on. He knew well how unimportant are the remains of mortality -and that it is mockery even to pause beside a grave in which -lies the object of a love, extinguished not by death, but by life. -The shadowy stone recalled not grief born when Mary died, but -miseries struggled with long before.</p> - -<p>As he passed through the second gate he heard voices. Beside -the tall, steep-roofed buildings stood a little cottage where lived -Grandfather, the guardian of the property, and Amos, his -nephew, protégé, and familiar. Pleased with the attendance at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> -yesterday's meeting, the two sat together on the porch, now for -a long time silent, now in earnest conversation. There was now -no prophet's fire in Grandfather's eyes. He sat comfortably in -an old armchair, the wristbands of his unstarched shirt turned -back over his coat sleeves, his loosely hanging hands, his air -of negligent repose suggesting the portraits of the aged Whitman.</p> - -<p>He spoke rapidly and easily, the young man more slowly and -in a questioning tone. The prophet's mantle seemed to Amos a -heavy robe, though his piety was sincere and he looked, even -more than Grandfather, the part of saint. His features were -beautifully modeled; his thick and curling hair was worn a little -long, in faint imitation of the pious hermits of long ago. His -slightly parted lips and wide gray eyes gave him a look of expectancy -which was the expression of his hopes. He anticipated -that the faith which filled his soul would be quickened by mystical -visions. It had been so in this holy place, it would be so -once more. Grandfather had assured him of it a hundred times.</p> - -<p>Grandfather believed that in establishing in Amos a preoccupation -with spiritual things and with his own soul, he had done -him an inestimable service, but to Levis this preoccupation was -unwholesome and unpleasant. He felt contempt for Amos and -avoided whenever possible the sight of his feminine beauty. -Neither Levis nor any one else had realized that Amos, with his -magnificent frame, his delicate beard, his long hair, his literary -aspirations, and his formal meditations, was not tragic nor -profound nor despicable, but perilously like a figure of comedy.</p> - -<p>The two did not hear the closing of the gate, and the end of -their discourse came distinctly to ears already burning.</p> - -<p>"It is a fine thing for us that young Matthew has taken this -stand. I'm not afraid for the little one—it was doubtless conviction -of sin which made her run away. I will see her alone, -and then she too will come into the fold. It has been distinctly -prophesied to me in dreams that with you three anything might -be done, Matthew the head of a secular congregation, you of a -restored brotherhood, and Ellen of a sisterhood."</p> - -<p>Levis laid his hand on his heart in an habitual and, almost -invariably, an unconscious gesture. The blood seemed to beat -behind his eyes and in his throat. He had never been so angry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It comes to me sometimes that my life was all wrong," -sighed Grandfather. "In my youth I had a call to remain single. -But I was like others—weak. When a Seventh-Day Baptist shall -show by his life that he really believes the assurances of God, -then the Spirit will descend in rich measure, and we shall have -again our hundreds devoted to prayer and to good works."</p> - -<p>A flattered Amos tightened the grasp of one hand upon another. -He knew that he was the foundation upon which his -uncle's hopes were built, but he had never heard it so plainly -stated. He felt his heart burn, he seemed to see a light over the -steep roof of the Saal, and he believed that a higher authority -than his uncle was going to communicate with him. Then he saw -a tall man approaching from the gate.</p> - -<p>"There is some one here, Uncle."</p> - -<p>"It's Levis," said a crisp and angry voice. "Father Milhausen, -I want a few words with you."</p> - -<p>"Sit down, Edward," said the old man.</p> - -<p>"I'd rather talk where there's a light." Levis tried to keep -his voice steady. He did not mean to have any of his words go -trailing off into the darkness without hitting their mark. Moreover, -he meant, if need be, to quarrel and perhaps to storm, and -he did not think it decent to quarrel so near the white tombstone.</p> - -<p>"All right, I'm willing." The old man rose. "Amos, make a -light."</p> - -<p>The coal-oil lamp revealed a little room which was at once -kitchen and sitting-room. It contained a stove, now cold, a table, -a shelf holding Latin and German books, and another holding -specimens of ancient pottery. All was bare and neat.</p> - -<p>The human element was far more interesting than the furniture. -Old Milhausen stood for a moment stroking his white -beard. His dark eyes, half covered by heavy lids, looked downward -without seeing—he was praying for wisdom. Amos stood -close to the table fitting a shade over the glaring light.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps I'd better go," said he humbly. "I don't wish to be -where I have no business."</p> - -<p>"There's no reason why you should go," said Levis lightly. -"I'd like to have you hear what I say, so that there may be no -misunderstanding between any of us." He sat down in a plain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> -wooden chair by the table and Amos sat down on a bench on -the other side.</p> - -<p>Grandfather opened his eyes, having been assured, in some -fashion which he understood, of help from on high. He saw that -his son-in-law was angry and he determined to quiet him if -possible. Edward was not one who bore the dispensations of -God easily.</p> - -<p>"This has been a very pleasant—"</p> - -<p>Levis had not come to talk about pleasant things.</p> - -<p>"I don't like discussions and quarreling," said he. "I have -not had a bitter word with you since the hateful scene you -forced upon me at Mary's bedside, but now you have brought -about the occasion for another scene.</p> - -<p>"I promised Mary that the children should not be influenced -against her religion, and that I'd let them go to meeting. I've -kept my word partly because I usually keep promises, but more -because I didn't believe that two children brought up in this -century in my house would accept the teachings of your sect. -I"—Levis raised a silencing hand. Grandfather smiled, then, -instead of going on with the remark which he had tried to begin, -he hid his lips—"I still don't believe it, even though Matthew -came home yesterday thinking he was 'converted.'</p> - -<p>"While I've kept my promise, you've broken yours. Yesterday, -publicly, you called on two impressionable children, hypnotized -by darkness and heavy air and too much vague preaching, to -confess the most foolish beliefs. You did worse than that—you -put them into a position where it seemed wicked not to -confess them. I don't doubt that Matthew would give anything -in the world to forget that he made such a conspicuous -fool of himself. Fortunately Ellen was more frightened than impressed.</p> - -<p>"What I have to say about the matter is this—Matthew is -going to college in the fall and until then he will come no more -to church. If after he has been at college and medical school, -he chooses to believe as you do, you may have him."</p> - -<p>"I'm not afraid for Matthew," said old Milhausen. "I was -bidden to break my word. I had plain directions."</p> - -<p>"You see nothing Jesuitical in that, I suppose? Well, neither -am I afraid for Matthew. Now about Ellen—"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I'll say no more to Ellen," promised Grandfather uneasily. -Ellen was far more than Matthew his darling, the delight of his -eyes.</p> - -<p>"That is so; you will not," agreed Levis. He rose and took his -hat from the table. The others rose also, Grandfather towering -above the younger men. Deeply disturbed, he tried to fathom -Levis's meaning.</p> - -<p>Amos understood Levis. He had watched Ellen since she was -a baby; he had seen her growing toward womanhood and he believed -that he loved only her soul.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do about Ellen?" he asked.</p> - -<p>It seemed for a moment that Levis meant to brush by him -without answering. Then he said to himself that it was just as -well to let Grandfather and this saintly young whipper-snapper -have their just deserts together and at once.</p> - -<p>"Ellen will come no more to meeting. You have had your -chance at her now during all her most impressionable years, for -which I blame myself. I should have broken my promise long -before you broke yours."</p> - -<p>"God Almighty will require her soul of you!" Grandfather's -calmness vanished, he spoke with gathering power -and shrillness. "You came here a stranger, you beguiled my -daughter, she married you against my will and against her conscience, -but she saw very soon that there was no joy in such -a marriage. She gave me her children as a holy gift, and if I -died without knowing they were safe, I couldn't be happy in -eternity!"</p> - -<p>"They're my children as well as hers," answered Levis. "I -have just as keen a sense of responsibility as you. You've had -more than your share of their souls. You've taught them superstition, -now I'll teach them the truth."</p> - -<p>"Superstition!" Grandfather made a sweeping gesture in the -direction of the dim old buildings. "What do you believe, -Edward?"</p> - -<p>"I believe in an undefinable creative power," answered Levis -sharply. "As for revelation or miracles or immortality or divinity -come to earth—they are delusions created by the imagination -of men as panaceas for the fear of death."</p> - -<p>The old man clasped his hands, anger transmuted into terror.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Immortality!" he repeated. "You don't doubt immortality?"</p> - -<p>"I think we shall be immortal as part of the revolving -earth."</p> - -<p>"Will you tell Ellen that?" asked Grandfather in a whisper.</p> - -<p>"No," said Levis. "If Ellen has as good a mind as I think she -has, she will find all that out for herself. Good-night."</p> - -<p>Amos barred the way to the door.</p> - -<p>"We will pray for them and you," said he.</p> - -<p>"I have no objections," answered Levis. "Pray away!"</p> - -<p>When the door was shut, Amos saw that Grandfather was -weeping.</p> - -<p>"Don't worry, Uncle," said he. "Matthew is safe. I'm confident -of it. And Ellen will come to school for two more years. -She will not forget."</p> - -<p>"He came into our meeting from curiosity. He took all I had. -He made her like a mad creature; she had only one thought -and that was to be with him. But she was punished, poor, poor -Mary! and now she is sanctified."</p> - -<p>Amos's cheeks burned again. He was curious about such -madness.</p> - -<p>"They didn't live long together?"</p> - -<p>"Four years. At first he was determined to go away, but this -Mary resisted. She was like the Anastasia of whom our records -tell. The better spirit had begun to work upon her and she knew -that if she went from the shelter of this place she was lost."</p> - -<p>"I'm not afraid for these children," said Amos again.</p> - -<p>But he spoke absently. When the old man had gone to bed, -he went outside and walked up and down in the thick grass. -After a long time, when it was so late that passers-by were few -and no headlights cast their glare over the little cemetery, he -passed through the gate and stood by the white stone, thinking -of the cousin whose beauty he remembered, in whom love was -a sort of madness. Yet religion had been more to her than love! -A dreadful word which Levis had used tempted him—was she -not a fool to give up love? It seemed to him that the fragrant -night was resonant with voices, calling vaguely and unhappily. -He looked down upon the white stone and traced with his hand -the inscription which he had read a thousand times:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<p class="center">Mary<br /> -Wife of<br /> -Edward Levis<br /> -Daughter of<br /> -Abraham Milhausen<br /> -Aged 25 years -</p> - -<p>Suddenly he shivered. The tradition of hearts unsatisfied -was more potent than that of the peace of the saints. Then he -went indoors and prayed God to forgive him. It was his object -to keep himself unspotted, to guard his soul unceasingly. His -ignorance of the world was well-nigh unlimited.</p> - -<p>Levis walked back more rapidly than he had come. It was -against his habit to think much of the past, and now the future -held a new interest. It was a relief, moreover, to have spoken -his mind, and because of it he felt greater toleration for Grandfather. -For beautiful Amos he continued to have only contempt. -He wished that it was already September so that he -could send Matthew away.</p> - -<p>Another educational project he meant to put into execution at -once. He went whistling up the lane, noticed without pausing the -blackness of the woodland and the slender moon hanging above, -and pushing open the door found Ellen asleep, her book clutched in -her arms. The light was burning dimly and beneath it lay a note:</p> - -<p>"I did not go to bed because of the 'phone. Matthew is asleep. -I listened at his door."</p> - -<p>Levis stood and looked down upon plump Ellen. Her cheeks -were flushed and beadlike drops stood upon her upper lip. Her -curls had come out of their ribbon and clustered about her face; -her relaxed body seemed tall. Levis drew up a chair and sat -down to a closer contemplation. She bore no resemblance to her -mother—Matthew had the maternal inheritance. In spite of -her discouragement over yesterday's quiz, she had exhibited a -surprising maturity of mind.</p> - -<p>At this minute she stirred and smiled and appeared for an -instant to lose her childishness in a riper charm. Tears filled her -father's eyes. Perhaps he should yet have companionship in his -own household!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> - -<p>Presently he turned to look round the room; then he rose and -brought from somewhere in the house a little table and set it by -the window. He went out again and reappeared with a handful -of books, worn and dog-eared, and sitting at his desk, looked -through them; then taking a sheet of paper wrote several lines -upon which he seemed to ponder. He glanced at Ellen as though -he meditated rousing her to aid in this planning, but thought -better of it, and laid books and papers and two carefully sharpened -pencils on the little table together.</p> - -<p>Then he lifted Ellen herself. Before he reached the doorway -she opened her eyes drowsily.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's you!" said she heavily and with deep content.</p> - -<p>He was not yet through with his family. Coming back into his -room, his hand again pressed upon his side as though Ellen's -weight had exhausted him, he found a figure, large, bonneted, -with hands humbly folded. He had a dreadful fear that Manda -meant to announce her departure.</p> - -<p>"Well, Manda!"</p> - -<p>"I have something to say," said Manda in her humblest -tone.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, do."</p> - -<p>Manda shook her head. There were proprieties to be observed -by a widow in her position and she knew them.</p> - -<p>"I should be called Mrs. Sassaman," said she. "I don't mind -Manda, but it is as if I had lost respect for him."</p> - -<p>Levis suppressed a hysterical impulse.</p> - -<p>"Of course you shall be called Mrs. Sassaman!" said he. "We -have all been thoughtless."</p> - -<p>When she had gone, he lay down upon the old sofa, still showing -the impress of Ellen's body. He had thought of himself till -this moment as a young man, but a man is young no longer -when his son sets up his will against him. He looked age in the -face; he remembered the senility through which many pass to -their end. Then he turned his cheek against the pillow which was -warm and a little damp. It somehow comforted him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span class="smaller">STUDYING IN VACATION</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Anticipation</span> of some unusual happening woke Ellen early on -Monday morning. She lay for an instant staring at the whitewashed -walls, at the carved pineapples tipping the posts of her -huge bed, and finally at a picture above her bureau in which -General Washington, in red trousers, a sky-blue coat, and white -wig, bowed to the admiring applause of a large throng.</p> - -<p>She sat up, clasped her hands about her knees, and looked down -upon the wheat-field where already the first swath had been -cut by hand and where the reaper, driven by Matthew, was about -to begin its more rapid work. At once she sprang from bed. It -was Monday and a harvest day and Manda would be cross. -Saturday and Sunday had been, in spite of their woe, interesting, -but to-day promised only dullness.</p> - -<p>But to-day was to have an interest of its own. She washed the -dishes and peeled a mammoth bowl of potatoes, then she made -up the beds, spreading the covers with care and beating the -pillows vigorously. When she had finished, she heard her name -called and went down to the office. Her father sat at his desk, -a score of little white papers before him on each of which he was -laying a bit of powder from a wide-mouthed jar. He seemed to -fit in less well than usual with his surroundings, the old book-cases, -the rag carpet, the worn furniture.</p> - -<p>"Shut the door, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen did as she was bid. She lifted a corner of the ugly -gingham apron which hung far below the bottom of her skirt -and wiped her perspiring face. It was exactly a gesture of Mrs. -Sassaman's.</p> - -<p>"Take your apron out to the kitchen!" Levis spoke with unreasonable -sharpness, not toward Ellen, but toward the apron.</p> - -<p>"Now, Ellen"—when the last of the little powders had -been folded—"I don't believe that all mental activity should -cease because the weather is warm. For two hours each day—morning -or afternoon or evening, whichever pleases you and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> -Mrs. Sassaman—you are to sit on yonder chair and study. -Each day I shall set you a lesson which you must have ready by -the next day. The machinery in your head is good, but it needs -steady use. First we shall have an examination. I've marked -on that paper a number of sums which I selected from your -arithmetic. There are twenty of them. Then here"—Levis -opened a little book—"is something new. It's absurd that -you shouldn't have been taught about your own body. To-morrow -morning at this time, I'll expect you to tell me about -these ten pages and to show me your examples. Get them done -neatly."</p> - -<p>Ellen grew pale with the intensity of her emotions. The lesson -seemed long, but she was not one to hesitate when things were -hard.</p> - -<p>"But I will get ahead of my class! I don't know whether Amos -will like that, Father."</p> - -<p>"His likes or dislikes make very little difference."</p> - -<p>"And Matthew will think it's silly. He says that when girls -get learning they are like peacocks spreading their tails in the -air."</p> - -<p>"In spite of Matthew we shall proceed."</p> - -<p>Thus encouraged, Ellen crossed the room and laid her books -and paper on the little table. "Example 4, page 50," she wrote, -referring to her father's list. Then she put the tip of her pencil -into her mouth and laid herself bodily upon the table.</p> - -<p>Levis pushed under her feet an old ottoman.</p> - -<p>"Sit up, Ellen, sit up! And never put anything but food into -your mouth; no pencils or fingers!"</p> - -<p>Ellen flushed. She was often offended by the habits of others; -she now saw herself sprawling, and blushed scarlet. With the -blush her childish unconsciousness of self vanished.</p> - -<p>"And don't chew your tongue, my dear!"</p> - -<p>"I won't," she promised, deeply mortified.</p> - -<p>Example 4, page 50, was promptly finished and ruled off, and -Example 8, page 58, was begun. Levis fetched the morning paper -and the mail from the rural delivery box and sat down to read. -It was only eight o'clock, and he did not start upon his round -till nine. Sometimes he glanced toward the window where the -scholar labored, jerking herself frequently into the upright position<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> -which she had momentarily lost, and striving with many -backslidings to control the motions of a tongue which had hitherto -assisted in all mental processes. Presently Matthew, covered with -dust and grime and perspiration, exhibited with stoical pride a -cut hand. Frowning, Levis bathed and dressed the injury. The -clean hand and the white bandage looked out of place.</p> - -<p>"Matthew, this is entirely unnecessary."</p> - -<p>"The wheat must be cut."</p> - -<p>"There are enough people to cut the wheat. We had better -lose a part than have you hurt your hands."</p> - -<p>"It is nothing," protested Matthew.</p> - -<p>"This work hardens your skin and a physician can't have -hard hands. Get a bath and change your clothes and don't go -back."</p> - -<p>"The men expect me back!"</p> - -<p>Levis made no answer, and Matthew went out sullenly. He -thought that Ellen was being punished for yesterday's misbehavior -and felt somewhat mollified. But he wanted to go out -to the fields. The men would laugh at him. He didn't care -about his hands and he was determined not to be a physician.</p> - -<p>"I could make more money farming than Father does doctoring—a -great deal more. I don't want to go away; I want -to stay here."</p> - -<p>After changing his clothes, he sat by the window. His room -was on the opposite side of the house from the wheat-field and -the men would not see him. It was bad enough that they should -see his father idling. And Ellen should not be writing; they -would think that she was playing. A host of angry protests -crowded into his mind. He had been for a long time critical of -his father and now his father's opposition to the true religion -gave him the right to express his disapproval.</p> - -<p>He reached out and took his Bible from the little stand. It -had been given him by his grandfather, who had marked many -of the passages, and he turned from page to page. There was one -verse about being persecuted and reviled for conscience' sake -which he smoothed with his hand. Other verses came into his -mind about separating one's self from one's family on account -of their disbelief. He saw himself a hero, admired and set on -high by the church people. He might leave his home and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> -go to live with Grandfather. He thought of Millie whose eyes -gleamed at him so pleasantly and so strangely.</p> - -<p>But before he had got beyond the most vague of speculations, -he found himself rising from his chair in response to a summons -from below. Even yet his father lingered!</p> - -<p>"Matthew," said Levis cheerfully, "I think that you, too, -should do some studying. Here is the University catalogue showing -the character of your examinations. Get your books together -and after dinner we'll go over the subjects and see whether you -are entirely prepared."</p> - -<p>"I have all my examples done already," announced Ellen -proudly at this ill-selected moment. "Now I'm to study physiology."</p> - -<p>Matthew flushed. So Ellen had not been punished at all! -And he was to be set down beside a baby to study in vacation. -But again he moved obediently.</p> - -<p>The examination proved that Amos had done his work well. -Matthew's mind, if mechanical in its operations, was tenacious -of that which it had once grasped. Mathematics he found difficult, -but not impossible; German was one of his native tongues; -Latin had been easy, thanks to the fact that some of the early -writings of the Seventh-Day Baptists were in that language and -that Amos, poring over them, had acquired thorough knowledge -and had imparted it to his pupil. In elementary science, he was -not well prepared and his father made ready to remedy the -deficiency.</p> - -<p>"We can easily rig up a little laboratory, and when you see -these experiments and perform them, you won't find them hard."</p> - -<p>"I don't see any use in it," complained Matthew, almost in -tears.</p> - -<p>"But you will. And you must do more English reading. Both -you and Ellen use abominable idioms. Here are a dozen prescribed -books."</p> - -<p>"I don't like to read," said Matthew. "I don't believe it's -meant for us to read much except the Word of God."</p> - -<p>Levis looked at his son with an intense, satiric amusement. -But he made no comment. In a few months Matthew would be -sitting under teachers whose elaborate astonishment at stupidity -Levis remembered. He would like to hurry him away to-day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> -He needed to see himself as others saw him; he needed to meet -amused and astonished eyes, to hear the smothered laughter of -fellow students at his boorish ways. It could not be that the boy -was irreclaimable who yesterday was playing with his blocks on -the floor!</p> - -<p>"You'd better go to your room, Matthew. You should study -four or five hours a day and you're likely to be interrupted -here."</p> - -<p>Matthew went slowly upstairs. For a while he sat idle; then -hearing his father's voice, he opened his books. They proved -hateful; a few weeks without mental effort had made thinking -difficult. He heard Ellen, now that her father had driven away, -chanting the names of bones and he shouted fiercely to her to be -still. He was even young enough to shed tears. Then he prayed -for strength to bear the extraordinary burdens of his lot and it -seemed to him that his task was lighter. Once, lifting his eyes -from his book, he looked steadily for a long time at the wall. -He was following a pleasant train of thought which had for some -time received a subconscious attention. He was planning what -should be done with the farm if he had it. It was a delightful -occupation.</p> - -<p>After dinner Ellen, who had hitherto always obeyed Matthew -and every one else who had given her commands, ceased her -singing and studying and went upstairs, creeping softly on -hands and knees. It could not be that Matthew would continue -"mad" much longer. At other times he had been angry -for a day and a night, but now a day and a night had passed. -Unfortunately she did not let her approach be known and -Matthew, looking up from his meditations, saw her standing -in the doorway. As much startled and alarmed as though she -had read his thoughts, he flew into a rage.</p> - -<p>"You sneak on me, do you? I just tell you this, Ellen, you'll -get your punishment, never fear! A girl to run out of church and -refuse to listen to the words of her good grandfather! You know -what happens to bad people—that will happen to you unless -you repent. The Bible says we shan't have anything to do with -people who don't do right. I'll speak to you, but I won't have -anything more to do with you until you say you are sorry for the -way you acted. Get out of my room!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen got out quickly and went down the stairs. In the office -she hid her face in the pillows of the old sofa. She understood -now that the house was divided; she felt division in her own -heart. The teaching of the Seventh-Day Baptists was the only -religious teaching she had ever had—perhaps Matthew was -right. Then what would become of her father who did not go to -church? And what would become of her who fled from church?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN EVENING PILGRIMAGE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">That</span> Grandfather would give up the children without a struggle -was unlikely. When a month had passed and they had not reappeared -at service, he went to visit his son-in-law, taking Amos -with him. It was Sunday evening and the church bells were -ringing. He carried a long staff, and looked, with his silvery -beard and his unearthly expression, exactly like the early pilgrims, -worn by vigils and fasting, who had set out from this spot -in summer's heat and winter's cold to gather into the Net of -Heavenly Wisdom all who were willing to be caught therein. -Across this undulating land, then thickly forested, had traveled -not only Seventh-Day Baptists, but Moravian and Mennonite, -Dunker, Quaker, and New Mooner, all on journeys which were -concerned with the salvation of souls, all anticipating the coming -of the Celestial Bridegroom. They had not walked on a -smooth road comfortably as did Grandfather and Amos, but -with sandaled, stumbling feet in narrow paths, from which they -stepped to let pass a single Indian warrior or perchance a horde -going noisily to Lancaster with squaws and papooses, worn -old horses and dirty impedimenta, to exchange, for a few hundred -pounds, mountains and valleys, great rivers and dense -forests.</p> - -<p>Grandfather walked silently, his head bowed, and Amos, stepping -behind him at the approach of a team, kept that position, -his head bent like the old man's.</p> - -<p>The beauty of the evening weaned Grandfather for a little -while from his anxiety. The wheat was gathered and in the -barns, the corn was taller than his head. Over everything -streamed a golden light like the imagined light from the portals -of the heavenly city. He had often fancied himself laying -down his earthly burdens on such an evening, and he had long -desired to go. He was desperately tired of life with its complications -and unaccountable contradictions. For an instant he wondered -whether any future could be better than one of entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> -rest and blankness of mind, of such sleep as visited the very -weary—heavy and uninterrupted by dreams.</p> - -<p>Then, with horror, he drove away such speculations. Was he -to lose in a moment's doubting in his old age that heaven which -he had desired from his youth? Moreover, the most important -duty of his life still lay before him, the strengthening of the -young in the faith so that the truth should not be left without -witnesses. There was Amos of whose devotion he was sure, -but the life of a single man was a slender barrier to set up before -the waves of indifference and disbelief which were engulfing -the world. If he could not count upon his grandchildren, -there was no one left. He gauged with a keen eye the quality -of the rest of his flock. Feeling suddenly the need of an assurance -from his solitary disciple, he called Amos, who stepped to -his side, pleased to obey promptly.</p> - -<p>"Amos, it will not be long till I am gone."</p> - -<p>"Don't say that, Uncle!"</p> - -<p>"It is so in the nature of things and I would not have it otherwise. -I intend to leave you so that you will need to feel no -anxiety about your daily bread. What else I have will go to my -grandchildren under certain conditions and some also to the fund -to help the repairs. It is a heavy responsibility you have on you, -but our founder said that wherever there is a man who has a -receptive mind there will the Spirit enter in."</p> - -<p>Amos's golden head bent humbly.</p> - -<p>"I have no ambition to be prominent, Uncle. I wish there was -some one else."</p> - -<p>"There is no one else. Besides, you have been trained; there is -no one but you to decipher the old writings. If anything should -happen to me suddenly, it will be your duty to look after these -children. It is my firm belief that Matthew is ours without any -question, but it is different with little Ellen. You have her in -school; everything will rest with you."</p> - -<p>Amos's delicate skin showed a bright color even in the gathering -twilight. He had begun to believe that he had unsuitable -thoughts about Ellen, that he had noted with unseemly keenness -the changes in her youthful figure. It would be sad if at -last temptation should come to him in the form of sweet little -Ellen, his pupil! He believed that thus the devil answered his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> -desire to remain celibate. Before he had formed this intention, -he had not been troubled. He did not quite hold with -St. Chrysostom that a woman was a wicked work of nature covered -with a shining varnish, but he did believe that she was a -serious obstacle to the spiritual life.</p> - -<p>There was a light in Dr. Levis's office where he sat reading. -Ellen had gone with Mrs. Sassaman to her church, and to their -surprise Matthew had brought round the double carriage and -had taken the driver's seat.</p> - -<p>Levis called "Come in," without laying down his book. -When he saw his guests, he sprang up and pushed out two -chairs. Now that Ellen was studying and Matthew had gone -to the Lutheran church, he felt a little pity for Grandfather -Milhausen.</p> - -<p>"Sit down," he invited. "This is a very pleasant evening."</p> - -<p>The circumstances of his visit to the Kloster were now reversed—it -was Grandfather who had no desire to discuss the character -of the weather, and to his son-in-law's remark he made -no reply. Levis looked at him critically. He must be considerably -over seventy, but he might live to be a hundred.</p> - -<p>Then Levis looked at Amos whose beauty though unpleasant -was extraordinary—what a sensation he would create among -artists!—he might even, with his aureole and his silky beard, -produce a sensation upon a city street. Levis wondered with -amusement what Amos would say to a suggestion that he -allow his body to be made a delight to the eye for centuries, -like that of a certain youthful model of St. John.</p> - -<p>Grandfather clasped both hands over the head of his stick -and leaned forward. His keen eyes fell upon the book which Levis -was reading—he knew enough of books to be certain that this -was no religious work.</p> - -<p>"Edward, I have come to speak again about the children for -whom I am accountable. I didn't believe you when you said -they shouldn't come to meeting. It seemed that you could not -be guilty of such short-sightedness and wickedness."</p> - -<p>"I meant exactly what I said—that they should go no longer -to the meeting of the Seventh-Day Baptists. This evening they -have gone with the housekeeper to the Lutheran church."</p> - -<p>"Not Matthew!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, Matthew. He went of his own accord. I hope they'll -go to other churches, all the churches. Then they'll realize that -much that you teach is taught elsewhere, and that will be a -step gained."</p> - -<p>"The Lutherans are worldly and they don't believe in trine -immersion!" Grandfather's voice thundered.</p> - -<p>"What do you suppose the Lutherans would say about -you? It's only fair that the children should hear both."</p> - -<p>"That isn't the way to train children. They should be taught, -line upon line, precept upon precept, so that truth is fixed in -their minds firmly."</p> - -<p>"You've had your chance to fix it firmly."</p> - -<p>"I'd like to see them," said Grandfather. If there had been -the slightest break in his voice, if his tone had expressed a hundredth -part of the misery within him, Levis would have replied -more gently. But Levis thought of him only as a bigoted, hard -old man.</p> - -<p>"You may come here and see them at any time."</p> - -<p>"It isn't suitable that I should come to see my grandchildren -when they are able to come to see me."</p> - -<p>"I'll send for you. I'll drive down and get you myself when -you want to come. But the children can't go to meeting, I won't -allow it. The other day I passed the door of the Saal and it was -open and I went in. It is incredible that you can hold services -there. It ought to be torn down; it's like a cave for dampness. I -would as soon bury Ellen and Matthew as let them continue -under the influence of that place. It's a crime to stand still -when the thought of the whole world is changing."</p> - -<p>"We've one business in life, to serve God and obey Him. -We're not to follow changing winds."</p> - -<p>Levis moved impatiently.</p> - -<p>"Your lot may have been cast in those dim, musty, horrible -places. The lot of my boy and girl is cast in the world where -they've got to be better fortified than your doctrine would fortify -them. They've got to stand on their own feet and think for -themselves. They know right and wrong; the rest they'll have -to work out."</p> - -<p>Grandfather leaned forward, scorn upon his trembling lips.</p> - -<p>"What have you worked out? The doctrine of the Trinity?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> -Or trine immersion? Or salvation by faith? Any of these doctrines?"</p> - -<p>"None of them," answered Levis lightly. "Not a single one -of them."</p> - -<p>"You will be eternally destroyed," warned Grandfather, truly -appalled.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Levis—then he felt ashamed. There was no use -in further horrifying an old man of whom he had so obviously -the upper hand. "You and I shouldn't discuss this subject. -Each of us knows what the other thinks and there's no likelihood -of either of us changing." He tried to recall some pleasant -subject upon which he and his father-in-law could agree. Grandfather -was not interested in politics, and still less in several wonderful -medical discoveries which Levis read about with eyes -agleam like those of a traveler at sight of a new continent. Grandfather -held the practice of medicine to be useless idling.</p> - -<p>"We've had a good harvest," said Levis, at last.</p> - -<p>Grandfather stood upright. His beard was blown to one side -by a sudden breeze which made the flame of the lamp waver.</p> - -<p>"Edward, I ask you once more for the souls of these children!"</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," answered Levis. "Their souls aren't mine! If -you're going home, you'd better let me drive you down."</p> - -<p>Grandfather made a rejecting gesture and walked toward the -door. Then he saw that Amos had not risen, but sat, turned in -his chair, looking at a little table by the window upon which -lay several schoolbooks, a tablet, and two pencils. There was -also a glass of water with a few rosebuds in it. A sharp suspicion -shot through Amos's heart. Was Ellen studying in advance of -her class? Then she would not come back! Burning red dyed -his cheeks; he felt that Grandfather and Levis must both be -able to read in his heart the emotions which boiled and raged -there, putting his salvation in jeopardy.</p> - -<p>"Is Ellen studying in summer?" he asked tremulously. -"These look like her books."</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Levis. "You've given her a good foundation, -Amos, and she has a good mind. But she must move more -rapidly, or she'll get into lazy habits."</p> - -<p>"I could give her extra work," offered Amos, trembling.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It isn't fair to ask you to do that. I'll teach her myself till -she goes away."</p> - -<p>"Is she going away?" asked Amos.</p> - -<p>"She'll have to go to finish her education."</p> - -<p>"She'll not need education beyond what she can get in -school," said Grandfather. Here was a new and greater danger!</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, she will!"</p> - -<p>"What do you mean to make of Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Until this moment her father had had no definite plans about -what he should do with Ellen once her mind was trained. Now -he expressed a sudden alluring thought. She had shown certain -aptitudes; even before his sentence was finished it seemed to -him that the idea had long been forming.</p> - -<p>"I may make a doctor of Ellen."</p> - -<p>At that the ticking of the old clock in the corner could be -plainly heard. Grandfather was amazed and frightened; Amos -felt actually dizzy as though the world were whirling.</p> - -<p>"Of <i>Ellen</i>!" they said together.</p> - -<p>Levis began to elaborate the idea.</p> - -<p>"I wish Ellen to earn her own living. Dependence upon any -one after one is grown is bad. I wish her to be perfectly independent -even of the man she marries, to be able to say to him if necessary, -'I don't need you.' She must have a profession, and it's -natural that she has inherited some aptitude for medicine. I -mean to give her every opportunity. I'm going to prepare her for -college as rapidly as I think wise, and when she is through college -she is to go to a medical school if she wishes."</p> - -<p>To Grandfather this was the raving of a madman.</p> - -<p>"You would turn the world upside down!" he cried.</p> - -<p>Levis made no answer. He heard the carriage at the door and -Ellen and Mrs. Sassaman coming in. He wished that they had not -returned so soon, but here they were. He hoped that his visitors -would depart before Matthew finished his work at the barn.</p> - -<p>Ellen ran in, her cheeks aglow. When she saw her grandfather, -she hurried forward.</p> - -<p>"Why, Grandfather, when did you come?"</p> - -<p>"A little while ago." There was a quiver under his long beard.</p> - -<p>"And Amos! Amos, I'm studying with Father and I'm not -coming back to school."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So I hear," answered Amos.</p> - -<p>After this no one spoke, but all looked at Ellen with hunger in -their eyes. Standing between them, she felt uncomfortable. She -loved them and she knew that they did not feel kindly toward -one another. A week ago she would have offered to sit on her -grandfather's knee, or she would have taken her fine collection of -correct "examples" to show her teacher. Now she moved backward -toward her father, who laid his hands on her shoulders -and held her close to him.</p> - -<p>"I'm studying with Father," said she, as though she were defending -him. "Some day I'm going to be an honor to him."</p> - -<p>The words echoed in two disturbed hearts until the gate of the -Kloster was reached.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">MATTHEW MAKES HIS CHOICE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">After</span> stabling his horses Matthew came into the house. One -would have thought that any lad would have found the prospect -of Ellen on one side of Dr. Levis's desk and the doctor on the -other more attractive than the furniture of a bedroom. But -Matthew started up the stairs.</p> - -<p>"Matthew!" called his father.</p> - -<p>Matthew returned obediently to the doorway. He was fast -approaching his father's height and promised to be as tall as -Grandfather Milhausen.</p> - -<p>"Won't you join us?"</p> - -<p>Matthew said he thought not; he believed that he would go to -bed.</p> - -<p>"I hate going to bed," remarked Ellen. Between her and -Matthew matters were not yet straightened out, but she was -hopeful of a gentle answer.</p> - -<p>"You hate many things that are good and right."</p> - -<p>Ellen's brown eyes filled.</p> - -<p>"Now, Matthew, it isn't necessary to be as serious as all that!" -said Levis. "Come and sit down."</p> - -<p>"I think I'll go to bed."</p> - -<p>Levis half rose, impelled to cross the room and lay an affectionate, -persuasive hand on the boy. But he thought better of it and -his face colored with relief at an escape from a possible rebuff. -Alas, he knew beforehand all that Matthew was likely to do; he -remembered another figure with well-set head and gray eyes -that had often regarded him unyieldingly from the doorway.</p> - -<p>"Very well, my son. Good-night."</p> - -<p>When he had gone, Ellen looked at her father. Levis was for -the moment off his guard, his past years were moving before him -in review. She said nothing, but she began suddenly to feel a -deep and loyal indignation.</p> - -<p>Matthew climbed to his room slowly, the spark of regret in his -heart quenched before he reached the upper step. He sat down at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> -his window and looked out into the moonlight. He said nothing -aloud, but what he said in his heart was this:</p> - -<p>"The Lutheran preacher prided himself on his learning with -his careful pronunciation and his long, long words. The girls -stood gayly dressed in the choir for the young men to look at, -and each tried to scream louder than the others. I would not -look at one of them. Everything was too rich and too comfortable. -Ellen's eyes were like bright, shining cat's eyes. It was immodest -to stare the way Ellen did."</p> - -<p>His gaze sought the moonlit distance as though he would -pierce it through. As clearly as though they were before him he -saw the old buildings, the low ceiling, the worshipers with downcast -eyes. He drew a deep breath of earth-scented air. The -field beside the house had been ploughed, and in the dewy -night it exhaled a heavy odor, full of decay yet full of promise. -He seemed to see the farmer, his hands on the plough; he saw -the forward pull of the shoulders of the heavy bays, the warm -dark earth curving from the ploughshare. It was all part of the -life for which he longed, for which he was made.</p> - -<p>Then he looked back into the room. Dimly on his table he saw -a pile of books, his hateful books. He was tempted to destroy -them, but even stubborn Matthew had still a measure of common -sense. He would have to obey his father and go away, but -he would come back. He would have another month at home, -then he would have to be at the University before the opening -to take examinations. He had no expectation of failure and -he was above deliberate effort to fail. He was determined to put -himself thoroughly to whatever test the city might offer, a -Daniel descending willingly into the fiery furnace.</p> - -<p>From summer day to summer day, Ellen studied. It was with -difficulty that Levis restrained himself from giving her longer -lessons. When the cooler weather came, then she should have -full hours. Last year's studies were reviewed and the equivalent -of a half-year under Amos accomplished before September. -Then, when Matthew, sullen-eyed and silent, had been taken to -Philadelphia by his father, Ellen began to work in earnest.</p> - -<p>She had by this time acquired many ideas that were new. The -gods of her little girlhood, Grandfather and Amos, had been entirely -displaced and there was but one creature worthy of worship.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> -It was not Levis's positive statements, delivered as though -there were no disputing them, which won Ellen; it was his hands -on her shoulders and the throb of his beating heart; it was the -way he had looked at Matthew when Matthew had refused to -come and sit with them. Two months ago he had been like most -fathers, a tall, distant, directing human being; now he was a -creature not only to be obeyed, but to be made much of, even -to be protected and defended. He would have been touched and -amused to know what Ellen thought of him.</p> - -<p>He left Matthew in a small room at the University and came -away, still believing that he would "come out right," that is, he -would see how foolish he had been. He would make friends, he -would learn to be like other lads, he would forget the bigotry and -narrowness to which he had committed himself. Matthew was -his own son, and he, Heaven knows, had never been bigoted or -narrow.</p> - -<p>After visiting the theater and watching a few skillful operations, -he went home. He might have seen, had he chosen to cross the -street to the Ophthalmic Hospital, Stephen Lanfair, who was -there one day in the week, but he did not choose. He still loved -him, but he did not care to search him out. He was astonished to -find that the confusion of the city wearied and, still worse, worried -him.</p> - -<p>He found Ellen waiting for him in the doorway and decided as -he crossed the porch that she was going to be a pretty girl. Still -there was no trace of her mother about her, and little of him—perhaps -from his own unknown mother she had inherited her -thick curls and her black eyes.</p> - -<p>"I have learned what you gave me to learn," she boasted. -"Does Matthew like Philadelphia?"</p> - -<p>"I think he will."</p> - -<p>"You are to go to Umbesheidens' and to Heilmans' right -away."</p> - -<p>"Has anything important happened?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing at all."</p> - -<p>Then Ellen felt a little uncomfortable. Something had happened, -but it was too small a thing to tell. She had met Amos one -afternoon in the woodland. He had been required by a new school -law to give a small amount of instruction in botany and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> -come to find oak leaves. He was sitting on the stump which was -her special seat and, glad to see him and ready to talk, she sat -down at once on the fallen tree near by.</p> - -<p>"How is school?"</p> - -<p>Amos did not answer. His curious passion seemed suddenly -entirely reasonable. Ellen's hair had gone up, her dresses down.</p> - -<p>"It's pretty much like always," said he at last. "But you're -not there." Then he added hastily, "And Matthew is not there."</p> - -<p>"Are the boys still so dumb?"</p> - -<p>Amos hesitated. The boys were very stupid, but it was against -his code to speak in such fashion of any one.</p> - -<p>"They do their best."</p> - -<p>"And Millie? How does she get her lessons?"</p> - -<p>"She is no longer there. Oh, Ellen, I wish you would come -back!"</p> - -<p>"But I'm almost through what you teach," said Ellen. "I -couldn't stay long if I did come. And I couldn't come, anyway. -Two years from now I'm going to college."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ellen, I hope you'll be a good girl!"</p> - -<p>Ellen stirred uncomfortably at the solemnity in Amos's expression.</p> - -<p>"I mean to!"</p> - -<p>"Don't forget what you have learned!"</p> - -<p>"I won't. Father says you taught me very well."</p> - -<p>"I mean you're not to forget other things—the true Gospel -and the health of your soul."</p> - -<p>"I will remember all that," said Ellen quickly, frightened by -this sudden allusion to her soul.</p> - -<p>"And don't forget me, and that I'm praying for you!"</p> - -<p>"I won't," promised Ellen. "Indeed, I won't." Nervously she -rose from her place on the old log. It was late afternoon and the -shadows suddenly deepened. She held out her hand. The heart -which stirred quickly at another's need felt vaguely Amos's -misery. "I must go back. I—" she was still a child until she had -uttered her childish sentence—"I'll kiss you if you wish, -Amos!"</p> - -<p>Then Amos knew that the devil was after him indeed. But he -bent and laid his bearded lips to the smooth cheek. He said -nothing, and in a moment she was gone, flushed and frightened.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh, how silly!" said she to herself. She felt again the light -warm touch upon her cheek. "How dreadful to have said such a -thing!"</p> - -<p>It was of course impossible to describe this foolishness to her -father.</p> - -<p>Grandfather thought hourly of Matthew. Each day he became -more painfully aware that Matthew was young and that temptations -were many. He saw him at the end of the week surrounded -by all the enticements of a lurid Babylon. Members of the -church, astonished at the course pursued by Dr. Levis and permitted—at -least they thought it was permitted—by Grandfather, -poured into his ears descriptions of orgies indulged in by -college students in which wine, women, and song furnished a -gay entertainment. Indeed, according to the stories heard by -Brother König, wine, women, and song were as necessary to -college students as food and sleep. Church-going was unknown -without compulsion, and then all were required to attend a -single irreligious, inconsistent service where one Sunday Jews -preached to Gentiles and the next Gentiles to Jews. Brother -König, so keen when the trade of a horse was in question, had -heard that on certain Sundays even Catholics set up their altars -and tried to proselyte. Matthew, every one believed, had spiritual -strength unusual in a young man, but he was, in the local -idiom, not <i>that</i> strong.</p> - -<p>It was reported also that all evil practices reached their height -in the Medical School where Matthew, after an incredibly long -stay elsewhere, would eventually spend four years. Brother -König could invent little beyond that which he had already imparted, -but he stated plainly that there were other things, <i>of -which he would not tell</i>.</p> - -<p>From Matthew directly Grandfather heard nothing. He wrote -to him, but his vaguely addressed envelope did not reach its -destination. Meanwhile he came to his assistance in another way. -The evenings had grown cool and he and Amos sat within doors, -Grandfather in meditation, Amos studying a Latin manuscript -which he had found in a room high under the eaves of Saron. -It was a discourse on "The Mystic Dove," and was one of the -few documents which had escaped prying antiquarians. The -quality of the Latin was poor, but Amos was puzzling it out,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> -believing that it had been written by Brother Jabez, one of the -most interesting and certainly the most learned of the sect, and -that it contained valuable devotional material. Sometimes he -read a line to Grandfather, and they discussed it wisely. Alien -and worldly historians had described the Kloster, but none -had written with understanding and sympathy, and sometimes -Amos dreamed of undertaking the task.</p> - -<p>Grandfather's plan for the sustaining of Matthew consisted in -the offering of prayers each evening at the hour of nine, when, -for some reason, he fancied temptations to be at their height. -During October the two petitioners made their candle-lit way -into the dim and musty Saal and there knelt down before the old -benches, and when the Saal grew tomblike in the cold November -evenings, they offered their oblations both for Matthew and -Ellen in the kitchen, which was filled with the sound of Grandfather's -sonorous voice.</p> - -<p>Amos also, fresh from the work of the devout and mystic -Brother Jabez, prayed for Matthew's well-being, reproaching -himself with the neophyte's humility for the pleasure which he -took in a neatly rounded petition. He tried to pray for Ellen, -but when he did so he seemed to feel her kiss.</p> - -<p>November waned, and still each evening the two men besought -the Creator of the world to watch over their lamb. Grandfather -prayed more fervently and eloquently, with the desperate earnestness -of a Jacob who feels the angel slipping from him.</p> - -<p>"I have had no sign of an answer," said he despairingly. "We -must pray more."</p> - -<p>The next evening they prayed for an hour. Grandfather's -heavy heart found relief, and Amos on his knees with eyes uplifted -expected some visible pillar of fire or of cloud.</p> - -<p>"We shall hear from him," said Grandfather with assurance.</p> - -<p>The last evening of November was stormy. A late and lovely -autumn had ended yesterday with a fiery sunset and a roaring -wind, and to-day wind and rain and sleet made the outer world -almost intolerable. The blast penetrating between the cracks of -the cottage blew the fire to a furious blaze which, roaring up the -chimney, gave little heat. The gale stirred the end of Grandfather's -beard as he knelt by his chair, and fanned Amos's -cheek. There were the dark shadows, the silvery white of Grandfather's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> -beard, the golden light on the brass bowl of the old -lamp, and all about the sound and fury of the storm, which -seemed to threaten the destruction of the cottage.</p> - -<p>Grandfather had worked himself into an ecstasy of expectation -and it seemed to him certain that a divine communication -was imminent. Amos opened his eyes to look at him and did not -close them, so wonderful did he seem. The wind distressed him -but the sight of the old man at prayer calmed him.</p> - -<p>"O Lord, we pray Thee for some sign that we are heard. We -ask Thee for Thy blessing upon one whom we love. Thou knowest -the cruel snares set for the feet of the young; keep his feet -from going in those paths. Forgive those who have tried to set -his way therein. Bring him safely home. We wait, O Lord!"</p> - -<p>The voice grew shrill; the key upon which it ended was high, -as though the petitioner did indeed wait. There was suddenly a -sound outside that was different from the wind, a sharp closing of -the gate behind a visitor in haste. Before Grandfather and Amos -could rise from their knees, the door opened, and, looking up, -they saw not a mysterious visitor, still less Matthew, whom his -grandfather thought of first of all, but Levis, pale and drenched -with rain.</p> - -<p>Levis looked away; he did not like to see men in the act of baring -their souls any more than he liked to bare his own.</p> - -<p>"I don't wish to interrupt."</p> - -<p>"There is no interruption. Sit down, Edward."</p> - -<p>Levis did not respond to the invitation.</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything of Matthew?"</p> - -<p>Amazement answered him.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," said Grandfather at last. "I haven't seen him -since long before he was sent away. What is the matter with -Matthew?"</p> - -<p>"He has left school."</p> - -<p>Grandfather waited for further information. In his heart he -said, "Thank God!"</p> - -<p>"He hasn't simply disappeared; he has deliberately run -away, after notifying the registrar that he was going. He was -forbidden to go, but he went nevertheless."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing whatever about him."</p> - -<p>"Nor I," said Amos.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It was three days ago."</p> - -<p>"I've been praying that he would resist temptation," said -Grandfather boldly. "Perhaps this is the answer."</p> - -<p>"I'm not concerned about temptations," answered Levis impatiently. -"Matthew is no fool. I'm concerned for his health. -Where is he?"</p> - -<p>Then Levis felt the door against which he stood move slightly -and turned with tigerish swiftness and threw it open. In came -the wind and sleet, and in came also Matthew, rain-soaked, -bedraggled, with bent head. He pressed hard against the door -until it was closed and then stood panting with bright, sullen -eyes.</p> - -<p>Levis spoke first.</p> - -<p>"How long have you been out in this storm?"</p> - -<p>"Only a little while. I walked yesterday and the day before, -but to-day I got a long ride in a market wagon."</p> - -<p>"Have you any clothes here that he can put on?" This in a -physician's sharp tone to Amos.</p> - -<p>Amos beckoned Matthew to the other room.</p> - -<p>"When did you eat?" asked Levis.</p> - -<p>"At supper time," said Matthew and shut the door.</p> - -<p>Levis sat down by the table. "Have you any stimulant in the -house?"</p> - -<p>"God in Heaven, Edward, now that he is here and safe, -would you ruin him deliberately? Aren't you satisfied?"</p> - -<p>"Have you anything that he can take hot?"</p> - -<p>Grandfather rose and opened a cupboard door, his hands -trembling.</p> - -<p>"I will make <i>durch-wax</i> tea."</p> - -<p>"Make it then, or let your acolyte make it." In the midst of -his rage Levis was pleased with having found exactly the right -word.</p> - -<p>"It's very bitter tea," said the old man as he poured hot -water upon the dried leaves.</p> - -<p>"The bitterer the better," said Levis grimly.</p> - -<p>When Matthew appeared from the inner room, there came -into his father's white face the expression of amazed and intolerable -pain which Ellen had once seen. Matthew was unshaven; -the dark shade on his cheek was not put there by the soil<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> -of travel, it was a curling beard, which, above Amos's black -suit, had a significance not to be ignored. For a single second -his father thought that this could not be Matthew, it was Amos. -He laid his hand against his side as though his heart ached -sensibly.</p> - -<p>"Are you tired?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Not very."</p> - -<p>"Then I think we'd better settle this matter at once. Since -you've chosen to come here and to pass your father's gate, we'll -discuss it here and for the last time. Why did you leave -school?"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't see any use in it."</p> - -<p>"Do you expect to be a physician without going to school?"</p> - -<p>"I don't want to be a physician. I have no interest in it. I -want to farm." Matthew burst into tears.</p> - -<p>Levis met tears without a change of expression.</p> - -<p>"Suppose you do want to farm, there's no reason why you -shouldn't go to school. There are new methods of farming which -you could learn. You could at least learn how to live. Do you -want to remain an ignoramus?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not an ignoramus. And I don't want to take your -money."</p> - -<p>Levis made no answer.</p> - -<p>"Because I'm going to be a Seventh-Day Baptist. I'm under -conviction. It wouldn't make any difference how long I went -to school, the result would be the same. I can't have peace -unless I come out openly."</p> - -<p>Now it was the heart of Grandfather which threatened to -stop beating. Did God hear the prayers of the faithful, or did -He not? He poured into a cup some of the steaming brew.</p> - -<p>Levis folded his arms and settled himself more closely against -the back of the straight pine chair.</p> - -<p>"Drink your tea," he commanded. "Then I have something -to say to you."</p> - -<p>Matthew swallowed the scalding fluid. It warmed him, put -heart in him, like a sacramental wine. The storm was almost -over; the roar in the chimney had ceased, the roar outside had -almost died down; it seemed as though the stage were set for -Levis.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I don't wish to be interrupted," said he. "I'm speaking to -my son and you are perfectly welcome to listen. Afterwards you -shall have your chance if he wishes to hear you."</p> - -<p>Levis began in the fifteenth century.</p> - -<p>"The Reformation was a protest against superstition, but -only against the more gross superstitions, and the Protestant -Church retains to-day the essential superstitions of the Roman -Church. The idea of the Son of the Creator of the universe in -human form is a fantastic one, now fading from the minds of -the more intelligent. Matthew, are you listening to me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Matthew in a whisper.</p> - -<p>"The idea of a blood atonement, of the sacrifice of a single innocent -being for the sins of all the world, is monstrous, a development -of the idea that the crimes of men could be laid upon the -back of an animal, which, driven away, took them with him. -To these ideas the Seventh-Day Baptists have added others as -fantastic as any invented in the history of the queer mind of -man. I could just as easily worship the bones of a human being -as I could believe it essential to have my feet bathed at a church -service. Your denial of opportunities is as ridiculous as that of -the hermit who prefers to live in bodily uncleanness. You live -in mental sloth and blindness! Your founder was a charlatan of -the worst sort who beguiled women away from their husbands -and mothers away from their children, to live in fancied holiness -in this grim place. Generation by generation his followers have -grown fewer in number. In Matthew's generation there will not -be half a dozen.</p> - -<p>"Now, Matthew, this is my last word. You may return to -school for the year—that is one alternative. Or you may come -home and live like a normal human being and farm if you wish -and without further education if you insist, under the condition -that you don't join the Seventh-Day Baptists or attend their -meetings until you are twenty-one years old. Or, you may stay -here, allied with the past, letting the world go by, alienated -from your father and little sister who have a right to your society -and your love.</p> - -<p>"You must choose now, Matthew. I can't continue to hope -for years to come that you'll be an honor to me and then have -you fail me. You'll have to make up your mind."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> - -<p>It seemed to Levis that he had been talking a long time. He -changed his position, driving his hands deep into his pockets -and crossing one knee over the other. Seated easily, his clenched -fists invisible, he had the appearance of a man too firmly -grounded in his philosophy of life to be seriously affected by any -chance which might befall. Matthew sat with bent head; Amos -in the shadow held his hand across his lips. Once he remembered -a cool, soft cheek. Grandfather seemed to have shrunk -within himself; his eyes were half closed, his lips moved. It -was evident that against the influence of Levis's eloquence he -was opposing all his supplicatory powers. He looked at no one; -he seemed to be in a trance. The wind began to blow louder, -whistling round the corners. The silence within became nerve-racking.</p> - -<p>"Well, Matthew?" said Levis, sitting suddenly upright.</p> - -<p>Matthew answered without raising his head.</p> - -<p>"I'm under conviction. It would be wrong for me to waste -my time studying when nothing was to come of it."</p> - -<p>Levis got to his feet quickly.</p> - -<p>"You mean you're going to stay here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Now Grandfather folded his arms across his breast and bent -his head almost upon them. Did God hear His children, or did -He not?</p> - -<p>Levis lifted his hat from the pine table.</p> - -<p>"Matthew, look at me!"</p> - -<p>Matthew lifted his eyes. For an instant, with torn heart, he -longed to throw himself on his father's breast. But his Heavenly -Father was more dear. He dropped his eyes once more.</p> - -<p>"You've entirely made up your mind?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he whispered.</p> - -<p>Levis lingered another instant, his back against the door.</p> - -<p>"Listen to me. I have my creed. I believe that no man can -behave foolishly or wrongly without having it somehow returned -to him. I hope that this hour will never be visited upon -you."</p> - -<p>Then Levis went out to return no more. He stumbled as he -crossed the step and then straightened up in the face of the -wind which blew clear and strong from the north. He went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> -through the gate into the graveyard, and saw the full moon, -unveiled with mysterious suddenness, illuminating the white -stones. The experience through which he had passed, the stormy -and magnificent night, the moonlight making so purely white -the tallest stone in the little graveyard—all would have moved -and racked another man. But he had the power, cultivated -through long years in uncongenial surroundings, of detaching -himself from the present. He began to repeat a passage of description -of which he was fond and which brought before his -eyes a foreign landscape which he had never seen, but of which -he often dreamed. When it was finished he repeated another passage -and yet another, and so came at last to his own door.</p> - -<p>The light burned dimly, but a dimmer light would have revealed -to his seeking eyes that for which they looked. Under a -gay pieced afghan lay Ellen, a book in her arms. Beside her her -father drew up a chair and there sat down, scrutinizing each -childish lineament, each crisp curl. She slept heavily, and it -seemed to him that there was a shadow under her eyes and he -bent still more closely over her to discover that the shadow was -only that cast by her long lashes. He put out his hand and laid -it softly on the bright cover.</p> - -<p>Sitting thus, he faced at last his extraordinary situation. -Ten o'clock struck, eleven, twelve, and still he was there. His -mind traveled to Matthew's babyhood, to Matthew's childhood—would -things have been different if he had been different? He -was still young then, and thinking not so much of his children as -of his own miseries of mind and body, he had not realized that he -was guilty of neglect. Even yet he did not feel like a middle-aged -man, much less like an old man—but he had a son mature -enough to defy him and to leave his house! His pride was deep -and high, the pride of a man of intellect—he contemplated -with horror the strange atavistic trick played upon him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /> -<span class="smaller">A GROWING MIND</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">That</span> Matthew had returned, that he was to live henceforth -with Grandfather, that he was not even to come to the house, -were facts which Ellen found difficult to comprehend, yet which -she accepted with a child's willingness to accept what her father -told her. The family separation caused comment, but no great -astonishment in a neighborhood where differences of opinion and -the separation of dissenters were frequent.</p> - -<p>Life went on quietly, yet not without interesting events. -Study under the driving spur of her father's encouragement -was an absorbing occupation for Ellen. Presently catalogues -were sent for and schools considered and compared. When a -sample examination paper arrived, it seemed possible that she -might enter college, thoroughly prepared, in two years.</p> - -<p>Once, before Christmas, her father took her away. When they -drove to the station the pale winter sun had not yet dispelled -the pearly mist which lay over the landscape, nor thawed the -ice on farmhouse windows. The fields were covered with snow -and it was difficult to imagine them dressed in summer's richness -of corn and wheat and tobacco. The farmhouses with their -huge barns looked like rich manorial properties, as well they -might in this deep-soiled country. Until they reached the outskirts -of the larger towns nothing was to be seen that was not -beautiful, the white stretches of snow, the frozen streams which -showed here and there dark pools, the fine clumps of forest trees, -white trunks of sycamores, dark masses of evergreens, and willows -tipped with yellow beside old spring houses. Nor was there -anything that was not indicative of prosperity and peace. The -houses were built of brick and stone, the fences were straight -and in good repair, there were no weeds; ignorance might -laugh at Mennonite and Dunker, Amish and Seventh-Day Baptist, -who had tilled the fields and built the houses, but their -thrift and labor had founded a great commonwealth.</p> - -<p>The ride across the country did not compare in Ellen's mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> -with the ride between the Susquehanna River and the miles of -furnaces and mills. The sight of the towering Capitol, viewed -at first from the train above a low stretch of sordid buildings, -filled her with delight. When they had climbed the steps to the -esplanade, her father turned her away from the Capitol so that -she might look down the broad street to the river.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Father!" said Ellen holding his hand tight.</p> - -<p>"It isn't very long since this was only a frontier fort and the -Indians came floating in canoes from far away to barter furs -for flintlocks and powder, and for mirrors and baubles for -their squaws. Sometime we'll go across the river and get a -view of the city and the mountains."</p> - -<p>"Shall we really come again?" asked Ellen.</p> - -<p>When they went indoors, she had nothing whatever to say. -The rotunda was at first simply bewildering, its pictured dome -was so far above her, its walls were so white, the angels who held -glittering lamps on high were so majestic. Led from place to -place she saw interpreted for her the history of her State. William -Penn stood, an austere young figure, before an angry father, -waited in audience before stern magistrates, or faced westward -high on the prow of a boat against a stormy sky. Her eyes dwelt -with delight upon each detail; here a blue sky mirrored in a tiny -pool, here bright grass, here velvets and laces, here a lean greyhound's -body, here leaping flames and young scholars casting -their books upon the fire.</p> - -<p>There were other pictures; the cold, miserable, intrepid troopers -of Valley Forge; William Penn and a magnificent Indian under -a yellow tree; the reading of the Declaration of Independence; -and last of all, a glorious tableau in which a hundred heroes figured. -There was no doubt in Ellen's mind that she had seen -the most magnificent edifice in the wide world.</p> - -<p>But there were new joys to follow. At sunset the two walked -hand in hand upon the long street by the river, keeping on a -path close to the brink. When Ellen's eyes left the golden surface -of the water, they saw old houses firmly built, stately and -well kept. After a while the houses were newer and farther apart. -Far across the river trains thundered.</p> - -<p>When they retraced their steps the glow had faded and lights -sparkled in interminable lines and were reflected in the dark,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> -velvety water. Ellen was young and eager, a warm hand held -hers, she could not help dancing by her father's side.</p> - -<p>"I'm choosing a house," she said. "There was one gray stone -house on a corner—I'm watching for it. It is where I should -like to live. I see it now, people are going in!"</p> - -<p>Halted by the tightening of her hand, Levis looked across at -the gray house. An automobile drove away, another was drawing -up to the curb. Wrapped in furs, a lady waited on the pavement -for her friends from the second car. The door of the house -was open and a maid stood on the upper step.</p> - -<p>"Is that a party, Father?"</p> - -<p>Levis did not answer. When the door closed he crossed the -street. The house fronted both on the river and on the side street, -and in the wing there was apparently a suite of offices. He went -closer and read the gilt name on a small black sign—"Stephen -Lanfair, M.D." Then he took Ellen's hand and walked on. So -this was where Stephen lived when he was not traveling about -the world! He smiled without bitterness, remembering Stephen's -vows of friendship.</p> - -<p>Ellen looked up at him, a vague impression growing stronger. -She believed that he would like to be here; that he belonged here, -rather than with people like Grandfather and Amos.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to live here, Father?"</p> - -<p>"Would you, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> - -<p>She answered still more ardently that night. After their supper -they went to a huge lighted building, where it seemed all the -ladies had gathered from the fine houses. There were also many -gentlemen with such an expanse of shirt-bosom as she had never -seen. Here was something to tell Mrs. Sassaman—what would -she say to such ironing as that?</p> - -<p>"What is going to happen?" she asked in a whisper when -they had been taken to seats in the first row of the balcony. -Merely to sit there would have been entertainment enough, but -it was clear that some additional joy was at hand.</p> - -<p>"Wait!" said her father.</p> - -<p>She watched the rising curtain; she saw standing on a platform -a slender young man with a violin in his hand. Now violins were -wicked—Millie's brother, who had long since vanished, was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> -said to have brought one from the city and his father was said to -have broken it over the corner of the stove.</p> - -<p>Then she took her father's hand. The violinist moved his arm -lightly and her blood raced through her veins. Her mind filled -with pleasing images, detached from one another, leading nowhere, -dreamlike, heavenly. She had never seen dancing, but she -felt an impulse to rise and discover whether she was really light -as air, whether she could really fly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Father!" she cried, when the dancing tune was over.</p> - -<p>Then she said no more, had no vocabulary with which to say -more. She felt both sorrow and gladness, but most of all she felt -the pains of growth. There were tears in her eyes, then on her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>When on the way to the hotel her father asked whether she -had liked it, she answered his question in a curious way.</p> - -<p>"I wish Matthew would come back to us!"</p> - -<p>The identical desire filled Levis's heart.</p> - -<p>"I wish so, too. Perhaps you can persuade him."</p> - -<p>"May I take him a Christmas present and speak to him -then?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly. To-morrow we'll find one for him."</p> - -<p>The carefully chosen present was a picture which reminded -Ellen of the view from Matthew's window. It was clear to Levis -why she liked it, but he had small hopes that either persuasion -or art would move Matthew.</p> - -<p>"May I get a pair of gloves for Grandfather and something -for Amos?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, if you wish."</p> - -<p>He took Ellen and her packages to the outer gate of the little -cemetery on the afternoon before Christmas. The location of the -cemetery suggested to him always a <i>memento mori</i>—the brevity -of life was not to be forgotten by the residents of the Kloster! -The whole place under the covering of snow seemed horribly -dreary and forlorn. Ellen clambered out of the buggy and he held -her packages out to her.</p> - -<p>"In an hour and a half at most, I'll be here."</p> - -<p>"May I invite them for Christmas dinner?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And Amos?" asked Ellen hesitatingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes, and Amos."</p> - -<p>She held her packages with care. She had tied them with red -cord—such festive packages were not often carried through the -cemetery. So accustomed was she to the path that she gave no -thought to the white stones. When she came to the second gate -she laid her bundle down and fastened the latch, as Grandfather -liked to have it fastened, and went up the little walk to the cottage, -already shadowed by the Saal and Saron. It had never been -her habit to knock at the door, and she did not knock now, but -balancing her picture carefully on one arm, she lifted the latch -and entered.</p> - -<p>It could not have been that the three men had not seen her -coming—Grandfather sitting by the stove meditating, and -Amos sitting by the table studying, and Matthew sitting idly by -the window, all commanded a view of the gate and the graveyard. -Each now had in secret a throbbing heart, each longed to -let his eyes rest upon her, to devour her. But none had gone to -open the door, and now none rose to welcome her.</p> - -<p>But her smile was not to be resisted. It brought a faint motion -to Grandfather's lips and a red flush to Matthew's cheek, and -caused both heart and cheek of Amos to burn. All saw a change -in Ellen, added height, a brighter color, a longer dress. Her -dress was, moreover, gayer. Hitherto Mrs. Sassaman in selecting -her clothes had remembered that she was destined to be a Seventh-Day -Baptist and that therefore plainness was her portion; -now her father had selected a new coat and hat, with a very decided -intention that she was not to be plain in any sense of the -word. Her coloring and his own masculine taste inclined him to -red, but the clerk had persuaded him to take brown, and Ellen -in a brown coat and a fur cap gratified him beyond all his hopes.</p> - -<p>Her appearance, her gayety, and above all her greeting moved, -alas, every heart against her. If she had come humbly, plainly -dressed, remembering the circumstances under which she had -departed, her grandfather would have taken her to his arms. If -she had been a little less lovely, Amos would not have been afraid -of her. If she had been quieter, as suited her sex and station, -Matthew would not have turned away from her.</p> - -<p>But she cried out with singularly poor judgment, "Merry -Christmas," forgetting that Grandfather believed in searching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> -of heart rather than gayety upon such occasions. Upon her -grandfather's cheek she bestowed a granddaughterly kiss, and to -Amos she gave her hand. Then going to Matthew, she put her -arms round him. He longed to respond, to put both his arms -round her and to hide his tearful eyes against her curls, but the -expression which he gave to this desire was a sharp,</p> - -<p>"You're getting too old for such foolishness, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen backed toward the table.</p> - -<p>"I brought you Christmas presents—gloves for you, Grandfather, -and handkerchiefs for Amos, and a picture for Matthew." -She handed them round, one by one, then stood, a bewildered -fairy-godmother, in the midst of unresponsive beneficiaries.</p> - -<p>"I go out very little in cold weather"—this from Grandfather.</p> - -<p>Amos did not lift the handkerchiefs from the table.</p> - -<p>"I don't approve of pictures, Ellen," said Matthew. "We -would much better be reading our Bibles than looking at pictures."</p> - -<p>She knew suddenly that Matthew would not come home, that -they would not come to dinner, but she hurried to give her invitation -before she should lose her voice.</p> - -<p>"Father and Mrs. Sassaman and I would like you all to come -to dinner to-morrow. Every one. We're going to have turkey."</p> - -<p>"We have no heart for gayety, Ellen," said Grandfather.</p> - -<p>The two young men, with the healthy appetites of their age, -had a second of inward rebellion against this decision, then they -acquiesced. Perhaps it was his recollection of the Christmas dinner -table with its handsomest white cloth with a red border, its -smoking fowl, its hot mince pies, that made Matthew's voice -still sharper, his words more cruel.</p> - -<p>"You can wrap your picture up."</p> - -<p>"You won't come, any of you?" whispered Ellen, her eyes -seeking first one, then the other.</p> - -<p>Leaving the picture in Matthew's hand she moved toward the -door. To all she was a most precious creature about to slip away -forever. Her grandfather leaned forward in his chair, pleading -like an ancient prophet.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ellen, if you could only see the true light! There is only -one thing worth while and that is peace with God. Not education, -but your salvation should be your concern."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<p>Matthew's attack was savage. A strange, fierce jealousy filled -his narrow heart. Ellen had always obeyed him, she should obey -him now!</p> - -<p>"You aren't dressed properly. You should know better if -Father doesn't."</p> - -<p>Amos did not speak, but his eyes burned. If he might only talk -to this poor lamb!</p> - -<p>"You shan't speak against Father!" cried Ellen. "I don't see -why we can't live at peace and love one another. It's wicked -for Matthew to make Father feel badly. I would rather"—she -knew that she was saying a monstrous thing, but it was true—"I -would rather lose my soul than hurt any one like that. I -wouldn't believe a religion that made me act like that. I -wouldn't believe"—she was now too excited to know exactly -what she was saying—"I wouldn't obey a God that wanted -me to act like that. I—"</p> - -<p>Her sentence unfinished, she got outside and shut the door between -her and them. It was beginning to snow and it might be -more than an hour before her father came, but she could not stay -in the little house.</p> - -<p>The snow thickened and twilight fell and she waited, pacing -up and down, and feeling the chill of the raw night air through -her whole body. She did not go beyond the turn of the road, nor -would she start home, for then her father would go into the cottage -to inquire for her and he might be met by reproaches and -impertinence. Lights shone out from comfortable warm rooms in -Ephrata; men returning from their work in the village to homes -in the country and women laden with packages looked at her -curiously; but she did not forsake her post, though she might -have walked home easily.</p> - -<p>When at last her father arrived she was shivering. He held his -restless horse with one hand and put out the other to help her. -He was late—the fastening of a box to the back of the buggy -had taken time.</p> - -<p>"What in the world are you doing out here?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm waiting for you."</p> - -<p>"But why here?"</p> - -<p>"They wouldn't take my presents," wailed Ellen. "They -didn't want them; they think I'm wicked. They won't come to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> -dinner. They were all there. Matthew has a—a—beard, -Father! I—" But she could say no more.</p> - -<p>When she had changed her clothes, she and Mrs. Sassaman -taking counsel together over the proper method of pressing the -beautiful coat, and had had supper, Levis asked for an account -of the afternoon.</p> - -<p>"We'll think no more of it," said he when she had finished. -"Matthew has chosen for himself. We've done everything we -can and it's useless to cry or worry."</p> - -<p>But she refused to give up hope. She thought of Matthew in -the night; she thought of him the next morning, when, wakened -by the strains which she had heard Kreisler play, she ran down -the stairs to find the source of the miracle in a victrola at which -Mrs. Sassaman and her father stood beaming; she thought of -him at intervals through the snow-bound, pleasant day; she -thought of him when, with Mrs. Sassaman, she went to the -Lutheran celebration and listened to the children singing their -carols and saw—oh, beautiful sight!—a tree all set with gleaming -candles.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman felt the Christmas spirit, and her heart -warmed to those whom she served. She was a loyal soul and she -often defended Dr. Levis when her friends blamed him for Matthew's -departure. Her marital aspirations had grown less keen; -she asked only to stay and serve. With this thought in mind she -visited Levis in his office.</p> - -<p>"I would rather be Manda," said she, as though the day of -her request to be called Mrs. Sassaman were but yesterday.</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Levis. "I like it better, it is friendlier."</p> - -<p>She sat down uninvited. She gathered now and then from her -friends descriptions of extraordinary diseases, and these she reported -to Levis, believing them to be professionally useful. She -told now of the fearful pain which "took" the friend of her -friend, of the treatment by the medical doctor and by the pow-wow -doctor and of the "awful witality" of the sufferer's constitution. -When she had finished she rose quickly and went happily -away.</p> - -<p>Ellen thought of Matthew every day through the winter—in -the short mornings when there seemed to be so much to learn; in -the afternoons when the world moved more slowly; in the evenings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -when she recited her lessons. If he had stayed in school, he -would be very wise indeed. But instead of studying he preferred -to work in the stocking factory at Ephrata—that was what -Levis's son was doing now!</p> - -<p>One spring evening Ellen went for a walk. The frost was out of -the ground; the April air was full of the odor of wet earth, and -when one stood still one could hear little, pleasant sounds of running -water. She had passed the time when her ĉsthetic sense was -limited to pleasure in a glass filled with wild roses, or a gratifying -arrangement of autumn leaves; she had begun to observe the -delicate colors near the horizon, the soft purple of the old fences, -the shapes of trees and of groups of trees. On this spring evening -it was heavenly to be alive; one forgot one's haste to be older, -one's regret that learning was a slow process, one's desire to see -a thousand places, the cathedral of Rheims, for one, and the -Doge's palace and the church of St. Sophia for others, which -one would, which one must, see some day. She forgot even -Matthew.</p> - -<p>Then Matthew recalled himself. Ellen was walking slowly, but -not so slowly as two persons who came toward her. At the beginning -of the descent into the little hollow where the stream ran, -she stopped and stood still to listen to the bubbling water and -from there discerned, silhouetted against the yellow sky, two -dark figures that might well have been ghosts of the early settlers -of the land. The man's figure was tall, the woman's short; she -wondered what couple was courting on this pleasant evening. -Imagination made her flush suddenly, but before she had time -to translate the incident into her own experience, the familiarity -of the man's outline startled her. There was only one person who -had shoulders like that and that was Matthew, who was now a -Seventh-Day Baptist, having been plunged one morning in the -cold waters of the creek.</p> - -<p>The girl with Matthew was Millie König, could be no other, -and the young people of the Seventh-Day Baptists did not walk -with each other unless they were betrothed!</p> - -<p>She hurried home with her miserable news.</p> - -<p>"Father, I saw him walking in the road, and Millie was with -him."</p> - -<p>Levis knew the significance of this companionship. Under his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> -breath, he said scornfully, "Good Lord!" and aloud, "We'll try -not to think of it, Ellen."</p> - -<p>He had thought often since his visit to Harrisburg of Stephen. -He felt with increasing frequency the uneasy sensation in his -heart and he knew that he ought to have a word with some one -about it. Stephen was an eye specialist, but he was also acquainted -with general medical practice. There was a certain disease -of the heart which warned gently for a long time and then -leaped with tigerish swiftness—but it could not be that!</p> - -<p>There was another problem which he should like to lay before -his friend. Life on the farm would be intolerable without Ellen -and he believed himself still young enough to find another place. -Stephen might be able to tell him of a practice and to help him to -it. Neither favor was too large to ask if the old friendliness continued. -He planned to go to Harrisburg at some convenient season, -but he postponed his journey week after week, believing that -there was still time enough.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /> -<span class="smaller">UNEXPECTED GUESTS</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">A large</span> store of information may be put into a receptive mind -in two years. Levis, watching his sturdy young Ellen to see that -her bright cheeks did not grow pale or her alert step slow, proceeded -to find out how much she could acquire. It was a new and -interesting occupation, but his pleasure was tempered by a remorseful -wonder as to how much could have been accomplished -if he had not been so certain that his own blood and the spirit of -the age would keep Matthew and Ellen safe.</p> - -<p>Ellen continued her mathematics and concluded her geography. -She had studied Beginner's Latin with Amos, and her father -required her to translate French. Furnishing his pupil with an -outline of English history, he prescribed reading and the relating -of what she read. Elementary astronomy, botany, and physiology -she absorbed like a sponge.</p> - -<p>He sent for books which he had long wished to possess, but -had denied himself, a many-volumed illustrated history of art, -a history of music, a history of architecture in sumptuous dress. -He sat late at night thinking over plans for Ellen, and even -brought his accounts up to date and sent out bills, so that nothing -might be denied her.</p> - -<p>The summer and another winter passed and between the farm -and the Kloster there was no communication. Ellen saw Matthew -and Millie walking together, and hid by the roadside or -turned back. There drifted to Levis's ears a report that Matthew -wished to marry, but that Millie's father was obdurate. Millie -should not marry a penniless man, the two must wait; when -Matthew's prospects improved, then marriage might be discussed. -He had, it was reported, spoken his mind plainly.</p> - -<p>"You should have stayed in the nest. What if you couldn't -go to meeting for a while? You are now near twenty-one and then -you can do as you choose. You should have consulted with some -one."</p> - -<p>Ellen had little idea of what college would be like, and still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> -less of what life would be like, but she knew that they must be -glorious and she longed intensely for both experiences. The second -summer of preparation passed slowly. She was sure that -much was happening elsewhere and she knew that little was happening -to her.</p> - -<p>One Sunday afternoon she went to sit on her favorite stump -in the woodland. Before starting she looked at herself in the mirror, -at her curls and rosy cheeks, made redder by a reflection -from her scarlet tie. She held up her hands and saw with satisfaction -that they were whiter than any other hands she knew.</p> - -<p>Her inspection had the result which usually follows the self-inspection -of seventeen—she wished that there was some one -at hand to admire. Perhaps in the woods she would meet a stranger! -There she could at least dream of meeting one.</p> - -<p>She had been established on the stump for an hour, now -reading, now sitting idly, her chin in her hands, when, lifting -her head, she observed that the farmhouse was about to receive -an unusual visitation. Since the house stood near the main road, -she saw daily the cars of tourists who were starting across the -country, or who journeyed to Gettysburg or Pittsburgh. Once, -sitting on the fence, she had talked to several elegant ladies who -walked about while a tire was being repaired.</p> - -<p>Now a car, more beautiful than any she had ever seen, was -turning up the lane and approaching the farmhouse. Its passengers -had come, no doubt, to ask for some small favor, and -she, alas, was not there to wait upon them! A month ago she -would have run, now she descended in as rapid a walk as dignity -would permit.</p> - -<p>To her astonishment she found when she reached the porch -that the occupants of the car, except the driver, had gone into -the house. Curious as she was, she was seized with sudden shyness -and wished herself back under the trees. But in plain view -as she was from the office windows there was nothing to do but -to proceed.</p> - -<p>Her father appeared at the office door, his face flushed and -smiling. Stephen Lanfair, halting for a moment at his gate, -had seen his name on the letter box and had come in with his -wife. He had passed unknowing, he said, many times. Levis's -heart throbbed so that he had to draw deep breaths of air.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> -Stephen was the old Stephen; his renewal of their friendship -seemed to make possible all he had dreamed. Mrs. Lanfair's -presence suggested the solution of another problem which had -troubled him. Ellen needed associations and opportunities which -he did not know how to give her; Mrs. Lanfair might help him -to provide them.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ellen, come here," he said, not without pride. "I was -just going to find you!"</p> - -<p>Ellen felt his arm across her shoulders. It was silly to be -afraid of meeting strangers. She lifted her head and went in -smiling.</p> - -<p>"This is my daughter."</p> - -<p>She felt her hand taken in a long, firm grasp, and received a -general impression of height and grayness and alertness and -very bright eyes. She looked up into them and smiled, feeling -the blood rush to her cheeks. She was sensitive and she had as yet -received few impressions which were not those of childhood. This -stranger, who was younger than her father and much older than -herself, was the first person like her father whom she had ever -met.</p> - -<p>"Your daughter!" said a low voice.</p> - -<p>Then she heard another voice, and courage vanished and embarrassment -returned. It was that of a woman, seated in her -father's chair, and looking about with appraising eyes. She was -small, and the old chair in which she sat seemed much too large -for her. Ellen saw in a flash the handsome and slightly bizarre -dress, through the yoke and sleeves of which her flesh showed -faintly pink, the strange and pretty face with brows which almost -met. It was not in the least a happy face, but Ellen was -not critical. Hilda was not interested in this plain <i>ménage</i> or in -Stephen's old acquaintance, recalled thus suddenly to his mind. -But it pleased her for the moment to be friendly.</p> - -<p>"Come and shake hands with me," said she, and Ellen -obeyed, feeling young and awkward and ill at ease.</p> - -<p>"Do you go to school?"</p> - -<p>"I go to school to my father."</p> - -<p>"Have you brothers or sisters?"</p> - -<p>"I have—"</p> - -<p>"One brother who is at his grandfather's," Levis answered for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> -her. "Lanfair, it is doubtless difficult for an observer to realize -that you and I were in school together."</p> - -<p>"In school together!" Hilda looked from one to the other. -"Impossible!"</p> - -<p>Stephen halted suddenly. He had been moving about restlessly, -now picking up one of Ellen's books, now reading the -titles on Levis's shelves. He was at once glad and ashamed to -have found Levis. But he should have come alone, he should -not have brought Hilda. He stood close to Levis, his tightly -closed hand thrust into the pocket of his coat.</p> - -<p>"Levis was an instructor and a Senior at once, and I was a -Sophomore," he explained. "He left school and married and I -continued to study. I didn't begin to practice till he was well -settled in life." He turned his head and looked at Levis, and -from eye to eye a message flashed. In Stephen's there was regret -and a childlike desire to be restored to the good graces of an -older person.</p> - -<p>Levis returned the glance steadily and with the same expression -with which he looked at Ellen, as though Stephen needed, -as Ellen needed, love and care. She saw the exchange and curiosity -and admiration quickened. She glanced at Hilda who was -taking in from under half-lowered eyelids the old sofa, the little -table, and the doctor's medicine cupboards. Her stare made -Ellen determine to examine carefully all these articles of furniture. -Had the never-failing broom of Mrs. Sassaman left lint, or had -her own dust-cloth touched them too lightly?</p> - -<p>A restless step brought Stephen to her little table.</p> - -<p>"Are these your books?"</p> - -<p>Ellen explained her course of study. His bright eyes were kind; -she looked frankly into them and smiled while she talked.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to college in the fall. I can hardly wait."</p> - -<p>Levis, after a second's reflection about the present temper -of Mrs. Sassaman, spoke to Hilda.</p> - -<p>"Won't you stay and have supper with us? Now that we -have you here, we'd like to keep you."</p> - -<p>Hilda uttered effusive regrets and Levis looked at her curiously. -Her expression had changed; it was no longer that of -slightly bored curiosity, but of anger, sharp and unpleasant. -Her eyes darted to her husband, then back to Levis, and then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> -back again to the little table where Stephen and Ellen stood -together.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you. It's really very good of you, but it's impossible, -really. We have guests ourselves this evening. We -should be going now. We sail for Europe on Tuesday."</p> - -<p>"Medical convention at Vienna?" asked Levis, his keen, -curious eye fixed upon her.</p> - -<p>"Yes; that is, my husband is going there. I'm going to Paris -for clothes. I don't like conventions. Nor medicine," said Hilda -as she rose. She laid one hand in the other and kneaded them -together in a strange gesture.</p> - -<p>"It's time to go!" said she.</p> - -<p>Hearing the sharpened voice, Ellen turned swiftly. How -fairylike this stranger was, now that she was standing! She -determined in a flash to live on bread and water, to take some -sort of medicine, to do anything to resemble her. She saw the -small, arched foot, set in absurd, high-heeled shoes—how did -she manage to stand, and how to walk? But she did both gracefully. -Ellen had heard the invitation; she hastened to second it.</p> - -<p>"I do wish you'd stay!"</p> - -<p>Stephen looked down at her. There was a quality in Ellen -which was hard to describe unless one said that she gave herself -with every smile. He had dismissed the thought of children -as he had dismissed his father's creed, but from his deeper consciousness -an instinctive longing rose. "I wish I had her or one -like her!" said he to himself with sudden startled hunger.</p> - -<p>"Won't you stay?" said Ellen to him.</p> - -<p>Then Ellen was conscious that something unpleasant had -been said or done. She could not tell what it was, but she felt -that she had given offense. Hilda went out quickly into the hall -and stood waiting. She did not speak to Levis or to Ellen; she -only said once more, "I said that it's time to go!"</p> - -<p>"You're not really going this minute!" protested Levis, his -sharp disappointment quickening his throbbing heart.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Stephen. His voice was louder than it had been -and even a little more pleasant. "We really must be off." He -held out his hand. "I haven't forgotten anything, not anything!"</p> - -<p>Hilda followed across the grass to the car and stepped in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> -From the car Stephen waved his hand and Levis and Ellen waved -theirs. Hilda did not look back. The car started noiselessly; -they sat like king and queen in a state chariot, a silent retainer -conducting them.</p> - -<p>"I think she behaved in a very queer way," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>"I agree with you," said Levis. He went into his office and -stood looking at the books in his case, and Ellen followed closely.</p> - -<p>"Who are they?"</p> - -<p>"He was a friend in college. I haven't seen him for years." -Frowning, Levis took down one of a set of volumes and went to -his desk. "He was a nice boy."</p> - -<p>"Was he married when you knew him?"</p> - -<p>"No; I remember hearing that he had married a rich wife."</p> - -<p>"She must be very rich. Did you know they were coming?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed."</p> - -<p>"Where do they live?"</p> - -<p>Levis had opened his book at the letter "D," and did not -answer. The uneasy sensation in his heart had sharpened once or -twice in the last hour to an acute though fleeting pain, gone as -soon as it was felt. He had seen Stephen, but the visit seemed -to make impossible all that he had hoped for.</p> - -<p>For a moment, in curiosity about Hilda's behavior, he forgot -his own problems. He had found the article which he wished to -consult under the letter "D," but he could not fix his mind on -what he read. It was in reality something within his own breast -which disturbed him, but it seemed to him that it was Ellen hanging -over his shoulder and cutting off the air which he needed.</p> - -<p>"I wish you'd run away, Ellen, for a little while. I'll talk to -you later about these people."</p> - -<p>"All right," said Ellen cheerfully, remembering her own unwillingness -to be interrupted. She read over his shoulder—"'Dementia'—Father, -who has that?"</p> - -<p>"No one that I know of, Missy."</p> - -<p>"I expect you think I have it. Well, read away, I won't -bother."</p> - -<p>Levis smiled at the tone of maternal indulgence, then he returned -to his book. Again he put his hand over his heart uneasily. -The sensation was now of weak fingers moving gently. He -coughed, then he looked at Ellen who had sat down at her table.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> -What a strange woman Lanfair's wife was! What had annoyed -her? Most wives who brought fortunes proved to be impeditive -in some fashion—there was unquestionably an impediment here! -He turned a page and read for a moment. There was a mental -disorder difficult to distinguish in early stages from sheer devilishness -of disposition; and patients had peculiar traits and nervous -ways like this woman. Poor Lanfair! Perhaps he would return -and confide in his old friend. He had looked as though he -needed a refuge.</p> - -<p>Presently Ellen returned to her place on the stump and there -sat for half an hour.</p> - -<p>"I think she was very disagreeable," she said, beginning to -speculate about married life. She, Ellen, would never make her -husband uncomfortable!</p> - -<p>"If I get one!" said Ellen. "And he was splendid!"</p> - -<p>They must live in a very grand house—perhaps she and her -father might some day visit them. She realized that she didn't -even know their name—how strange the whole incident was!</p> - -<p>At the end of half an hour curiosity sent her back to the house. -Her father had now had time to read all he wanted, she was -sure. She remembered that to-morrow a dressmaker was coming -to get her ready for school and she sang for joy as she walked.</p> - -<p>But in the half-hour that she spent in the woodland, life had -taken a long stride. Levis sat with his treatise open at "Dementia," -his eyes still bent upon the page. He had not moved -since she went away.</p> - -<p>"Father!" she cried gayly.</p> - -<p>He answered without lifting his head.</p> - -<p>"I've been taken suddenly with a bad stitch in my side, -Ellen, and I don't wish to move until I've had medicine. You'll -find it in the right-hand cupboard in a blue bottle. Bring me a -pellet."</p> - -<p>Ellen obeyed quickly, growing pale. Levis broke the pellet -in his hand and held it close to his nostril, then he straightened -his shoulders. It was exactly like a tiger that the thing leaped -upon one!</p> - -<p>"I'm going over to the couch. Don't be frightened if I go -slowly. Lend me your shoulder."</p> - -<p>Ellen made her shoulder like iron.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Telephone Dr. Wescoe."</p> - -<p>Ellen flew. It seemed when she returned that her father's face -was less terribly gray and drawn.</p> - -<p>"What shall I do now?"</p> - -<p>Levis managed a wry smile.</p> - -<p>"You'll make a capital doctor. Bring paper from your desk -and sit here, beside me. You must be brave and steady."</p> - -<p>Ellen obeyed swiftly.</p> - -<p>"I've known for some time that my heart was a bit out of -order. I'm likely to have another attack, but probably not before -the doctor gets here. I want you to write something down."</p> - -<p>Ellen looked steadily at Levis. If she held his eyes with hers, -they could not become blank, unseeing, as they were a moment -ago! There was in his face now a dreadful eagerness. In spite of -the last hour he turned in desperate need to the memory of -Stephen's old affection. Stephen had forgotten for a while, but -he meant to remember and he would help him now. He felt -the same fearful despair which he had felt as a boy when he -needed food and did not know where to get it. He had heard the -Creator called upon at too many death-beds to ignore entirely -that refuge, but he was not one to turn even in such a moment -to a help which he had denied. The "sum and term" of education -had not been his, the loss by death of one whom he had deeply -loved. If his wife had died in their earliest married life, or if -Ellen had died, his spiritual history might have been different.</p> - -<p>But what was it he had meant to do? Ah, yes! Ellen was waiting, -pencil in hand.</p> - -<p>"I give to my daughter Ellen all my property and make my -friend—"</p> - -<p>"'Make my friend,'" repeated Ellen after a pause.</p> - -<p>"Can you remember his name, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"I don't think I heard it!"</p> - -<p>"It'll come to me! Listen! You and Matthew inherit this farm -from your mother. What I have besides you must take. Don't let -them shame you out of it! Remember it's my will. If you wish, -you can live economically and share with Matthew after you've -had your education. I feel better, darling." He took suddenly a -long, relieving breath. After all he was not to be cut off now -from life, from Ellen. He looked deeply into her frightened eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> -It was now that she would need him! He had, he felt suddenly -with amazement, not yet really lived; he could not <i>die</i>! Tears -rolled down upon his cheeks. "I'll be able to eat supper with you, -I'm sure. We needn't worry to complete the paper. The doctor -will write it for me. Don't look so horrified. I think—"</p> - -<p>His smile stiffened suddenly and drops of perspiration appeared -upon his forehead. Was everything then over? He put -out his hands and took Ellen's face between them.</p> - -<p>"Don't let them keep you here! Remember!"</p> - -<p>"I'll remember," promised Ellen.</p> - -<p>Her head dropped to his breast, pressed by his hands close -to his heart. She could see nothing, but she could hear a strange -beating sound like a wooden hammer upon flesh. Her body was -cramped; it seemed to her that she could not breathe; then her -father's embrace relaxed and she rose quickly.</p> - -<p>Her wild glance sought the window. Mrs. Sassaman drove -slowly up the lane, Dr. Wescoe's car turned in from the highway, -but their coming now made no difference.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /> -<span class="smaller">CHANGE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Within</span> a few minutes the farmhouse took on the air of almost -hysterical activity which follows upon a sudden death. Mrs. -Sassaman, after sinking upon a chair and giving a few tearful -gasps, went to her room to change her dress, so that she might -set to work. The tenant farmer drove away to carry the startling -news to Grandfather and Matthew, and his wife panted up -the hill and sat waiting in the kitchen until Mrs. Sassaman should -be ready to give her the detailed information for which her soul -longed. But Mrs. Sassaman had too exalted a sense of her own -importance to gossip. There were, moreover, many things to be -done at once, the house to be put in perfect order, funeral meats -to be baked, the bees to be told of their master's death, and all -the jars of preserves in the cellar to be turned.</p> - -<p>Matthew returned with Calvin bringing word that Grandfather -would follow with Amos. Having had no active exercise, Matthew -had grown stout and looked nearer thirty than twenty. He kissed -Ellen and they sat silently until Grandfather arrived.</p> - -<p>"The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the -name of the Lord." It was Grandfather's accustomed salutation -on entering a house of mourning. He spoke with a long sigh -which expressed his apprehension about the fate of his son-in-law.</p> - -<p>In spite of his misgivings he planned to bury Levis's body in -the little cemetery beside his wife. Wednesday afternoon would -be a suitable time and he would preach the sermon himself. For a -half-hour the three men and Ellen sat together in the parlor. -Frequently Matthew glanced at Ellen, then away. God had -strangely given him his heart's desire, but he could not help -pitying Ellen. He felt very solemn and important.</p> - -<p>"I don't think that bright tie looks well under the circumstances, -Ellen," he said gently.</p> - -<p>Ellen rose and went upstairs. As she reached the upper step -she heard the door of her father's office open and the undertaker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> -come into the hall. At once the three black figures crossed to the -office. She heard whispers and the door was closed.</p> - -<p>She did not know whether an hour had passed or only a few -minutes when she heard her name called solemnly. Grandfather -stood by the parlor table, a tablet in his hand. His black eyes -gleamed, his old hand shook. Matthew's eyes were bent upon the -floor and Amos looked at Ellen in a frightened way.</p> - -<p>Grandfather stepped between Ellen and the door and closed -it. It seemed to her that she was shut into prison with three -jailers.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"That is what we have to ask you, Ellen," said Grandfather. -"What is this paper?"</p> - -<p>Ellen recognized the writing which she had begun at her -father's command.</p> - -<p>"That is mine, Grandfather. Please give it to me."</p> - -<p>Grandfather held out the paper so that she might read, but he -did not relinquish it.</p> - -<p>"Did you write those words?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Who is this friend?"</p> - -<p>"He is a friend of Father's who was here this afternoon."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Where does he live?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Does he know anything of this?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"You didn't write this after your father died, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>The words at first merely paralyzed. When their import was -clear, she could say nothing. Her silence was to Grandfather condemning—alas, -for the human soul which is unsupported by -Christian principles!</p> - -<p>"Why, no!" she cried at last. "Of course not! He started to -dictate it to me, but before he had finished he felt better and -thought it might be postponed."</p> - -<p>"You knew you were writing words which would take your -brother's property away?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Ellen. "It was my father's property."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> - -<p>She saw a glance pass from Matthew to Grandfather. Both -sincerely believed that God had prevented Levis from doing a -deed of injustice.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't sisterly to write such words!"</p> - -<p>"I didn't mean to be unsisterly," protested Ellen. "Father -wanted me to be educated. He said that Matthew could get -along well."</p> - -<p>Grandfather tore the upper sheet from the tablet and put it -into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"We should have very little respect in the community if such -a thing were known."</p> - -<p>Now Amos found his tongue. He leaned forward, his cheeks -crimson.</p> - -<p>"Ellen could not be dishonest," he said.</p> - -<p>Grandfather looked at him in amazement.</p> - -<p>"The women make serious mistakes, and Ellen has made one. -They act before they think. Now I will take the first watch to-night."</p> - -<p>Ellen crept slowly up the back stairway and closed her door. -Tears came in a flood, hot, blinding, choking, drowning all -thought, preventing realization of the seriousness of her bereavement. -After a long time she fell asleep.</p> - -<p>In the two days preceding the funeral she made plans. Only -thus could she keep her composure and continue to feel a connection -with her father. It was now June. She would stay until -September, then she would go to college, as he had intended. -Matthew would doubtless come here to live and would bring, -alas! Millie with him. But she must reconcile herself; since she -was going to have her way, Matthew should have his.</p> - -<p>She lived through the funeral service with few tears. The -house was thronged, and the line of carriages and automobiles -extended far down the road. Levis had lived differently from -his neighbors and there was much curiosity about his house. -He had used it all, treating the parlor as though it were no more -precious than the kitchen, and drawing no shades to keep carpets -from fading. There were a few strangers present, members -of the county medical society to whom Levis's connections by -marriage were vaguely interesting.</p> - -<p>Grandfather preached upon the certainty of death and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> -necessity for preparation, and made no allusion to Levis's heresies. -When they returned to the house Ellen expected that he -and Amos and Matthew would return to the Kloster. But instead -all went into the office.</p> - -<p>"Ellen!" called Grandfather.</p> - -<p>Ellen went unwillingly and sat down on a chair near the door. -She dreaded argument, it could only cause ill-feeling. Her plans -were made.</p> - -<p>"Ellen, death brings changes with it. It will bring change to -you." There was a gloating affection in Grandfather's voice. He -believed that God was bringing Ellen back to him.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen quickly, determined not to cry.</p> - -<p>"When the father goes, we must consider the property. Now -your mother had this farm, inherited from her aunt for whom she -was named, and she left it to your father to go after his death to -you and Matthew, share and share alike."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>"It is only natural that Matthew should want to move on his -property now."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen. "Of course."</p> - -<p>"It is Matthew's intention to be married."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen faintly.</p> - -<p>"He has chosen a modest and pious young woman of his own -faith who will doubtless be a blessing to him. He wishes to be -married soon."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad if Matthew is happy." Ellen's eyes sought Matthew's -timidly.</p> - -<p>"Then he will come here."</p> - -<p>"When will that be?"</p> - -<p>"I had thought not till spring," said Matthew for himself. -"But now it will be sooner, perhaps in a few weeks." That portion -of his cheeks which remained uncovered glowed brightly. -He had waited long to possess Millie and the delay was disturbing -his regular and calm mental processes.</p> - -<p>"Not so soon as that!" cried Ellen, in amazement.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Matthew firmly. "Father is gone and things are -changed and the sooner we get used to the new ways the better."</p> - -<p>"But Calvin will be here till April!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I shall continue to employ him. I have talked with him -already."</p> - -<p>Ellen's face paled.</p> - -<p>"I thought I'd stay here with Mrs. Sassaman till September. -Then we could have the house ready for you before I go."</p> - -<p>Matthew changed his position, settling himself more firmly in -his chair. Ellen would have to do as he said; God was blessing -her by giving her no choice.</p> - -<p>"Now, Ellen, let us talk this out. The farm belongs to you and -me—isn't it sensible that we stay here and work it? Millie -isn't such a strong person as some and she may be from time to -time laid up, and then there would have to be hired help. Isn't it -foolish to hire a woman when you are well and strong?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, but, Matthew, I'm going to college! It's all settled! You -know that I'm to go to college!"</p> - -<p>Silence was Matthew's answer. It was a pity that Ellen was -still stubborn. Grandfather took off his spectacles.</p> - -<p>"Ellen," he began patiently, "you don't understand business -matters. The farm is much run down and Matthew means to -build it up. If he gives it the attention it should have, and makes -new fences, and gets the implements and lime and everything -needed, there won't be any extra income for five years anyhow."</p> - -<p>"Then I shall be too old to go to college!"</p> - -<p>"You know already far more than is necessary."</p> - -<p>"But if I'm not willing to stay here, if I think it's wrong, if I -<i>refuse</i>?" Ellen's voice was still steady.</p> - -<p>"I don't wish to be hard on you, Ellen. My heart yearns over -you. But I'm your natural guardian and I have control over -your property. I think that Matthew's plan is correct, and that -it should be carried out. You can't expect him in these first years -to run a farm and raise a family and pay an income besides!"</p> - -<p>"But there was Father's will that he wished me to write," -said Ellen, still steadily. "His last thought was that I should be -educated."</p> - -<p>"It is this way, Ellen. Your father left no real will. He had -about five thousand dollars saved. Now half of five thousand is -two thousand five hundred, and the income on that is only a -little over a hundred dollars a year. That would not take you -far."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But he thought it was enough!"</p> - -<p>"He meant to let you spend the principal, Ellen. That cannot -be now."</p> - -<p>Ellen knitted her brows.</p> - -<p>"I'll sell Matthew my part of the farm."</p> - -<p>Grandfather shook his head.</p> - -<p>"We couldn't let you do that. The farm will be worth much -more in five years than now. If we did such a thing our neighbors -would reproach us because we hadn't dealt fairly with you."</p> - -<p>"Let me have my two thousand five hundred dollars," begged -Ellen. Here was light in darkness! "That is all I need; that will -see me through."</p> - -<p>Grandfather shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I can't consent to that, either, Ellen. That must be held -against a rainy day and meanwhile its income must go into the -farm. My child, try to accept your lot! You have a home, comfort, -everything you need, and if you stand by Matthew you will -have more than you need."</p> - -<p>"I think families should be alone!" Ellen cried desperately. -"If I were Millie I wouldn't want any one to help run my -house."</p> - -<p>"You don't know Millie," said Matthew earnestly. "She has -no proud ideas and she's very willing to have you help her. I -have laid the matter before her."</p> - -<p>Grandfather went to speak to Calvin and Amos followed him. -Matthew would have followed also, but Ellen called him back. -She stood by her father's desk, facing his unwilling gaze.</p> - -<p>"Is it possible, Matthew, that you won't help me go to -school? Couldn't you lend me money? You have the farm as -security."</p> - -<p>"You're not of age. You'd have to have Grandfather's consent, -and that he wouldn't give. Besides, to be frank with you, -I've had experience with advanced schooling and I couldn't -help you to it under any circumstances. It begets pride of intellect, -it leads young people away from God, it is a curse."</p> - -<p>Suddenly Ellen looked at her brother with a detached curiosity, -as her father had looked at him. When he had gone she went -up to her room. Its loneliness was intolerable, and still more difficult -to bear was the sound of the evensong of birds, the sight of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> -the young moon rising over the woodland, and the echo of a -laugh from the road. She went down to the kitchen. Mrs. -Sassaman was on the porch, her handkerchief pressed to her -eyes, swaying back and forth in her rocking-chair: Ellen determined -to go and sit on the step and lay her head against her -knee.</p> - -<p>Instead she turned and went back to her room and sat down -at the window. She would not give way to mourning with Mrs. -Sassaman, kind though she was. This was no time to mourn; she -must think, must find some avenue of escape. Wisdom and peace -of mind came from learning—her father had had both—learning -she must have to lift her from despair.</p> - -<p>Suddenly her heart leaped. The mysterious visitor to whom -her father meant to entrust her—who and where was he? He -had said that he lived not far away. Lancaster, Harrisburg, -Reading, York were not far away—even Philadelphia was not -much more than fifty miles. But she did not know his name, she -had not observed which way his car had turned at the foot of the -lane. And he was sailing at once for Europe! But he might read -of her father's death in the newspaper before he sailed or later -in one of the medical journals which published obituaries. Here -was a gleam of hope! Her immaturity resented grief, repudiated -it, would not harbor it. She paced up and down the room, now -making wild plans, now crying. She had not yet realized what -had happened and she still had high hopes of life.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A QUICKENING TERROR</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Fetzer</span>, the housekeeper, received Hilda's dinner guests on -the evening of the visit to Levis. It was not a convenient season -for guests, it being Sunday and the larger part of the staff of servants -having been dismissed yesterday, but Hilda had extended -her invitation with her usual indifference to the comfort of others. -Her trunks were not yet packed nor had she indicated what articles -were to go into them. Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane, -who had expected to receive that afternoon directions about a rearrangement -of Stephen's records and the preparation of data for -a series of articles, had come at five o'clock and waited until seven.</p> - -<p>Fetzer was annoyed, but not in the least dismayed, having -been prepared for this event by many similar experiences. She -put on her best black silk dress and welcomed the two women -and two men who, undisturbed, settled themselves in the library -for a game of cards; then she changed to less elegant attire, since -in the absence of the waitress she would serve their dinner. -Neither the black patch over her eye, nor the quick motions by -which she compelled one eye to serve as two, made her repulsive -or grotesque.</p> - -<p>Waiting upon the table she saw that something more serious -had occurred than the puncturing of a tire which had delayed -the Lanfairs after leaving Levis's house. Hilda hailed her friends -carelessly and asked that dinner be served at once. She ate little, -watched impatiently Fetzer's deliberate ways, and announced as -she rose from the table that her packing was still to be done. The -guests departed amiably with loud good wishes for the journey.</p> - -<p>Fetzer, going into the hall to tell Stephen that Miss Knowlton -and Miss MacVane waited, approached the library door slowly. -Observing him furtively during dinner, she had been shocked -by his expression; he looked to her like a beaten child who appealed -from earth to heaven, and she sent up several fervent -petitions in his behalf. She longed desperately to help him, but -she was wholly powerless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<p>To Fetzer Hilda was a wicked woman; no other explanation -for her mistress's behavior had ever occurred to her. Even Stephen's -patience suggested no different explanation.</p> - -<p>She did not advance far into the hall. Hilda had restrained -herself in the presence of Fickes, the chauffeur, and with greater -difficulty before her guests, and the postponement of the expression -of her wrath had not in the least softened her heart. It had, -on the contrary, exaggerated the grievance and sharpened the -tongue which was to utter her wrongs.</p> - -<p>"But she was a child!" Fetzer heard Stephen protest. His -voice was like his eyes, childlike in its earnestness. It was bitter, -indeed, that this old friendship which had been without exception -the happiest in his life was now finally spoiled. What would -Levis think of him? He regretted with sickening self-reproach -his call. He might have known better; now he could never see -him again, he hoped that it might never be necessary to see him—a -hope, indeed, which was already granted.</p> - -<p>Hilda accepted no apology.</p> - -<p>"Child!" she repeated. "That was a pose to attract. How -ridiculous to show you her books! She didn't look at you like a -child, nor you at her."</p> - -<p>For a moment silence prevailed. Fetzer meditated advancing. -But Hilda had not finished; she found Stephen's silence far -more irritating than his speech. She turned fiercely upon him -with a remark which, while it was not new, was uttered with -truly original ferocity.</p> - -<p>"You'd like me to be dead; then you could live as you pleased -on my money!"</p> - -<p>Fetzer withdrew. She went through a passageway to the office -where again Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane waited.</p> - -<p>"I guess Doctor'll be out soon."</p> - -<p>Neither of the women answered—sometimes she believed -that they observed nothing, sometimes she believed that they -knew everything.</p> - -<p>After loitering for about ten minutes in the passage she again -approached the library. Now Stephen was alone, sitting with his -back to the door.</p> - -<p>"Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane are here, Doctor." She -spoke as though they had arrived at this moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Stephen, without turning. Fetzer saw that -though his head was bent there was no book on his knee. For the -thousandth time she breathed a silent petition in his behalf. The -ways of the Creator were, indeed, past all finding out.</p> - -<p>Stephen sat for a long time looking down at his clasped hands. -He believed that his life was at times in danger, but he did not -believe that a committee of inquiry could find proof of the madness -whose outbursts were reserved for him alone. It was a -pleasant prospect for a European journey!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">MATTHEW COMES HOME</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">To</span> Millie König the last few weeks of single life were a period of -intense satisfaction. Her waiting for Matthew and matrimony -had seemed long, but now, at last happiness and prosperity were -at hand. It was very unlikely that any of her seven sisters would -marry so well.</p> - -<p>For the home which she was leaving she had no deep affection. -She believed herself to be the only quiet soul in a noisy brood, -and the incessant chattering and laughing which accompanied -all the daily tasks, the crowded kitchen, the shared bedrooms, -the full knowledge of one another's affairs, offended her. She disliked -to be teased, and the chief form of wit in the König household -was teasing. She had loved to go to meeting because it was -quiet and she could sit and think about her own affairs, and she -liked Matthew because he was quiet.</p> - -<p>She was ambitious and her future offered as large a field for -advancement as she could conceive. The Levis farm was in poor -condition, but the land was fertile and the buildings were solid. -On the other side of the wood-crowned ridge ran a vein of limestone -which could be made a source of profit—Matthew had -told her long ago of his desire to develop it, together with many -other secret wishes.</p> - -<p>"Five years of careful economy," said Matthew now. "Then -we shall not need to travel with horses"—this with actual as -well as figurative meaning.</p> - -<p>On the evening of his father's funeral he laid before Millie his -completed plans. He came to the door of the farmhouse and -asked her to walk with him to the gate.</p> - -<p>"It's all over, Millie."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Millie with a becoming sigh. "I was there this -afternoon. I thought your Gran'pop laid things out right to those -of us that are left."</p> - -<p>Matthew had no desire to discuss his grandfather's sermon -which had decently omitted many things that might have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> -said. He had no sense of triumph; he accepted God's will when it -profited him as he accepted it when it sent him to work in the -Ephrata stocking factory. His mind was upon Millie; in the twilight -he put his arm round her and drew her close to him. Her -cheek was like a rose petal and her whole body breathed freshness -and health.</p> - -<p>"How soon could you get married, Millie?"</p> - -<p>It was not in Millie's nature to be coy.</p> - -<p>"I'm ready now," she answered promptly. "I have all my -things this long time, and it's not like going into a house where -there is nothing."</p> - -<p>"In a month, then?"</p> - -<p>Millie saw no reason for even a week's delay. An intense impatience -filled her soul.</p> - -<p>"Yes. How is Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Matthew shook his head. A heavenly providence had delivered -Ellen into improving hands.</p> - -<p>"She can't accept this. It's so with people who are not religious."</p> - -<p>Millie determined to show herself kind.</p> - -<p>"She needn't think that she will have it too hard. Everything -can be pretty much like always. I think we should even put away -the bedding and things like that for her. I shouldn't like her to -say that I used what should be for her <i>Aussteir</i>."</p> - -<p>Matthew tightened his arm round this thoughtful creature. -He had come a long, hard way to his happiness, but it promised -to be worth the journey.</p> - -<p>The next day Millie counted her sheets and blankets and table-cloths -and her many pieced quilts, made in long winter afternoons -to an accompaniment of steady sisterly chatter. No bride -of the neighborhood had ever had so fine an assortment.</p> - -<p>Matthew lived at the farmhouse. He slept in his old room and -ate his meals with a quiet Ellen and a tearful and monosyllabic -Mrs. Sassaman. At other times he was at his work. His eyes -shone with eagerness, his brow was furrowed with pleasant -thinking. He could have embraced the trees and thrown himself -upon the soil which he loved.</p> - -<p>Already, though the farm was run down and needed all that he -could put into it, he looked with longing eyes upon a small adjoining<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> -property, across which he could reach the highroad directly -from the quarry he meant to open. He looked down upon it -from the woodland one August afternoon. The undertaking would -be inexpensive and the profit would be out of all proportion to -the small outlay. If he only had enough money to begin! Perhaps -Grandfather would lend it to him. He did not like to go to Millie's -father, would not, indeed, though success was certain. That -was no way for a self-respecting son-in-law to begin married life!</p> - -<p>Then, as though his question had been borne aloft by the -wind, the wind returned an answer. He looked at the nearest -tree, a fine oak from which the soft whisper came; he looked at -the next tree which was equally fine. In reality the plan for their -own destruction was not breathed by the trees, but originated in -a suggestion of Millie's, made long ago when possession of them -seemed only a dream. The price of the adjoining fields was in his -hand!</p> - -<p>Ellen and Mrs. Sassaman cleaned the house and Ellen packed -away her father's belongings, realization of the finality of death -being now complete. Once she asked a question.</p> - -<p>"Shall we leave the office as it is, Matthew?"</p> - -<p>Matthew blinked; he was calculating at that moment the -price which the trees would bring.</p> - -<p>"I'll ask Millie what she wants," said he at last, bringing himself -to consider Ellen's question. "And I'll ask Dr. Wescoe -whether he would like to buy the medicines and the books."</p> - -<p>"Not the books!" Ellen began to twist her hands together in -the most excited way.</p> - -<p>"Very well!" he answered impatiently. "As you like."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman also approached with a question.</p> - -<p>"When, then, am I to go?" Her large face was pale and her -hands drooped from the wrist joints, like the front paws of a -rabbit sitting upon its haunches. She might have been asking -for the date of her execution.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to be married on Saturday at meeting," said -Matthew.</p> - -<p>"Well, I guess I'll go then Saturday morning."</p> - -<p>"You're going to your sister?" asked Matthew kindly, putting -his hand into his pocket. "I'll pay you now—for the whole -week, though it isn't due till Monday."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman did not hold out her hand and Matthew laid -the money in her lap, the last full salary he would have to pay -for domestic service. Suddenly he was amazed. Mrs. Sassaman -rose and the money dropped to the floor.</p> - -<p>"You're doing wrong, Matthew," said she slowly. "You were -always such a headstrong boy, but I never thought you would be -such a cruel boy. Religion is right, so far, but not farther."</p> - -<p>Matthew said nothing, but went out the door and down the -road to pay a last visit to Millie. Mrs. Sassaman did not make -him uncomfortable even for a moment—such is the sustaining -power of a good conscience. He supposed that she was alluding to -Ellen, but what she said was unimportant.</p> - -<p>On Saturday morning he told Ellen the hour of his wedding.</p> - -<p>"It will be in the afternoon in the Saal. I suppose you will -hardly come."</p> - -<p>"I can't, Matthew."</p> - -<p>"You take things too hard, Ellen. We've got to live, no matter -what happens!"</p> - -<p>"But not rejoice!" said Ellen tragically to herself. Then she -said aloud, "You'll come here for supper before you go away?"</p> - -<p>"We'll go to her folks for supper. You are invited also, but I -said I didn't think you would go. We'll come here later."</p> - -<p>"You're going away for a trip?" asked Ellen, suddenly alarmed. -"I don't mean for a long trip, but for a little journey?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not. I don't approve of such celebrations; they're -expensive and they accomplish nothing but the spending of -money. We shall come home."</p> - -<p>"Home!" repeated Ellen when he had gone. "Oh, I wish -they would not come home!"</p> - -<p>She flung herself into the arms of a bonneted Mrs. Sassaman.</p> - -<p>"They're coming here to-night!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman wept also.</p> - -<p>"Don't cry, Ellen! You're young yet. You don't have it as -bad as I who have lost two husbands. The thing for you is to -marry and spite them. Marry some one who will stand up for you -and tell Matthew the meaning. That's the thing for you to do."</p> - -<p>She climbed into the spring wagon beside Calvin and was gone.</p> - -<p>The day had promised to be fine, but at nine o'clock a soft -rain began to fall. At ten o'clock Matthew came downstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> -dressed in his best clothes and drove away. The pleasant courtesies -once natural were forgotten or ignored in their mutual embarrassment -and he did not bid his sister good-bye. It was not -altogether pleasant that one's wedding day should be rainy, but -the fields needed rain and he was not disturbed.</p> - -<p>Through the long morning Ellen sat idle. She could not bear -to be in the house, but sat on the porch, a lonely and mournful -figure. A score of vague plans came into her mind only to be rejected. -Could Matthew be won over?—she did not think so. -Could her grandfather be persuaded?—she doubted it. Could -they be compelled by law to give her what was right?—she had -no friends to advise her. The mysterious visitor to whom her -father had meant to entrust her—she thought of him with despair.</p> - -<p>By turns grief and resentment overwhelmed her, but finally -apathy succeeded both. The blow which she had received seemed -to have injured her beyond recovery; plans were useless when -all earthly hopes could be so quickly dissolved.</p> - -<p>"I may die!" said she and found in that a dreary consolation.</p> - -<p>At dark Matthew brought Millie home and the three sat for a -while together on the porch. Ellen had been afraid that she might -cry, but the event seemed too unreal to draw tears from a fountain -so nearly exhausted. Millie rocked rapidly back and forth, -for once as loquacious as her sisters. She stood a little in awe of -Ellen's mind, but she believed that she was making a favorable -impression upon her. She was nervous and excited and her short -sentences were not always completed.</p> - -<p>"I haven't yet been in your house except last month when -your father—" Millie feared that she had made a mistake.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to go through it now?" asked Ellen, unmoved -by Millie's allusion.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow will do for sight-seeing," said Matthew with -heavy facetiousness unlike him.</p> - -<p>"I guess it will!" laughed Millie. "It seems as though I'm to -be here a long time, from what the preacher said!"</p> - -<p>When the clock struck nine, Matthew rose. Calvin had attended -to the stock, Matthew had given himself a whole holiday, -the only holiday he was to give himself deliberately in all his life. -Millie also rose abruptly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Are you going to bed, Ellen?" asked Matthew.</p> - -<p>"Not yet."</p> - -<p>"You'll lock the doors?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Then good-night."</p> - -<p>"Good-night," answered Ellen.</p> - -<p>Ten o'clock struck and eleven and Ellen sat still. Then she -went in and advanced slowly toward the stairway. With her foot -on the lowest step, she heard Millie laugh. Grossly offended, she -turned and went into her father's office and closed the door. -Millie had asked for no changes, and here was the old sofa with -its worn cushions, a desk, a chair, and a little table, upon it a -few books, a pad of paper, two lead-pencils, and some withered -flowers in a glass. Ellen lay down upon the sofa as though it -were her bier.</p> - -<p>It was part of Millie's religion to have kindly feelings toward -all mankind. Finding breakfast on the table in the morning, she -praised Ellen and thanked her and assured her that she would be -lazy no more.</p> - -<p>"We can plan everything so that neither will have more to do -than the other."</p> - -<p>It was now Ellen who was nervous.</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said she in a tone which seemed to Millie to express -a becoming gratitude.</p> - -<p>Millie was sincerely commiserative; she pitied every one in the -world who was not Millie Levis—except Matthew to whom she -belonged.</p> - -<p>"I never had a chance to tell you how sorry I am for you, -Ellen," said she, looking pleasantly into Ellen's heavy eyes. -"But we must remember that God doeth all things well."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<span class="smaller">AMOS VENTURES INTO THE WORLD</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the autumn evenings Grandfather sat beside his stove in -meditation. It was against his principles to permit himself too -high a degree of physical comfort, but as the current of his blood -ran less swiftly he drew unconsciously closer to the stove. As he -had often sat here and ordered his life, so he was ordering now -his departure from life. He dreamed sometimes of a burial such -as the fathers had had, at midnight under the light of torches, -with antiphonal singing and solemn tolling of bells, and with a -procession of the Brotherhood of Zion and the Sisterhood of -Spiritual Virgins.</p> - -<p>Amos was at the pine table, now correcting the papers of the -children in his school, now bent over his Latin manuscript. It -seemed to him that his mind became less active and that the -devil tempted him to dream when he ought to be at work.</p> - -<p>To Grandfather there had been in the universe two stable -realities, the existence of a wise and all-powerful Creator and the -correctness of the Seventh-Day Baptist interpretation of the -Creator's mind and works. Now in his old age he dwelt with increasing -satisfaction upon a third reality, the divine appointment -and fitness of Amos, on account of his faith and piety, to -interpret both Creator and theology. He thought, as the weeks -passed, less anxiously about Ellen, ascribing her placability to -his own advice and to her better mind, rather than to the stern -necessities of her case. She would, he believed, now that the dangerous -influence of her father was removed, "come round."</p> - -<p>One day he summoned a carpenter and went with him over -the old buildings, measuring and inspecting. Here a wall needed -strengthening, here a chimney rebuilding, here fresh plaster -should replace the broken mortar of clay and grass. The sum -required to put all in order was not large.</p> - -<p>Sitting drowsily by the stove Grandfather peopled the quiet -night with figures. He saw Saron filled; he saw men going after -prayer to work in the fields and women in white filing in solemn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> -procession to worship at midnight. They went joyfully, as he and -Amos went sometimes to pray in the Saal. He heard above his -little cottage heavenly songs issuing from the high matin room -of Saron.</p> - -<p>But the figures in his dreams were not those of departed saints. -The face of the speaker in the pulpit who held an audience enthralled, -not alone by his eloquence, but by the power of truth, -was not that of Father Friedsam, but of Amos; the cowled and -robed figure which was followed by adoring converts was that -of Amos; the religious who knelt alone in the Saal at midnight -praying for his people was Amos. It was mediĉval and strange, -but it was real to the dreamer. It had all happened once, less than -two hundred years ago—it might, if it pleased God, happen -again.</p> - -<p>But Amos, alas! had come to doubt his own strength, had come -indeed to fear his own thoughts. As he bent over "The Mystic -Dove" on this winter evening his face was drawn, the fingers -with which he held his pen were icy. He was trying to translate -a sentence which he believed praised the holy mystery of the -sacraments, but his mind was not upon his work, and, spoken to -suddenly, he started as guiltily as though Grandfather had -looked into his heart and detected his disquiet.</p> - -<p>"Our little girl is learning to submit herself," said Grandfather -contentedly. "Matthew tells me so. That's the first lesson -learned—quiet. She is like the noble Sister Anastasia whose -pride was softened. Have you seen Ellen at any time?"</p> - -<p>"Once," answered Amos without lifting his head. He spoke -indifferently and bent more closely over his work, as though he -had reached an important paragraph. It was the acting of a lie, -for he thought of Ellen in school and at home and especially in -the long evenings when it was supposed that his sacred task occupied -his mind. He had been thinking of her when Grandfather -spoke; for her benefit he was making a strange plan.</p> - -<p>Last Sunday afternoon he had gone for a walk. Even then he -had not been quite honest with himself, for he had pretended -that his object was exercise, when deep in his heart he hugged a -hope of seeing Ellen. An intense natural shyness and a consciousness -of guilt forbade him Matthew's door. It was unthinkable -that he should "go to see" Ellen!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> - -<p>Making a long détour he had arrived at last in the woodland -back of the Levis house and there waited for darkness to become -complete, when he intended to go to the edge of the woods and -look down upon the lighted windows and perhaps see Ellen's -shadow moving back and forth.</p> - -<p>The November evening was still and he had taken only a few -steps into the woodland when he heard the sound of crying. -Ellen herself was no more tender-hearted and he at once moved -forward rapidly, then stood still, trying to decide upon the direction -from which the sound came. He could now hear nothing; -perhaps his footsteps on the dry leaves had betrayed his approach. -Then he heard the sound again nearer at hand. It was -not the whimper of a trapped animal, it was the smothered sobbing -of a human being. He went forward swiftly. Then again he -paused. The low western sun cast a single level beam through the -clouds; the light fell upon Ellen, a mournful figure in a black -shawl upon a stump, Ellen alone in the twilight, Ellen unreconciled -to her bereavement, Ellen changed and forlorn.</p> - -<p>"It is I. Can I help you, Ellen?" he asked breathlessly.</p> - -<p>Ellen sprang to her feet, her black shawl trailing.</p> - -<p>"Oh, is it you?" She drew a long breath of relief. Amos was -negligible—she had thought that it was Matthew! It made little -difference whether Amos observed her woes.</p> - -<p>"You can persuade them to let me go away," she said despairingly. -"I haven't anything to live for, I'm all alone." Then -she recovered herself. "Please forget this. No one can do anything." -She rubbed her eyes furiously with a wet handkerchief -and pulled her shawl round her. "I hadn't any business to talk -about it."</p> - -<p>At once she walked rapidly out of the gloom of the woods into -the brighter light and made her way, somber and forlorn, across -the fields.</p> - -<p>Amos took her place upon the broad stump. He saw her reach -the kitchen door, he saw the light gleam. It was possible that -Matthew and Millie were away—was she then alone, poor, poor -Ellen? He would go down and speak to her further; he should not -have let her go uncomforted, he who meditated upon religious -matters, who translated holy books! But suppose that Matthew -and Millie should return, Millie with her sharp, cunning eyes!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> -Besides, he knew that he could not help Ellen, she would not -listen.</p> - -<p>Then, the devil tempted him. Grandfather's plan for her was a -mistaken one, she would never bind herself to conventual life. In -the Normal School whither he had gone to learn elementary -Latin there had been many lady teachers, confirmed in singleness, -faithful to their duties and to their various denominations, -and useful to the world—it was not wrong to think of Ellen -bound to education! He rose and went home, meaning to speak -in her behalf.</p> - -<p>But between the time of that bold intention and this evening, -misgivings troubled him. If he were listened to he would be helping -to send Ellen into the world. She wished to go farther away -than the Normal School, farther away than Lancaster or Harrisburg, -and about the safety of the world beyond he had grave -doubts. She might even go to New York where, every one said, -wickedness was rampant. There was no telling where she might -not go!</p> - -<p>Presently a solution presented itself. It was possible to learn -much from books; he had gained all his information from that -source, and from books he would learn about the present condition -of the world. Before speaking to his uncle he would acquaint -himself with contemporary writings and be governed by -their character. In Harrisburg there was a State library from -which he occasionally secured books by mail, and he had sometime -ago announced to Grandfather his intention to apply there -in person for a new volume. At Christmas, when school closed -for a week, he would be his own master. When he had come to -this determination his mind was easier and he was able to proceed -with his translation.</p> - -<p>His preparations for departure consisted of earnest prayer -and the packing of a frugal lunch. When he found that he could -conscientiously ask the blessing of God upon his undertaking his -spirits rose. As for the material preparations, prices in city restaurants -were high and wastefulness was wicked.</p> - -<p>The day which he had selected dawned bitter cold; the fire in -the cottage did not burn well and the pinched and blue countenance -of Grandfather distressed him. But Grandfather would -listen to no sympathy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> - -<p>"My trials are small beside those suffered on this spot."</p> - -<p>The landscape showed bleak and gray in the dawn; the lighted -windows suggested not the cheerfulness of evening and of family -gatherings, but unwilling rising in cold rooms, the breaking of -ice in pitcher and bowl, the torturing operation of milking with -stiff hands. Wheels creaked over the frozen snow, and horses -puffed like chimneys. Amos was not warmly dressed; he had -never, in fact, been dressed warmly enough to meet winter storms. -Having climbed into the trolley car, he tried to restrain his tears -while circulation returned to his frost-bitten fingers. He looked -fully the part of a shivering Saint Francis. A traveling man, -wrapped in a fur-lined coat, and cursing inwardly the luck which -had kept him overnight in the village, stared.</p> - -<p>"Who is he?" he asked the conductor; but the conductor, being -busy with his fares, made no reply.</p> - -<p>His was the first but not the last comment upon Amos that -day. Entering the train at Lancaster he walked the length of the -car to find a seat, and after him heads turned. Even persons -who were familiar with Lancaster County's strange types looked -startled; one or two impressionable women shivered.</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose he's very wise or very stupid?" asked one -woman of another.</p> - -<p>"He's very handsome."</p> - -<p>"Do you think so?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, he's too handsome."</p> - -<p>"I'll warrant he's the kind of a crank after whom women -would travel in droves. Perhaps we'll have a new sect."</p> - -<p>Amos heard no comments. He sat down and looked at the -smooth farmlands, then at the river filled with floating ice, -then upon the tall stacks and chimneys and into the heart of -glowing furnaces. It was a bewildering world to which he was an -alien. He was trained to be interested not in mechanical operations -or in the achievements of science, but in the operations -of the human soul. A famous saint had put into words, centuries -before, Grandfather Milhausen's teaching. "Suppose that you -had subtilty and learning enough to know all things, that you -were acquainted with all languages, the courses of the stars, and -all the rest—what is there in that to be proud of? The glory -of man is to be faithful to God."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> - -<p>Catching a glimpse of the dome of the Capitol soon after he -had left the station, he walked up a narrow street to the rising -ground. Now that he was here he would not confine himself to -the library, but would look about—this, too, might be a part of -Ellen's world! It was nine o'clock and the sun gave a small measure -of warmth. Squirrels ran up and down the tree-trunks and -pigeons wheeled above his head. Their friendliness with the -passers-by pleased him.</p> - -<p>Then, abruptly, pleasure ended. He looked not down at the -parked street, as Ellen had looked at first, but up at two groups -of statuary newly placed on each side of the main entrance. -Here, in broad daylight, fixed eternally and shamefully in marble, -were human beings without clothes! He did not blush; his -astonishment and incredulity were too deep. After a long stare -he withdrew his gaze embarrassed. It was to escape the glaring -nudities that he entered the bronze doors, on which were represented -various worthies of the Commonwealth. He did not -smile at the neatly collared gentlemen whose heads protruded -like the heads of turtles; he found them vaguely an assurance of -the stability of the world.</p> - -<p>Once inside, he felt a measure of confidence. Upon his childlike -mind the soaring dome, the painted walls made the same -impression which they had made upon the mind of Ellen. He -looked longest at the lunettes in a corridor which pictured the -early sects and found at last his own. How beautiful was this -quiet place and how intolerable the group without! Here, in -Moravian, sounding his trombone from the tower, in pious -Quakeress preaching to the savage, in Wissahickon mystic at -prayer on the hillside, was nothing to hurt Ellen.</p> - -<p>For an hour he wandered about, walking on marble stairways -and thick rugs and letting his astonished vision rest on masses -of color, the green of Penn's rich coat, the Admiral's scarlet -robe, the blue sky. He had not known that such colors existed. -Suddenly he apprehended dimly the beauty of the world, of -trees and streams and the bodies of human beings. But they -were all an obstacle between man and God!</p> - -<p>He felt with sudden depression his own insignificance. He had -seen in all his years no crowds of human beings, had been part of -no large body of men, had had a share in no concerted movement.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> -He knew in a general way the history of his State, but -he was not of it; he taught the history of his country, but felt -no thrill at sight of its flag. He read no daily paper, and in his -religious weekly all the news of the world was censored and -emasculated.</p> - -<p>In the library he stood most astonished and confused. Shelves -upon shelves of books, hundreds and thousands of books! He -was confounded by their number and by the vastness of the -world which they represented; he was embarrassed by the studious -silence; he was frightened by the cool black eyes of a young -woman behind the desk. To gain a moment's time, he stepped -aside to look at an old map and at a framed and valuable proclamation -offering ten thousand dollars for the arrest of the assassin -of Abraham Lincoln.</p> - -<p>At last he summoned sufficient courage to ask for "The Early -Sects," and was told that it was at present out of the library.</p> - -<p>"I wanted it for study," he explained. "I have sent for books -from here."</p> - -<p>"If you will leave your name and address we'll send it to -you."</p> - -<p>As he wrote his name on a card, his eye fell upon a row of -books at the end of the desk whose bright bindings marked -them as the modern works for which he sought. He thought -it best to buy copies of his own; he was not a rapid reader -and he wished to study them carefully.</p> - -<p>"May I copy their names?"</p> - -<p>"Surely!"</p> - -<p>He looked at the titles in an uncritical spirit and took them as -they came. The volumes belonged to the "Thinker's Library," a -somewhat poorly bound, carelessly edited series of English novels -and translations of other European novels and tales. It was a -curious list which he transcribed—"Bertha Garlan," "Russian -Stories," "Esther Waters."</p> - -<p>He found at last in a store, where he had to thread his way -among women buying laces and handkerchiefs and table linen, a -corner where books were sold. The first two volumes on his -list were on hand, "Esther Waters" was not to be had, but -"Evelyn Innes" was suggested by the clerk as a substitute. -Then, his bundle under his arm, he walked out. Now that his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> -business was attended to, he would satisfy his still undulled -curiosity. It seemed to him that the gaze of every passer-by -sought his, and he was uneasy until he realized that his glance -sought the eye of every passer-by. This fact discovered, he -walked on looking straight ahead and holding his shoulders -stiffly.</p> - -<p>He came at last to the street with the park in the center running -from the Capitol to the river. There stood large churches, -and seeing a few women enter the most imposing, he entered -also. He made no excuse for himself, though he knew that his -uncle would not approve; an inspection of churches seemed a -legitimate part of his expedition.</p> - -<p>When with a single astonished glance he saw that the few -worshipers were kneeling, he knelt also. He had not dreamed -that anywhere but in the Saal men went to pray alone. He -prayed now for the Kloster and for his uncle and for Ellen—poor -little Ellen whose sobs he would never forget. It seemed -to him that God spoke to him and told him that it would be -right to help her to her heart's desire, and he sighed happily.</p> - -<p>Then—it may have been the tinkle of beads slipping from -finger to finger, it may have been a subtle ecclesiastical odor -different from the odor of the Saal—he felt a sudden misgiving. -He opened his eyes slowly and looked at the woman kneeling -near by, who was not so absorbed in her devotions that she -did not have a startled eye for her neighbor whom she believed -to be some sort of very holy man. Next he saw the stations of the -cross along the wall, and then the marble altar with its tiny, -gleaming lamp. Whither, oh, whither had he come?</p> - -<p>At once terrible words rushed into his startled mind—"popish -images," "idolatry," "confessional." He rose and clutched -his package and went out. In the vestibule he saw a woman performing -what he took to be a slight ablution in a sort of basin—it -removed his last lingering doubt. He fled, and the door -closed noisily behind him, disturbing those within.</p> - -<p>As he walked weakly toward the river, he realized that it was -not altogether emotion which had exhausted him, but partly -hunger. To one who was accustomed to the damp coldness of the -Saal a meal out of doors, even on such a day as this, was tolerable -and he sat down on a bench near the spot where Ellen and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> -father had paused hand in hand to look across toward Stephen's -gray house. He, too, looked at it, but the lives lived there did not -come within his experience and were not to be imagined.</p> - -<p>When his lunch was eaten, he returned to the station to wait -for his train and sat holding his package of books, and watching -the ever-changing throng. All he saw had a bearing upon his -errand, and he tried to picture Ellen among the travelers—not -Ellen in her black shawl, but Ellen in her brown coat and -tight-fitting cap, her Christmas gifts in her hands, all smiles and -happiness. His day in the world had brought him to no final -decision; Ellen's future still waited upon his reading.</p> - -<p>For some reason unknown to him, the train waited for a long -time upon a siding outside the city, and he could look directly -through an opening in a high fence into the yard of an iron mill. -Opposite the opening stood a lofty shed, apparently a vast store-house -for finished products, in which cranes moved like gigantic -men, lifting and laying down masses of iron and loading long -girders upon cars. He watched, as he sometimes watched the -farmers intent upon their work, the men who manipulated the -enormous machines, and the men who came and went in the -yard. Simply to live and work and not to think, what happiness -in such a lot! But he reproached himself sharply for desiring the -glory of the moon rather than the glory of the sun which was -his. He had chosen the better part, or to speak exactly, it had -been chosen for him. Let him be grateful.</p> - -<p>He entered the gate of the Kloster after dark. Grandfather -had lighted the brass lamp and sat by the stove asleep. On the -stove were several pots with a fragrant steam escaping from -under their lids. As Amos laid down his books on the sill outside, -his conscience reproached him. But his motive was, he -reminded himself, excellent.</p> - -<p>Grandfather went early to bed on his hard cot in the next -room, leaving Amos bending over the manuscript from which -he had been separated for a day, and charging him not to work -too late. When the old man's light breathing could be heard, -Amos opened the door, brought in his precious parcel and with -shaking, thrifty hands untied the hard knot with which it was -fastened. He selected the book which was uppermost and laid -the others in the drawer of his table. In the silence of the night<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> -he began to study the world into which he was to launch Ellen. -Surely none of these authors had hitherto been read in a stranger -spot! Close to the little cottage on one side crowded the graves -of the dead, above it on the other rose the grim old buildings. All -spoke, not of love, either good or evil, nor of the present, nor of -life, but of the past and of the peace of death.</p> - -<p>The book he had selected was the volume of Russian stories. -He read an introductory paragraph which stated that the author -gave a description of his impressions of the Russian-Japanese -War, an event as dim to Amos as though it had taken place in -1904 <span class="smcap">B.C.</span> instead of 1904 <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> He was disappointed—he was -not interested in war! But having begun he kept on. He had -thought himself a slow reader, but he had read hitherto only -the subtle abstractions of mystic writers, pondering as he went; -he had never had before him such texts as these.</p> - -<p>"Horror and madness!" The opening words were not reassuring. -But he read on.</p> - -<p>"I felt it for the first time as we were marching along the road—marching -incessantly for ten hours without stopping, never -diminishing our step, never waiting to pick up those who had -fallen, but leaving them to the enemy that was moving behind -us in a compact mass."</p> - -<p>He blinked as though to clear his vision; then his pupils moved -back and forth, back and forth.</p> - -<p>"An hour passed, but the multitude still moved on, and the -air and the distant, phantom-like ranks trembled as before. -Again the burning heat pierced my body ... I was surrounded -by a group of gray people; some lying motionless, perhaps dead; -others sitting up and staring vacantly. Some had guns and resembled -soldiers; others were stripped almost naked, and the -skin on their bodies was so livid that one did not care to look at -it. Not far from me some one was lying with his bared back upturned. -One could see by the unconcerned manner in which he -had buried his face in the sharp, burning sand, by the whiteness -of the palm of his upturned hand, that he was dead, but his back -was as red as if he were alive. And I saw—"</p> - -<p>"What is this?" whispered Amos. But he read on and on until -headless men surrounded him and a sea of blood seemed rising to -engulf him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> - -<p>He finished with a dying light and a body aching cruelly with -cold. The fire had gone out; there echoed about him the mysterious -crackling sounds of a bitter night. He rose and stood in the -darkness, appalled by the things he had read. Was this the world -into which he had thought to send pure and lovely Ellen?</p> - -<p>After a long time he heard his uncle sigh in his sleep, and the -tears began to run down his cheeks. It must be almost morning; -he would wrap himself in his coat and await the striking of the -hour, then, if it was not too early to disturb his uncle, he would -make up the fire. Moreover, he would make it up with these -hideous writings for which he had spent good money.</p> - -<p>But deliberation brought better counsel—Ellen would have -no encounter with war! Besides, it was a Russian story and Ellen -did not mean to go to Russia. He would read the other books.</p> - -<p>The next evening he did not wait until Grandfather had gone -to bed; but laid his book inside the manuscript of "The Mystic -Dove" and began. A great deal of "Evelyn Innes" he did not -understand, but he understood enough. He read like a child for -the story, all else escaping his immature attention. The technique -of music was an uncharted sea; the ambitions of Mr. Innes -he did not comprehend; he had never seen an opera, nor was he -able to picture one. But he saw clearly what had happened to -Evelyn. A cold perspiration broke out upon him. It was well for -Ellen that he had set out to discover the world!</p> - -<p>Then he was guilty of a curious and natural inconsistency. -He concluded that it was his duty to acquaint himself further -with wickedness, so that he might the better resist it. When he -had finished "Evelyn," he returned to the book of Russian stories, -laying it, too, between the pages of "The Mystic Dove." -He saw a dark river which carried on its strong current a raft, -and understood that a young man, a pious Christian, worked at -the stern and watched his wife made much of in a shameful -way by his own father in the bow.</p> - -<p>But still he read on. "The Raft" was short; midnight was -still far away; he opened the third book. Again the accident of -his choice was unfortunate. The story was simply and plainly -told. Bertha Garlan, widowed and with a little child, sought out, -under pressure of irresistible desire for affection, an old sweetheart -who had attained fame and who lived grossly, and had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> -with him a brief liaison. Her passion and her shame were pictured -with equal skill—it was a moving tale, and it pointed -as bitter a lesson as the pen of moralist could present.</p> - -<p>It was not strange that when he tried to work at his "Mystic -Dove," the language proved dull and meaningless. He ceased to -translate and began to walk about, traveling over the frozen -roads at night like one condemned to wander for his sins. The -world was a whirlpool of crime in which each hour betrayed and -murdered thousands were sucked down to destruction. His uncle -had been right.</p> - -<p>At last he began to think of another way to help Ellen. His -uncle believed and had taught him that a man's first concern -should be the eternal safety of his own soul. Might there not be -a higher duty? Speculating, he felt his cheeks burn, his heart -throb quickly.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN IS OFFERED A WAY OUT</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Life</span> in the Levis house, tolerable during the remaining weeks of -the summer and early fall when there was much to be done out -of doors, assumed a more complex character when it was confined -entirely to the kitchen. Millie had believed that she desired -escape from home partly for the sake of freedom from continual -chattering; apparently, however, it was merely the silence of -others which she desired. She now became loquacious; Ellen, she -discovered with amusement, knew nothing; that is, she knew -nothing of the private affairs of her neighbors, of strange old -scandals, of recent deeds of foolishness and sin. Millie knew -stories about all the people on the surrounding farms, about -all the people along the road to the Kloster; indeed, about the -ancient inhabitants of the Kloster itself, those holy souls who -had given up all the pleasures of the world for the sake of salvation. -She described in detail the misdeeds of Brother Reith, -who in the absence of his wife in the asylum was a rake of the -first order. She had even a story about Mrs. Sassaman—did -not Ellen know that! Millie laughed. Such proud aloofness as -that of the Levises must have made life very dull.</p> - -<p>"I don't believe that about Mrs. Sassaman," answered Ellen -soberly. "My father would not have had her here to take care of -us if she was not a good woman."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to say anything against your father, but he had -very free ideas."</p> - -<p>"Not so free as that."</p> - -<p>"Don't you believe that I tell you the truth?" demanded -Millie.</p> - -<p>"You must be mistaken." Ellen was pale and offended, but -she was determined to give no offense.</p> - -<p>On her first free afternoon she went to her room and opened -her books. She remembered all that she had learned and it was -still not too late to be educated. In the evening she heard Millie -complain to Matthew of loneliness, and the next afternoon she -took her books into the kitchen where the sight of them proved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> -irritating. Millie stood no longer in awe of her superior education; -she hated it; it seemed, in some dim, ominous, and inexplicable -fashion, to threaten her.</p> - -<p>"Matthew thinks learning is unnecessary beyond what we -need for our every-day lives."</p> - -<p>Ellen made no answer. Presently Millie came to believe that -her growing annoyance with Ellen and her ways sprang from -anxiety about her soul.</p> - -<p>"I can't be here with you all the time without reminding you -to make your peace with God."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Ellen shortly.</p> - -<p>To Matthew life was intensely satisfactory. Along with love -for the land he had been endowed with a farmer's good judgment. -The early Pennsylvania Germans had selected with unerring instinct -the thickly wooded limestone country, leaving to their -Scotch-Irish neighbors the poorer and more easily cultivated soil. -To Matthew it seemed that his deep fields had qualities which -were almost human; they looked to him for proper cultivation -and nourishment as they looked to God for rain.</p> - -<p>His labors were interrupted only by the time necessary for -meals and sleep. When winter came, the rebuilding of the fences -occupied him whenever it was possible to be out of doors. On -snowy and rainy days he worked in the barn, repairing partitions, -mending harness, and planning for the future. He wrote -down in a notebook all his plans; he drew a map of the farm and -hung it on the wall; he dreamed and meditated about springing -corn and golden wheat. Mind and body were at rest, and all was -as it should be in a world which had hitherto been trying.</p> - -<p>When Ellen appeared one afternoon in December in the barn -chamber to make once more her foolish request about school, he -answered her by commending her for her good behavior. He -seemed to himself to be at least twenty years older than Ellen in -experience and wisdom.</p> - -<p>"Millie and I were saying yesterday how well you accommodated -yourself to life as it is. It will soon be even better."</p> - -<p>But Ellen had not come to hear compliments or to interpret -cryptic remarks.</p> - -<p>"Do you mean I can't go?"</p> - -<p>"Soon you won't want to go."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I shall always want to go," insisted unreasonable Ellen.</p> - -<p>She did not return to the house. A week of clear weather had -ended; there was a lowering sky and a cold damp wind which -gave warning that bad weather was at hand. She walked a long -distance on the soft country road, and then struck across the -fields, meaning to return through the woods which seemed to -promise temporary peace of mind. She was aware as she approached -her favorite seat that it was occupied and she was irritated -when she recognized the occupant. Amos was young and -strong, yet he was content to live in the past, to earn a pittance, -never to see the world or to advance.</p> - -<p>But before the ravaged face which he lifted, no one could long -be angry. He seemed to have lost many pounds which he could -ill spare; his clothes were too large, his hair was much too long, -and he wore to Ellen's startled gaze a look so unworldly as to be -almost imbecile. Her heart pitied him, while her mind was filled -with a sharp repulsion.</p> - -<p>Poor Amos's horror of the world as he found it in "Bertha -Garlan" and "Evelyn Innes" had changed to an unspeakably -shocking desire to know still more about it. The temptation was -of the devil—that he well knew—and he was resisting it with -all the strength that was in him. He was tempted, not to go into -the world, but to take more of it into the Kloster in the form of -books, to read and read and thus lose himself and forget his self-reproach, -his despair, and a new and wild desire.</p> - -<p>When Ellen spoke he stared like a man in hiding come upon -by the enemy. Her brisk walk had made her cheeks glow, and -her commiseration for Amos gave a deeper color to her eyes. -Like Millie she breathed youth and freshness, but she had in -place of Millie's empty beauty an eager vitality of mind and -body. You could be with Millie and forget her—you could never -forget Ellen. Her spirit had been for a while in eclipse, but it -could not continue thus. Amos could not analyze her charm, but -he felt its least emanation.</p> - -<p>"I haven't seen you for a long time. Aren't you well?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered faintly.</p> - -<p>"And Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>Amos seemed not to have heard. He rose abruptly and approached -Ellen, his hands clasped before him, his body trembling.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> -His cheek-bones seemed to press against the skin, his gray -eyes to have turned black. He saw not a helpless creature who -needed his succor, but a gleaming light in darkness, a refuge in -deep trouble, a rock to which he could cling.</p> - -<p>"I've been thinking so much about you, Ellen, and I've been -trying to help you. I thought once I would ask Uncle to let -you go away. But I can't make my conscience agree to such a -plan. I can't for a good reason." He laid his hand across his eyes. -At this moment the world had become wholly unattractive; it -offered no invitation to further acquaintance; he saw headless -figures, heard men offering illicit love. "But I could take you -away from where you are, Ellen."</p> - -<p>"How?" asked Ellen stupidly.</p> - -<p>"You could come to me."</p> - -<p>"To you," she repeated, more mystified than before.</p> - -<p>Then a bright, tingling flush mounted to her cheek. She saw -the expression in his eyes, and recognized its tenderness.</p> - -<p>He made his meaning clearer.</p> - -<p>"If you were married you would be freer."</p> - -<p>She took a step backward and rested her shoulder against the -trunk of a tree. The act indicated not fear, but a desire for support. -The keenest of all her startled sensations was curiosity. -What was the motive for this amazing offer? Surely not love as -she understood love! Did he mean to sacrifice himself and all his -plans to make her comfortable? He didn't seem ridiculous; he -seemed incredible.</p> - -<p>"But you weren't to marry!"</p> - -<p>"I'm my own master," said he with dignity. "I must decide -what is best. I'm the only one who can decide." His trembling -became more violent. "I sometimes sit here in the evening and -look down and think how happy you and I could be in such a -house together. I think of it day and night; there isn't any rest -for me."</p> - -<p>A succession of images passed rapidly through Ellen's mind, -herself in Amos's arms as Millie stood in Matthew's embrace—shameless -Millie!—her father's keen face, the face of his friend -who had somewhat resembled him, the dim Saal with its heavy -air, its pale light, its stolid worshipers.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it couldn't be!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<p>Silence answered like the silence which follows an execution.</p> - -<p>"I'm not worthy of such an offer," said Ellen, suddenly -wretched. "I'm nothing; I know nothing. I'm hasty and bitter -and hateful."</p> - -<p>"You are worthy!" protested Amos. The language of the -stories he had been reading, much as he loathed them, helped -him to find words. He pleaded with her, not for her sake but for -his own, that she would save him from despair. "There isn't -any one like you. You grow more beautiful each day. I was in -Harrisburg, and there I sat in the station and watched the people -come and go, especially the young girls, and there was no one -who carried her head so high and who had such deep, deep eyes, -like a dark night, Ellen, when the sky is very clear and soft. -There's no one round here with a mind like yours. I'm not old-fashioned; -I understand that it is the day of greater liberty. I'll -let you judge and decide in everything. Don't say you aren't -worthy; that isn't true!"</p> - -<p>Ellen looked down at the ground. Praise like this was new and -not unwelcome, even though it came from the lips of so strange a -lover.</p> - -<p>"If you would come to me, I believe the peace of God would -come to you."</p> - -<p>Now Ellen pressed her whole body against the tree, so as to -get farther away. The peace of God! That was not what she -longed for.</p> - -<p>"You're mistaken in me," said she. "There's only one thing I -want and that is to learn. I'm grateful to you, and I shall always -think kindly of you; you are my best friend, but I don't wish to -marry any one."</p> - -<p>"It is God's holy ordinance," said Amos thickly. "It saves -from gross sin. Outside its bonds men and women burn with sinful -passion. Have I made you afraid of me, Ellen? I have loved -you since you came a little child into my school, and indeed, before -that."</p> - -<p>Into the minds of both came the scene enacted on this spot, -the childish arms flung out, the kiss given and taken.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I can't!" cried Ellen. "I'm sorry for you. Do put this -out of your mind."</p> - -<p>"I don't wish to put it out of my mind. But I'll not trouble<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> -you by speaking again. If you need help that I can give, you have -only to ask. Promise me you will remember that!"</p> - -<p>"I'll promise." She looked suddenly over her shoulder. Millie's -eyes were keen and cruel; her mind was suspicious; she had -related to Ellen a score of clandestine meetings, spied upon and -reported to the confusion of lovers. "I must go home!" said she, -moving away. "Don't come this way too often!"</p> - -<p>"I'll do whatever you wish," promised Amos. "You don't -have any ill-feeling toward me, Ellen, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"No!" said Ellen. She flung back a crumb of comfort. "I told -you you were the only friend I had in this world!"</p> - -<p>It was four o'clock when she opened the kitchen door. Matthew -and Millie stood by the table together, his arm across her -shoulders. They had driven together to the store in the village -and their cheeks glowed.</p> - -<p>"Well, Sister?" said Matthew.</p> - -<p>Ellen heard with wonder the unusual salutation. What had -come over Matthew? Her own cheeks still burned. Subconsciously -Millie noted her color and her excited eyes. But Millie -was occupied with her own emotions. She laughed in her sharp, -detached way and pushed Matthew from her. He went smiling, -and when the door was shut, she laughed again.</p> - -<p>"See what I've bought!" she cried, her hands slipping the -cords from her parcels. "He said this was the time to spend." -There appeared white, delicate muslins and yards of lace and -ribbons and tiny patterns. "See! Aren't they beautiful? He -thinks you are every day a little less self-centered, Ellen, and it -is a good thing, for you will soon be certainly needed. Aren't -you glad you didn't go to school?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN SOLVES HER PROBLEM</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> spectacle of complete happiness is so rare that it is valuable -as a phenomenon, even when its causes are not wholly commendable. -A queen upon her throne who knows no threatening usurper -and has never trembled at the voice of reforming democracy -could have been no more confident of herself and her position -than Millie. She was beautiful—indeed, she had long since decided -correctly that none of her acquaintances was so pretty. -She was prosperous, she was a good Christian, she was fulfilling -the most honorable function of her sex.</p> - -<p>As a prima donna who has sung gloriously gathers the roses of -her admirers, she gathered to her bosom as her due the affectionate -care of Matthew, the interest of her mother and sisters, and -the approval of Grandfather Milhausen. She gathered also the services -of Ellen, given willingly and with a virginal awe. She laughed -at Ellen's innocence and extended her knowledge in new directions.</p> - -<p>Ellen did not consider her work drudgery, though she did all -that she and Mrs. Sassaman had done together and all that she -and Millie had done together. It was right that Millie should be -taken care of, and Ellen was too inexperienced to know that no -young woman in that hard-working and healthy community -had ever expected such tender indulgence.</p> - -<p>Late in February occurred a regrettable incident in a peaceful -life. Matthew's correspondence had increased, and Ellen, who -fetched the mail from the box at the end of the lane, found many -pamphlets with the words "State College" on the corner of the -envelope. Matthew, she thought, would not care for them; the -senders were wasting paper and postage and pains.</p> - -<p>But Matthew did care for them. At the end of a day which -Ellen had found unusually hard, he mentioned that he was going -away for two weeks. She looked at him astonished; Millie, she -saw, was aware of his intention. "Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"State College is to give a special course in the treatment of -soils. Many farmers will attend. I don't know whether they have -anything really valuable to teach, but I'm going to see."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen laid down her spoon, which fell, not upon the saucer as -she intended, but into the cup, splashing the clean cloth.</p> - -<p>"Well, Ellen!" cried Millie.</p> - -<p>"You're going to school, then, Matthew! Surely you'll let me -go in the fall. You've changed your mind about education!"</p> - -<p>Matthew frowned. It seemed to him that Ellen thought she -had him in a trap. "This is different."</p> - -<p>"No, it isn't different!"</p> - -<p>"This has to do with soils and the production of food for the -human race. It's not idle learning."</p> - -<p>"Mine would not be idle learning. You're not fair. You're -cheating me out of what should be mine and taking it yourself!"</p> - -<p>On the other side of the table Millie lifted a reproving face. If -she had been a little more sophisticated, she would have contrived -to faint or to have hysterics.</p> - -<p>"It isn't safe for me to hear such discussions, Ellen. You -should know better than to try to quarrel now!"</p> - -<p>Matthew looked at Millie in alarm. There was some ground -for Ellen's resentment, but her heart was wrong, her demands -were wrong, her carelessness of Millie's health was most wrong -of all. He silenced her roughly and effectively. "Can't you cut -it out, Ellen? Especially under these circumstances?"</p> - -<p>Millie's convalescence after the birth of her baby was, as was -to be expected, a slow and luxurious process. Her mother, an inmate -of the Levis house for a month, scolded, the doctor admonished, -but she lay at ease, her young prince on her arm. When her -mother departed, protesting that only pity for Ellen had kept her -so long, Millie took jealous care of the baby. She sat day after -day in the kitchen with him asleep in her arms, being unwilling -to trust the pleasant June air. She had been slow to forgive what -she chose to consider a wanton indifference to her health, on -Ellen's part, but that seemed now to be forgotten.</p> - -<p>"Next time I'll be up sooner," she promised sweetly.</p> - -<p>Ellen made no answer, having learned at last to hold her -tongue. Her body ached and her soul quivered. If Millie had been -at all clever, she would have assigned to her some of the care of -little Matthew even in addition to her own work, but Millie was -not clever.</p> - -<p>Late in September Grandfather Milhausen came one Sunday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> -evening to see his great-grandchild. He and a nervous and unwilling -Amos walked pilgrimwise along the road and at the entrance -to the lane separated, Amos going to the next farmhouse -to attend to an errand. Poor Amos was no happier, and the few -hours of rest which he took in one of the cells in Saron had made -him no stouter. His ability to concentrate his mind upon abstractions -seemed to be destroyed, and outside of school hours -he had no occupation. Grandfather found Millie in the kitchen -with her baby. He laid his hand in blessing upon the little -head and his eyes gleamed. Here was an earnest for the future; -this child might live to complete the restoration of the Kloster -which his elders were to begin.</p> - -<p>"And where is Ellen?" he asked with a sigh. Ellen had not yet -"come round"; it was now more than three years since she had -run away so incontinently from the Saal and she had never -returned.</p> - -<p>"She went for a walk," explained Millie. "She's a great one to -go off alone, and I don't like it. It doesn't look well."</p> - -<p>Matthew moved uneasily in his chair. It was natural for Millie -to express to him disapproval of Ellen's ways, but he did not -like her to complain to others.</p> - -<p>"I'm sure that Ellen does no harm."</p> - -<p>"I'm sure of that also. But it looks as though she wanted to -be away from us. She—"</p> - -<p>The opening of the door interrupted Millie's sentence. It was -plain to Ellen entering that they had been discussing her—why, -otherwise, should they all look so self-conscious? Hearing -a sound behind her, she glanced nervously over her shoulder, to -find that Amos had come round the other corner of the house and -was close at her heels. It had been a day of heavy depression of -spirit and of sharp irritability when she had kept silence with -difficulty. Her eyes met first of all Millie's, in which she saw a -startled and amused curiosity. Amos had with all the brethren a -reputation for immaculate behavior, but to Millie no one was -immaculate.</p> - -<p>"Where have you two been?" she asked gayly. "Walking together?"</p> - -<p>In her intense desire to turn attention from herself, Ellen -uttered she knew not what.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> - -<p>"We have a nice baby here, haven't we, Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>Millie was not to be turned aside even by the praise of her offspring.</p> - -<p>"You should have one just like him, Ellen," said she with her -sharp little laugh. "Then you wouldn't be so discontented."</p> - -<p>"It isn't a subject to be jested about, Millie," said Grandfather -gravely. But he looked at the two young people with -startled eyes. He remembered that Amos had once defended -Ellen; he remembered that he had seemed to have for some time -a burden on his mind. Alas, for the restored Kloster with its -monastic orders, its brethren and its holy spiritual virgins, if -Amos should go the way of all the world! Silence followed -Grandfather's reproof, and silence spread. Like graven images -Grandfather and Millie and Matthew sat in their chairs, and like -graven images Ellen and Amos stood by the door.</p> - -<p>"I shall put corn in the east field next summer," said Matthew -after a long pause.</p> - -<p>"So!" said Grandfather and returned to his alarmed speculation.</p> - -<p>Millie's mischievous eyes went round and round the circle. -They signaled a laughing message to Matthew, they gazed with -intense amusement at Amos and Ellen. Ellen's blood raced -through her veins and angry thoughts through her mind. It -seemed to her that she was on fire. Amos stood with his eyes -upon the floor, all the machinery of thought paralyzed. Millie -saw guilt written upon them both.</p> - -<p>"Grandfather," she began again mischievously; but before -she could go on Matthew stopped her with the first remark -which came into his mind. Even Ellen's comment upon the baby -had not been so unfortunately chosen.</p> - -<p>"I have engaged Umbesheiden to cut the trees."</p> - -<p>Ellen turned upon him swiftly, her eyes flashing.</p> - -<p>"What trees?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to cut the woodland."</p> - -<p>"My trees!"</p> - -<p>"They are no more yours than mine. I have Grandfather's -permission, and it's only what any far-sighted person would do. -It will in the end be very profitable to you, as well as to me."</p> - -<p>Ellen took a step forward. Here was the last of heaped-up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> -injuries! Considering the turmoil of anger and grief within, she -spoke quietly.</p> - -<p>"I've decided that unless you and Grandfather are willing for -me to go to college at once, I'm going to leave home altogether."</p> - -<p>"Where are you going, Ellen?" Matthew asked gently. He -knew that he had postponed too long telling his plans, but Ellen -made everything hard.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to live with Mrs. Sassaman at her sister's and -earn my living."</p> - -<p>"What for?"</p> - -<p>"I promised Father I'd go to college."</p> - -<p>"It was a foolish promise involving matters over which you -had no control."</p> - -<p>"I promised him, too, that I'd go away. He didn't wish me to -stay here, so far from the world."</p> - -<p>"The world!" repeated Amos to his despairing soul. He had -read "Evelyn Innes" again and still again; he understood even -more clearly what had happened to Evelyn.</p> - -<p>"The world will ruin you!" warned Grandfather.</p> - -<p>Millie meant to be exonerated. She was frightened—would -she be left without Ellen's help? "No sister-in-law was ever -kinder than I to Ellen. She has all the say about the house, -about planning the work and everything."</p> - -<p>"I'm not complaining about you, Millie. Matthew, will you -give me a part of my money?"</p> - -<p>"It would be against my conscience."</p> - -<p>"Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>Grandfather shook his head.</p> - -<p>"What is your plan?" asked a placating Millie.</p> - -<p>"I shall get work and save my money. I'm strong and well; it -would be very strange if I couldn't get along. At any rate, I'm -going to try."</p> - -<p>Matthew rose. Beside him Ellen looked pale and worn and -young. He was disturbed. It was not possible that she was serious! -"You've been a great help to us—I don't deny that. It all -proves that you could always be a good, earnest Christian girl if -you would only be sensible."</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on Ellen's shoulder. The house seconded -Matthew and pleaded with her; her affection for him pleaded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> -She was conscious also of Amos near by, and suddenly certain -instincts, hitherto unrecognized, took advantage of her excitement. -All pointed to the easiest way, to acquiescence. It seemed -for a moment that her father was a stranger who had wandered -across the path laid down for her by many generations. Then -suddenly she lifted her head and went swiftly from the room.</p> - -<p>"I believe she'll be all right," said Grandfather in a trembling -voice. "She has an inheritance to fight against her, but one also -to fight for her."</p> - -<p>Matthew looked out the window into the darkness and after -a moment he wiped his eyes. Ellen's spirit, he believed, was -broken, and there is something terrible in the breaking of a spirit -even to those who have brought it about. He saw her in imagination -lying upon her bed, crying pitifully. Millie looked down at -her baby. It would be dreadful to have to give up her brooding -hours! But Ellen would stay, of course, and she hoped that -now she was cured of her foolishness. Amos stood trembling by -the door. He wished to speak to them all, to reprove them, to -attack them, to insult them, even Grandfather, but most of all -Millie. But it would only make matters worse. He saw with relief -that Grandfather was rising and he stepped out and waited -for him on the doorstone.</p> - -<p>Matthew was mistaken about Ellen. She was not crying; she -was standing upright, listening at last like the prodigal in a far -country to a call. She went quietly about the house, bringing -from the attic two satchels and putting into them the few things -which she owned. Each motion had the deliberation of an act -long planned. When she had finished she undressed and lay down.</p> - -<p>It was quite in character for Ellen next morning to wash -the breakfast dishes. Afterwards she changed her dress and appeared -in the kitchen, the smaller satchel in her hand.</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, Millie."</p> - -<p>Millie, sitting at ease, stared. "Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going away; I told you so last evening. I've written -Mrs. Sassaman's address on this piece of paper so that you'll -know just where I am. When I'm settled I'll write and Matthew -will send my other satchel. It's packed in my room."</p> - -<p>"He didn't think you were going!" Millie grew pale. Matthew -was, she believed, offended with her. "He's in the field."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Tell him good-bye for me."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to walk to the station?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Like a paralyzed person Millie submitted to Ellen's kiss; then -she looked at the closing door and round the kitchen. The washing -was to be done, and the ironing and baking and cooking and -sweeping. In her dismay she forgot even her sleeping baby; rising, -she sped out past the barn and across the fields to Matthew.</p> - -<p>Ellen walked rapidly. She did not analyze her feeling and she -did not know whether she was excited or calm, glad or sorry; she -knew only that she was free. At the end of the second mile she -paused. Before her the road sloped steeply to the creek; beyond -the creek the town climbed the hill. To the right in the -hollow, stood the steep-roofed buildings and Grandfather's cottage -and Amos's schoolhouse. She could hear the droning voices -of the children; not in fact, because it was too early in the -morning for school, but in memory. She saw the old trees and -the lambs at play and the little cemetery so close to the road. -Ah, she must hurry! Invisible arms seemed to reach out for her; -she felt her heart softening, her eyes filling with tears. Should -she run in and say good-bye to Grandfather? He was a very old -man and she might not see him again. But, no, she hastened -down the hill, across the bridge and up the broad street to the -station, scarcely able to see through tears.</p> - -<p>There, startled, she beheld Amos whose beauty was spectral.</p> - -<p>"I had a feeling you would go, but none of them believed it," -he said, looking back over his shoulder as though he feared detection.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I'm going." Ellen was frightened. Would he try to keep -her?</p> - -<p>"Can't you change your mind?"</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head. She heard with relief the whistle of the -train.</p> - -<p>"I shall pray for you!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Amos."</p> - -<p>"I needn't say to you, 'Be good!'"</p> - -<p>"No," said Ellen soberly. "I'll be good without that."</p> - -<p>From a receding platform she waved her hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<span class="smaller">GOLDSTEIN'S JEWELRY STORE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">There</span> was this time for Ellen no interested inspection of the -landscape. Her gaze, directed to the back of the next seat, did -not lift to the hat of its occupant, but remained fixed upon the -dusty red plush. In the fields men and women were cutting corn, -their blue jeans suits the color of the river which reflected in a -darker tone the clear sky. Here and there showed a red or yellow -branch and there were masses of weeds which were already -brown.</p> - -<p>During her journey, which seemed like the day of Matthew's -wedding, both long and short, Ellen made futile efforts to assemble -and arrange her thoughts. The act which she was now executing -she had dreamed of innumerable times, but her rage -with Matthew and Millie had driven her to it before she was -wholly prepared for independence. Her thoughts recurred bitterly -to the scene of the evening before. Millie was evil-minded, -hateful; she had bewitched Matthew into marrying her by pretending -to be better than she was; she persuaded him now to -claim everything for himself, to prevent Ellen from going to school -in order that she herself might have more.</p> - -<p>She suspected that it was Millie who had suggested felling the -trees. But of that sacrilege she could not think and keep her -composure. She heard the rasping sound of the wood saw; she -watched the mighty trunks crash down, emitting almost human -sounds of pain. Matthew should be punished; he should be made -to suffer an equivalent for all that he had made her suffer.</p> - -<p>She understood, however, that one could not safely allow -one's mind to be forever occupied with one's wrongs. She now had -her future in her own hands, and she did not doubt that work -would be easily secured. In the hundreds of stores there would be -a place for her; where so many persons were gathered all kinds -of workers would be needed. She did not doubt her ability to sell -goods of any sort. She might find it necessary to take a humble -position at first, but she would rise rapidly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> - -<p>When she reached the dark train-shed in Harrisburg, hands -and knees were trembling. The waiting-room was crowded -with passengers for an excursion train, and she felt the country-dweller's -discomfort and irritation at being jostled. There had -been no time to notify Mrs. Sassaman, but she was like the sun, -she did not move from place to place. Ellen inquired the way -to Hill Street and signaled the proper car.</p> - -<p>But the car did not stop. A second also sailed by, but the third -was driven by a motorman of friendlier spirit who motioned to -the opposite corner, and she climbed aboard, conscious of eyes -upon her. She became immediately aware that she did not look -like the other women, that her dress and coat were a size too -small, and that the style of her hat bore no relation to the -present fashion.</p> - -<p>When she found at last the house of Mrs. Sassaman's sister, -Mrs. Lebber, she stood still in dismay. One of a sordid row hanging -on the edge of a hillside above the railroad yards, even the -bright September sunshine could not make it seem a possible -abode. There must be a mistake! But a little marker on the house -itself said "Hill Street," and this was Number 34.</p> - -<p>Doubts were soon put to flight by the appearance of Mrs. -Sassaman, a stouter, paler creature, but Mrs. Sassaman without -question, who gazed at Ellen speechlessly while she held fast to -the door.</p> - -<p>"<i>Oh, thou dear peace!</i>" she said at last. "Ellen, is it you?"</p> - -<p>Ellen could not speak. Mrs. Sassaman cooed like a mourning -dove.</p> - -<p>"Did you come to see me once then, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Ellen nodded, and Mrs. Sassaman opened the door wider upon -an atmosphere saturated with the steam of washing and scented -with the odor of boiling sauerkraut, and led her into a little parlor -where she sat down and put her satchel on the floor. Mrs. -Sassaman's tears had begun to flow and it was not until several -moments had passed that she could proceed.</p> - -<p>"Well, Ellen!" said she again.</p> - -<p>"I have come to the city to work," explained Ellen, trying to -express in her voice the courage which she believed she felt in her -soul.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman was not encouraging.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Oh, Ellen, the city is an awful place! People, people, people, -and dirt, dirt, dirt!"</p> - -<p>"I'm not afraid of it. I'm not going to stay here always. I -mean to get a place in a store, and I shall study in the evenings, -until I've saved enough to go to college."</p> - -<p>"Are you then still trying to be learned, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to college," said Ellen stubbornly. "I thought perhaps -I could get a room where you lived."</p> - -<p>"Here?" said Mrs. Sassaman. Alas, by her desire to live on -Hill Street Ellen descended from the pedestal upon which the -Levises should have remained exalted! "I could ask my sister."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman retired into a quarter nearer the source of the -steam and the odor, and returning brought with her a mournful -replica of herself. Mrs. Lebber had been the wife of a railroad -conductor and had remained after his sudden death in the -house to which he had brought her as a bride. She had insurance -and death benefits sufficient to support her body and she -had a grievance against the railroad company upon which she -fed her soul. Life had cruelly disappointed her. Like Mrs. Sassaman -she had expected to get married and to remain married and -to be a clinging vine. She looked at Ellen with curiosity and disappointment.</p> - -<p>"Is this then Ellen!" The sentence was not interrogatory -but exclamatory. It said, "This the beautiful scion of a prosperous -and famous family of whom I have had to hear so much!"</p> - -<p>She sat down heavily.</p> - -<p>"She would like if she could get a room here," exclaimed Mrs. -Sassaman.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lebber stared in astonishment at Ellen. Mrs. Sassaman -had shown no sisterly frankness in her recent accounts of the -Levis family, but now their fallen state was plain. Mrs. Lebber -had a harmless but inordinate curiosity.</p> - -<p>"Why does she leave her nice home?" The question implied a -doubt about the niceness of the home.</p> - -<p>"I wanted to come to the city to work."</p> - -<p>"Her brother is married now."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid you've made a mistake." Mrs. Lebber contemplated -the faded picture of the railroad conductor above the -mantelpiece. "I never would 'a' thought I would have to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> -any one in to live with me for money. I thought always that I -would have it better than I do have it."</p> - -<p>"And I too," mourned Mrs. Sassaman.</p> - -<p>Ellen bent her head. This was a doleful beginning. But in her -"David Copperfield" there was a picture of the hero sitting with -his satchel beside him, as she was sitting now. The recollection -heartened her.</p> - -<p>"I guess you could have the little room," said Mrs. Lebber; -"that is, if it is you good enough."</p> - -<p>Ellen carried her satchel up the stairs. The room indicated -contained a bed, a bureau, and a chair; the remaining space measured -about six feet by four. The lifted shade revealed the railroad -yards and the sky.</p> - -<p>"Just look once!" cried Mrs. Lebber, pointing tragically to a -drift of black particles on the window-sill. "Do all you can and -it don't help."</p> - -<p>Having agreed to Mrs. Lebber's modest price, Ellen partook -of the sauerkraut and descended once more to the business -section. Food had restored her and she felt in herself a sense -of adventure. She must expect unpleasant experiences, she reminded -herself, and when they came she must remember her -goal. She was in no immediate need of money, for pinned inside -her dress were five ten dollar bills for which she had exchanged -the nickels and dimes and quarters saved through her childhood, -and the spending money which Matthew had given her.</p> - -<p>She acquired between the hours of one and five a good deal of -experience of store-keepers and their ways. She went first to the -department store near the station where Amos bought his books -and questioned the clerk nearest the door. The clerk looked at -her curiously and directed her to an office on the second floor.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to fix that country pippin up."</p> - -<p>"She'll fix herself up," was the short reply from her nearest -neighbor. "Give her time!"</p> - -<p>In the office Ellen's name and age and address were recorded -by a young woman who spoke to her through a brass grill. Had -she had experience in clerking? No. Training in business college? -No. How much education—High School? Ellen thought -she had had at least an equivalent. The clerk blotted her book -with an air of finality.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Have you a place for me?"</p> - -<p>"Not now, of course. We take on extras when the holiday -trade begins. We'll let you hear from us."</p> - -<p>In a few other establishments Ellen's name and history were -recorded, but in most places she was answered merely by a -shake of the head. Every one, she realized, looked at her last -summer's gingham.</p> - -<p>Finally in a little jewelry store near the entrance to the subway -through which the street descended under the railroad, -she was successful. The articles in the crowded window looked -very valuable, though they were paste and plated ware. The -customers were chiefly men, passengers from the trains who -stopped to have their watches regulated and to spend a few -minutes of spare time. The proprietor listened to Ellen with -interest and engaged her promptly, promising her six dollars a -week and an advance if she did well. He looked at her even -more sharply than he listened to her, and when she had gone -he nodded his satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lebber did not view this engagement with approval.</p> - -<p>"Is he a married man, this Mr. Goldstein?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"Are you there alone with him in his store?"</p> - -<p>"No; men repair watches in a little room at the back."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lebber shook her head.</p> - -<p>"There are very bad people in the city. Most are bad."</p> - -<p>Ellen recalled Millie's account of the experiences of her -acquaintances who went to the city to find work and who -were set upon as though they were lambs venturing into the -lairs of wolves. She scorned both Millie's tales and Mrs. Lebber's -fears.</p> - -<p>She went to her room and unpacked her belongings; then by -the dim light she wrote to Matthew asking him to forward her -larger satchel. Having wiped away a few angry tears, she opened -her algebra and fixed her mind upon it.</p> - -<p>When she laid her head on her pillow she felt under her -cheek the sharp points of the black dust she had seen on -her window-sill and had felt under her hand as she touched -the furniture. Sometimes a light shower fell upon her cheek. -The trains had thundered in the abyss all the evening, but she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> -had a vague notion that they would now go to bed. Instead -their activity increased; they seemed to come in the window -and go out the door, to threaten the foundations of the house.</p> - -<p>Finding sleep impossible she considered the weapons with -which she was to fight her battles. The education which was so -superior to that of her country neighbors was, it seemed, unfortunately -not correlated with the requirements of department -stores. But she had a mind and she would learn. In the second -place, she had physical strength. She did not count in the least -upon her curly hair, her clear skin, her dark eyes, and her -round figure, nor realize that it was these possessions which had -won her her first situation.</p> - -<p>Having exhausted herself as a subject for study, she thought -of Mrs. Sassaman, who had changed. In the light of the old -days she decided that Mrs. Sassaman, by turns silent and communicative -and frequently on the verge of tears, had "something -on her mind."</p> - -<p>She went to work the next morning, having made up for sleep -by a cup of strong coffee. Her employer had opened his shop -and was now finishing the sweeping of his floor, a task which -was to be hers from now on.</p> - -<p>"I guess it won't hurt your dress," he said pleasantly.</p> - -<p>Ellen did not catch the inner meaning of his remark.</p> - -<p>"You might get a little something new once," suggested Mr. -Goldstein. "Just a new waist, perhaps; it would improve you."</p> - -<p>He showed Ellen where she was to stand.</p> - -<p>"There by the window. I'll look after the back of the shop. -The women have sure always the easy time, ain't it so?"</p> - -<p>Ellen perched upon a high stool behind the counter and looked -out at the passing throng of men and women from neighboring -villages. She caught a man's wandering glance; he entered and -offered a watch which needed attention. Having directed him to -Mr. Goldstein, who carried his watch to the workroom at the -rear, Ellen looked again toward the street. A second passer-by -met her eye and came in, requesting a chain from the case before -her. The chains were plainly labeled, a sale was soon consummated -and Mr. Goldstein took the burden of making change. -The first customer stopped to speak to her on his way out, but -was interrupted by the arrival of a third.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I'll be back when you're not so busy," he promised with -reference—at least so she thought—to the purchase of a -chain for his repaired watch.</p> - -<p>There are a good many empty-minded men who turn aside -at the glance of a pair of dark and straightforward eyes, but the -supply is not inexhaustible. The middle of the morning brought -a period of comparative idleness, when Mr. Goldstein joined -the corps of workmen and Ellen sat with folded hands; at -noon there was another season of activity followed by another -period of idleness. During this period her heart suddenly jumped. -What could she not accomplish in these hours! She brought -with her the next morning her General History.</p> - -<p>The morning stream of pedestrians interested her, though -she never got a long look at it, so rapid was the entrance of -customers. When trade slackened and Mr. Goldstein had gone -to his watch-mending, she opened her book. She was entirely innocent -of any intention to steal his time, and he was for a while -ignorant of the theft, since he made the opening of the shop-door -which was her signal for laying down her book, his signal -for a return. She studied a large and never-to-be-forgotten -portion of General History. Her book served a minor purpose; -she no longer caught the eyes of passers-by.</p> - -<p>Fate was not so partial that she kept Mr. Goldstein forever -in ignorance of this offense against all the laws of contract -between employer and employee. He found before the end of -the week Ellen's book under the counter; he heard with irritation -the amused comments of his friends. If he had caught her -in the beginning of her duplicity he would merely have admonished -her, but he realized that she had got the better of him -for almost a week—not an easy matter, he proudly boasted. -He dismissed her with eloquence.</p> - -<p>"Did you think I couldn't get no other girls that you could -try to make such a fool of me, say? Did you think I run a university? -The men on the street say to me, 'Say, is it true that you -employ a reader to sit in your window all the time and read a -book?' They ask me do you read to me while I work and if it is -the Scripture. You can go, and there is your pay."</p> - -<p>A pale Ellen stared at him.</p> - -<p>"I waited on everybody who came in!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Did you think waiting on everybody who came in was what -I had you for?" inquired Mr. Goldstein with scorn. "I do the -waiting."</p> - -<p>"What did you engage me for?" she asked, bewildered.</p> - -<p>Mr. Goldstein believed that she was as innocent as she -seemed.</p> - -<p>"Nobody will come in here to see an old man, will they? I -engaged you because you had black eyes."</p> - -<p>Ellen's black eyes were for a moment not visible. Then she put -on her hat and took the docked wages held out to her. She was -not at first insulted, she was only humiliated. But on the way up -the dreary hill her sense of outrage grew. Her eyes filled with -tears; she longed for her room and for a chance to cry. She felt -homeless, and forlorn. She had been driven from her own home -and she had no other.</p> - -<p>Then in Mrs. Lebber's dismal little hall she stood still. In the -parlor sat the last person whom she wished to see at this moment—Matthew, -with her satchel beside him.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A CLOCK RUNS DOWN</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Matthew</span> had undertaken a large stint of ploughing on the -Monday when Ellen went away. The field in which he worked -lay on the same ridge as the woodland and commanded a wide -stretch of fertile land and commodious barns and houses and -beautiful groups of trees. The soil was rich and soft and turned -easily, and the two horses knew their business so well and needed -so little attention that there was time for many pleasant thoughts.</p> - -<p>But his thoughts were not pleasant. Millie's remark to Ellen -had offended him; she had behaved like her rude sisters whom he -detested. He would admonish her gently and persuade her to apologize; -she would be glad, he was sure, to put herself in the right.</p> - -<p>Presently he began to meditate upon his experience at State -College, to reconstruct the lectures of which he remembered -every principle if not every word, to follow again the laboratory -experiments. He had not yet recalled his father's reminder that -even if one became a farmer science might be useful. He liked -to think of the young men whom he had met from various parts -of the State, all at work to improve the soil, though it was probable -that he would have taken no such pleasure in similar aspirations -on the part of his immediate neighbors.</p> - -<p>As he turned his horses in the lee of the wood he remembered -uneasily how Ellen had always come to him in the troubles of -her childhood. Sometimes she had cried noisily so that he was -ashamed of her—she had never gone silently away as she did -last night.</p> - -<p>Amos, as well as Ellen, Matthew thought, had a ground of -offense against Millie. He believed that Amos liked to be thought -immune to love and did not wish to have even friendly relations -with any woman. He thought with faint contempt of a man so -young who chose a life of school-teaching and preaching when -he might grasp the handles of a plough on a cool and pleasant -morning. He would have no sympathy with Grandfather's desire -for a return to the ancient conventual establishment. His own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> -plans for the future included a very different improvement of the -church property; he foresaw the ultimate collapse or the enforced -removal of the old buildings and the erection of a small bright -meeting-house with Amos as preacher. But no matter what the -future might bring, there could be nothing between Amos and -Ellen. The idea was odious.</p> - -<p>He had ploughed across and back several times when he saw -Millie advancing along the edge of the field. Hoping she had -come to say that she was sorry she had teased Ellen, he left -the horses standing with their noses against the fence and went -to meet her. She was flushed and out of breath.</p> - -<p>"She has gone!" she called. "She took a satchel!"</p> - -<p>Matthew asked stupidly, "Who has gone?"</p> - -<p>"Why, Ellen! Leaving me with all the work and on Monday -yet!"</p> - -<p>"Where has she gone?"</p> - -<p>"To Harrisburg to Mrs. Sassaman, as she said she would. She -left the number and you are to send the big satchel."</p> - -<p>Matthew's first coherent thought was that the neighbors -would say that he had driven Ellen away. Nothing could so -entirely and permanently disgrace him. He laid the blame for -this unfortunate happening where it belonged.</p> - -<p>"It's all your fault!"</p> - -<p>Millie stood still, flushing, like Matthew, a deep red, and then -growing pale. The moment marked the end of one era in her -life and the beginning of another.</p> - -<p>"My fault! When you wouldn't leave her go to school and -wouldn't leave her have her money! I guess you couldn't get -any one to agree with you in that! She has nothing against me -whatever; she was as pleasant as could be and she kissed me -good-bye. Did she even walk out here to say good-bye to you? -No, she didn't. She told me to say good-bye." Millie's voice -grew shriller and shriller. She forgot that hitherto she had never -"had words" with Matthew and that she had proudly contrasted -herself in this respect with her father and mother.</p> - -<p>"You had no right to speak to her the way you did."</p> - -<p>"Ach, I was only teasing!"</p> - -<p>"We never alluded to such matters in our family. Ellen never -teased me about you. My father wouldn't have allowed it."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> - -<p>A scornful "Your father!" was upon the tip of Millie's tongue -and crowding upon it even more disagreeable and pointed retorts. -But her need of help was uppermost.</p> - -<p>"I have all the heavy work!"</p> - -<p>Here was a new and inconvenient aspect of Ellen's departure!</p> - -<p>"Couldn't you get along, taking it slowly?"</p> - -<p>Millie burst into tears. She had expected Matthew to start -at once to bring Ellen back.</p> - -<p>"Of course I couldn't! If you can't get Ellen to come back -you'll have to go for Esther."</p> - -<p>Matthew's heart sank.</p> - -<p>"I can't go till this evening."</p> - -<p>"You could if you only thought so," said Millie. Then she ran -back to the house.</p> - -<p>Matthew's dinner was poor and the final touches were put -upon it by himself. He asked Millie to describe Ellen's going -and she did so sullenly. He looked at the address which Ellen -had left and felt more at ease. He would write to her and tell -her that he was sorry she was offended, and he was sure that -she would return. He remembered with some small remorse but -with a deeper pleasure her distress at separation from him.</p> - -<p>In the evening he drove to the Königs and brought back -his sister-in-law, who accepted his invitation with alacrity. -Esther was a short, broad young woman who divided her time -between periods of cyclonic activity and equally intensive idleness. -She had had a busy summer and had long desired to visit -Millie. Her mother had described Ellen's housekeeping admiringly -and Esther anticipated a season of refreshing leisure. -Of course she would help when it was necessary, but there would -be no dreary and compulsory round of cooking and dish-washing. -Matthew's invitation indicated that he had got over the haughty -feelings of superiority which she had ascribed to him. In short, -Esther was in capital good humor.</p> - -<p>She had not been in the Levis kitchen a minute when she observed -that Ellen's housekeeping was not of the character which she had -expected. The dinner dishes waited in the sink and the soiled -clothes which should have been washed and dried and folded down -for ironing were still untouched in a basket under the table.</p> - -<p>"Why, where's your maid?" she asked jokingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> - -<p>"She's gone away," answered Millie excitedly. "She—"</p> - -<p>"She's visiting Mrs. Sassaman, at 34 Hill Street in Harrisburg," -explained Matthew carefully. "There Mrs. Sassaman -lives with a sister."</p> - -<p>"So!" Esther discovered the ulterior motive in Matthew's -invitation and Matthew, recognizing her smartness, hated her -the more. Millie gave her a glance which promised that she -should know what was to be known.</p> - -<p>For two days Matthew continued his ploughing, then a -driving rain made outdoor work impossible. In such weather -he busied himself in the barn or, when he had figuring to do, in -the kitchen. It had been a pleasure to him to lift his eyes and -see Millie sitting by the window or Ellen moving quietly about. -He often called Ellen to look over a sum which he could check -in no other way and she sometimes discovered mistakes.</p> - -<p>Now he found it impossible to sit in the house which was -filled with incessant clamor of tongues. Millie's laugh rang as -loud as Esther's. Esther had brought an accumulation of neighborhood -gossip gathered during the many months when Millie -had been deprived of this form of entertainment, and the stories -lost nothing by her telling. When Matthew and Millie were in -their room at night, Millie repeated others which Esther had -told in his absence. It was pleasant, she thought, to be married -and to have in consequence no reserves whatever.</p> - -<p>"But I don't like to hear such things," Matthew interrupted -her gravely. "I've never been used to anything like this. My -father—"</p> - -<p>Millie turned on her side with a contemptuous "Ach, you!"</p> - -<p>Matthew lay very still. The cloudy night was soundless; no -cock crowed or distant dog barked and even the oak trees did -not whisper. He pretended to be asleep, but he was kept awake -by a vague, apprehensive unhappiness. Suddenly he heard a -strange, uncanny sound, a queer sort of metallic death-rattle. -He sat up. Millie had heard nothing; her breathing was the soft, -even breathing of sleep. He slipped from bed and went out into -the hall. Everything was perfectly still and the warm air was -scented with the comfortable odor of bread sponge. Nothing -stirred. Yet the strange noise had been unmistakable.</p> - -<p>Then he was aware of something out of the common. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> -house did not seem natural, something was amiss. Suddenly the -intense silence offered an explanation. The old clock whose -loud tick had not failed as long as he could remember had run -down! Since his father's death Ellen had wound it each morning, -but he had forgotten it.</p> - -<p>He felt himself shaken with a chill. He was not superstitious, -but there was something ominous about the ceasing of motion -which had been continuous for so many years. He returned to -his bed but could not sleep. The wind was rising; he could -hear its whisper among the dead and dying leaves. Sometimes -in her little girlhood Ellen had been frightened by the noise in -the oak trees and had crept into his bed for comfort. He had -not known when she came, but he found her there, sweet and -drowsy, when he woke.</p> - -<p>Then the voice of the wind became more importunate than -the thought of Ellen. It was, like the ticking of the clock, a part -of his childhood. Shivering though he was, he rose and looked -out at the dark wall of trees. If they were gone there would be -a silence at night like the silence in the house at this moment. -He saw the bare ground with its ugly stumps. His intention to -fell the grove became suddenly incredible. The tears began to run -down his cheeks. Before he returned to bed he knelt and prayed, -but his prayer did not ease his discomfort. Like Millie he had -come to the end of an era.</p> - -<p>To his eyes the abode of Mrs. Lebber looked more forbidding -than it had to Ellen, who tolerated it as a merely temporary -abode. Having been received with cold surprise by Mrs. Sassaman, -he sat down to wait.</p> - -<p>"You'll think I haven't bettered myself!" said she as though -Matthew was to blame for her present situation. She could -hardly resist picturing to him in plain language the unpleasantness -and actual danger of Ellen's life in a store with a -lot of rascals—what could a Seventh-Dayer know about life -in the city?—but it seemed disloyal to mention Ellen's affairs, -and she withdrew, leaving him alone. He could hear a continual -whispering from the kitchen and when Ellen arrived he closed -the door of the little room which with its drawn shades seemed -like a prison cell.</p> - -<p>"Why, Matthew!" said Ellen. She sat down quickly, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> -heart filled with murderous thoughts of Mr. Goldstein. She felt a -crazy temptation to ask Matthew to go to his store and beat him.</p> - -<p>Matthew came to the point at once. He sat squarely in his -chair, his strong, brown hands clasped between his knees, a -handsome figure.</p> - -<p>"Millie was wrong to speak as she did, Ellen. We know there -is nothing between you and Amos, either on his part or yours. -Won't you come back?"</p> - -<p>Ellen's eyes filled.</p> - -<p>"I didn't mind that so much. I'm not here on that account."</p> - -<p>He saw dark circles round her eyes. She had grown thinner. -He had never before looked critically at Ellen.</p> - -<p>"You aren't well!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am."</p> - -<p>He looked still more intently; seeing for the first time the -fine proportions of her body and the shape of her beautiful head. -The city-dwellers would make of her, he thought fearfully, an -object of desire!</p> - -<p>"Ellen, I'll try again to make my position plain. You want -to be a doctor; Father gave you that idea. I don't know how it -was when he was a young man, but I know how it is now. I've -been away to school and I know what is the attitude of the students -to God and the Christian religion. They are scoffers and -blasphemers; immersion and Foot-washing and all our beliefs -and customs are subjects for amusement to them." His cheeks -burned; he had believed for a while that he was an apostle sent -to a wicked and perverse university. "I'd as soon cut off my -right hand as help you to such an education. I know, too, what -most churches are like. The preachers are so educated that they -can't preach the pure gospel. When people are educated they -think they have found ways of getting round God!"</p> - -<p>Ellen listened curiously. It seemed to her that he was speaking -as though to convince himself.</p> - -<p>"Why do you blame those things on education? Think how -different Father was from Brother Reith and Brother Miller!"</p> - -<p>"But Father was unbelieving!"</p> - -<p>Ellen lifted heavy eyes and looked at Matthew.</p> - -<p>"I'm unbelieving, too, then. I think it's selfish to think so -much about saving your soul as though that were all!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>Matthew might have answered, "or about educating your -mind," but he was not quick like Ellen. He had determined to -be patient and he answered gently, "It <i>is</i> all."</p> - -<p>"I brought your satchel," he went on, "but I hoped I could -take it back."</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head. She thought again of Mr. Goldstein -and with difficulty restrained her tears.</p> - -<p>"What kind of a place have you?"</p> - -<p>"I haven't any," she confessed.</p> - -<p>"You said you were in a store."</p> - -<p>"I have been dismissed."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I studied a little when there were no customers. -The man didn't like it."</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do now?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to find another place."</p> - -<p>Matthew took her hands in his.</p> - -<p>"Ellen," said he in a low tone, "come home."</p> - -<p>Ellen bent her head upon her breast.</p> - -<p>"I won't cut the trees, Ellen. I was mad to think of it. I -don't know what got into me. I've sent word to Umbesheiden."</p> - -<p>She made no answer.</p> - -<p>"And Millie shall never speak to you that way again."</p> - -<p>She seemed to be struggling in a rising sea. Matthew was -fond of her; she guessed by some obscure instinct that he had -altered and developed, that he was fonder of her than of Millie. -She was tired, the journey before her seemed interminable and -beyond her strength. But she shook her head.</p> - -<p>"No," she said, "I'm not going to give up."</p> - -<p>When Matthew reached Ephrata he went to the livery stable -and got his horse and drove slowly to the farm. Tired and depressed, -he longed to sit quietly and hold his son in his arms.</p> - -<p>But his kitchen seemed to be filled with Esther, rocking at -the end of a busy day while Millie prepared supper. She held -little Matthew and sang to him a coarse English song. In the -change from one civilization to another she, like many other -young persons, had seized upon that which was least worthy. -Matthew was about to reprove her when he recollected that -little Matthew was still too young to be harmed. Before he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> -could be hurt, Millie would have to arrange some other way of -running her house.</p> - -<p>After supper he walked to the Kloster where his eye fell -upon a scene grown familiar to him during long evenings. The -light from the brass lamp shone upon Grandfather's white -beard and upon the golden hair of Amos bent above "The -Mystic Dove." Sometimes Grandfather cast an approving look -upon Amos and sometimes Amos cast a stealthy glance at -Grandfather.</p> - -<p>Matthew sat down where his father had once sat. He crossed -one knee over the other and thrust his hands deep into his -pockets. There was in his heart a new and irritating undercurrent -of astonishment—how could human beings live like -this?</p> - -<p>"I've seen Ellen," said he.</p> - -<p>Grandfather looked at him without understanding.</p> - -<p>"You've seen Ellen? Why not?"</p> - -<p>"She went to Harrisburg as she said she would. There she's -living with Mrs. Sassaman and she declares she won't come -back."</p> - -<p>Grandfather clasped and unclasped his hands.</p> - -<p>"We must pray."</p> - -<p>Matthew caught Amos's burning gaze and believed it to be -one of anger at this mention of Ellen.</p> - -<p>"She's living in a miserable neighborhood in a house hanging -over the railroad. She had a place in a store, but she's been dismissed. -Now she's going to hunt for another place. She looks -sick." He delivered his short sentences as though they were so -many missiles hurled at Grandfather. It seemed to Grandfather -that they were missiles hurled at Ellen. The right to judge Ellen -belonged, he believed, to him.</p> - -<p>"Matthew," he said, white and trembling, "you mustn't -be too hard on the little one."</p> - -<p>Now Matthew trembled. Nerves were on edge, peace had -gone from his house and heart with Ellen. It was not only that -he missed her, but that there had appeared, as though revealed -by her departure, characteristics in Millie to which he had -hitherto been blind. It was not that Millie had degenerated; -it was merely that he saw her suddenly as she was. Her habits<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> -of life were those of the König family. His table was no longer -neatly set; bread was softened by being dipped into coffee; his -house was untidy; the necessities of little Matthew were attended -to unblushingly before every one. He had discovered -with amazement that a man's mind is not at rest even when -he is converted and is a husband and father. He had in the last -week had moments of sick regret when he stood for many minutes -with his hands on the handles of his plough, preoccupied -with wicked desires for freedom. He had, as Ellen surmised, -changed radically. A late-born activity of mind tortured him—it -was as though his Milhausen inheritance had had its way with -him, had led him into a trap and there had abandoned him.</p> - -<p>"I was perhaps hard on Ellen," he said hotly. "But where -did I learn to be hard on her?"</p> - -<p>"Not from me," protested Grandfather. "She is the object -of my constant prayers."</p> - -<p>Matthew felt his skin tingle. He drew a deep breath as though -he would inhale more air than the little cottage could furnish. -He seemed to shake his shoulders free of some burden, and he -began to talk like a madman.</p> - -<p>"You frightened her! You threatened her with hell! She was -afraid. You frightened me. You didn't let me think for myself. -I wish I too had run away!"</p> - -<p>Then like a petulant boy he departed, slamming the door. -The quiver which shook the cottage seemed to transmit itself -to the outer air and thence to the Saal and Saron. Leaning -heavily on his chair Grandfather lowered himself to his knees.</p> - -<p>Matthew strode through the gate into the graveyard, catching -his breath once more. He knew that he had acted the fool, but -he didn't care, he was so desperately unhappy and confused. -As he drew near the farm he heard the wind in the trees. He -stood still; the sound seemed to carry some message, but he -could not interpret it.</p> - -<p>When he opened the door he saw at first only the faint glow -of the fire in the stove, a pleasant sight on a cool evening. But -he heard smothered laughter and saw that on the old settle -Esther sat with a beau. She hailed him with gay and hateful -familiarity.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /> -<span class="smaller">FETZER ENGAGES A NEW MAID</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Ellen</span> spent a dreary Sunday within doors and from time to -time shed tears. She had not minded rain in the country, but -this day was intolerable. All the afternoon Mrs. Lebber and Mrs. -Sassaman sat at the parlor windows looking out into the dingy -street and alternating sigh with sigh. She went with them to -evening service in a little church, where the singing was wretched -and the sermon grim. The scanty and spiritless congregation -dispersed silently and she bit her lips to keep from crying.</p> - -<p>The following morning she started out once more to find a -position. In the sordid district behind the Capitol she saw, -next to a Jewish synagogue with strange lettering above its -door, a laundry whose sign announced "Girl Wanted," and -there applied. The second of her assets, physical strength, was to -serve her now. In a few minutes she found herself engaged and -being instructed in the art of running wet towels through a hot -mangle. She put into her work a fierce, triumphant repudiation -of Mr. Goldstein.</p> - -<p>Steam laundries are run like jewelry stores for the benefit of -their owners, and steady work is required. At the end of the -second day Ellen, aching from head to foot, walked home in -a cold wind. The third evening she cried with pain, but she -went back, believing that if she failed now she would fail altogether.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Sassaman wept over her, brought her hot herb tea, and -finally in an excess of emotion told what was on her mind.</p> - -<p>"That one toward Lancaster, he has been here."</p> - -<p>Ellen was puzzled.</p> - -<p>"You knew there was a man there, Ellen." Mrs. Sassaman -blushed as she tried to explain the extent of her suitor's devotion. -"I used to know him, he is a lame man, but kind. He will -have me, it seems."</p> - -<p>"You mean a lover?" said Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Something like that."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Are you going to take him?" A humorous glance made -Ellen's eyes look like her father's.</p> - -<p>"I don't know." Mrs. Sassaman now wept outright.</p> - -<p>"Of course you are!"</p> - -<p>"He isn't like your father."</p> - -<p>Ellen did not understand the implication—no one was like -her father. At the thought of him she was overcome. She had -been here for two months and had learned nothing; the exhausting -work at the laundry took all one's time, and even -Sundays had been profitless, spent as they were in weariness -and idleness. Her life was narrower than it had been at home -and Mrs. Sassaman and Mrs. Lebber were even less congenial -than the companions she had left behind. The amount of her -savings was growing, but very slowly.</p> - -<p>She wished Mrs. Sassaman well, bought her a wedding present -which she could ill afford, and on Thanksgiving Day accompanied -her and her farmer to the preacher's. Mrs. Lebber provided -a heavy and bountiful dinner which she felt to be a waste.</p> - -<p>"She will be back," she prophesied. "I don't mean that anything -will go wrong between them; that is not what I mean at -all. I mean that she and I do not have good luck with husbands. -Between us we have already lost three. I think this one is so -yellow. It is not that I cannot marry that I sit here."</p> - -<p>On the Sunday afternoon following Thanksgiving Ellen went -to walk. The air was mild, and the holiday on Thursday had -saved her from Sunday's usual exhaustion. She walked down to -the railroad station, intending, none too cheerfully, to go over -the course which she and her father had followed on a happy -day. In the Capitol she walked from room to room reconsecrating -herself to the divinity which she worshiped.</p> - -<p>Then she sought the river street. It was not yet twilight and -she walked slowly as she and her father had walked. She crossed -a bridge and looked back at the domes and spires. The city, -nestling against a background of blue hills, took on in the afternoon -sunshine the rich colors of a much older settlement. She -returned slowly, conscious of the beauty and of her own misery -and went northward as she and her father had gone.</p> - -<p>Here in the park, opposite the gray house which she had admired, -they had stood. The house remained exactly as it was.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> -She sat down, no suspicion of its ownership, no premonition of a -strange future stirring her, and looked now out across the quiet -river and now at the house. Only a few of the shades were raised—had -the occupants died also? Presently she believed that she -saw at a window in the third story a face with a black mark -upon it, but she did not regard it curiously or wonder whether -it was in some way disfigured, or whether a shadow fell upon it; -it was a face dull to her and her miseries. She dried her eyes -at first gently and then with an angry pressure, fearing that she -was going to cry hysterically as she had done several times after -her father's death.</p> - -<p>The gathering twilight made her the more conspicuous and a -man presently took a place on the other end of the bench and -asked her her trouble. His motive was simple friendliness, but -he reminded her of the creatures who had come at the stupid -beckoning of her eyes into the jewelry store, and rising quickly -she crossed the street, blind to a rapidly approaching automobile. -She escaped all but a glancing blow of the fender, but that threw -her against the curb.</p> - -<p>Picking herself up, bruised and angry and tremulous, she -found herself surrounded by the driver of the automobile, the -stranger from whom she had flown, and Fetzer, the owner of -the shadowy face which she had seen at the upper window. -Fetzer was alone and lonely and she had been watching Ellen. -She had a passion to which all else was subservient, the finding -of persons as trustworthy as herself to serve Stephen, and -she had been looking at Ellen critically from across the street -as she often looked at strong, plainly dressed young women. -Ellen assured them that she was not hurt.</p> - -<p>"It was my own fault. I was in a hurry and I didn't watch."</p> - -<p>The stranger came forward.</p> - -<p>"I saw you were in some trouble and I thought I might help -you. I didn't mean to frighten you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I understand," said Ellen earnestly.</p> - -<p>The chauffeur protested his innocence to Fetzer.</p> - -<p>"You saw her run across, didn't you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Fetzer laid her hand on Ellen's arm and spoke in an -idiom familiar to her. "Come in here once a little where I live."</p> - -<p>The chauffeur was still disturbed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I don't want to put the blame on any one else and run off."</p> - -<p>Fetzer saw three boys approaching rapidly.</p> - -<p>"I saw how it happened—it'll be all right. Now you come -with me."</p> - -<p>With authority she led Ellen through a little door at the back -of the house, and there in a small room Ellen saw a sofa and -sank down upon it.</p> - -<p>When she opened her eyes again it seemed to her that she -was at home and that Mrs. Sassaman was attending to some -childish injury. Gradually the articles of furniture appeared, -and presently she realized that the woman bending over her -was not Mrs. Sassaman, but a stranger.</p> - -<p>"You just lay still," Fetzer insisted with authority. "I -watched you and I said to myself, 'There's one in trouble'; and -I know what trouble is. I was coming to speak to you when you -ran across the street. Did you eat already?"</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head.</p> - -<p>"I'll bet that's what ails you. Is any one expecting you?"</p> - -<p>Again Ellen shook her head.</p> - -<p>"Then stay where you are."</p> - -<p>Fetzer moved about a small adjoining dining-room. Presently -she appeared in Ellen's field of vision wearing a white apron.</p> - -<p>"Can you walk into the other room?"</p> - -<p>With the help of a firm arm Ellen made the journey. Now she -saw Fetzer plainly, her neat little figure, her dreadfully scarred -cheek, the black patch across her eye, and the quick, queer -motions of her little head.</p> - -<p>She ate slowly and with appetite. Tears threatened to interfere -with the process of swallowing, but she choked down -food and tears together. The little room with its white cloth -and a few pictures and blooming geraniums was, after Mrs. -Lebber's grimy dining-room, like paradise. She had heard -from Millie enough stories about the luring of girls into magnificent -and evil resorts to have been very uneasy, but she was -not uneasy in the least.</p> - -<p>After a while she ventured a pleasantry.</p> - -<p>"My father used to tell about a man who said there were -three things he would never give up, the Democratic party, his -hope of salvation, and his good cup of coffee."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> - -<p>"That's me," said Fetzer, swallowing a long draught, "except -I'm no Democrat."</p> - -<p>When the dishes were disposed of, she sat down by Ellen, an -invitation to confidence in her one-sided glance. She believed -in special dispensations of Providence, and she was sure that -Providence had brought Ellen here.</p> - -<p>"Do you live in Harrisburg?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I do now," answered Ellen after a tearful pause. "I was -born near Ephrata. My parents are dead. I lived with Mrs. -Sassaman and Mrs. Lebber, but now Mrs. Sassaman is married. -I worked in a store at first, but now I work in a laundry."</p> - -<p>"What is your name?"</p> - -<p>"Ellen Levis."</p> - -<p>There was a brightening sparkle in Fetzer's eye. She liked -Ellen and she leaned forward and gazed at her more earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Would you consider other work, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"If I could better myself."</p> - -<p>Fetzer's eye gleamed still more brightly.</p> - -<p>"I'm housekeeper here. The family is away now, but they -will soon be back. The cook and the downstairs girl are colored -and they live outside. We need an upstairs girl who will live -here. The pay is eight dollars a week and you would have a good -deal of time to yourself, especially since you come from Lancaster -County and know how to work. I saw you sitting out -there and you looked like a reliable girl."</p> - -<p>Eight dollars a week! Mrs. Sassaman had received three. And -she could save it all! Other considerations were forgotten.</p> - -<p>"Do you think I could fill the place?"</p> - -<p>"You can try. When can you come?"</p> - -<p>"I could come to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Could you walk upstairs to see your room?"</p> - -<p>Ellen believed the journey was possible, and Fetzer led the -way into the narrow hall through which they had entered and -up two flights of stairs. There she pointed to a large bedroom.</p> - -<p>"That is mine, and yours is here."</p> - -<p>Ellen saw a small room with a narrow bed, a white bureau -and a chair. She saw also the river with its reflected lights.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I believe I should like it!" she said earnestly.</p> - -<p>As they went downstairs Fetzer announced her intention of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> -calling for an automobile and accompanying her guest home. -Ellen was not able to go alone—that was one reason. In the -second place now that Ellen stood erect and lifted her head -Fetzer felt her contract to be a little precipitate.</p> - -<p>But Fetzer found nothing amiss—indeed, she discovered -that she had known Mrs. Lebber's husband. From a place so -dreary she was glad to escape. She trusted Mrs. Lebber because -of the dinginess of her house and Mrs. Lebber trusted her because -of her homeliness. She told Mrs. Lebber the name of her -employer, but neither to her nor to Ellen did "Lanfair" carry -any significance.</p> - -<p>Ellen lay uncomfortably on her hard bed. She was bruised and -sore, but she was excited and happy. No one else would have -contemplated the change in her fortunes with satisfaction. -From being the center of the world, she had become merely an -unmarried sister-in-law, then a clerk in a store, then a mangler -in a laundry, and now a housemaid, written down in Mrs. -Fetzer's housekeeping book as "Ellen Lewis."</p> - -<p>But she believed that the tide of fortune had turned. She -counted on her fingers the black and white employees whom -Fetzer had mentioned. Fetzer had also said that extra women -came to do the hardest cleaning. Surely there would be time to -study!</p> - -<p>Kept awake by her aching bones she saw a smoothly flowing -river and a little table with books and tablets and neatly sharpened -pencils.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /> -<span class="smaller">MASTER AND MISTRESS</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Fetzer</span>, though small of stature and retiring of mien, had no -misgivings about her ability to manage the Lanfair house. Her -instructions to Ellen were given with as much positiveness and -intimacy of detail as though human destinies waited upon the -tying of an apron string.</p> - -<p>She stood with Ellen at the head of the broad main stairway -leading from the lower hall to the second floor, on every hand -closed mysterious doors, and there admonished her. The early -morning was bright and the river sparkled in the sun. Ellen's -body was sore, but her spirit marched bravely.</p> - -<p>"Now, what you don't need of this you don't have to take to -yourself." Fetzer cocked her smooth head upon one side and -looked at Ellen, her eye expressing increasing satisfaction -with her acolyte. "I give always this instruction; some don't -like it, but they do it; others don't like it and they leave, and -I'm glad they're gone—what <i>lumps</i> I had already—oh, my! -Well, a bath every day, morning, afternoon, or night, it makes -no difference, but a bath." Mrs. Fetzer liked to say "bath"; -the <i>th</i> was an achievement, <i>v</i> she had not conquered. "In the -morning a blue dress and white apron—every day a clean one, -you don't have to do the washing nor yet the ironing. In the -afternoon a black dress and a little apron and cap. I have some -you can borrow. Rubber heels on your shoes and always a low -woice. It should be our object in such a position to be as little -seen and heard as possible with faithfulness to our duty." The -last sentence had been memorized from "The Expert Maid and -How to Train Her." "We speak when we are spoken to and -we hear nothing that is not meant for us to hear. The mistress -in a well-conducted home respects the independence of her maid -and the maid respects the independence of her mistress. The -two spheres are on the same plane, but they do not commingle.</p> - -<p>"Now we go through the house." She spoke more briskly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> -glad that the theoretical portion of her address was safely delivered. -"This is her sitting-room."</p> - -<p>Ellen looked with awe at the large bay-windowed room with -its shrouded furniture.</p> - -<p>"This is her bedroom and bath. Further back are guest-rooms -and baths. Now on this other side are his bedroom and -dressing-room, and from there a stairway goes down to his office. -Now the other rooms on that side are guest-rooms, too, except -this small one which is for sewing and this one where brushes -and brooms and such things are kept." She pointed with pride -to the shelves. "Soap, towels, ammonia, cloths.</p> - -<p>"Upstairs, beside our bedrooms are other rooms for company -and storage-rooms. These two floors are your care, and sometimes -she may ask you to button a dress or something. Mostly -she don't like people round her."</p> - -<p>This comment upon her future mistress confirmed Ellen in -a vague suspicion that Mrs. Lanfair was an old woman. It was -like an old woman to need help and at the same time to resent -it. She had the kindliest of intentions toward her.</p> - -<p>Taken downstairs she was presented to the cook; then she -and Mrs. Fetzer had their breakfast together in the little dining-room.</p> - -<p>"They" were coming home, Fetzer said, in three weeks, and -after breakfast preparations to receive them were begun. Windows -were washed, curtains were unpacked and hung, and rugs -were unrolled from moth-proof wrappings. After the first few -days Fetzer left Ellen to proceed alone while she directed other -operations in distant parts of the house. So pleased was she -with her silent, capable assistant that, as she walked about, -even her gait a little sidewise, she sang her favorite revival songs.</p> - -<p>Harrisburg seen from the river front was a different place -from Harrisburg seen from above the railroad yards. One found -refreshment for one's eye at every glance, in fine old trees, -beautiful against the winter sky, in the broad river and in the -distant movement of trains on the other bank which suggested, -not showers of grime, but romantic journeys. Heard at this -distance their roar did not disturb sleep, but induced pleasant -dreams.</p> - -<p>One had at hand food for one's soul. Fetzer exhibited with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> -pride the long parlors and the library with its many cases of -books, its deep chairs, its blackened fireplace, and its shaded -lamps. She saw the hunger in Ellen's eyes.</p> - -<p>"You dare read them," she offered. "I take the responsibility."</p> - -<p>Ellen went with Fetzer to a Methodist church and there was -presented as "Miss Lewis." She felt for the first time the anomalous -character of her position which was uncomfortable even -though it was only temporary.</p> - -<p>Fetzer corrected her but once. At her suggestion Ellen bought -a winter dress and hat and coat, and when the new dress came -home, she put it on and inspected herself in the glass. The view -did not satisfy her. She studied her profile, then she unbraided -her thick hair and coiled it loosely on the top of her head. -Ringlets escaped and curled back on her neck and over her -forehead, low and broad and white, without wrinkle, like the -favorite forehead of mediĉval romance. She put on her dress -again and smiled and flushed as she did long ago when she -studied the effect of her red necktie.</p> - -<p>Fetzer flushed, but she did not smile. She laced and interlaced -her fingers and exhibited an uneasiness apparently inappropriate -to the occasion. Like Stephen, she misunderstood entirely -the vagaries of Hilda's mind.</p> - -<p>"I hardly knew you! It's all right for you and me when we're -by ourselves, but not for about your work. It's too fancy."</p> - -<p>Ellen smiled and braided her hair in the old fashion at the -back of her head.</p> - -<p>In mid-January Fetzer received the cablegram for which she -had been watching, and immediately the machinery of the establishment, -so carefully oiled and inspected, began to revolve. -She remained cool, though great matters waited upon her word.</p> - -<p>The doors were opened into the beautiful rooms and were -left open, shades were lifted, sunshine streamed in where it had -been long excluded, potted plants were set in jardinières, magazines -were arranged in orderly rows on the library table, fires -were laid and bells were tested. Even the odor of the house -changed; the faint mustiness vanished, and a sensitive Ellen -sniffed with delight the fragrance of flowers and the scents of -fine soaps placed by her in tiled bathrooms.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> - -<p>Through a door under the stairway drifted a new odor, the -faint, pleasant smell of drugs. Sent to the offices she trembled -with a sad and reminiscent delight. There were three large -rooms in line—a waiting-room with comfortable chairs and -books and plants and a canary in a sunny window, an office with -three desks and tall filing-cabinets, and beyond an examining-room -from which opened a little laboratory. In the second room -a short, middle-aged woman in a blue serge dress stood before -a filing-cabinet; in the third a tall nurse in a white uniform was -in the act of mounting a stepladder before one of many cupboards.</p> - -<p>"Are you Ellen?" the nurse called from the ladder. "I'm -Miss Knowlton and that is Miss MacVane. Fetzer says you -work quietly and you don't drop things. Those are fine compliments -from her."</p> - -<p>Ellen smiled. Miss MacVane lifted her head and glanced in -her direction, then bent closer to her work. Ellen went into the -inner room and held out her hands for the bottles.</p> - -<p>"Put them on the table, each shelf together."</p> - -<p>When the bottles were placed, she washed the shelves while -Miss Knowlton examined the drugs, pouring some away and -making frequent notes on a tablet.</p> - -<p>The next afternoon Ellen helped to complete the task. At -five o'clock everything was in order, even to a little stand on -Miss Knowlton's desk which held flasks of dilating fluids and -droppers. Miss MacVane was frequently called to the telephone.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow, yes." The telephone rang again. "To-morrow, -yes. Nine o'clock. I'll give you the first appointment. I'm sorry -to hear that."</p> - -<p>Many persons, it seemed, awaited the return of Dr. Lanfair.</p> - -<p>Fetzer went to the little side door, through which Ellen had -learned all the employees went and came, to speak to silent -Fickes, who brought round in succession three cars of different -styles and who said that doubtless the car which the boss -brought home would be fit only for the junk-heap.</p> - -<p>Ellen felt a growing excitement and a fear that she would -not know her part. She depended upon Fetzer to support her, -and Fetzer, as though she understood her anxiety, patted her -arm encouragingly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> - -<p>At ten o'clock Fickes brought his master and mistress home. -Ellen, bidden to open the door, saw Fetzer stand with one arm -upon the other like a feudal retainer while there entered a short, -slender woman and a tall man.</p> - -<p>It was the relation of one to the other in height which first -startled her—she had seen those figures before! For a moment -she was incredulous, then dumfounded; a moment more and -she realized her stupidity. No wonder that her father had stared -at this house! No wonder that he had come close to read the -doctor's name! Her knees trembled and excited thrills ran up -and down her body.</p> - -<p>Both the newcomers shook hands with Fetzer.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad to see you back!"</p> - -<p>There was a light, slightly scornful laugh.</p> - -<p>"Glad to see me too, Fetzer?"</p> - -<p>"I mean you too, Mrs. Lanfair."</p> - -<p>Ellen trembled. They had not looked at her, but what would -they say when they did? Would not Mrs. Fetzer be astounded? -How were explanations to be begun? Should she take a step -forward or wait for their eyes to find her? She hoped that she -would not cry!</p> - -<p>But her anxiety was wasted. Neither Stephen nor Hilda -greeted her, unless Hilda's careless "A new housemaid, Fetzer?" -could be called a greeting. She spoke as though the matter of -a new housemaid was one which concerned her only slightly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Mrs. Lanfair. Ellen Lewis is her name."</p> - -<p>At last Stephen nodded absently in her direction. He wore a -gray suit like the one he had worn at Ephrata. He moved and -spoke more quickly and nervously, and his lower lip twitched -occasionally.</p> - -<p>"Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and everything is in order." Fetzer looked at Ellen, -thinking sympathetically that she seemed afraid. The ways of -the Lanfairs had once paralyzed her, too.</p> - -<p>Hilda paused on the second step. She was more slender and -there was a queer change in her aspect; her dress was tawdry -and ill-fitting. Dr. Good would have detected from her appearance -and from her moroseness and indifference a marked advance -in her malady.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You can't wait till morning!" she said lightly.</p> - -<p>Fetzer lifted one of the bags.</p> - -<p>"Take this, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen followed Fetzer who followed Hilda to her bedroom. -Ellen did not look back; there would be no immediate and -dramatic presentation of herself. In the bedroom she set down -the bag where she was told.</p> - -<p>"You may go, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Obeying with relief she heard a question.</p> - -<p>"A little stupid is she, Fetzer? She looks stupid."</p> - -<p>Ellen went out into the hall and back to the door which led to -the service stairs. In her room she opened her books and finished -her evening's task. She had power of concentration equal to her -strength of purpose; besides, the event was too startling and -complex to be approached at once.</p> - -<p>An hour later, sitting up in bed with her hands clasped round -her knees, she heard the door open.</p> - -<p>"Are you awake yet?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Fetzer sat down on the foot of the bed. The pale moonlight -was not bright enough to show the flush on her cheek, but the -trembling of her body shook the bed.</p> - -<p>"Why, Mrs. Fetzer, what ails you?" Asking the question -Ellen believed that she understood. Mrs. Lanfair had spoken -unkindly.</p> - -<p>But Fetzer's thoughts were not upon Hilda.</p> - -<p>"I'd do anything in the world for him!" she declared.</p> - -<p>"For Dr. Lanfair?"</p> - -<p>"There are some that are just like beasts and some that are -all the while angels," wept Fetzer.</p> - -<p>Ellen waited. Neither description seemed to fit Lanfair.</p> - -<p>"If it weren't for him I'd be blind. I was shot once. My husband -shot me when he was drunk. He was good-for-nothing. -They gave up my eyes in the hospital, doctors and doctors -examined me and gave me up, both my eyes, but he wouldn't -have it. He watched me day after day, sitting sometimes for -hours by me. They told me, when they took the bandage off, -to look at the beautiful river." There was scorn in Fetzer's -voice. "I looked at him. He was more to me than any river."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>The multitude of her emotions kept Ellen silent.</p> - -<p>"Jim's in jail for another year. He got a long term. I've often -prayed that God would convert him and take him home. That's -the only thing for him."</p> - -<p>Ellen knew no consolatory word which seemed adequate.</p> - -<p>"She thought I was stupid!" said she at last.</p> - -<p>Fetzer answered coldly.</p> - -<p>"I hope you won't be spited at that!"</p> - -<p>"I'm not spited. Perhaps I am stupid."</p> - -<p>Fetzer rose from the bed.</p> - -<p>"I'm so tired I could drop. And nervous! Lay down and go to -sleep, Ellen."</p> - -<p>But sleep was not to be so easily commanded. Ellen sat long -with her hands clasped round her knees. The strange impressions -of that July afternoon came back to her; then in a wave grief wiped -out all recollection of Hilda's behavior. She had never ceased to -hope that she would find her father's friend, that he would in -some fashion help her; but now she had seen him and he had -not known her, had not even looked at her. She had no eyes -for his disquiet. She felt alone in the great house. Presently her -cheeks burned. She made no allowance for the transforming -years which had changed her into a woman. She resented their -failure to recognize her. When she was learned and famous and -not until then she would tell them who she was! Now she hated -them.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /> -<span class="smaller">A LOST SHEEP</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Grandfather Milhausen</span>, having heard the echoes of the -slamming door die away and the gate close with a loud click -after angry Matthew, began to pray. The traditional language -of petition was on his lips a powerful vehicle; noble periods -poured forth eloquently. He prayed as though the safety of the -universe depended upon his entreaties. He asked for the blessing -of God upon them all, and especially upon Matthew and Ellen, -and he asked specifically that Ellen be led to return with an -inclination to take up the great work which might be hers.</p> - -<p>He did not observe that he failed to lift his companion's spirit -with his own, and that along the treasured and brittle pages of -"The Mystic Dove" a desecrating pencil made angry strokes. -Matthew's account of Ellen's situation appalled Amos; the -evil influences of the world must already have been at work -upon her.</p> - -<p>Through a sleepless night Grandfather's anxiety deepened. -He reproached himself because since Levis's death he had -trusted too much to the softening influence of grief upon Ellen's -heart. He should have importuned her, he should have laid her -responsibility before her. The deep regret for his marriage and -his own consequent forfeiting of power returned. God had given -him another chance in his grandchildren—had he also forfeited -that? The consciousness of the immanence of God was -strong within him, but it was the immanence of a reproachful -God. He had slept when he should have watched and idled -when he should have toiled.</p> - -<p>Toward morning he began to pray, and at last, when he had -made a promise to God, he fell asleep. He would go to find Ellen -and would bring her back.</p> - -<p>The inertia of seventy-five was not overcome by a mere intention. -Emotion had exhausted him and in the morning he -could not rise. As he looked out day after day from his bed upon -the towering walls of the old buildings, he had blessed dreams<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> -which he did not deserve. He saw again the white-robed processions, -heard the matin songs, and sometimes he lifted his -hand and tolled an imaginary bell.</p> - -<p>When at last he was able to go, he declined the offer of Amos's -company. Amos had waited upon him with devotion; he was -his only anchor to windward; upon him alone he could wholly -depend; and therefore, as is natural to human nature, he valued -him a little the less.</p> - -<p>He did not begin his journey in the trolley car as did younger, -braver spirits—steam was sufficiently dangerous as a motive -power. Before he reached the railroad station he was the object -of interested observation by the villagers, who did not often -see him. It was one of the clear, bright mornings of Ellen's -early life at the Lanfairs', and the invigorating winter air acted -as a tonic to the old man. He looked about him with pleasure. -In his youth he had dreamed of adventure, of journeying to the -ocean which was not far away, but which he had never seen, -and of visiting the West toward which many Pennsylvania -Germans were then setting their faces.</p> - -<p>But his light-heartedness did not long continue. The sky -showed signs of change; fleecy clouds gathered, and the brightness -of the river was soon dimmed. With the shadow there fell a -cloud upon his spirit; he could not long hold any mood of youth.</p> - -<p>The miles of furnaces and mills astonished and troubled him, -signifying a great force which he felt was not of God, and when -he arrived in Harrisburg he was bewildered by the crowd. The -continual motion seemed to him to be in a circle, though in reality -the only circular motion was that about himself as he stood, -though bent, yet towering, prophet-like, gathering his faculties -together for the plunge into the street.</p> - -<p>He walked up the steep hill, pausing often to rest and -passing each moment into a deeper bewilderment. There were -moments when he could not recall, try as he might, the object -of his journey. Then he stood quite still looking about him with -dim, puzzled eyes.</p> - -<p>At the end of an hour, when he had at last reached Hill Street, -there had settled upon the city a thick mist in which black -particles were suspended. He found Number 34 without difficulty -and stood waiting until the rapid beating of his heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> -should subside. Ellen's face and figure were before him; he longed -for their reality as a lover longs for a sight of his mistress. She -was young and strong and she was a woman. Old as he was -Grandfather missed that complementary association of which -he had long been deprived. But he would not have accepted -this analysis of his feelings; he was a shepherd and Ellen was -his lost sheep; it was in that spirit that he sought her.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lebber's house still hung over the hill, it still sheltered -a sad spirit, and it still exuded when its door was opened the -same heavy odor. Mrs. Lebber appearing, blinked at Grandfather -as though she were not sure whether he was real or -whether he was a thickening of the mist into a human shape. -But the shape gave forth human speech.</p> - -<p>"Is my granddaughter, Ellen Levis, here?" he asked in his -thin old voice.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Lebber looked blankly upon the patriarchal figure. -Nothing would ever happen to her; she was as stationary as her -house and as gray as the mist, and the stories of other lives furnished -her only entertainment. She now scented mystery.</p> - -<p>"You'd better come in, then we can talk," she invited.</p> - -<p>Grandfather peered at her uncertainly.</p> - -<p>"You are Manda Sassaman's sister?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, her younger sister."</p> - -<p>Thus assured, Grandfather walked into the small parlor and -sat down upon the first chair. He did not perceive the dreariness -of the room; he perceived only the pleasant odor of food.</p> - -<p>"What time does my granddaughter come from her work?"</p> - -<p>"She's not here, she's gone this long time," announced Mrs. -Lebber. "First Manda went to get married. She is trying it for -the third time, but I don't believe she will have luck. She—"</p> - -<p>"Where is Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Well"—Mrs. Lebber folded her hands and began to rock -slowly. "One Sunday Ellen she said she would go for a walk, -and she didn't come and didn't come, and after dark she came -driving in an automobile, and I didn't know what to make of it. -She was down along the river where the rich ones live and she -got in front of an automobile, another automobile, that is. -It's very dangerous down there. Then I know a woman that -lives down there and she got a place for Ellen." Mrs. Lebber<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> -gave the impression that she had been the chief agency in Ellen's -finding a place and thus unintentionally counteracted the mysterious -insinuations of the first part of her speech. "It's on -Front Street, a very grand place."</p> - -<p>A grand place was to Grandfather an unsafe place.</p> - -<p>"I was married and my husband was killed through an open -switch which wasn't his fault and I never got enough for it. -Then Manda, she came to live with me, but it wasn't long till -she must go away and get married. I still say to her, 'Manda, -why did you come if you were not going to stay?' Then Ellen -came and now she is gone. There is no peace but in the grave." -Mrs. Lebber wiped away her tears.</p> - -<p>Grandfather did not dispute this opinion; he rose feebly, -animated by alarm. He must find Ellen quickly.</p> - -<p>"You needn't go," said Mrs. Lebber as though he too might -as well have stayed away as go so soon. "I have sauerkraut for -dinner." She quoted sadly a proverb meant to be cheerful, -"Sauerkraut und Speck treibt alle Sorge weg."</p> - -<p>A powerful temptation assailed Grandfather, but he resisted -it bravely. He must see his lamb.</p> - -<p>He found that descending the hill was more difficult than -ascending. His knees seemed to have grown too weak to bear -him up, and when he reached the station he could go no farther. -Snow had begun to fall, and he had no umbrella. He must get -home; he prayed God that he might succeed in getting home. -He saw the little cottage under the shelter of the old buildings—oh, -to be there, to lay his head upon his pillow!</p> - -<p>Amos met him at the train, his face full of hungry desire. -He knew that it was mad to hope that Grandfather would succeed -in persuading Ellen to live at the Kloster, but perhaps she -would bring him home. He had had a day of unusual freedom, -but he had read none of his books, making of his abstinence a -sort of petitionary offering. In the intervals of his teaching he -had put the cottage into thorough order. He saw, as he worked, -Ellen sitting under the lamplight, Ellen moving about. Perhaps -she would help to get the supper as she did in her childhood.</p> - -<p>When Grandfather got feebly down from the train, Amos -saw for the first time that this was an old, old man. Ellen did -not follow, and he guessed as he took his uncle's arm that there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> -was no good news. Grandfather did not speak, and even when -they had reached the cottage he sat for a while silently as -though waiting for his strength to return.</p> - -<p>"I couldn't find her," he said at last.</p> - -<p>"Why not? Isn't she with Manda Sassaman's sister?"</p> - -<p>"No. She's living with rich people on the main street. I -couldn't understand the woman exactly, but I have the name -and the number of the house. It's a very worldly place. I've -heard how such people occupy their time."</p> - -<p>Amos looked at Grandfather curiously. Grandfather knew -nothing of the world!</p> - -<p>"What do they do?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"They play cards," said Grandfather in a frightened tone. -"And read idle books, and their days are spent in pleasure-seeking. -They never think of God. They drink spirituous liquors. -There is no health of soul with such."</p> - -<p>Amos smiled a bitter smile. Grandfather did not know the -worst of them! What sort of pleasures did they seek?—ah, -Amos knew! He longed to be of them—he acknowledged it to -himself shamelessly.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do next?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to send a messenger to Ellen. You are to be my -messenger, Amos. It will not be pleasant to you, but you will -do your duty."</p> - -<p>Then Grandfather retired to his bed.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A CRISIS AT HAND</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the winter Ellen's attitude toward the house in which -she lived and toward all the occupants save one was that of an -observant pupil. She liked the house not alone for its slight -association with her father, but for its size, brightness, and -beauty and its ordered and elaborate life. She heard for a long -time no word or sound to make her suspect that the relation -of its master and mistress was not exactly as it appeared on the -smooth surface. She learned from Fetzer, an expert housekeeper; -she admired from afar Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane.</p> - -<p>She soon ceased to feel resentment toward Stephen—it -was after all not to be expected that so brilliant and important -a man should recall a young girl seen but once! She was not -tempted to disclose to him her identity. She put his room in -order; she heard the slamming door of his car; and sometimes -she caught a glimpse of his tall figure or received his "Good-morning." -She was glad that she had not called upon him for -help, but that she had made her own way. As the weeks passed -her position seemed less and less comfortable, and she longed to -be gone.</p> - -<p>She was conscious of the contrast between Hilda's butterfly -existence and the sober industry of all others in the house, but -she felt toward Hilda as Stephen had once felt, that she was by -nature different. She was astonished at her scant and diaphanous -clothing, at her lying in bed a large part of the day and -at her habit of smoking cigarettes, but her association with -her was limited. Her lowly position saved her from observation, -and in any case Hilda had no fear of youth or bodily attraction -for Stephen.</p> - -<p>Hilda's jealousy grew daily stronger. She heard one day for -a long time the sound of Stephen's voice, and at last she stole -into the passageway leading to his office. She could see him as -he sat on the end of Miss MacVane's desk, his arms folded, holding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> -forth steadily and earnestly and sometimes gayly. Miss -Knowlton sat in her informal fashion on the edge of her desk, -her attitude much like Stephen's.</p> - -<p>Hilda could not understand Stephen's medical discourse -and her inability maddened her and quickened her suspicions, -which, though they were insane, were yet terribly real. Why -did these women stay on year after year? Why did Stephen prefer -to work incessantly, to be with them, rather than with her? -Why had he given up friends and recreation? Why was he unwilling -to go away?</p> - -<p>She turned at this moment a new corner; she determined somehow -to punish these women, to get rid of them. Toward Miss -MacVane especially she developed suddenly a clearly defined -intention, unalterable, though not yet developed in its cunning -perfection.</p> - -<p>In the spring Ellen made a friend. Seeing in the paper the -announcement of an evening lecture on astronomy at the High -School, she went, recalling the rides with her father when he -had taught her the names of the constellations. Next to her sat -a familiar figure, Miss MacVane, who turned her thick glasses -upon her. For the first time in her acquaintance she really -saw Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Why, Ellen! Is it Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Miss MacVane."</p> - -<p>"Are you interested in astronomy?"</p> - -<p>"I like to learn all I can."</p> - -<p>"How much schooling have you had?"</p> - -<p>"I'm ready for college."</p> - -<p>Miss MacVane turned all the way round in her chair.</p> - -<p>"Are you going to college?" she demanded. Her voice expressed -not so much surprise as defiance; she seemed to dare -Ellen to go to college.</p> - -<p>"I hope to."</p> - -<p>"When?"</p> - -<p>"In the fall."</p> - -<p>"Well, of all things!" The weak eyes sparkled. "Now if you -want any advice, you come to me. I know all the ropes. No -registrar can tell me what course I want or don't want, nor -can any boarding-house creature charge me three prices."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen described the extent of her preparation and Miss MacVane -grew excited.</p> - -<p>"How foolish to think of staying for four years! Get it in -three! You can. You're no chicken—I mean you're old enough -to use your time and not to run after the men and dramatics. -Where are you going?"</p> - -<p>"I thought I'd go to a girls' college."</p> - -<p>"Oh, why don't you go to Cornell?" Miss MacVane spoke -with missionary zeal. "Don't shut yourself up with a lot of -little girls—you'll never stand it. Go where you may have -some independence. Cornell is—"</p> - -<p>But what Cornell was its admirer was prevented, by the arrival -of the lecturer, from explaining.</p> - -<p>"We'll continue this," she whispered, pressing Ellen's responsive -hand.</p> - -<p>When the lecture was over they walked together to the corner -and there let a half-dozen cars pass. Miss MacVane proved -to be an ardent advocate of education.</p> - -<p>"I was a cash girl—I didn't know any other name than -C-a-a-sh"—a passer-by turned a startled head—"I hadn't any -money. Have you money? Because if you haven't there's a fund."</p> - -<p>"If I could borrow just a little, then I could be sure of going -in the fall," said Ellen excitedly.</p> - -<p>"Of course you can borrow! To-morrow Doctor'll be away -and you bring your catalogues into the office. I'll help you."</p> - -<p>"You won't tell!"</p> - -<p>"Not a word," promised Miss MacVane.</p> - -<p>Ellen went home and sat by her window. It was late, but she -was wide awake. A gentle breeze fanned her cheek; trains rolled -far away to distant cities and mountains; a thousand lights -gleamed and happy voices rose from the park. She saw almost -within her grasp that for which she sighed. She was intensely -happy with almost her last unclouded happiness. One could -mould one's life if one had only determination enough, if one -would only sacrifice that which was not essential for that -which was. She thought with affectionate pity of Grandfather, -of Matthew, of Amos, even of Millie to whom she owed gratitude -because Millie had driven her away. She pitied every one -who was not Ellen Levis.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> - -<p>The next afternoon she took her books into the office, where -Miss MacVane sat with her back to the light and with a dark -shade over her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Ellen, I have to have drops in my eyes, and I told Miss -Knowlton that I believed you'd put them in after her hours so -that she won't have to stay. You will, won't you?"</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton brought a bottle of eye-wash.</p> - -<p>"It always stands right there in the corner and it's marked -'MacVane.' You can't miss it. The other bottle in the stand -is distilled water."</p> - -<p>Ellen watched the operation attentively. Miss MacVane's -blinking eyes were red-rimmed and her face was pale. When -Miss Knowlton had closed the door she burst out:</p> - -<p>"He actually keeps me seeing, Ellen. If he didn't watch, -I'd be blind—think of it! I'd do anything in the world for him—anything!" -She touched her eyes with her handkerchief and -winced. "I sewed my way through college—that's the trouble. -You'll have to read your catalogues to me; I can't see."</p> - -<p>Both women heard suddenly a light, clear laugh. Hilda was -coming in, accompanied by a gay companion. In the heart of -Miss MacVane burned a bitter resentment; she thought of the -millions of stitches she had taken with dim and aching eyes, and -of the price of one of Hilda's dresses which would have saved -her sight.</p> - -<p>A faint odor of cigarette smoke drifted along the hall and -through the door. Hilda was doubtless sitting in her favorite -corner of the library sofa, smoking. Miss MacVane's lips curved -downward. Sounds more distressing than the thin laugh had -penetrated through doors and traveled along passageways to -her ears, but she said nothing even to Miss Knowlton, though -she was aware that the ears of Miss Knowlton were as keen as -her own. Both women knew, as Fetzer sometimes suspected, all -that was to be known, at least all that Fetzer knew.</p> - -<p>For a few days Miss MacVane's eyes improved slowly. Each -afternoon Ellen escorted her to her car, and one day as she -walked back she saw standing and gazing at the river a tall -figure. She noted with amusement its immobility in contrast -with the ludicrous excitement of a flock of blackbirds that inflated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> -their bodies and hopped about near by; then, recognizing -the tall figure, she ran across the street.</p> - -<p>"Why, Amos!"</p> - -<p>Amos looked down at her. Grandfather had been ill, and this -was his first opportunity to execute the commission with which -he had been charged. He had meant to ring the bell, and to enter -the great and beautiful house, but his courage had failed and -he stood wondering what he should do. He was startled by the -change in Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Were you looking for me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered, trembling.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to walk?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"How is Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>"He was sick, but he's better."</p> - -<p>"And Matthew?"</p> - -<p>"I don't often see him."</p> - -<p>"And how are you?"</p> - -<p>Amos shifted his eyes uneasily. Nothing was well with him. -He had become a prey to melancholy and he was losing his faith -in God. His terror became at times physical as well as mental; -he feared that the Saal and Saron might fall upon him and crush -him; the whole universe was sinister, existence was torturing.</p> - -<p>"Everything is with me as it was," he said. "Uncle is greatly -worried about you. He's afraid you have come to a place where -there is worldliness."</p> - -<p>"What does he think I do?"</p> - -<p>"He thinks in such places they play cards and perhaps drink, -and are light-minded."</p> - -<p>"I dust and sweep and make beds, Amos, and when I'm -through I study. There are good women in the house and the -office and when I have spare time I spend it with them." She -accounted in detail for her presence here. "I wrote Matthew -all about it. I'm only here to earn money and in the fall I'm -going to college. There's nothing wrong with these people."</p> - -<p>Then Ellen flushed—remembering Hilda's bare shoulders, -the turn of her wrist as she flicked the ash of her cigarette—what -would Amos say to that?</p> - -<p>Amos saw the flush and felt his torturing suspicions return.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> -Were there any young men in the house? Did the doctor have a -son? Did they look upon Ellen with desire?</p> - -<p>"Oh, Ellen!" he said wildly. "I haven't anything in the world -but you!"</p> - -<p>Ellen saw the hungry eyes; hitherto they had roused only -pity—now they repelled.</p> - -<p>"What you want can't be, Amos."</p> - -<p>Amos plunged into fear that he had frightened her.</p> - -<p>"I'll never say anything more, Ellen!"</p> - -<p>They walked a few squares silently; then Amos said sadly, -"I won't go any farther; I'll go down the other street." He was -certain that he could trust her. There was no reason to be -jealous of ambition.</p> - -<p>When Ellen reached home she went upstairs and opening the -door at the back of the second story went to the linen closet. -The hall was bright with the light of the level sun and sweet -with the odors of spring flowers. She believed herself to be quite -alone and, Amos forgotten, stood still in intense enjoyment.</p> - -<p>But she was not alone; a shrill voice from Hilda's room announced -her presence.</p> - -<p>"I'm going to Aiken, I tell you!"</p> - -<p>Stephen's voice in answer expressed an eager desire to placate.</p> - -<p>"There's no reason why you shouldn't."</p> - -<p>"Are you going with me?"</p> - -<p>"I can't."</p> - -<p>"You can!" Uncontradicted Hilda went on more loudly, -"It's on account of the woman in your office!"</p> - -<p>"That's one of the reasons. I certainly can't let her go blind."</p> - -<p>"You are shameless—shameless!"</p> - -<p>Ellen closed the door softly. When her knees would carry -her, she went slowly to the third story. Fetzer sat behind her -closed door; she kept Stephen's worst troubles a secret from -herself when that was possible. She surmised with distress that -they had recently grown more acute. Now she opened the door -quickly.</p> - -<p>"Did you just come in, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Ellen, her face in shadow.</p> - -<p>"Well, you needn't do anything more downstairs."</p> - -<p>Ellen closed the door of her own room and stood against it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> - -<p>"How dreadful!" she said to herself. "It is she who is shameless."</p> - -<p>When she had had her supper she walked a little distance -along the river-bank to a favorite bench. She looked back at the -gray house and saw the moon shining on its irregular roof. -There were trees between it and her and it seemed to stand -isolated, a grim and solemn habitation.</p> - -<p>So Mrs. Lanfair was like that! How troubled Dr. Lanfair -must be! Resentment had now faded wholly, she was filled -with pity. Then suddenly in her dark eyes appeared the emotion -expressed by Fetzer's single eye, by Miss Knowlton's -pale blue orbs and by Miss MacVane's dim vision, the tenderness -with which most women regard a man who for some -reason is reduced from the superior position which should be -his. She longed, as they did, with her whole heart, to be of -some supreme service to him. Her wish was soon to be granted.</p> - -<p>When she went into the office the next afternoon to put drops -into Miss MacVane's eyes, she looked at her with curiosity. -She had not the remotest claim to beauty; she was short of -speech and sometimes irritable, and her thick glasses, without -which she could see nothing, disfigured her. It was not possible -that Mrs. Lanfair feared good Miss MacVane!</p> - -<p>Miss MacVane removed her green shade and her thick glasses, -and Ellen lifted the little rack and took from the bottle the -attached medicine-dropper. A penetrating odor frightened her.</p> - -<p>"I'm ready," said Miss MacVane patiently. "I'm better, -thank God!" The expletive was heartfelt—she did thank God.</p> - -<p>Ellen's hand poised motionless above the little vials.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Why—" began Ellen.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Miss MacVane blinked unseeing.</p> - -<p>Still Ellen made no motion. There was something wrong. -Ammonia was not a medicament for the eye, but the lotion -seemed to be pure ammonia!</p> - -<p>"What is it, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Ellen believed suddenly that she understood what had -happened—Dr. Lanfair had made a mistake. Her next act, -quickly conceived and executed, was like a protecting gesture. -Into her eyes came again the expression with which Fetzer and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> -Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane regarded their master. -No wonder that he had made a mistake! She put deliberately -into Miss MacVane's eyes two drops of distilled water.</p> - -<p>When Miss MacVane had gone, Ellen stood holding the bottle -and looking at it. What should she do now? Had she behaved -with unwarrantable officiousness? She stood in the same spot -holding the bottle in her hand when Stephen entered and stared -at her in surprise and then in amazement. For an instant they -regarded each other, for the first time straightforwardly. A -vaguely disturbing recollection troubled Stephen's mind and -then was immediately lost in a sharper emotion.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>Ellen grew pale and her knees weakened. But it was better -to have been unwarrantably officious than to have used the -wrong medicine!</p> - -<p>"I've been putting drops into Miss MacVane's eyes in the -afternoon, so that Miss Knowlton wouldn't have to stay, and -to-day there's something wrong with it."</p> - -<p>Stephen took the flask roughly.</p> - -<p>"It's different from yesterday," said Ellen, "there's a great -deal more of it, and there's an odor."</p> - -<p>Stephen held the little bottle with both hands.</p> - -<p>"If I did wrong, I'm sorry. I can go to Miss MacVane's -house if you want me to."</p> - -<p>At last Stephen looked up.</p> - -<p>"Couldn't you smell this stuff?" he demanded. "Couldn't -she? Where is she?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't use it!" cried Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you didn't!"</p> - -<p>"I used distilled water. I didn't say anything to her."</p> - -<p>Stephen looked at his housemaid, bewildered.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you?"</p> - -<p>"I thought it was your mistake and that I'd better tell you."</p> - -<p>"You say the solution was all right yesterday?"</p> - -<p>"I think so."</p> - -<p>"It didn't burn?"</p> - -<p>"No; I'm sure it didn't."</p> - -<p>His gaze held Ellen's eyes helplessly. He tried vainly to remember -her name, but at any rate her name didn't matter.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Was this bottle in its usual place?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Stephen grew white; his hand trembled and he set the rack -with the little vials down quickly.</p> - -<p>"Tell Fetzer to come here, please."</p> - -<p>Ellen climbed to the third story and found Fetzer in her room. -Hilda had gone motoring and the house was soundless.</p> - -<p>"What ails you, Ellen?" asked Fetzer. "You look so queer."</p> - -<p>"Dr. Lanfair wants you to come to the office."</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," answered Ellen honestly.</p> - -<p>She went into her room and stood looking out the window. -He had not even thanked her! Could the mistake have been -Miss Knowlton's? What had Fetzer to do with it? Perhaps he -had called for Fetzer on other business. Five minutes passed, -ten minutes, and she stood looking down upon the river.</p> - -<p>When her bell rang she went to the office, and was there -bidden to close the door, whether by Stephen or Fetzer she did -not know. She saw only two white faces. Fetzer had sat down -because she could not stand. Ammonia in eye-wash—she -knew how that would madden and perhaps destroy! Her hand -covered her scarred cheek. Vividly recollected sensations paralyzed -her mind; she sought as yet no solution of this strange -event, but dwelt only on the imagined agony.</p> - -<p>"Fetzer tells me that you use ammonia for household purposes," -said Stephen. "Where do you keep it?"</p> - -<p>Ellen's eyes sought Fetzer's for confirmation.</p> - -<p>"In the cupboard in the hall."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever missed any?"</p> - -<p>"Why, no!"</p> - -<p>"Does any one but yourself go to the cupboard?"</p> - -<p>"No"—then Ellen corrected herself. She still spoke straightforwardly -and innocently. "Mrs. Lanfair got some there yesterday; -she filled one of the engraved bottles from her bathroom; -at least I think so."</p> - -<p>"What makes you think so?"</p> - -<p>Ellen flushed.</p> - -<p>"Because I saw that a new bottle had been opened, and when -I cleaned Mrs. Lanfair's bathroom I saw there was ammonia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> -in her violet water bottle. I think she probably wanted to clean -a chain or something."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," said Stephen.</p> - -<p>When Ellen had gone he looked down at the floor and Fetzer -looked at him. Her lips had parted; she pressed her hand against -them as though to close them. She had always known that Hilda -was a wicked woman, but not that she was as wicked as this!</p> - -<p>Ellen climbed the steps slowly. She heard presently Hilda's -motor stop at the door, and Hilda come upstairs. Then quiet -fell once more. After an hour the door of the motor slammed -again—Stephen and Hilda had gone out to dinner. She heard -late at night the sound of their return. She had remembered -now suddenly and clearly a forgotten detail of their visit to the -farmhouse.</p> - -<p>"Dementia, Father!" she heard herself say. "Who has dementia?"</p> - -<p>She looked at her open door. Did she hear the sound of a -creeping approach? She sat upright. If she closed and locked -her door she would leave Fetzer to the mercy of she knew not -what. But she would lock the door at the head of the stairs; then -they would both be safe. But she might shut out a call for help! -Did she hear now a half-smothered voice? She rose and slipped -barefooted into the passage. There she saw a small dark figure.</p> - -<p>"Is that you, Ellen?" asked a sharp voice.</p> - -<p>"I thought I heard a noise."</p> - -<p>"You were dreaming. It was nothing. Go back to bed and -shut your door."</p> - -<p>Ellen obeyed, and Fetzer sat down on the upper step from -which she had risen, and suddenly the clock struck two. The -sound of voices was not imaginary.</p> - -<p>"Can't you sleep, Hilda?"</p> - -<p>"No, I can't sleep."</p> - -<p>"Is there anything I can do for you?"</p> - -<p>"You can attend to your own affairs."</p> - -<p>Fetzer's eyes sought longingly the window at the end of the -hall. If morning would only come! She guessed now what -ailed her mistress, and her kind heart ached with remorse and -terror. Madness—she knew what madness was!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A STRANGE JOURNEY</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mayne</span> answered Stephen's telephone call with his usual -abounding cordiality. He was glad to hear Stephen's voice and -he had been thinking about running up to spend the night. Yes -he could come very soon—and bring Dr. Good?</p> - -<p>"And bring Dr. Good," he repeated. "Did I understand you -correctly?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You wish Good to come professionally?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, as soon as possible."</p> - -<p>Mayne understood the significance of the invitation. He was -not prepared to meet this emergency, forewarned though he had -always been. He mopped his brow. His hair was now entirely -gray, but he was still ruddy of complexion and possessed a boy's -vigor of body. A chill fear passed over him, not only for Hilda, -but for himself.</p> - -<p>"Lanfair has requested me to bring you to Harrisburg," he -explained to Dr. Good. "I anticipate some serious development. -I had begun to believe my fears to be groundless." He mopped -his forehead again. "It is distressing. I judge there has been -some acute crisis, but when I called her to announce our prospective -visit—I suggested to Lanfair that I do that—her voice -sounded natural."</p> - -<p>He had a moment with Stephen upon their arrival and reported -the result of his interview to Dr. Good—whispered it, -though they were alone in Good's bedroom with the door closed. -His alarm grew hourly stronger. One of his aunts had become -violent, had lived for several years in an asylum, and had at last -put an end to her life.</p> - -<p>"It seems that Hilda has taken an intense dislike to a half-blind, -middle-aged woman in Lanfair's office and resented the -fact that he felt it professionally necessary to remain here to -watch this woman's eyes when she wished him to accompany -her away. She is known to have taken ammonia from the household<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> -supplies the day before ammonia was put into this Miss -MacVane's eye-wash. The woman is a harmless lonely soul -whom Lanfair saved from blindness."</p> - -<p>Dr. Good shook his head. He was a small man remarkable -for his bright eyes, his large steel-rimmed spectacles, and a -strong Pennsylvania German accent which he would never lose.</p> - -<p>"If a homicidal mania is developing, as frequently happens -in such cases," he said, "she should be confined at once. Lanfair -should be persuaded of the necessity for it. She should be -got quietly to the King Sanatorium."</p> - -<p>Dr. Good was secretly glad that the problem of transportation -was not his. He remembered that Lanfair had been comparatively -a poor man—he had paid dearly for his riches!</p> - -<p>The problem of transportation proved to be, however, quite -simple. Hilda greeted her guests at dinner. It was a season when -dress patterns were scant and she wore little, but her slender -body appeared to be inadequate to sustain even her bright, -filmy dress and her string of pearls. She seemed to be becoming -as ethereal as the smoke of the cigarettes which she so constantly -used. Dr. Good was quick to observe that she was suspicious and -uneasy, that she seemed to be under great tension. It was by no -means improbable that a crisis was at hand.</p> - -<p>Poor Hilda welcomed her uncle. She was miserably conscious -of the turmoil within, and she felt that his presence would steady -her. Several times she put out her hand toward him across the -corner of the table and he covered it with his own.</p> - -<p>"But your hand is cold!" cried Hilda. "What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing is the matter," answered Mayne with a nervous -cough. He felt that they surrounded her, three great men, like -enemies, a fluttering, helpless creature in her own house. She -should not be confined unless there were no other way. She was, -as far as he could see, wholly normal. While Good talked to -Stephen about a problem with which both ophthalmists and -psychiatrists were concerned, he clasped Hilda's hand a little -more closely.</p> - -<p>It may have been that his ill-concealed anxiety and alarm -roused her suspicions, or that the cunning plan which she believed -that she was carrying out excited her beyond the point -of safety; it may have been merely that her disease advanced<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> -rapidly to a climax. Suddenly she felt that he—that they all—were -against her. It was no longer possible for her to restrain -herself. She began to stammer and to point her forefinger at -Stephen. Hers was the dreadful gaze of a bird at a snake or a -prisoner at a hated jailer.</p> - -<p>"Uncle," she said earnestly in her clear, high voice, "he's -not true to me." The three men heard; so did Ellen, impressed -into service by the absence of the waitress, and so did Fetzer in -the pantry. "I can tell you about the many, many women. I -can—"</p> - -<p>"As I was saying, ..." went on Dr. Good.</p> - -<p>"Hilda, I have something to tell you," said Mayne, desperately.</p> - -<p>But Hilda would not be silenced. She rose, pushing away from -her the silver tray with its coffee service and its delicate cups. A -flask of cognac which was not well balanced fell with a light crash -upon a piece of fragile china; then her hands, spread suddenly -apart in a frantic gesture, sent her pearls in all directions.</p> - -<p>"You'll listen while I tell you everything! You'll—"</p> - -<p>A terrified, watchful Fetzer came a little beyond the screen -which stood before the pantry door. She knew the purpose of -their coming—did they understand that Hilda was really mad, -and did they know that madness was cunning and quick and -dangerous?</p> - -<p>Hilda turned her head and looked at Fetzer, her hatred leaping -to her eyes.</p> - -<p>"There is one of them, Uncle!" As Mayne rose she threw -herself into his arms. "I want to go home with you!"</p> - -<p>Mayne's eyes filled with tears.</p> - -<p>"Now?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Can you prepare to go at once?"</p> - -<p>Hilda fixed her eyes upon Ellen who had neither pretensions -to learning nor connection with Stephen's hated work.</p> - -<p>"She'll help me." She looked about wildly and Mayne and -Ellen guided her up the stairs.</p> - -<p>"I'll give you some medicine to make you feel better, then -this girl will assist you." Mayne was trembling. It was, alas, -not to his house that they would take poor Hilda!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen helped the shivering figure into a street dress. The -medicine began to have its effect; Hilda grew drowsy and lost -control of her tongue. When Mayne returned she pointed to Ellen.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Hilda? Are you afraid of her?"</p> - -<p>Hilda shook her head.</p> - -<p>"Do you wish her to accompany you?" Even in moments -like this Mayne chose his words.</p> - -<p>Hilda nodded and Mayne went to speak to Stephen. When -he returned they helped Hilda down the stairs. She became more -drowsy and had difficulty in finding the step of the throbbing -motor. She laid her head on Ellen's shoulder and Ellen steadied -her with her arm. The car gave a premonitory whirr, then it -seemed to spring ahead. It did not move as though guided by -the expert hand of Fickes and Ellen realized that Stephen was -at the wheel and that Dr. Good sat beside him.</p> - -<p>Once in the long journey Mayne asked a question.</p> - -<p>"Isn't Mrs. Lanfair heavy against your shoulder?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Ellen.</p> - -<p>Mayne's voice was thick and Ellen herself had shed tears.</p> - -<p>At eleven o'clock the car stopped beneath a <i>porte-cochère</i> -and a nurse and two orderlies came down the steps. They received -poor Hilda tenderly and with businesslike hopefulness. -The three men followed the little procession into the lighted -doorway.</p> - -<p>Until they reappeared, a space of time which seemed long, -but which was in reality short, Ellen looked up at the beautiful -doorway and at the dimly outlined ornamental shrubbery. A -stranger had now joined Lanfair and his companions and together -they approached the car.</p> - -<p>"She'll sleep till morning, Stephen, then I'll be here, and -Good also. We'll go into the city for the night."</p> - -<p>Ellen heard a new voice, smooth, a little hesitating, and very -kind. Dr. King had new theories and indestructible enthusiasm, -and his experiments were being eagerly watched.</p> - -<p>"I should advise against the patient seeing you at once, Dr. -Lanfair."</p> - -<p>"I understand," answered Stephen. He looked frowning at -the car.</p> - -<p>"That girl's got to be taken back. I may as well go home."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> - -<p>"She has comported herself admirably." Mayne raised his -voice so that Ellen might hear.</p> - -<p>Stephen stepped into the car as one who feels his way. He -looked at Ellen as though her outline were dim.</p> - -<p>"You'd better sit beside me. It will be rough riding there on -the back seat."</p> - -<p>He did not speak again until the journey was almost over, -when, in the city limits, he slackened his speed.</p> - -<p>"You've been of great service—" again he tried vainly to -remember Ellen's name.</p> - -<p>Ellen wiped her eyes.</p> - -<p>"I'm very sorry for her," she said.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Stephen heavily. His own eyes smarted, though -he had never expected to shed tears for Hilda.</p> - -<p>Fetzer, hearing the motor, opened the door. She felt, it must -be confessed, a little jealousy—it was she who should have -helped Stephen! She climbed with Ellen the narrow stairway at -the back of the house, and Stephen went up the broader stairway -to his dressing-room. She sat with Ellen while she got ready -for bed.</p> - -<p>"It was God's will that the colored girl was out," she said -devoutly. "Nobody will know anything. Even those women -in the office don't need to know, ain't it so, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"I shan't tell them."</p> - -<p>Fetzer rose and laid her hand across her cheek.</p> - -<p>"Most people think he laid all this time on a bed of roses. But -we know."</p> - -<p>Ellen lay down and pushed the pillow away and turned over -on her face, her cheek on her arm. Her heart throbbed, her -cheek was flushed. The strange journey, Stephen's eyes, his long, -slim hand, the touch of his arm against hers as she stepped to her -place beside him, the darkness, the swift, unbroken pace, once -a deep breath—all passed through her mind. She did not think -coherently; she merely recalled each detail with nervous excitement.</p> - -<p>Stephen wheeled his bed to the bay-window from which he -could look out upon the river. Sleep was far from him. It was -many years since he had thought of Hilda with tenderness, but -he thought of her tenderly now. After a while he rose and went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> -across to her rooms and sat down. The low moon illuminated -some of the luxurious furnishings and cast others into shadow. -He sat motionless, recalling the early days of his devotion, the -hours of dreaming before Edward Levis's meager fire, Hilda's -advances, his shy response, his rapture.</p> - -<p>Then other recollections thronged, and face and heart burned. -He rose quickly. He would not think of her unkindly in this -house, nor in this hour, now that she was gone. No blame could -be imputed to her; she was a creature unfinished, spoiled, ill. -He wished that he had been as patient in his heart as he had been -unfailingly kind in his behavior. Now she was gone, she could -trouble him no more, harass him no more, embarrass, shame, -terrify him no more. He went to his bed and to sleep.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN UNHAPPY SCHOLAR</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">No</span> sooner had Amos let Ellen go away from him than he regretted -his foolishness. He might as well have walked back with -her to the house where she lived and thus have been much longer -in the half-paradise, half-purgatory of her company. He did not -cross to the next street as he had intended, but walked rapidly -after her.</p> - -<p>The sun was setting and the river was bathed in golden light. -Over all lay a spell broken only by bird-songs. Men and women -walked slowly; a succession of lovers wandered arm-in-arm; -automobiles moved quietly; and occasionally a pair of horses -trotted briskly by, drawing a mistress who clung, for this hour -at least, to the vehicle of an older time. But Amos saw neither -the river nor the pedestrians nor heard the bird-songs; his eyes -were fixed ahead searching for a figure which had already -vanished.</p> - -<p>When he reached Ellen's habitation a sheltering twilight had -fallen and he sat down on a bench in the park. He saw lights -shine here and there and he thought that she might be lighting -them, though his idea of her duties was still vague. After a while -he hid his face in his hands. The ways of the world, the quickening -of the pulse as night drew on, the intercourse of delicate, -silken-clad women and predatory men, the prospect of fond -assignations, the eluding of watchful wives and guardians—it -was the world of Evelyn Innes and Anna Karenina in which -Ellen was moving, though only a narrow space of street and -wall divided her from him. He felt that he should go mad.</p> - -<p>Presently he saw that a car had glided into place before the -Lanfair house. The door opened and let out a soft glow and at -once a tall man and a short woman came down the steps and -drove away. The man helped his companion into the car with -careful solicitude—it was, except for one, the last drive which -Stephen and Hilda were to have together. Amos saw himself and -Ellen going thus happily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<p>When it was quite dark he rose and went on his way, past -other handsome houses to a cross-street by which he approached -the square. There again he stood still as though his powers of -locomotion were sufficient to carry him only a short distance. -The large, open space wore an air of festivity. In the center, as -from the center of a spider's web, street-cars started to suburban -districts, and round this center circled perpetually the gleaming -lights of automobiles. In a still wider circle coincident with the -pavement moved the human throng. At the curb stood more or -less permanent groups held by the eloquence of a traveling -quack or soap-vender.</p> - -<p>The largest group listened to the loud singing and tambourine-playing -of the Salvation Army, and Amos, hearing their music, -moved idly toward them. The company was made up of two -men and three women to whom religion was not a dull habit, -but a burning passion, and on whose faces were recorded struggles -as fierce as his own. Their leader was a short man with immensely -broad shoulders and a countenance which expressed an almost -savage earnestness. He had mounted a box in order to be seen -and he was speaking rapidly, reminding his audience that they -were sinners who needed a Saviour. He gesticulated with disproportionately -large hands, hardened by work in the steel mill. -He did not hold work to be a curse but a means of salvation.</p> - -<p>Amos gazed without seeing and heard without understanding. -Presently he moved on down the street, looking absently at -jewels and boxes of candy and delicate slippers. In the window -of the department store he saw a sign, "New Titles in the -Thinker's Library." Alas, the store was closed!</p> - -<p>When he reached the Kloster it was almost midnight, but -Grandfather was awake and spoke feebly as soon as the door -opened.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>The vague question was startling. For an instant Amos could -not remember the object of his journey.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes," he cried catching his breath, "I saw her; she's all -right; she works hard."</p> - -<p>"Will she come home?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Amos. He stood with bent head, looking at the -floor. He felt a sharp envy of Ellen. After a while a slight movement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> -startled him. He saw Grandfather standing in the doorway. -He had wrapped the sheet about him and might have -passed for the importunate ghost of the King of Denmark. It -seemed to Amos that Grandfather had been looking at him for -a long time.</p> - -<p>"Did you try to persuade her to come home?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Amos vaguely.</p> - -<p>"And she wouldn't listen?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Grandfather went slowly back into his room and lay down. -After a while he uttered a sigh which seemed unending.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /> -<span class="smaller">A PROJECTED ATONEMENT</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Stephen's</span> forty-second birthday fell upon the day on which he -made the final arrangements for Hilda's residence at the King -Sanatorium. He had not seen her because she was obsessed by -fear of him, and he sat in the office until the superintendent returned -with Mayne and Dr. Good. Even Dr. King, sanguine as -his temperament was, was in this case not hopeful.</p> - -<p>"The family history is not encouraging," he explained, with -deepest commiseration for Stephen, deprived before middle life -of an attractive companion. "But you must not despair."</p> - -<p>"Is her physical condition also likely to grow worse?" asked -Mayne. He did not mop his brow upon this occasion; he felt, -not without self-reproach, a deep relief.</p> - -<p>"We can't prophesy about that. We have had patients of her -type who have lived for a long time and others who lived only a -few months."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by a long time?"</p> - -<p>"Well, for some years," said Dr. King in his kind voice.</p> - -<p>Stephen rose and took his hat from the table. He was depressed -and intensely nervous. Mayne's large body and the -superintendent's sympathy and Dr. Good's bright, observant -eyes irritated him.</p> - -<p>"She's to have, of course, every possible attention. You have -Professor Mayne's address and mine."</p> - -<p>"We make weekly reports unless we are directed otherwise. -In case of an unusual development we should telephone you. -You understand, Dr. Lanfair, that Mrs. Lanfair's attitude toward -you is a part of her malady?"</p> - -<p>"I understand perfectly."</p> - -<p>At the door Mayne and Stephen bade one another good-bye. -Both remembered a thin, eager boy with a black band on his -gray sleeve and a short, slender, black-eyed girl.</p> - -<p>"It's hard on you, Stephen."</p> - -<p>"And on you."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen stepped into his car beside Fickes. For a while he -stared at the floor, his arms folded, his mind a blank. Gradually -the expression of his eyes changed, the pupils darkened. There -waited for him at the hospital a woman who had hastened a -slow fire with coal oil; the problem was even more difficult than -that of Mrs. Fetzer, but he had determined to solve it. He -planned a course of treatment. He would offer to take the next -twenty burned cases at the hospital.</p> - -<p>Presently he lifted his head and glanced about at a landscape -which recalled his visit to Edward Levis—was it two years or -ten since he had made his sudden descent upon him? Here was -a friend! He believed that he could even tell Levis his troubles; -it would do him good. He sat a little more erectly.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly an electric thrill passed through his body. He -was free! Tears pressed upon his eyelids—he turned his head -so that Fickes might not see them—tears of profound relief. -What anxiety and torment had been his! And it was past, decently -past, and he had played the part of a man throughout. -Moreover, no public shame, no irremediable disaster had terminated -the nightmare. Hilda's valedictory was heard by only a few -persons,—her uncle, Dr. Good, Fetzer, upon whose devotion -he could stake all that he had in the world, and this unknown -but apparently trustworthy creature through whose quickness -a serious calamity had been avoided. He would tell Miss Knowlton -and Miss MacVane where Hilda was, and he would inform -a few of the older friends whom she had inherited from her -parents, and to whom she had paid an indifferent attention; -then all would be concluded except the pitiful end of her poor -life.</p> - -<p>They had begun to descend the hill toward the Kloster, and -Stephen looked at it curiously. When he visited Levis they -would come over here and prowl about. Ah, there were a thousand -things to do in the world, a thousand places to visit! Hilda -had liked only main-traveled roads on which there were theaters -and shops; they had never seen the interesting countries, the -Far North, the tropics, Ceylon, Carcassone, the church of Brou, -the Far East. He was able to smile at the old white-bearded man -pottering about among the graves in the cemetery of the Kloster, -as though he smiled at Time himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> - -<p>Opening the door of his office he found Miss Knowlton and -Miss MacVane and went at once to work. There were a dozen -patients waiting, and as many to be informed that he had returned. -Miss Knowlton smiled at Miss MacVane when he began -to prescribe for a patient whose treatment would be extended. -He meant evidently to stay. But at other times he had meant -to stay and had been persuaded to go away. When he said that -Hilda was in the King Sanatorium they expressed their regret -and went on with their work. They were conscientious souls and -both felt a vague self-reproach.</p> - -<p>When he had had his dinner he returned to his office. But he -was tired; he would go for a walk. The night was clear, the air -soft, and the river reflected the stars. He ran up to his room, -where he found his housemaid engaged in laying back the covers -of his bed. Ellen expected to go out and she had coiled her hair -on top of her head in the transforming fashion condemned by -Fetzer. She looked up and answered Stephen's "Good-evening" -with a bright flush. Her heart beat quickly; it seemed to her -now that it was never quiet. Stephen looked at her, confused, -as though she were a stranger.</p> - -<p>"It's a warm night, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen, "but there'll be a breeze from the river."</p> - -<p>"Are you fond of the river?"</p> - -<p>"It gets to seem like a friend."</p> - -<p>She smiled and moved toward the door. She had learned her -lesson well; while she was a housemaid she would do as housemaids -did—or should. She carried with her now a pleasant -anticipation—she had changed her mind, some day she would -tell Stephen who she was. But the time was not yet ripe. In the -doorway she paused.</p> - -<p>"Would you like me to move your bed to the bay-window -each evening?"</p> - -<p>Stephen was watching her free walk and her straight shoulders -and wishing for some young creature to walk and talk with, -some boy or girl like this.</p> - -<p>"Did you speak to me?"</p> - -<p>She repeated her question.</p> - -<p>"O, thank you; I'll do that when I want to sleep there."</p> - -<p>He decided not to walk; he would call on Dr. and Mrs. Salter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> -and tell them about Hilda and ask them to tell certain other -persons. It was a duty which seemed suddenly pressing.</p> - -<p>He continued through the spring to work all day and a part of -the night. He had never felt more alert; after a while he attributed -his alertness to freedom from anxiety. What might a man -not accomplish under circumstances which were entirely favorable—with -health and fortune and domestic happiness?</p> - -<p>It was with a sense of amusement that he found himself thinking -presently of the one creature in his house who was young. -It was pleasant to meet her once or twice a day and see the color -deepen in her cheeks. He did not realize that it was meeting -him which made her flush; it was simply that she had color -which came and went easily. She was always quiet, always <a name="p190_obstrusive" id="p190_obstrusive"></a>unobtrusive, -always low-voiced. She smiled, but he had never -heard her laugh.</p> - -<p>He began to be curious about her, but he asked no questions -either of her or of Fetzer. He would learn, of course, that she -was merely a dull country girl and the impression of intelligence -given by a single instance of quick-wittedness would vanish -when she began to talk. She seemed to have within her some -spring of interest or satisfaction, but he could not guess what it -was. But dull or not, she was very lovely.</p> - -<p>Then one warm, bright night when sleeping seemed a waste -of time, Stephen found his narrow bed pushed to the window. -He smiled; then suddenly he grew pale and turned on his heel -and began to walk up and down the room. He folded his arms -across his breast as though to hold by force some leaping savage, -unrighteous, thing. He was not so much appalled as astounded. -He went down to his office and brought up Farmingham on the -Muscles of the Eye. At three o'clock he laid the book down and -turned out his light, smiling a little weakly at himself. He refused -to connect this absurdity with any individual; he believed -it was an effect of too close application to work.</p> - -<p>In a third-story room neatly arranged was the overflow of his -professional library, pamphlets and magazines which waited -binding, and books which had passed their usefulness, but which -he might still need for reference. On the day after his vigil, -going thither to find a pamphlet, he passed Fetzer's room and -came to the door of Ellen's room. There he saw Ellen's little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> -bed, her table with its books, its neatly sharpened pencils, its -vase of flowers. All was sweet and virginal and childlike. He remembered -that Fetzer had said long ago that the girl studied; -he was curious about her studies. He stepped in and lifted the -three books from the table. The first was a geometry, the second -a general history, the third a copy of "Vanity Fair" from his -library. In the geometry lay several sheets of paper covered -with neat triangles and circles.</p> - -<p>He found his pamphlet and went downstairs slowly. He was -indebted to this girl who had helped him in a hard place. Did -she wish more education?—if so there was no reason why her -ambition should not be gratified. He was positive now that she -was superior to her present situation. His savings were large and -his income constantly increasing; it would be pleasant to help -an ambitious student. A comfortable philanthropic glow quite -banished his lingering disgust at last night's unpleasant experience.</p> - -<p>After dinner he rang for Ellen, who came to his study a little -frightened. She had changed her black uniform for a white -dress. Stephen knew her straight shoulders and her free step, -but he had never realized quite the depth of her gaze when her -eyes were squarely encountered.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen took the chair indicated to her. The light shone full on -her dark hair and her round chin and white neck. Something -stirred again in Stephen's breast.</p> - -<p>"Fetzer tells me you're a student."</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Ellen, blushing.</p> - -<p>"What do you study?"</p> - -<p>"Geometry and history and English and other subjects."</p> - -<p>"Why do you study?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to college."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you are! When?"</p> - -<p>"In September—that is, if I can make certain arrangements."</p> - -<p>"What arrangements?"</p> - -<p>"If I can pass the examinations. Miss MacVane thinks I can -enter the Sophomore class. I'm arranging to borrow a little from -a fund for students who need help."</p> - -<p>"Why are you going to college?" Stephen leaned forward in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> -his chair. His interest in her quickened. To borrow from a -fund, was she?</p> - -<p>"I mean to be a doctor."</p> - -<p>"A doctor!" Had Fetzer announced her intention of being -an aviator, he would have been no more surprised. "Why a -doctor?"</p> - -<p>"My father meant to educate me to be a doctor as he was." -Then Ellen leaned forward, her lips trembling. She could keep -her secret no longer—her heart seemed to burst with it. "Don't -you remember me at all?"</p> - -<p>Stephen looked curiously into Ellen's face and thought of the -hundreds of patients in hospital and office. But even though -there had been hundreds he seldom forgot the eyes which he -treated—certainly not such eyes as these!</p> - -<p>"Were you ever a patient of mine?"</p> - -<p>Ellen shook her head; he could see her lips tremble. She -seemed to be unhappy because he did not remember her! What -an extraordinary experience! He had never been more puzzled -or more charmed.</p> - -<p>"Ellen Lewis is your name, Fetzer said. Is that right?"</p> - -<p>"Ellen Levis is my name. They call me Lewis when they can't -say 'v.'"</p> - -<p>Still he stared without comprehension. Ellen grew pale with -distress. Was she the victim of an hallucination?</p> - -<p>"Don't you remember <i>now</i>?"</p> - -<p>"No." It was Stephen's turn to believe that some form of -aphasia had blotted out a part of his past.</p> - -<p>"You came to see my father the day he died, you and Mrs. -Lanfair."</p> - -<p>Stephen frowned; his lifted hand covered his lips; then he -leaned backward into the shadow. He was shocked beyond expression.</p> - -<p>"Not Edward Levis!" said he, at last quietly.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"You were the young girl who begged us to stay to supper? -You were studying with your father and you had a little table -by the window?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Your father isn't <i>dead</i>!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> - -<p>"He died that evening of heart trouble."</p> - -<p>"How do you happen to be here?" asked Stephen sharply.</p> - -<p>"I wanted to earn my living."</p> - -<p>"Had your father no property?"</p> - -<p>"I'm not of age."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you go on to college?"</p> - -<p>"My grandfather and my brother thought I had enough education, -and the farm was run down and my brother thought the -income should go to improving it."</p> - -<p>"Did they drive you away?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, no! I came of my free will. They thought what they -did was right. It happened to suit Matthew's plans for the farm, -but he would have done right even if it had inconvenienced him."</p> - -<p>"Did you expect to earn enough to go to college in a housemaid's -position?"</p> - -<p>"No; but I earned something and I had a little. Then Miss -MacVane encouraged me—she had nothing, and yet she went -to college."</p> - -<p>"How did you happen to come here? Did Fetzer advertise?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Ellen with difficulty. "My father and I -passed here and he stopped and looked at your house. I came to -look at it one day because it reminded me of him. I was very -forlorn. I think I was crying and I crossed the street in front -of an automobile and was struck and Mrs. Fetzer befriended -me."</p> - -<p>"When did you recognize me?"</p> - -<p>"When you came home."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you speak?"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't."</p> - -<p>"Did your father ever speak of me?"</p> - -<p>"He wanted to make you executor of his will, but he couldn't -complete it."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you find me?"</p> - -<p>"I couldn't remember your name."</p> - -<p>Stephen leaned his chin upon his hand. He looked through -Ellen at some object far beyond her. He saw a bare room in a -dingy old house in Philadelphia, an old desk and his own head -bent in remorse above it. He had been grateful, Heaven bore -witness, for a while.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> - -<p>"So you have everything arranged?" he said at last.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And you are happy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I've quite forgotten how unhappy and forlorn I used -to be."</p> - -<p>"The prospect of studying delights you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Ellen lifted her eyes to his. "I used to think that -learning was everything, but I've found that it isn't. One needs -satisfaction for the mind, but one needs satisfaction for the -heart also. It seemed to me that I had nobody."</p> - -<p>Stephen rose and went to the side of his desk and stood leaning -upon it and looking down at Ellen.</p> - -<p>"And you feel that now you have somebody?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I'm older and more sensible and I realize that Grandfather -and Matthew are fond of me even though we think -differently."</p> - -<p>"And is this understanding of their affection sufficient food -for the heart?"</p> - -<p>Ellen's look was still straightforward, but her cheeks crimsoned. -Fetzer would wonder where she stayed. She rose and -stood before him.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"What else have you?"</p> - -<p>"I have you," answered Ellen simply.</p> - -<p>At that Stephen put his hand under Ellen's soft chin and -lifted her head. She smiled at him, and when Ellen smiled she -invited unconsciously more of a caress than a mere touch of -hand. But he did not move and she turned her cheek a little -against the warm palm, then went away. Her cup of happiness -was full. Her father's desires had hitherto been her law; she had -now another law.</p> - -<p>For a moment Stephen stood motionless beside his desk, then -he began to walk up and down. What an extraordinary chance! -He began to lay plans. She must come down out of her attic; -she must wait no more upon him. Fetzer and Miss MacVane -and Miss Knowlton must be told at once who she was, and -there must be no slighting of her because she had done this -lowly work. One of his favorite occupations in periods of enforced -idleness in trains or on steamers had been the construction<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> -of various schemes of education based upon what he felt -were the deficiencies of his own. He would see what could be -done with this girl.</p> - -<p>Presently he paused and stood for a long time motionless by -his desk. Levis dead! There had been hunger in Levis's eyes, -hunger which he might have satisfied. But no reproach should -rest upon him henceforth; he would do all for this girl that -Levis could have done, perhaps he might do more. He would -atone. It was a moment of pure philanthropy, unalloyed by any -less exalted impulse.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -<span class="smaller">A VISIT TO EPHRATA</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> late September Matthew began to cut the corn in the field -which he had ploughed a year ago when Ellen went away. He -began early in the morning and worked doggedly and alone. -The next day he would have help, but to-day he rejoiced—if -so bright a word could describe his state of mind—in his loneliness. -He breathed heavily; he was angry and mortified. His -life had not turned out as he had expected; he had made, it was -now perfectly clear, a basic error from the effect of which he -should never escape. He had always believed that one could -direct one's life and that so intelligent a person as himself could -direct it successfully, but he had been mistaken.</p> - -<p>He had chosen his wife with impeccable judgment—she was -pretty and quiet and domestic and religious and troubled by no -unbecoming ambition. She was still all of these, but each quality -had been modified in some unexpected way. Her prettiness was -spoiled by untidiness; her quietness was only quietness in comparison -with the clatter of her family; her housewifely accomplishments -proved slighter than he had expected; and her religion -was, though he did not realize it, a good deal like his own, -a possession for eternity, but of little practical use in this life.</p> - -<p>She had slipped back quickly into the idioms which she had -once tried to weed from her speech in order to please him, and -little Matthew who was learning to talk copied her. About this -subject she had already quarreled with her husband whom she -accused of being ashamed of her.</p> - -<p>He had not reckoned upon the physical depression which -accompanies the bearing of children of whom there were now -two. Millie was preoccupied with her sensations; she was constantly -on the watch for fresh symptoms which she retailed to -whoever would listen. The description of her morning miseries -greeted Matthew's opening eyes; the account of her evening -faintness kept him awake at the end of a weary day. She implied -that for all her troubles he was to blame; a bride married by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> -capture could have uttered a no more triumphant "Whose fault -is it?"</p> - -<p>From the pressure of unpleasant conditions Matthew was -free only when he was in the fields. Domestic activities were -now carried on, except for sleep, in the kitchen, and there on -cold evenings even preparations for sleep were made. The -fashion in which he had been brought up came to possess for -him a moral and religious significance. When he remembered -his youth—and he remembered it more and more often—he -saw his father working at his desk, a mouselike Ellen by the -window, Mrs. Sassaman busy with her tasks in a distant kitchen, -and himself in his own room. Each might have if he wished the -privacy which was an inalienable right, the solitude in which -mind and soul could grow.</p> - -<p>Though Esther was at present away, she had become a fixture -in the house. She liked the freedom and the wages and she preferred -Millie's company to that of her other sisters. She was -certain that Matthew wished her gone, but his dislike did not -trouble her; she knew that he feared her departure while he -desired it. She had left once, and Matthew, with harvesting -waiting, had done the washing.</p> - -<p>He had repented his insolence to his grandfather and had been -forgiven by him, but he was not at peace, though he went regularly -to church. He had confidently expected that God would -smooth his path when he so earnestly besought Him, and instead -his path seemed to be growing each day rougher.</p> - -<p>When in the middle of the afternoon Ellen came up the sloping -road outside the field, he did not recognize her. She wore a -changed aspect, the appearance of one intensely preoccupied -with pleasant thoughts. He saw her wave her hand, and in the -light of Millie's prejudices believed that she was some bold -creature beckoning to him. When she slipped between two fence -posts he knew her with a pang. He did not go to meet her, but -stood bending forward a little until she reached to her full -height to kiss his cheek. He had often accepted her kisses as -though they were an infliction; now they brought tears.</p> - -<p>"Well, Matthew!"</p> - -<p>He looked down at her, recognizing the change in her state of -mind; she felt herself to be, it was plain, fortunate and happy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> -He had made up his mind that when she returned she should -not be received like a prodigal but now her expression made -clear that she was not a prodigal in any sense.</p> - -<p>"You've surprised me!" he said, astonished at his own -delight.</p> - -<p>"Are you glad to see me?" Ellen looked at him almost -coquettishly.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered with a deep breath. Then in the midst of -his pleasure he was discomfited. She might stay to supper, and -a welcome was doubtful. The secondary cause of all Millie's -woes was Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Can't you stop work a little while and sit down in the woods -and talk to me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Matthew.</p> - -<p>The oak trees, whose foliage was now a dark red, were but a -step away and the two sat side by side on the old log. There was -between them the most astonishing contrast. Matthew's youthful -beauty was gone; his skin was tanned to a darker shade than -his light hair; he did not sit erect and he was unshaven; but -more startling was his air of weariness and dullness. He looked -ten years older than Ellen and seemed to belong to a different -race. She laid her hand on his knee.</p> - -<p>"I have a long story to tell you."</p> - -<p>"Well?" Matthew's eyes devoured her. He was bewildered -and made uneasy by his delight. He wished to gather her into -his arms and lean his head on her shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Do you remember the day that Father died?"</p> - -<p>"Of course."</p> - -<p>"That afternoon I was sitting here reading and I looked up -and saw an automobile standing before the door. When I went -down an old friend of Father's was in the office, Dr. Lanfair, -with his wife. They stayed only a little while, and soon after -they went away Father became ill. He wanted me to give a -message to Dr. Lanfair. Do you remember that, Matthew?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," answered Matthew uneasily.</p> - -<p>"But I couldn't remember his name. Last fall I got a place -accidentally at his house. I wrote you how I had been struck by -an automobile. But I didn't know then who he was. I had all -arrangements made to go to college, but now he wishes to help<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> -me because of his old friendship for Father. I'm all ready and I -wanted to see you before I left."</p> - -<p>Matthew received this announcement in silence. She cherished -no resentment; that was one of her notable characteristics.</p> - -<p>Ellen read his thoughts.</p> - -<p>"I understand everything, Matthew. You did what you -thought was right, and you have certainly improved the farm. -Isn't it lovely here?"</p> - -<p>Matthew made no answer. A dull red crept up under the unpleasant -growth of beard.</p> - -<p>"I heard you had another little boy."</p> - -<p>Thus recalled to his domestic ties he rose stiffly and hastily. -A late guest would be unpardonable. "We'd better walk down -to the house."</p> - -<p>Sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously, Ellen -smoothed the paths of others.</p> - -<p>"You needn't go down now; I'll go alone. After supper, can -you come with me to see Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>He walked with her to the opening between the two posts; -then he did not return to his work, but went back to the log and -sat down. She was but a few years younger than he, but she was -youthful, free, unburdened, her life was just beginning. Education -had not hurt her. For the first time a serious doubt of his -own wisdom troubled him. He also for the first time experienced -jealousy—he did not wish any one but himself to help Ellen.</p> - -<p>His thoughts followed her down the hill. He hoped that Millie -would be polite. He saw Millie through the eyes of an outsider -such as Ellen had become, her ignorance, her dullness, her stubbornness. -He was at this moment all Levis.</p> - -<p>Like Matthew, Millie did not at first recognize Ellen. She always -thought of her as a forlorn person, but this was no forlorn -person who stood at the door. She believed at first that Ellen -was some sort of agent, but after a moment's curious contemplation -she said, "Well, is it you!"</p> - -<p>Then she was silent. She saw the beautiful suit and hat and -compared Ellen's appearance with her own, her straggling hair -and her dark calico dress, open at the throat since she had last -nursed her baby.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You would never have caught me like this before I was -married!" she cried, expressing in her tone all her weariness and -bitterness.</p> - -<p>Ellen's cheek lost its bright color. She was not an analyst of -character and she had never looked forward to Millie's future -and prophesied, "Thus she will become."</p> - -<p>"Come in," said Millie as though in defiance of a critical eye.</p> - -<p>Ellen saw a solemn little Matthew sitting on the floor and a -much smaller John in a cradle which was none too tidy. She saw, -also, without looking at them directly, a littered sink, a soiled -table-cover, an unblacked stove, and windows unwashed for -weeks. Looking at little Matthew she began to tremble, remembering -how her arms had once ached to hold him.</p> - -<p>"Matthew is a big boy. And what a lovely baby!"</p> - -<p>Millie's maternal ecstasy had burned itself to a dull flame.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you wouldn't think so if you had to take care of -him day and night!"</p> - -<p>She accepted Ellen's offer of help with an air which said that -since she was going to stay it was no more than right that she -should lend a hand, and Ellen bravely put on a soiled apron. -Millie had had no one to talk to in the week of Esther's absence, -and now the failings of Brother Reith were commented upon -and much neighborhood gossip retailed.</p> - -<p>"It's the women who run after him. They are partly to -blame!" explained Millie.</p> - -<p>When Matthew arrived he breathed a sigh of relief. He was -sure that he had heard Millie laugh, though at sight of him she -lost her good nature. She began to ask questions about Ellen's -affairs and pried deeper than Matthew.</p> - -<p>"How old is this man who is helping you, Ellen? Is he an old -man?"</p> - -<p>"He was a schoolmate of Father's, but he is younger than -Father was."</p> - -<p>"Is his wife living?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Ellen. "But she's not well; she's in a sanatorium."</p> - -<p>"What ails her?"</p> - -<p>"She has lost her mind."</p> - -<p>A look of significant amusement passed from Millie to Matthew, -who stared back furiously and pulled his chair to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> -table. He had thought of driving in the double carriage and -taking the whole family to visit Grandfather, but now he -changed his mind. He would no more have Millie share his ride -with Ellen than he would three years ago have had Ellen share -his ride with Millie. When he had finished eating he immediately -hitched his horse to the buggy and drove to the door, and Ellen -climbed in beside him. She did not kiss Millie nor did Millie -offer to kiss her.</p> - -<p>For the first half-mile brother and sister were silent and busy -with recollection. Suddenly Matthew breathed a long sigh.</p> - -<p>"I could help you with money before you get your inheritance," -he said in a low tone.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you!" Ellen did not remember the long postponing, -she saw only the yielding. "It isn't necessary now, -everything is arranged. Next summer, though, when I'm -twenty-one—"</p> - -<p>"Then of course everything will be fixed properly."</p> - -<p>Close together she and Matthew went through the graveyard. -She slipped her hand into his and he did not thrust it away. The -sun had set and the cottage was in shadow.</p> - -<p>"Here is Ellen, Grandfather," said Matthew as he opened the -door.</p> - -<p>Ellen stepped into the little room. The moment of reunion -had come unexpectedly. Grandfather raised his beautiful aged -head and looked at her, and Amos got to his feet. Tears began -to run down Grandfather's cheeks; Amos said nothing, but a -crimson flush burned his face. All were conscious of her youth -and her vitality and all realized that she was not theirs.</p> - -<p>"She's here to say good-bye," explained Matthew. "She's -going to college."</p> - -<p>Grandfather saw his castle at last flat upon the ground. Amos -leaped to swift, jealous inquiry. How was Ellen going to college? -Who was helping her? How did she get her fine clothes? But -neither Grandfather nor Amos asked any questions.</p> - -<p>When Matthew had seen the dim red light at the end of the -train grow tinier and then vanish into the darkness, he returned -to the Kloster. He did not wish to go home; his rage with Millie -frightened him; he would hear only complaints against Ellen -and if he defended her the effect would be disastrous. He regretted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> -now the whole course of his life since he had risen in -meeting and announced his intentions, and he blamed all on the -influence of his grandfather. He remembered Grandfather's -ridiculous charge that he had been hard on Ellen. He remembered -also Amos's burning eyes. He opened the door of the cottage -and sat down.</p> - -<p>"I expect there was something more in Ellen's going than -appeared on the surface," he said without any preface. "I expect -that you annoyed her, Amos."</p> - -<p>"Annoyed her? In what way?"</p> - -<p>"I expect that Millie was more than half right," said Matthew -distinctly. "I expect that you annoyed her with offers of -love."</p> - -<p>Amos rose, his face deathly pale.</p> - -<p>"I'm older than you, Matthew, and I've been your teacher -and your adviser, but I shall answer this insult for Ellen's sake. -I told her long before she went away that if marrying would -help her escape from you, I would—"</p> - -<p>"Escape!" repeated Matthew.</p> - -<p>"That's the word I used—escape. I said if it would help her -to escape I would marry her. It was months ago. I talked to her -only once when I met her by chance. I had nothing to do with -her going away. It was I who tried to keep her here!" Amos's -voice rose. "Levis was right in a sense—you know nothing -about the world, you nor Uncle. But I know what the world is -like that you have driven her into. I was the only one that tried -to save her, remember that, please! Your affection for her is -selfish. You would have liked to keep her so that all would run -smoothly in your house, and when you can't have your way with -her you drive her off—out you go, Ellen! I love her unselfishly, -I don't expect to get anything out of her, I—"</p> - -<p>"Nor did I expect to get anything out of Ellen," protested -Grandfather.</p> - -<p>Matthew began to shout.</p> - -<p>"You did! You wanted her to start a sisterhood and to stay -in this worn-out place. You wanted her to come here and live -with bats and mice and dress in strange clothes and cut off her -hair and whistle through her teeth as they used to do"—now -the devil surely had possession of Matthew!—"I never wanted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> -her to do anything like that. You talk as though she belonged to -you. I am closest to her."</p> - -<p>"Matthew!" warned Grandfather.</p> - -<p>"It's true." Matthew rose. "You've ruined me with your -religion, ruined me, ruined me!"</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Grandfather, aghast.</p> - -<p>"You think you have God here. I don't believe in God!" -Matthew slammed the door.</p> - -<p>In his buggy he was tempted to lash his horse, but that would -bring him home the sooner. It was out at last, the dreadful conclusion -he had been approaching for a long time. It was said -aloud and he was not struck dead. He laughed like a drunken -man.</p> - -<p>Then, at the top of the hill, he heard a sound and paused. A -great wind had begun to blow and the oak trees were roaring like -the sea. It seemed to him that there was a message for him, but -he could not interpret it. He felt suddenly weak and leaned -against the side of the buggy.</p> - -<p>In the cottage Grandfather lifted his hands toward heaven. -The hope of his sisterhood was definitely ended, and now the -prop of his secular congregation was gone.</p> - -<p>"They are their father's children," he said in a whisper. "You -are all I have left, Amos." He looked suddenly at Amos with -new appraisement. In the loud confusion of Matthew's and -Amos's speech he had lost Amos's confession. "You're all I have; -you are trustworthy. I am not left desolate."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN'S DREAMS COME TRUE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Ellen reached Harrisburg, Fickes awaited her. To him -Fetzer had made a brief statement of Ellen's changed prospects -and he said, as he guided the car over the smooth streets, that -he wished her well and that he would miss her. He drew up at -the front door, as was suitable to her altered fortune. She had -inspired only friendliness; there was no one in the house who, -thus far, did not wish her well.</p> - -<p>She saw Stephen reading in the library whither he had often -summoned her and where he had heard of Grandfather and the -dim Saal and the lambs at play and the singing oaks. He had -been made acquainted with Mrs. Sassaman and Mrs. Lebber -and had drawn from Ellen's reluctant lips the unpleasant story -of Mr. Goldstein. He understood now Edward Levis's life and -its disappointments and frustrations, and saw clearly all that -he would have been able to do for him. He understood also -Levis's daughter and her possibilities, which he believed to be -unlimited. Now, alas! his philanthropic impulse was strengthened -by other impulses, even more potent, though as yet unacknowledged -to himself.</p> - -<p>Ellen had begun to view her past history with detachment, -and she had described for him the vagaries of her early associates -not only with humor, but with tenderness.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't give up any of it, even to have been educated -from the beginning. It used to seem dreadfully dull to sit there -in the old Saal and watch the brethren and sisters, but I can see -now that it was all beautiful. It was like the Rembrandt pictures -in one of Father's books, all different shades of brown with sometimes -a soft, golden light. I believe it was a good place for a child -to be for a while."</p> - -<p>Now, when Ellen entered, Stephen put aside his book and -called her.</p> - -<p>"Come here, Ellen."</p> - -<p>Ellen sat down. Her cheeks glowed; her dark blue suit fitted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> -closely her round figure; the eyes of Beatrix Esmond were no -more shining, the head of Anna Karenina no more beautiful in -shape. Stephen feasted his eyes, picturing her in dresses such -as Hilda had worn, her smooth young flesh emerging flower-like -from a gleaming sheath of delicate satin. She pushed her curls -back from her forehead.</p> - -<p>"How were the relatives?"</p> - -<p>"All well."</p> - -<p>"Are you ready to go?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Trunk packed?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Have you said good-bye to Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Each of them gave me a present."</p> - -<p>"Are you sorry to go?"</p> - -<p>"I'm coming back," said Ellen, smiling. "This seems like a -dream. Fetzer thinks I've made a mistake; she meant to train -me into her position." Bright tears came into her eyes. "I think -of my Father."</p> - -<p>Stephen rose and crossed to his desk. He did not at that moment -wish to think of Ellen's father. Ellen rose also.</p> - -<p>"These are your tickets and here is your money. Your tuition -is in the form of a check to the University. I thought it would -be simplest that way."</p> - -<p>"It's all to be paid back," Ellen reminded him.</p> - -<p>Stephen smiled. He had begun to expect her to pay it back, -but not exactly as she understood. She took the checks and the -tickets, struggling meanwhile against tears. Then she lifted her -head and stood like a young Victory, breasting the winds. She -pictured no specific happiness, but only a general brightness. -Every experience in the world which was worth while awaited -her.</p> - -<p>When her eyes met his, her heart began to beat heavily. She -did not realize that life with its strange chances had dealt with -her hardly; that she should have been bound not to middle age, -but to free youth. She wished above everything in the world that -he would again lay his hand under her chin and that she might -turn her cheek against it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<p>But Stephen did not move. He knew that he might touch -Ellen, knew that she half expected to be kissed, and he believed -that a sense of honor restrained him. In reality prevision governed -him; he knew that the present must sometimes be sacrificed -to the future.</p> - -<p>"You'll write once a week," he said more as a command than -as a request. "You'd better put your letter into the form of a -report of what you've been doing."</p> - -<p>"I promise," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>Fetzer escorted her to the train and bade her farewell with -regret for the loss of a congenial companion. For the loss of -Ellen's help she was not at all concerned, though she had no -intention of engaging any one to take her place. She would do -all Ellen's work herself. Life in the Lanfair house would henceforth -be very simple. Keener than her one consuming passion -was now a consuming dread. Her husband's term was almost -out and the Lord to Whom she prayed had but one more year -to convert him and take him home; otherwise there was only -one course for her.</p> - -<p>Ellen took the seat indicated by the porter, with an air which -declared that travel in parlor cars was not a new experience. She -was determined not to seem puzzled or frightened or even over-pleased -by the fortunes which dazzled her.</p> - -<p>Having no knowledge upon which to base dreams of the immediate -future, she turned after some vague speculations to the -past. Her early life, she realized, was now behind her; she could -not but feel, though she reproached herself, a deep relief. Her -relatives were all troubled and she would have been glad to help -them, but she knew no way. To live at Matthew's—how impossible! -To become the leader of a band of religious women—how -unthinkable! To her, religion was Grandfather's religion. To -marry Amos!—most impossible of all! She would never marry; -she would devote herself to her profession; she would apply herself -with the most intense diligence, and would make Dr. Lanfair -proud of her. She leaned back and closed her eyes, determined -to become indispensable to him in a far greater degree than -Miss Knowlton and Miss MacVane together. Her admiration -for his keenness of mind, his learning, his goodness of heart was -unbounded.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> - -<p>When she was shown into her room in the third story of an old -dormitory, her pathway seemed to be literally of gold. Flooded -with late sunlight, the room faced west and north and looked -out over the beautiful campus and the lake. She set down her -satchel and walked to the window and stood looking out, comparing -this scene with the scene of her first adventure, Mrs. -Lebber's house overhanging the deep chasm of the railroad -yards, its grime and the shower of sharp particles which fell upon -her cheek at night. Here were roofs and towers showing above -broad tree-tops; yonder was a stretch of heavenly blue water.</p> - -<p>Presently she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. Was -it all a dream? The thick beating of her heart frightened her. -She forgot her father's urging, her own unabated effort, Miss -MacVane's assistance; it seemed to her that this happiness was -Lanfair's gift. She began to put her small properties in their -places, to examine wardrobes and bureau and desk.</p> - -<p>As the weeks passed, she made friends slowly. She was not -frightened by the complex life of the University, though at first -it confused, nor by the long task before her; but she was shy in -the company of youthful feminine creatures of all varieties of -appearance, natures and histories. She had been associated with -comparatively few persons and she was not accustomed to sharing -her thoughts. The men students were entirely negligible; she -knew that she was the object of their friendly curiosity, but she -made no response to overtures for acquaintance.</p> - -<p>She did not try to overcome her indifference, but devoted herself -to one purpose and one alone. She had, as her father had -realized, the student's mind. Her work had been planned for her -by Stephen and Miss MacVane, and she gave herself wholly to -acquirement. Her schedule did not point, except for one course -in elementary biology, to medicine; she was to study English -literature and composition, American history, French, Latin, -and the history of art, and she became promptly what students -called a "grind."</p> - -<p>Nowhere else in the world is it easier to live the life of a hermit -than in a university. To each student is offered a certain amount -of social attention, but he is under no obligation to accept, and -is soon left to himself if he indicates that isolation is his preference. -Ellen made one friend, Miss Grammer, a quiet graduate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> -student from a Western State who helped her with the arrangement -of her programme and with whom, when the first adjustment -was over, she went about with a tourist's eagerness. They -listened enchanted to the chimes; they climbed the tower to -watch them played; they gazed at mortuary marbles in the -chapel and explored the deep, beautiful gorges which on two -sides bounded the campus. As a graduate student, Miss Grammer -had access to a Seminar room in the library, and thither she -took Ellen to spend the long evenings. There on a window-seat, -with the twinkling lights of the town below her and the lake -hiding in the darkness beyond, Ellen learned her lessons, studying -sometimes with a strong effort of the will because a dreamy -contemplation of her good fortune tempted her. An elderly professor -of history, adored by Miss Grammer, exhibited to them -the hidden treasures of the library. He was a man of eager intellectual -life to whom most young persons seemed dull, and he -smiled at Ellen's profound attentiveness to all that he said until -he observed that she followed up each uncomprehended allusion. -The first mention of Benvenuto Cellini was answered by a puzzled -flash of eye, the second by a nod of understanding. Ellen -had meanwhile consulted an encyclopĉdia.</p> - -<p>Miss Grammer had a small fortune and it was her dream to -settle in some college town for life, buying a little house and -taking in with her a congenial friend. She had found, she believed, -her congenial friend. Every one formed, sooner or later, -plans for Ellen.</p> - -<p>Neither Professor Anderson nor Miss Grammer realized that -what they did was each week minutely recounted. Ellen had -written few letters, and none had been in the least like those in -which she now found delightful occupation. She described her -room and the campus and the color of the lake and the foam on -the waterfalls and the red oak foliage against the pine trees. She -described all her teachers and some of her fellow students and -the chimes and the mortuary chapel, with its stiff marble effigies, -and the chapel service and the sound of music across the open -spaces of the campus. She wrote on Sunday, carried her letters -with her to vespers, and mailed them afterwards.</p> - -<p>Stephen received the letters on Monday evenings, and read -them with delight. His own youthful response to music and art<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> -and poetry came back to him; it had been less articulate, but it -had been no less keen. Ellen's descriptions reconstructed for him -not only her own pleasure, but his, and he kept them in a drawer -of his desk in the library and reread them often. It was possible -then to see life again, freshly, even more intensely, through the -eyes of youth!</p> - -<p>He wrote briefly in reply. He was busy and so were Miss -Knowlton and Miss MacVane and Fetzer. Miss MacVane's eyes -were better and all the women-folk sent their love. He was glad -to hear that her theme had been approved and that her history -mark was A.</p> - -<p>In December his letters carried a more definite message. He -said that both he and Fetzer would be away for Christmas and -that the house would therefore be closed. He would be in New -York and Fetzer would pay her annual visit to the penitentiary, -where on account of his good behavior her husband would be -allowed to see her. How would Ellen like to stay at school for -the first part of the holidays and then come to New York to -meet Fetzer, the excursion to be his Christmas gift?</p> - -<p>The letter read as though it had been uttered in Stephen's quiet -voice, but there had been nothing quiet about the hand which -penned it or the mind which planned each detail of the visit. -To observe youth's reactions to New York—how rejuvenating -that would be!</p> - -<p>Ellen traveled by night, according to directions. The journey -might have been made by day, but Stephen had told her to -start on a certain train. He had done so with deliberation—he -wished her to learn independence. With hot cheeks he pictured -Ellen traveling across seas and continents to meet him.</p> - -<p>Fetzer had taken, the evening before, the luxurious quarters -engaged for her and in the morning she went with Stephen to -the train. She always did exactly as he bade her, but this was the -first time she had put herself in danger of life and limb at his -command, and she made of her alarm, as her taxicab threaded -its way through the streets, an offering of affection.</p> - -<p>Stephen brought a pale Ellen from the train and put the two -women into a car.</p> - -<p>"See that she gets a rest. I'll be up to lunch at one."</p> - -<p>In the Belvoir Fetzer felt at ease—here was one spot which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> -she had made hers and here she exhibited an air of proprietorship -which impressed even the porters. Her own kingdom—she -would like them to realize—was no less grand than theirs!</p> - -<p>Stephen, coming to the door to escort his guests to the dining-room, -looked not the least like pedant in charge of pupil, which -character he bore in the mind of Fetzer. Freedom from anxiety -and a new interest in life changed him visibly, straightened his -shoulders and quickened a little his deliberate voice. He had read -"Conrad in Quest of His Youth," he knew exactly what had -revived him. He had talked all the morning with a rising young -surgeon about an operative form of inflammation of the cornea, -and had observed that the young man had come far less directly -than himself to his conclusions.</p> - -<p>He looked with delight at a refreshed Ellen who moved without -embarrassment through the lobby where a hundred pairs of -eyes watched her, and who walked, still unperturbed, the length -of the dining-room. When his order was given, he told his guests -his programme for the afternoon.</p> - -<p>"We're going to the Metropolitan Gallery. Fetzer, did you -bring your crocheting?"</p> - -<p>Fetzer said, "Now, Doctor!"</p> - -<p>"Good! You won't want to listen to all the preaching I mean -to do and we'll leave you in a snug corner."</p> - -<p>"Well," assented Fetzer, "I have a little rheumatism in the -knees. I guess it will be better to sit still."</p> - -<p>Having climbed the main stairway of the museum, with a -supporting hand on each side, Fetzer was escorted to a comfortable -seat in a warm room. She still looked with approval upon -this man of important affairs who interrupted the course of his -busy life to be kind.</p> - -<p>"There are a few pictures I want you to look at closely to-day," -said Stephen. "The others we'll pass by for the present. -I want to give you a general view of the whole thing. Nothing -wrong with your knees, I hope?"</p> - -<p>"She's young," said Fetzer. "She'll get there yet!"</p> - -<p>Stephen looked at the glowing creature beside him.</p> - -<p>"Ever been sick in your life?"</p> - -<p>"Never."</p> - -<p>He continued to regard her—youth!—ah, nothing else was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> -worth while. A light shiver passed over him. Then he laid his -hand on Ellen's arm.</p> - -<p>"In this room is a collection of primitives. They are enormously -valuable in showing the development of art. I want to -show you a Madonna and a single portrait of the period. See the -grace and the lovely tenderness and then the flatness of the -whole thing. Here is a real portrait—see the shrewd eyes and -the kindly expression. But in the main they're valuable only -because they're first."</p> - -<p>"Professor Lamb wouldn't agree with you," answered Ellen, -amazed. "He thinks that in some details they've never been -surpassed."</p> - -<p>Stephen listened with attentive, smiling eyes to illustrative -allusions to Giotto and Cimabue. She should some day see -Giotto and Cimabue! There was in Florence a dim church -whither he had once gone alone; thither he would sometime go -with a companion. He pointed out a few landscapes, a portrait -of Walt Whitman, a Salome in yellow, a little woman in a white -head-covering opening a casement window, three boys swimming -in a green sea. Ellen's cheeks grew a deeper red—she had now -no opinions. Her blood was quickened by Stephen's touch. Did -she feel weariness? She would have walked till to-morrow.</p> - -<p>At the end of an hour the two returned to Fetzer.</p> - -<p>"I haven't heard one single word of English since we came, -and it isn't Pennsylvania Dutch either. Nothing but outlanders. -Where do they come from?"</p> - -<p>Stephen explained the appreciative foreign population; then -again he took Ellen by the arm. The museum had been his refuge -a score of times while Hilda selected beautiful clothes or lay -abed. He had made it a point of pride to know it thoroughly.</p> - -<p>"I want you to get the impression of a voyage through the -world. You must come often and stay all the time of your visit -in just one section—here, for instance, and think of the pyramids -and the palms and the yellow sand and the Sphinx and the -Egyptian girl who wore that jewel in her brown ear, and of the -jealous lover who stabbed her to the heart with that dagger, and -of the tents of the Arabs on the yellow sand.</p> - -<p>"And here you may think of ladies in voluminous skirts and -tight waists and high-heeled slippers, who made love to gay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> -gentlemen under this rococo ceiling and prinked before these -mirrors." Stephen stopped before a mirror and looked into the -dark eyes reflected there. In imagination he kissed Ellen's red -lips. For him as well as for her it was a golden hour.</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose I'll ever see it again?" asked Ellen sadly.</p> - -<p>"Certainly!"</p> - -<p>"With you?"</p> - -<p>There was a savage defiance in Stephen's "Why not, pray?"</p> - -<p>Ellen sighed; she had expected her father to show her the -world, and she had been disappointed. Then Stephen's closer -touch restored her content.</p> - -<p>"Le Prophète" is not the greatest of operas, but the greatest -tenor and one of the greatest sopranos were to sing and there -were new and gorgeous stage-settings—it would serve as a good -primer for Ellen. Stephen was amused when he thought of -Fetzer and the display of women's bodies in the boxes, pitiful, -thin bodies, and unpleasant fat bodies, and watching, he read -her thoughts. Fetzer had, however, an advantage, she needed to -look with but one eye, and that she fixed upon the stage where -she found plenty to occupy and amaze her.</p> - -<p>On Sunday he took his guests to service in an unfinished cathedral, -so that Ellen might comprehend mediĉval deliberation and -understand how Chartres and Amiens were built—he expected -to show her Chartres and Amiens—and in the afternoon he took -her alone to hear a Russian pianist. She sat quietly and for a -while he forgot even her. When he turned toward her at the end -of a number, she was looking at him.</p> - -<p>"This is best of all," said she, to his supreme content.</p> - -<p>They walked down Fifth Avenue in the late sunshine. It -seemed to Ellen that every one was happy, but none so happy -as she.</p> - -<p>"But it seems wicked!" she declared suddenly.</p> - -<p>"What seems wicked?"</p> - -<p>"To be so happy and so gay."</p> - -<p>Stephen recognized a lingering impression of early teachings. -None of that, he was determined, should be left in Ellen! He -needed no narrow creed, either for himself or for her.</p> - -<p>"That is nonsense. That feeling is wicked!"</p> - -<p>Then Ellen asked a question which was prompted by a hunger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> -to share his interests, and which might have been invented by -the deliberate and cunning art of a much older woman.</p> - -<p>"You said you were going to talk to a young surgeon yesterday -morning. Did you?"</p> - -<p>Stephen plunged into an explanation. To be conducted back -to the passion of his life was all that was needed to complete his -happiness. He spoke rapidly, his hand still clasping her arm. -He was old enough to appreciate the value of a companion -moulded by one's self. His thoughts were clear; he saw even -farther into the subject than he did yesterday. She was not only -companionable, she was inspiring, she was essential to his well-being—he -would never, he said to himself, give her up. Youth, -ah, he could win it back!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">FETZER'S EYE IS OPENED</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the short spring vacation Ellen went with Miss Grammer -to visit Niagara Falls. Stephen thought with satisfaction of Miss -Grammer, placing her in the same class with Miss Knowlton and -Miss MacVane, whom he admired and pitied and with whom he -liked to work.</p> - -<p>He suggested that Ellen should spend the summer with Fetzer -in his absence. He had begun to believe, by a strange and childish -variety of logic, that if he did not attempt to see her he would -receive a reward, the nature of which was clearly defined in his -thoughts. It would have been the height of cruelty to wish that -Hilda should survive; it would be the height of absurdity to -pretend that her death could bring anything but relief. He had -pretended even to himself for many years, and for a still longer -term to others; now he would be frank with himself at least. If -Hilda died, he could marry Ellen Levis; rather, when Hilda died, -he would marry Ellen. He did not believe that Hilda's life could -be prolonged beyond a few years.</p> - -<p>In May he went abroad to a meeting of ophthalmists. He was -to be one of many speakers, and he became, with the first paragraph -of his address, the chief speaker. Conscious of his triumph, -he believed that he had succeeded because he was intensely -happy, or, rather, because he anticipated intense happiness.</p> - -<p>Afterwards, sitting in a café, he watched the passers-by. There -was but one real happiness in the world and that was to be his. -To have Ellen with him, vivifying his days and filling his nights -with peace—no man could ask for more.</p> - -<p>When he reached his hotel he found a cablegram awaiting him. -He connected it foolishly with the mood from whose influence -he had not yet passed; he believed that his happiness was premonitory -and he tore open the envelope with a shaking hand. It -could bring but one message; he experienced in anticipation as -he unfolded the sheet the inevitable shock which the announcement -of death brings, even a death long expected and desired.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> - -<p>But Mayne's cablegram did not announce Hilda's death; it -urged Stephen to wait in Paris and go with him on a motor trip.</p> - -<p>In August at last he came home. The house went through its -usual transformation; it seemed to Ellen now not that a machine -had begun to run, but that a heart had begun to beat. She had -studied and had sewed and had visited Ephrata. The half of her -father's property had been delivered to her and Matthew would -henceforth pay her an income from the farm. Stephen had explained -her presence to the same few friends whom he had told -directly of Hilda's condition, and she had been invited to ride -with them and had a few times been asked to their houses. -Fetzer grew pale; her year of grace was approaching its end and -she lifted more and more ardently her justifiable prayer for -deliverance.</p> - -<p>Stephen's arrival, unlike his arrivals with Hilda, was heralded -only by the sound of his key in the latch. The time was late -afternoon of an intensely warm day. Still feeling the motion of -the ship, and oppressed by the heat, he walked from the station -through the almost deserted business section, across the burning -square to the cool shade of Front Street, beyond which the quiet -river studded with islands appeared to be a lake. His pace slackened. -He thought of the dimness of his shaded house, of his own -bed, of his offices where everything lay ready to his hand, of one-eyed -Fetzer and homely Miss Knowlton and poor Miss MacVane -and Fickes. They would be there, too, as well as Ellen. Ellen did -not come into his mind as did the comforts of his house and those -who made it comfortable; she was already there.</p> - -<p>As he went up the steps he experienced a moment of fright lest -his home-coming should not be complete. She might have gone -to visit her kin; she might merely have stepped out for a half-hour. -In either case his satisfaction would be imperfect.</p> - -<p>But Ellen was at home. She heard the turning of a key in the -latch and looked up from her book. She did not move, but fixed -her eyes on the door which opened from the library into the hall. -If it was he, he would in a moment appear there. The breath -seemed to leave her body; she was conscious of a feeling of constriction -in her heart. Then she bent a little forward and saw him -looking at her. He seemed to speak, but she did not hear.</p> - -<p>Stephen did not come forward, but leaned his shoulder against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> -the door and looked down at her, his attitude one of deliberate -contemplation, his hand thrust lightly into his pocket. His eyes -were keen; he saw clearly and with gloating joy what had befallen -her. He would have patience now!</p> - -<p>The sound of his key in the latch had not been heard by Ellen -alone, but by another pair of ears as keen as hers. Fetzer's heart -leaped. She rose from her chair in the second-story hall, letting -the curtain which she was mending slide to the floor together -with thimble and scissors, and started downstairs. Even in her -joyful confusion she remembered the proprieties and sought the -service stairs and so came into the library from a rear door. She -saw Stephen standing in the doorway and wondered whether he -was ill; she hurried forward and saw Ellen. Though she was blind -in one eye, the other was perfectly sound, and her perceptions -were all the keener for the blindness of her eye. She did not see -Stephen's face, she saw only Ellen, and Stephen recognized no -more clearly than she what had befallen Ellen.</p> - -<p>At once she withdrew backward to the open door and through -it to the passageway, still walking backward, until a wall stopped -her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, the poor, poor girl!" she whispered, aghast, lifting her -gaze toward the ceiling. "I can't understand how things are as -they are," she said, for the first time in her life with solemn -reproach.</p> - -<p>Without realizing the origin of the gentle sound of her departure, -Ellen and Stephen were disturbed.</p> - -<p>"I'm glad to see you home again," said Ellen.</p> - -<p>He came forward and took her hand in both of his. Fetzer -advancing for a second time heard him ask, "Where's Fetzer?" -and moved forward. It was for her he inquired! Surely he had -not seen in poor Ellen's eyes that betraying look which she had -seen!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> -<span class="smaller">GRANDFATHER AND AMOS MAKE DISCOVERIES</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Amos</span> had acquired during the past winter a considerable addition -to his library. The publishers added the famous tales of -"Père Goriot" and "Madame Bovary" to their lists, and in -accordance with the suggestions of the clerk in the department -store he was advised of their publication. He read no more at -lightning speed, but allowed himself only a small portion each -day. To teach school, to keep house, to cultivate a garden, to -read in the evenings—it was a life common to thousands of -prosaic citizens, but to him it was a life of wicked and surreptitious -adventure. In April he received a copy of "Tess of the -D'Urbervilles," and with it, by a packer's error, a recently published -and enormously popular story advocating an unremitting -optimism in all the circumstances of life, a gladness which nothing -could disturb, all-pervading as the air. He read it, sitting on -a bench in the grove above Cocalico Creek.</p> - -<p>"'I'm so happy that I sing for joy,' said little Mary. 'I just -make up my mind to be glad, that's all that's necessary. I make -everybody round me glad.'"</p> - -<p>He looked with astonishment at the printed word. Was he -to pay good money for this? A succession of strange expressions -appeared upon his handsome face and finally a grin, all-embracing, -malicious. In this fashion a lion might mock an -unstockaded village.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he rose and hurled the book with good aim exactly -into the middle of the creek where it sank heavily; then he -laughed a silly laugh. Life was not like that; life was orgiastic, -sinister, monstrous!</p> - -<p>In June he went to look after his supply of books. The Thinker's -Library was not growing with sufficient rapidity for him, and -now that his school was closed and he had so many long, idle -hours he needed occupation. The day was rainy and cool and -dismally unseasonable, and Grandfather looked at him in astonishment. -The translation of "The Mystic Dove" was long, long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> -overdue, but Grandfather still had implicit faith in its completion; -Amos was slow, but spiritual tasks were not to be hurried.</p> - -<p>When Amos had gone the old man felt lonely. He made his -way after a while in the cool rain to the Saal and Saron, and -walked through the buildings, peopling them with figures. The -stairs leading to the second floor of Saron, were narrow and steep -and he took them slowly, trying to find a hold for his cane and -not daring to cling to the ancient rope which served as a rail, for -fear that he might pull down the whole structure upon his head.</p> - -<p>In the second story his mood brightened. Here the sisters had -sat with their spinning-wheels and looms; here they had sung -their ethereal matins, and had prayed for their beloved Father -Friedsam; here they had talked of the mystical love of the Lord -for his Sweet Flowers. An unsympathetic person would have -shivered at the damp, gravelike air, at the narrowness of the tiny -rooms, and at the ancient odors which suggested decay and -dreariness; and an imaginative person would have remembered -all the inevitable physical and mental abnormalities of conventual -life.</p> - -<p>But Grandfather was cheered and not depressed. In a sudden -increase of mental vigor he began to plan once more the rehabilitation -of the Kloster. Here should be placed a supporting beam; -here fresh plaster, where the old plaster of clay and grass had -crumbled away, leaving exposed the slanting rafters held together -by wooden pegs. Here was a large space, newly opened -like the hollow in which Amos had found "The Mystic Dove," -and he began to explore the depths with his stick. He had gone -over the old buildings many times, but never without hope of -finding some writing which had been overlooked, and had even -stared at the graves of Father Friedsam and Brother Jabez -wondering whether they might not contain a written message -for the present backsliding generation.</p> - -<p>When his cane touched a small movable object, he forgot that -he had often prayed for exactly such an experience, and he was -amazed and excited. He knelt down and thrust his hand into the -opening. A book! Many books! His old cheeks quivered and his -beard trembled upon his aged breast. He pressed his body against -the crumbling plaster so as to reach in still farther, reproaching -himself because he was surprised at a blessing for which he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> -so ardently prayed. A library of books—other "Mystic Doves" -and "Sweet Lilies!"</p> - -<p>He drew them out, one by one. But the binding was not of -musty leather, but of cheap modern cloth; the language was -neither German nor Latin, and there was no musty odor of -sanctity—what could they be? Still kneeling painfully, he -opened the uppermost of the pile which he had made and began -to read.</p> - -<p>"Hitherto he had never compromised himself in his relations -with women. As he had often said of himself, he had inspired no -great passion, but a multitude of caprices. But now he had -begun to feel that it is one love and not twenty that makes life -memorable; he wished to redeem his life from intrigues, and here -was the very chance he was waiting for. But habit had rendered -him cowardly, and this affair frightened him almost as much as -marriage had done. To go away with her, he felt, was equivalent -to marrying her. His life would never be the same again. The list -would be lost to him forever; no more lists for him. He would be -known as the man who lived with—lived with whom? A girl -picked up in the suburbs who sang rather prettily."</p> - -<p>Grandfather turned fifty pages or so.</p> - -<p>"He was the young poet whom all Paris fell in love with. He -came up to Paris with a married woman; I think they came from -Angoulême. I haven't read Lost Illusions for twenty years. She -and he were the stars in the society of some provincial town, but -when they arrived in Paris each thought the other very common -and countrified. He compares her with Madame d'Espard; she -compares him with Rastignac; Balzac completes the picture with -a touch of pure genius—they forgot that six months would -transform them both into exquisite Parisians!"</p> - -<p>Grandfather turned another hundred pages.</p> - -<p>"'Dearest, we cannot spend the night driving about London.'</p> - -<p>"He sighed on his mistress's shoulder. She threw his black -hair from his forehead."</p> - -<p>The book dropped to the floor.</p> - -<p>"Ach, Gott im Himmel!" cried Grandfather. "What is then -this?"</p> - -<p>He explored deeply and still more deeply, till he had at last -all the library before him on the floor. Who had carried these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> -books to this spot? To whom did they belong? Together with -the agony of which his cramped body suddenly became conscious, -there rushed upon him a sickening suspicion of the -truth. Only one person beside himself had access to the old -buildings.</p> - -<p>For a long time he stood staring at the odious books. He did -not wish to touch them; he would have liked to press them into -a closer heap with his cane and to set fire to them. But they were -not his. Nor did he wish to leave them in this clean and holy -place. He would carry them down, and when Amos returned he -would confront him with them. The dream of his old age was -not yet quite destroyed; there would be no restoration of the -Kloster; but a repentant sinner might still serve a secular congregation. -With him Grandfather would wrestle day and night.</p> - -<p>He carried the books to the cottage in five long journeys. -Baskets woven by the sisters were at hand, but he did not remember -them and a heavily laden basket would have made a -perilous burden. Up and down the two flights of stairs which -were scarcely more than ladders he journeyed, his knees shaking. -Then in his kitchen he placed the books in a row on the table.</p> - -<p>Confounded, he sat with his hands clasped on his cane, waiting. -The rain continued to fall; the monotonous drip from the -eaves changed to the plunge of a miniature waterfall; the -shadows of the Saal and Saron and finally the shadows of night -fell upon the little house, and still he sat alone.</p> - -<p>Amos meanwhile had journeyed through a landscape shrouded -in rain and mist. Fields and farmhouses and noble groups of -trees were hidden or showed only in ghostly outlines. In the -neighborhood of the long line of furnaces and mills the mist -produced many strange phenomena. Above the ground was a -succession of dull masses, black freight trains, the lower floors -of vast and shapeless buildings, and mammoth truncated pyramids -of dim red or black or yellow ore. Once, above the layer of -mist which enshrouded the upper portion of a towering blast-house, -he saw a titanic figure, a man elevated apparently upon -the mist itself, raising against heaven a defiant hammer. He felt -in his own muscles a sudden tightening—he believed that he -could swing a hammer like that and swing it hard.</p> - -<p>The city was wrapped in the same dismal blanket. He wandered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> -about the streets; he visited the Capitol and patrolled -miles of the muddy river. He could not see the distant bank, -and even the islands in midstream had vanished. He walked out -beyond the city limits, and there from a little stone pier looked -down into a deep, swirling pool. There was nothing in life, he -believed, and nothing in death either. The men and women who -wrote the books he read made very little allowance for the future; -to them he believed the very conception was ludicrous.</p> - -<p>Then Amos realized suddenly to what point he had come. He -recoiled in horror from the deep pool and from his own wicked -thoughts and rapidly retraced his steps. When he reached the -city limits, he left the river road in fear and took to the first -parallel street.</p> - -<p>It had begun to rain heavily and he had no umbrella. He remembered -the cathedral into which he had gone by mistake, -and wondering at his earlier feeling of wickedness, he decided to -take refuge there from the rain. He felt an intense curiosity; -Roman Catholic beliefs were often mentioned in the books -which he read. He hurried his steps, and when he reached the -church he went in and sat down panting.</p> - -<p>At first he experienced only a dull peace. His body was tired, -his mind ceased to operate and the mere freedom from thought -was comfortable. Gradually a deeper quiet came upon him, induced -by the silence and the dim conception of ageless traditions -which he had unconsciously gathered. Here as in the Kloster -men had found peace; they had crept away and had taken vows -and hidden themselves forever from the temptations of the mad -world.</p> - -<p>He saw a slender youth in a long, loose garment enter the -church from behind the altar and kneel down. As he knelt he -read from a little book, and sometimes he made a graceful, rapid -motion with his hand across forehead and breast. Amos watched -hungrily and knelt also, crouching almost to the floor. The -young man had a happy face—would that he had courage to -ask the nature and the effect of his orisons! He would do anything, -follow any one.</p> - -<p>But the young priest, having finished his devotions, rose, -crossed himself, and went the way he had come. He had to -Amos's eyes suddenly a complacent air which produced a reaction.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> -The fierce hunger for life came back; he rose and went -out, letting the door slam. He would buy more books. And—poor -Amos!—he would do worse than that; he would learn -something of the world at first hand. There were theaters and -moving-picture houses—to him nothing human was hereafter -to be foreign.</p> - -<p>The rain had ceased, and again for a brief space the mist -descended, not now in a thick blanket, but in ragged masses, -and a wind blew from the river. The deeper chill of evening -cooled the air, and as pedestrians took on a livelier pace, he -moved more briskly with them. At the corner of the square he -stood still and watched the street-cars moving on the weblike -tracks, and the bright lights of the automobiles weaving a -pattern round them, and the larger circles of human beings -perpetually revolving. The group of Salvation Army workers -stood where they had stood months before, singing shrilly, with -an accompaniment of tambourine music, an old and sentimental -religious song set to a popular secular air. Their leader looked -about with the same solemnity, the same canine determination -to snatch as many souls as possible from eternal death. Amos -looked and listened unmoved.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly, as though by this dullness he had opened -finally a gateway for the powers of darkness, there rose beside -him a representative of that evil which he believed to be the -chief evil of the world. A short, heavy woman whose black eyes -sparkled behind a figured veil came up to him, so close that her -shoulder touched his arm. He took an involuntary step, then he -looked down.</p> - -<p>"You're all alone?" asked a flat voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"So am I, but I'm always glad for company. Perhaps you -would come with me?"</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>The woman answered by turning back toward the dark street -and Amos followed her. He walked lightly as though he walked -without shoes, as an Arab might follow his master down a -ghostly street. His folded arms might have held together a -shrouding burnous, his air was secret. He turned like a soldier -on parade into a dark hallway and climbed a flight of stairs and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> -another and yet another, going as though he understood perfectly -the object of his journey.</p> - -<p>The last stairway opened into a room from which he could -see an illuminated sky, and he realized that he was above the -square. He could hear faintly against the sound of grinding -brakes and automobile horns a confident declaration:</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"I'm the child of a King,<br /> -The child of a King,<br /> -With Jesus my Saviour,<br /> -I'm the child of a King."</p> -</div> - -<p>A cold sweat broke out upon him.</p> - -<p>His companion moved quietly about the back of the deep, -dim room, her motions imagined and not seen. As she moved, -it seemed to Amos as though some monstrous and evil thing -was bearing down upon him, an enormous, indescribable instrument -of woe. His terror was not only mental, but physical; -he lifted his hands as if to ward off the crushing weight. At the -same time he felt the whole situation to be unreal; and so keen -was this impression that he expressed it aloud.</p> - -<p>"I'm not like this!"</p> - -<p>"What did you say?" asked the flat voice.</p> - -<p>Amos answered in deeds, not words. He rose to his feet and -moving like a cat approached the door. Then he flung himself -down the stairs, one flight, two, three, and out into the street. -He believed that he heard footsteps behind him, felt dim arms -outstretched for him. He saw, ten times magnified, the face of -the captain of the Army. His face was all that he could see. He -flung himself upon the little band, now almost without an audience, -and pushed his way into the center.</p> - -<p>The astonished captain laid a hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>"You're not fleeing from arrest, are you?"</p> - -<p>"No," panted Amos. "I'm fleeing from evil."</p> - -<p>"Then stand right where you are."</p> - -<p>The tambourines began to beat furiously. A lassie started to -sing with a volume of sweet sound which came uncannily from -her tiny throat. She fixed upon Amos concerned and pitying -eyes. The woman with the dark veil did not appear from her -fastness.</p> - -<p>Amos stood close to the captain, who, after another song had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> -been sung, invited all who wished to be saved to come with him -to the rooms of the Army. Apparently Amos was the only one -interested in this important matter and him he led away, leaving -the others to conduct the meeting. In a bare little room furnished -with benches, a portable organ, and a few printed Scripture -texts, he bade Amos sit down.</p> - -<p>"Now, Brother, what's your trouble?"</p> - -<p>Amos was for the moment speechless, the joys of confidence -being new to him, but when he began to speak, he could not -stop. He told of his youth and his uncle and Ellen and of his -buying books and of the old Kloster.</p> - -<p>"It was intended that I should found a conventual order."</p> - -<p>The captain did not understand.</p> - -<p>"A what?"</p> - -<p>"A conventual order. We were to gather in others to live a -life of meditation."</p> - -<p>The captain knitted his heavy brows. "What were you going -to meditate about?"</p> - -<p>"The goodness of God and the sin of the world," said Amos -faintly; and drew forth an amazing reply:</p> - -<p>"I don't wonder you got nutty."</p> - -<p>"Got what?" repeated Amos, puzzled. "Nutty?"</p> - -<p>"You've understood me, Brother." The captain tapped his -forehead significantly with his gnarled hand whose deep-laid -grime no washing could altogether remove. "Then what?"</p> - -<p>Amos described his despair, his contemplation of the dark -pool, and his last and most terrible experience.</p> - -<p>"I'm utterly vile," said he at last.</p> - -<p>"You're worse than that," said the captain.</p> - -<p>"Won't you advise me?" asked Amos timidly.</p> - -<p>The little man stared at him. He asked again for a second -description of Amos's long days, he looked at the mighty frame, -and was filled with an impatience which was almost disgust. He -rose as though he were going to turn Amos out. Instead he addressed -him fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Will you do exactly as I tell you for a month?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," promised Amos weakly.</p> - -<p>The captain opened a closet door and pointed to several sets -of workingman's overalls.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You pick out the longest of those and roll them into a -bundle and come along."</p> - -<p>Amos obeyed. He could not explain this strange course, unless -he was to be conducted on a journey to see depths of misery -and wickedness more abysmal than his own.</p> - -<p>Whistling, the little man led the way out into the street, and -returning to the square bade his companions good-bye. Of the -wide, interested eyes of the leader of the singing he took special -note, and smiled inwardly and said to himself with the air of a -prophet, "Sally's got her eye on him." Then he climbed into a -street-car, Amos close behind him. When they had traveled -several miles he got out and led the way through an opening in -a high fence into the yard of a blast furnace. The blast was in -progress and the air was filled with rosy light.</p> - -<p>"Come on," he said.</p> - -<p>"What are we going to do?" Did some hideous immolation -threaten? The place seemed like the lower regions.</p> - -<p>"We're going to work," said the strange guide. "What ails -you is not sin, but idleness; you've got too much time on your -hands. I bet you ain't ever worked a whole day in your life! I'm -the boss of the night shift and you're under me. Get me?"</p> - -<p>With a gasp of astonishment Amos "got" him. But the captain, -however efficacious his cure, was mistaken in his diagnosis. -He believed Amos to be lazy as well as idle.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /> -<span class="smaller">FETZER DELIVERS A SERMON</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Fetzer</span> did not sleep well the night before Ellen returned to -college, nor had she slept well for several preceding nights. More -than once during the past ten days she had been astonished, not -by Ellen, but by her admired Dr. Lanfair, who on warm evenings -took Ellen riding in his small car.</p> - -<p>They rode along the pleasant river or on smooth country -roads. On the outward journey, companioned by the setting sun, -they talked. What Ellen had not told about her past, she told -now. All that Stephen could remember of his European journeys, -of France, of Italy, of the Alps, he recalled; new countries which -he expected to see—with Ellen—he pictured from imagination.</p> - -<p>Ellen opened her heart; his remained closed. He said nothing -about his youth, his father, his marriage, his inner self, knowing -that with reticence foregone, other inhibitions would be difficult. -He still believed that some day he could honorably tell Ellen -everything.</p> - -<p>They drove home silently, their eyes upon the illuminated -road and the bordering trees. Once, returning from Gettysburg, -they saw a deer, blinded by the light, motionless, terror-stricken. -The stopping of the car roused him from his paralysis and he -sped into the woods. Their thoughts followed him to some deep -refuge.</p> - -<p>Wholly unsophisticated, Fetzer would have discerned nothing -unwise in these excursions if she had not espied Ellen's look on -the day of Stephen's return. She believed that Stephen was too -modest to suspect that he was enshrined in this susceptible -young breast.</p> - -<p>She laid the last articles in Ellen's trunk, and when she went -to bed she continued to mourn. The world was, take it as one -might, a queer place. Then she turned on her side to sleep. Ellen -was young; she would "get over it." After a while she realized -that she had forgotten to say her prayers and she crept out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> -bed and knelt for a long time praying for many persons, but -especially for Ellen.</p> - -<p>Still she could not sleep. She reviewed Ellen's residence in the -house. This last summer she had watched eagerly for the mail. -Fetzer had believed that the letters which she looked for were -from some college acquaintance; she realized now that they were -Stephen's letters.</p> - -<p>"He's not old." Fetzer was about Stephen's age. "And he's -very good-looking."</p> - -<p>Again she composed herself to sleep.</p> - -<p>"He's perhaps a little too kind to people," she said after another -half-hour, in her nearest approach to disapproval of her -master.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the night she began to think of her own -troubles. The Lord had not answered her prayer; Jim was not -converted, neither was he translated. His term ended on the -first of February, and by that time she expected to await him -in the Pennsylvania German village where they had been born -and married and where everybody knew their history and his -shame. She was not afraid; she believed that if he could be -kept from drink and entertained he would be endurable, at -least he would not be dangerous. If he did not do well—it was -all the same, she was bound to him. It was as yet impossible for -her to imagine herself in the little house with him, but she had -no other thought than to go. She would still have Christmas, -and then would come the inevitable misery. To her Duty was -the "stern daughter of the Voice of God," indeed.</p> - -<p>After Ellen had gone she began to put the house in order for -her own departure, spending hours over each room, making lists -in neat little books, and packing carefully Hilda's belongings so -that if Stephen decided to give them away they could be shipped -without repacking.</p> - -<p>"If I get everything done, I'll then have a free Christmas."</p> - -<p>Sometimes she walked from room to room adoring and sometimes -for an hour she forgot that she was to go away. Then, as -if in punishment for her forgetfulness, she found her husband -walking with her or sitting close beside her at the table and on -the doorstep in the evenings, his arm, his arm—Fetzer needed -her prayers for herself!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<p>Through the autumn Stephen was constantly occupied and -constantly cheerful. He attended his patients with promises of -improvement which did much to bring about improvement. -Miss MacVane stood between him and overwork, and Miss -Knowlton took upon herself a heavier burden than before. The -period was one of supreme happiness for both women; they -lived in a dream, each perfectly aware of her own state of mind -and of that of her companion. Miss Knowlton, at least, was relieved -by Ellen's absence; Ellen was to her like a fifth wheel. -Stephen often sat on the edge of Miss MacVane's desk when -the day's work was done and discussed cases with them. "We've -had a good day, haven't we?" he would say, and Miss MacVane -and Miss Knowlton would scarcely be able to speak for satisfaction. -They both believed that it was unlimited opportunity to -work and freedom from anxiety about Hilda's behavior which -made him happy.</p> - -<p>Fetzer had formed the habit of returning promptly from -church each Sunday evening and after carrying Stephen his late -supper, of sitting with him for half an hour. She always told -about the sermon, to which she paid the closest attention for -this purpose. He seldom went to church, but with this failing -she was lenient so long as she could carry religion to him.</p> - -<p>When she finished her sermon outline she invariably inquired -for Hilda, and then asked for directions for the coming week. -She was happiest when he set her tasks, a complete change in -the position of the office or library furniture or the planning of -a menu for a dinner party of medical men. This fall he gave her -few directions; he was satisfied with everything.</p> - -<p>"And now I must go away!" mourned Fetzer.</p> - -<p>One Sunday evening early in December, she carried him his -supper and sat down near him in the only straight chair, a more -comfortable seat being according to her code unsuitable. When -she entered she saw him fold a letter and put it into his pocket, -and recognized the size and shape. Poor Ellen—Fetzer hoped -that she did not write as she had looked! Though she understood -Ellen's earlier history, it seemed to her, all else aside, that Ellen -had lifted her eyes to an unattainable star.</p> - -<p>As Stephen praised her sandwiches and tea, and asked her -about the preacher and the choir and the attendance, she quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> -forgot all her worries, forgot poor Ellen, forgot her wicked husband -with whom she would soon have to live, forgot everything -but her adoration. But she was soon recalled from her dreams. -Stephen put aside his cup and began to walk up and down the -room.</p> - -<p>"Stay and gossip a while, Fetzer. We must plan a nice Christmas -for Ellen."</p> - -<p>Fetzer looked up startled.</p> - -<p>"Is she coming for Christmas?"</p> - -<p>"Surely!"</p> - -<p>"But she didn't last year!"</p> - -<p>"No, but we went to see her. This year she's to come home."</p> - -<p>Fetzer began to smooth the seams of her black silk dress. It -was a present from Stephen and she felt like a queen in it. She -passed over the astonishing word "home."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by a nice Christmas?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, wreaths and holly and flowers and a turkey and presents—such -a Christmas as young people like. I don't suppose she's -had a real Christmas for a long time. She was here two years -ago, wasn't she? What did you give her then?"</p> - -<p>"A white apron."</p> - -<p>Stephen laughed and Fetzer began to tremble. It was her -feminine duty to protect Ellen.</p> - -<p>"Do you suppose it is best for her to come? On account of her -lessons?"</p> - -<p>"She won't have any lessons. Of course she's coming! Wasn't -she here all summer?"</p> - -<p>Fetzer said in her heart, "But you weren't here!" Aloud she -said, "Does she know she is to come?"</p> - -<p>"Know it? Why, this is her home, Fetzer—surely you understand -that!" He stopped in his walk and looked down. Fetzer -was not one to make difficulties. "I should think you'd be glad -to have her. She's young, and youth is everything."</p> - -<p>With a great effort Fetzer raised her eyes. She was not thinking -of Stephen or of herself, but with deep unselfish concern of -Ellen. It was hideous to want what one could not have!</p> - -<p>"I should think she'd like to be with young people," she said -with a little gasp.</p> - -<p>Stephen had taken up his long stride; he stopped again and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> -looked down. Rarely, and very rarely, jealousy of Ellen's young -companions troubled him.</p> - -<p>"She likes to be here!" he said sharply. "She—" Then he -stopped short. Fetzer was still smoothing the seam of her dress. -He was glad that he had not met her glance—he did not wish -to betray himself. For an instant and only an instant he hated -her, then he blushed for himself—good, devoted, innocent, unsuspicious -Fetzer could have no doubts of him! "I may not be -here all the vacation, but that makes no difference in her coming."</p> - -<p>Fetzer lifted her tray and bade him good-night, and when she -had put all the things neatly away, went up the stairs to her -room and sat down at the window. She had not met his eye, but -for the first time she had heard his voice speaking to her sharply. -It had the effect of light as well as sound; dark corners were suddenly -illuminated. There were his frequent letters, there were -the automobile rides, there was his present eagerness. She had -not seen his face when he greeted Ellen; who knew what his look -had expressed?</p> - -<p>"He's all alone," she said in an awed voice after a long time. -"It's very, very hard to be alone.... He's had all along from -the beginning a hard time.... It was a wonder that he stood -it.... He deserved better in this world.... But this cannot -be!" She spoke with childish simplicity. "This would be wrong!"</p> - -<p>The next Sunday evening she carried Stephen his supper and -sat down and gave him the outline of the sermon.</p> - -<p>"It was on the subject of always having enough light to live -by and it not making anything out if we have nothing else but -that," she explained in her native idiom. The sermon, if one could -judge by her pale cheeks, had moved her.</p> - -<p>She inquired about Hilda.</p> - -<p>"I so often think of her sitting down there when there is all -this here."</p> - -<p>Then she took her future happiness in her hands. Her husband -could not live always and she had expected some day to come -back; now she imperiled that prospect.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry that I cannot be here over Christmas," she said -soberly.</p> - -<p>"Not be here at Christmas! Why not?"</p> - -<p>"He comes out the last of January."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> - -<p>Stephen looked up quickly. The absurdity of preparing for a -month when a week would suffice did not at first occur to him. -He had seen Jim Fetzer at the trial—he was a mad brute.</p> - -<p>"You're not really going back to him!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am."</p> - -<p>"To live with him?"</p> - -<p>"Who else has he?"</p> - -<p>"Let him take care of himself!"</p> - -<p>"But he's my husband"—Fetzer pronounced it "husbant."</p> - -<p>"He'll shoot you again."</p> - -<p>"No, I think not. He knows now what the jail is like."</p> - -<p>"It seems an odious proceeding."</p> - -<p>Fetzer returned his gaze. She was a human being and so was -he, there was at this moment no distinction of rank between -them.</p> - -<p>"You would not leave her stick," she said.</p> - -<p>Stephen swallowed the last mouthful of tea. There was something -behind Fetzer's strangeness; it was ridiculous for her to -leave before she must. If she went Ellen could not come! It was -not possible that she was trying to spoil his plan! He rose and -stood quite close to her.</p> - -<p>"Why do you go before Christmas, Fetzer?"</p> - -<p>A deep red flooded Fetzer's cheeks. On the left side the white -scar lay like a hand.</p> - -<p>"I must get my place ready for him. It is everything all run -down. The fence must be fixed and I'm going to take water into -the kitchen. I'm used to the conveniences here. I—"</p> - -<p>Stephen too flushed crimson. He laid his hand on Fetzer's -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"Look up and tell me what you're driving at!"</p> - -<p>"I mean that I must go."</p> - -<p>"You mean that you're taking pleasure in deliberately spoiling -my little plan for Ellen's Christmas!"</p> - -<p>Fetzer looked at him appalled. Oh, that Ellen had never come -to make life hard!</p> - -<p>"You're making some sort of foolish pretense," he continued. -"Don't you want Ellen to come here?"</p> - -<p>After a long time Fetzer said, "No."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> - -<p>"I think it isn't for the best."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"It's hard on her."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>Fetzer looked down at her folded hands.</p> - -<p>"It's hard to want all the time what you cannot have, especially -when you see it before you."</p> - -<p>"What is there Ellen wants which she can't have?"</p> - -<p>Fetzer rose, pushing back the light chair upon which she had -been sitting.</p> - -<p>"You know," she said quietly. "It is hard even for me to live -here for some reasons, though I'm a little older than you and I'm -a very ignorant Pennsylvania Dutch woman and I have this." -She laid her hand across her cheek. "Sometimes I think how -different everything might have been if I had been born different. -Miss MacVane—I expect it is so with her and with Miss -Knowlton too. But we are older and we can resign ourselves. -But I'm sorry for this young girl, that everything should be -spoiled for her."</p> - -<p>"How spoiled?" Stephen asked the question as quietly as -Fetzer had spoken, but his heart was not quiet. He was not, like -her, unsophisticated, and he saw, not for the first time, his -attentions to Ellen through the exaggerating medium of his own -desire. He suspected with alarm that Fetzer had been prompted -by some worldly-wise, discerning person. There were these other -women in the house, there were Hilda's friends. Could some fool -have meddled?</p> - -<p>But Fetzer's prompting had sprung from her own heart, and -it did not take into account any reputations before the world.</p> - -<p>"Because nothing can come of it for her but trouble," she -said, and went out of the room with dignity, not forgetting to -say good-night or to lift her tray.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN REMEMBERS BROTHER REITH</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the fading light of a December afternoon Miss Grammer and -Ellen went together to an organ recital in the chapel. Only the -lamps at the organ were lighted and they found their way to a -pew in the twilight and sat very still, seeing dimly the mosaics -picked out in gold, the faint outlines of arched windows and the -shadowy forms of human beings. They were not curious about -what was being played; for them music was merely an aid to -meditation. Miss Grammer saw a little brown house whose snug -interior was like that of a ship's cabin. It had built-in cases of -drawers, many book-cases, a few pieces of mahogany furniture, -and at the windows white curtains and red geraniums, and it -was surrounded by neat flower-beds in which there was a continual -succession of old-fashioned bloom.</p> - -<p>Ellen's thoughts dwelt upon a human and not a material -object. She saw Stephen's smile and heard his "Well, Ellen!" -It was only at such moments as this that she allowed herself to -think of him. A history paper had recently been marked B, instead -of A, and she knew the reason perfectly, she had been -meditating during a lecture upon the admirable character of her -benefactor. There are long periods in youth when the present -suffices for happiness, when the distant future casts no shadow -upon the drifting hours. She was content to work as few students -ever worked and to allow herself grateful thoughts during organ -recitals and late in the evening when she sat on the window-seat -in the Seminar room waiting for Miss Grammer to complete her -longer tasks.</p> - -<p>This afternoon the organist seemed to have selected his compositions -for the special benefit of dreamers. He used soft stops, -and one lost at times almost all consciousness of sound. His little -yellow-haired boy had climbed to the organ bench and the light -fell upon him as he sat motionless watching his father's hands. -It seemed as though he were producing the music by a childish -magic.</p> - -<p>"Two years from now I shall probably be settled for life,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> -said Miss Grammer to herself. "I shall not buy a house for a -year, however, until I am sure that everything suits me. I shall -have a fireplace with a couch before it and my bookshelves shall -be all about me like a wall. <i>If only nothing happens!</i>" Miss -Grammer shivered. Alas, things had often happened!</p> - -<p>"Two weeks from now I shall be at home," said Ellen. "It -will be almost dinner-time and I shall be going down to the -library. Perhaps I shall have a letter this evening."</p> - -<p>The last part of Ellen's dream came true. She did not read the -letter at once; it pleased her in her confident happiness to postpone -it until she had finished her evening's work. After dinner she -and her companion went back across the dark campus to the library. -They listened for a moment to the noisy brook over which -they crossed on a little bridge, they watched velvety black -wind clouds blot out the stars, they smiled at a whistling boy, -they heard the sound of a dance tune from a fraternity house.</p> - -<p>"People are gayer than we, but they aren't happier," said -Miss Grammer.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm gay, too!" said Ellen.</p> - -<p>She wrote themes in English and Latin; then she looked over -many pages of history notes and answered mentally a list of -questions which she had set down at the conclusion of to-day's -lecture. She could answer them all—there were to be no more -B's! Occasionally the name of a studious Junior was added to -the list of Seniors elected to membership in the Phi Beta Kappa -Fraternity—it was a goal at which she aimed.</p> - -<p>Then at last she opened her letter.</p> - -<p>"My dear Ellen," wrote Stephen, "I find that I shall have to -be away at Christmas—I'm going South with Professor Mayne. -Fetzer is, I'm sorry to say, to be away also, not as heretofore -merely visiting her wretch of a husband, but preparing a home -to which he will come permanently next month. Then Miss -MacVane will take charge of the house. I think your best plan -will be to stay in Ithaca with your friend. Would you like to go -to Buffalo again? What would you like to do?"</p> - -<p>After a while Miss Grammer looked up. Ellen's head was bent -low.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter? Have you had bad news?"</p> - -<p>Ellen lifted a pale, astonished face.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> - -<p>"No," she said, trying to make her voice sound natural. -"Only I'm to stay here for Christmas. Dr. Lanfair and Mrs. -Fetzer will both be away."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Miss Grammer practically, "I'm sure we shall -have a pleasant time." Blinking in her queer fashion, she delivered -a little homily which expressed her philosophy of life. She -had had deep and wide experience with disappointment.</p> - -<p>"There's only one person for each of us to be absolutely sure -of, that's ourselves, and we've got to make our happiness dependent -upon things which we can get for ourselves. Now one -can always have books and nature, and we should make the -most of those pleasures and learn to rely upon them and not -upon human beings or worldly fortune. I've had to do that."</p> - -<p>Miss Grammer returned to her books and concentrated her -attention upon them. Her remarks indicated no vain boasting; -she had done exactly what she claimed to have done. But she -was quite forty.</p> - -<p>Ellen sat for a little while looking out of the window. She felt -stupefied; presently she was conscious that she had difficulty in -breathing. Was she going to cry? She must get quickly from -under these smothering ranks of dull books and this heavy pile -of stone and away from the keen eyes of her companion. It had -always been her habit in trouble to run out of doors. She rose and -put on her hat and coat.</p> - -<p>"Just a few minutes and I'll be ready," said Miss Grammer.</p> - -<p>"I think I'll go now," answered Ellen steadily. "See you in -the morning."</p> - -<p>Miss Grammer looked at the door which closed gently. She -knew the main facts of Ellen's life, and suspecting that Harrisburg -held some young man to whom she was attached, she sighed.</p> - -<p>Outside Ellen stood still. The night was bright and starlit. -She went round the great building to the rear and there sat down -upon a familiar bench which was a part of the architectural -design and bore an inscription which she knew by heart:</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"To those who shall sit here rejoicing,<br /> -To those who shall sit here sorrowing, greeting!<br /> -<span class="poem-i"> -So have we done in our time."</span></p> -</div> - -<p>She was filled with wonder and amazement. Could such -misery be real? He was going South with Professor Mayne! He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> -could have no other reason than his own pleasure. If he had -stayed at home, Fetzer would have stayed also—she knew -Fetzer's plans. He didn't care; she was nothing to him but a -poor creature who needed help.</p> - -<p>Hearing the sound of men's voices, she realized that it was -foolish to sit here alone, when at any moment a company of -students might take a short cut across the hill. She longed for the -shelter of her room, for her smooth pillow—the sky and the -stars and the cold air offered no balm. Perhaps in her room she -could think this out, could find some ray of comfort, could -remember some detail of their association upon which she could -once more build happiness. She rose and went rapidly down the -walk and across the brook.</p> - -<p>Once in her room, she did not go to bed, but sat down by the -window and looked out at the dim campus. Her pain, dulled for -a few moments, returned. He was going away, she should not -see him! She put her hand to her side, to soothe actual, physical -distress.</p> - -<p>Presently, as if to ascertain whether this agony had put a -visible mark upon her, she turned on the light and examined -herself in her mirror curiously and with humility. She was not -thinking of her appearance; she was asking herself a question. -Then she lifted her head with a splendid defiance to resist the -fire of amazement and resentment which ran through her. The -resentment was not against Stephen, still less was it against herself; -it was against life.</p> - -<p>"I haven't done any wrong," said Ellen aloud. "It isn't my -fault."</p> - -<p>At once, moving deliberately, she undressed. She counted the -strokes of the brush on her thick hair, she hung up her clothes -with painstaking, she laid out fresh clothes for the next morning. -But once in bed, she could not sleep; a faint recollection disturbed -her, a vague incident connected with this hour, promising -in the most tantalizing way an interpretation if she could but -read it aright.</p> - -<p>Later in the night she dreamed. She seemed to see Millie, a -little, weazened creature who pointed at her and chattered, rat-like, -about the pursuit of Brother Reith and the unlawful pleasures -which he allowed himself in the absence of his wife.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /> -<span class="smaller">GRANDFATHER PLANS A CRIME</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">During</span> the long hours in which Grandfather waited for Amos, -he reviewed his life, searching like Job to find where he had -erred and how he had brought upon himself the heavy punishments -of his old age. He had tried to do his duty, had preached -righteousness, had tried to interpret the Bible correctly, had -given to the poor. He had married, but the instinct to mate had -been implanted in the human heart by God Himself. Except in -this one act, his whole life had been one of self-denial.</p> - -<p>In spite of his effort to be righteous, his life had followed a -descending scale since his thirtieth year. Then his wife had died, -and about the same time three families had left the church, two -to become Lutherans, the other to go to church no more. They -had all been rich in this world's goods, and what was far more -important, they had been large families.</p> - -<p>Afterwards Mary had married Edward Levis and the danger -to her soul had occupied his anxious heart. He had recovered -presently his sense of security and had built great hopes upon -Matthew and Amos and Ellen; but here again he had been -cruelly disappointed—Ellen had left him and Matthew had -behaved shamefully. Last week Millie had come angrily complaining -that Matthew was bewitched; he would not go to -church, he was teaching the children to despise her, and he had -taken to reading books which he had once considered wicked.</p> - -<p>"He tells little Matthew that things I say are wrong. My way -was him good enough when we were married. It is that Ellen!"</p> - -<p>And now Amos had gone, and the souls of all three were in -peril; they were sheep lost upon the mountain.</p> - -<p>If it had not been for the discovery of these unclean volumes, -Grandfather would have had a search instituted at once for his -nephew. But to him they explained everything. He felt a destroying -rage with Amos; he could look upon him with far less -leniency than upon Matthew and Ellen. It was in his case as -though a dog which for years pretended gentleness had turned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> -and rent the hand that fed it. He had practiced a long piece of -deceit; some of these books he must have had for months. -Grandfather pondered upon his comings and goings and decided -correctly upon the exact day on which he had made his first -excursion in search of literature. With fresh suspicion he took -from the table drawer "The Mystic Dove" and Amos's translation -and discovered that work had ceased months ago. He looked -with tears at the marginal scribblings.</p> - -<p>"I trusted him too much," he said bitterly.</p> - -<p>He sat waiting all the rainy afternoon and evening.</p> - -<p>But Amos did not come. Night fell after a gloomy twilight and -Grandfather went exhausted to bed. He locked the door with a -stern pressing together of his thin lips, but after a while he rose -and unlocked it. He even opened it and, shivering, looked out -into the black landscape. But no human being was to be seen and -only the mocking blast of an automobile horn from the curve -near by was to be heard.</p> - -<p>Another day passed and Amos did not come. On the third -day Grandfather saw the rural carrier drop a letter into his box -and hurried feebly to the road. He opened it as he returned -through the graveyard, but found that he could not read. He -was frightened until he remembered that he did not have his -spectacles.</p> - -<p>But even spectacles did not make reading possible at once. -He stared at the sheet for a long time before he understood -exactly what Amos meant.</p> - -<p>"Dear Uncle, you will be surprised to hear that I am going -to give up my school. I have written to the directors. There are -plenty others who will be glad to have the place. Uncle, I have -found peace. For a long time I have been uneasy in a spiritual -way. But I have found a friend and he says that what I need is -to work hard and the soul will take care of itself. I work in the -furnace and in the evening I am with him. He is a Salvation -Army worker. There are three men and two women who work -together. One man and one woman are married, the rest are -single people. It is like the idea of the Kloster in a way. I hope -you were not anxious. I had a heavy burden on me, Uncle."</p> - -<p>When he at last understood, Grandfather was violently -excited, not by anger or by disappointment, but by hope. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> -Amos had found peace, so much the better. But he need not -stay away—this was the place for him to labor; let him bring -his friends here! Grandfather penned a forgiving, welcoming -response.</p> - -<p>But Amos was not to be persuaded. He answered saying that -he was glad he was forgiven, but a life of meditation and prayer -suited none of them; they must be up and doing, the harvest was -white. "It is our custom to go where sin is," explained Amos. -"We do not wait for sinners to come to us."</p> - -<p>"'We'!" repeated Grandfather.</p> - -<p>The word had for Amos a specific meaning.</p> - -<p>"There is a young woman here, Corporal Sally, who is a -noble woman. She has had a sad history, but has come through." -Little did Grandfather dream the struggling against sin, represented -by a worldly Ellen, behind these simple sentences!</p> - -<p>Then, alas for both writer and reader, Amos explained that -he could no longer believe in the keeping of the Seventh Day, the -ceremony of Foot-washing, the exchange of the holy kiss. He -did not hold them to be the essentials of religion.</p> - -<p>He said in conclusion that if Grandfather needed him, if he -should be sick, for instance, he could come at once. He signed -himself Grandfather's "in the Lord."</p> - -<p>"In the Lord!" Grandfather lifted his stout old stick and -brought it down heavily. It struck "Esther Waters" and Esther -fell to the floor. "The Raft" was torn across one of its grimmest -pages, "Madame Bovary" was cruelly slashed.</p> - -<p>Then a wilder mood came upon him. The end of the Kloster -was decreed, that was clear. The props were removed, the pillars -loosened, the foundations weakened. When he was gone no one -would be left to cherish the old buildings. Curiosity-seekers, long -the bane of his existence, would carry away the treasures of -books and curios, the wooden blocks upon which saintly heads -had rested, the elaborate charts penned by devoted fingers. An -insistent antiquarian often visited Grandfather—he would -come and take that which he coveted and perhaps sell his loot, -making capital of the things of the saints! There was no rational -explanation of earthly affairs; reward was not given to merit, -nor peace of mind to those who deserved it. It would be well to -make an end.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<p>His anger quickened. The Kloster was his; even in human law -he might claim it, might sell it, do as he liked with it, as the last -Seventh-Day Baptist. After him there would be no one who had -any real claim upon it.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he had a vision. He saw clean, merciful, leaping -flames doing quickly what time would do gradually. The suggestion -seemed to come miraculously and with it a plan for its -carrying-out. There was an angle where the Saal and Saron -joined, where a pile of kindling could be laid. He felt an overwhelming -weariness with life and an eager desire to be rid of it. -He began to plan cunningly.</p> - -<p>In the night he took from his woodbox an armful of fine kindling -and carried it up the stone steps and round the meeting-house -to the spot which he had selected. The night was cloudy -and there was not a sound, not even the distant baying of a dog -or the echo of footsteps. He returned and secured two matches, -the small can from which he filled his brass lamp, and also the -ponderous key. He would look for the last time upon the treasures -which he loved. He opened the door of the meeting-room in -the Saal. The old benches, the table with its superimposed reading-stand -which formed the pulpit, the faded charts on the wall—he -saw them clearly, though their outlines were almost invisible. -He repeated to himself the inscription on one of the charts, -then he stood trembling and sighing.</p> - -<p>He walked through the meeting-room to the kitchen where of -old meals had been prepared for visiting brethren and their -families who came to spend days in worship—he groaned as he -thought of their multitude, a far greater multitude in his dreams -than they had been in reality.</p> - -<p>The interior of Saron was black, but he needed no light. He -touched lovingly an ancient chair, an old loom, a row of pewter -spoons, a hand-woven basket. He climbed last of all to the matin -room. Now he was breathing heavily. The thought of Amos had -returned, filling him with rage. Matthew and Ellen were children, -his children, but Amos was not. He hoped that the forthcoming -tragedy would haunt Amos all his days. He meant to -come back to this room and await his end.</p> - -<p>He went trembling down the steep steps and out to the angle -of the wall where he had laid the little woodpile. He struck a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> -match and its light showed faintly. He had selected the spot cunningly; -it was invisible from all points except a field, and in this -field, sown with winter wheat, there was certain to be no observer. -The fire would not be discovered until the flames leaped through -the roof and the opposite wall. When he tried to light the wood -it did not burn, and he remembered his coal-oil and lifted the -can.</p> - -<p>But before he had tilted it Grandfather paused. He had given -the hours of a long life, not to dreams of arson and self-destruction, -but to meditations upon the majesty and the goodness of -God. His visit to the matin room had started a familiar train of -thought. He ceased suddenly to hear the crackling of flames and -the thunder of falling beams and rafters and thick old walls; -he heard the sweet and heavenly singing of women far above his -head, the ethereal sounds issuing from fasting bodies. He forgot -his rage, he forgot Ellen and Matthew and Amos, he forgot himself. -His wrongs ceased to be real; the realities were white-robed -choirs, a heavenly peace of mind. He stood listening.</p> - -<p>After a long time he carried the oil can and the wood back to -the cottage and put them in their places. Then he opened the -window and sat down. It was almost midnight, the hour when -Father Friedsam had been accustomed to waken his spiritual -children so that they might worship their Creator. With folded -hands and monkish mien Grandfather rose and stepped out of -his cottage and up the stone steps to the meeting-house and -there ascended the pulpit platform. The room which he saw was -not this dim, low-ceiled room of his ministry; it was a loftier -room with a latticed gallery for singers. He saw before him an -entering procession, and alone in the darkness he lifted his voice -and praised God with a psalm.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">ELLEN UNDERTAKES TO CONQUER HERSELF</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first sting of disappointment past, Ellen believed that she -was glad that her Christmas journey had been made impossible. -She might have betrayed herself, and the only light in her darkness -was the hope of keeping Stephen's good-will. Her experience -of human passion was limited; she believed that the simple fact -that Hilda lived would keep his heart from wandering. Pure -hearts, she believed, did not wander, nor did they seek those -which were bound. To feel his eyes upon her in amazement, disapproval, -or scorn—there was the one contingency intolerable -and shameful.</p> - -<p>Not once, during her self-examination, did she surmise that -she was regarded in any other light than that of a beneficiary. -Stephen was grateful to her father for some remembered kindness, -he sympathized with her ambitions, and he had given her -what must seem to him—however large it was to her—a little -from his store. Fetzer's opinion that she had lifted her eyes to -a distant and unattainable star was her own opinion exactly; -indeed, to Fetzer he was not nearly so exalted a person as he was -to Ellen.</p> - -<p>She felt, alas! now that she understood herself, another humiliating -emotion, jealousy of all who had anything to do with him, -of Miss Knowlton who obeyed his commands, of Miss MacVane -who kept his house, of Fetzer who might some day return to her -post, of Professor Mayne who went about with him, even of the -patients who saw him daily. One could become, it seemed, -wholly ludicrous.</p> - -<p>Another woman might have tried to conquer this passion -because it could result only in misery and humiliation for herself, -but Ellen tried to conquer it because it was wrong. It had -not been wrong to love him; she had fallen blindly into that -error—upon that she proudly insisted; but it would be sinful to -continue. From the narrow theology of Grandfather and from -the character of her father she had unconsciously constructed a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> -code of behavior as rigid as Grandfather's precepts and as her -father's probity. Her nature was developing rapidly, but in this -respect it retained all its natural simplicity and innocence.</p> - -<p>She determined, therefore, poor Ellen, that she would banish -Stephen from the heart which he unlawfully occupied, and with -this end in view she laid down specific rules for herself. In the -first place she would think of him no more. In this determination -she was not as childlike as she seemed for she planned for herself -deliberate distractions. She would study still harder; she would -respond to some of the friendly overtures which were continually -made; and, above all, she would dream no more. She laid away -the tiny watch which Stephen had sent her at Christmas—it -was absurd to try not to think of him and then deliberately to -recall him whenever she needed to know the hour! She went to a -few dances, she received a few student callers, she even went -walking four times with a graduate student who confided to her -the history of his past and his hopes for the future. She decided -drearily in March that she was conquering herself.</p> - -<p>She would go to Harrisburg in June only for a day on her way -to Ephrata. Her self-examination led her farther than her relations -with Stephen, and she believed that in her preoccupation -with herself she had been undutiful to her grandfather and to -Matthew. When Miss Grammer, who had taken a cottage on -the lake, invited her wistfully to go with her, she burst into -tears.</p> - -<p>"I wish I could. But I've written to my brother that I'm -coming home."</p> - -<p>Miss Grammer studied her gravely. Had the object of love -died or had he been married? It was the former of these sorrows -which she had suffered in her youth.</p> - -<p>"You knew that you might come with me, surely, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes."</p> - -<p>"You are tired," said Miss Grammer.</p> - -<p>Spring breaks the best of resolutions of Ellen's particular -variety. The willow branches turned a brighter yellow, the -brook bubbled more and more loudly, crocuses and scilla enlivened -the grass. Presently flowering shrubs bloomed; one walked -in welcome shade where yesterday there had been sunshine; -bees hummed in and out of classrooms where students nodded.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> -Those who had studied ceased to be industrious and those who -had been idle continued in their course. There was little talk of -Avogadro's Law or of the Elizabethan spirit of Shelley; there -was discussion of baseball games and boat-races. Envy was -transferred from him who made high marks to him who, like the -wise virgins, had provided against springtime by saving permitted -absences.</p> - -<p>On Memorial Day there was a boat-race and the students -departed with few exceptions to the lakeside. A half-dozen, -studious like Miss Grammer, worked in the library, their -thoughts occupied with matters alien to boat-races, and others -whose purses were empty sought points of vantage on distant -hillsides. Only Ellen turned her back upon both work and play -and went in an opposite direction. She meant this afternoon, -while the struggle on the lake was in progress, to take herself -to task.</p> - -<p>She selected her battleground with poor judgment. One may -win a victory over one's self as one walks on a frozen road or -under the bare branches of wintry trees, but when one approaches -the scene of conflict through beds of daisies and sweet clover one -is weakened at the start. Even her physical strength seemed to -be failing when at last she sat down on a fallen tree at the edge -of a little wood and clasped her hands round her knees. The land -fell in a gentle slope to the campus whose towers rose above the -tree-tops. Beyond, and far below, the lake lay clear and blue. -There was no house near by and there was no sound of the life -of human beings, and nothing to take her attention away from -her own problem.</p> - -<p>She believed now that her obsession was a mortal sickness and -that from it she could never escape; she hoped only to hide it -and to proceed so that it might be unsuspected by others. She -had tried since Christmas to put Stephen out of her mind and -had failed. She had reminded herself that her affection was not -and that it never would be returned. Indeed, it seemed to her -that already Stephen's letters had grown more curt and businesslike; -perhaps he understood and was trying to make clear to her -the hopelessness of her situation.</p> - -<p>She reproached herself for her blindness. It was upon the -night when she had returned from the King Sanatorium that this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> -had begun; she should have understood herself then, and not -created for herself a fool's paradise. The effect of this emotion -was like the effect of death, it colored everything. The universe -had narrowed to a point. She did not realize how unlike most -lives her life was, with its limited circle of acquaintances, and its -intense affection for a few human beings.</p> - -<p>The afternoon wore slowly on; far away the straining bodies -of the rowers bent above their oars waiting the word to make a -belated start, the thousands of spectators shouted, and presently -the long observation train began to move with the boats. She -should have been with her schoolmates in body and in spirit, -but she did not even think of them.</p> - -<p>Suddenly it seemed to her that some restraining band within -her weakened and broke. In imagination she let her eyes devour -Stephen, let herself be enfolded by his arms, lifted her lips to his. -She uttered a sigh of complete abandonment; she began eagerly -to comfort herself with reminders of his gifts to her, his smile -upon her, his hand on a memorable occasion lifting her chin. -When he had walked with her in New York, he had never let go -her arm; when he helped her into his car his clasp lingered. She -found herself speaking aloud.</p> - -<p>"If I could only see him! I haven't seen him since last summer! -If I only knew that he didn't despise me, that he thought of me, -I shouldn't care for anything else. Then I could work once more. -If I could only see him! Others can, and I would give my life -for him!"</p> - -<p>She heard dimly the cheering of a multitude. It must be that -the race was won; the visitors could produce no such volume of -sound. But her victory was not won! She rose and went down -the hill to the road, her shoulders bent. Her childhood had been -ended by her father's death, and now her youth was ended by -this misfortune. She remembered, alas, a word of Amos's—"burn -with sinful passion"—and she was filled with shame.</p> - -<p>She crossed the deserted campus to the library, walking aimlessly, -and descended to the cool corridor leading to the Seminar -room. The door was open and she could see Miss Grammer at -work within. Unheard, she stood looking at her curiously, almost -as though Miss Grammer were dead. So that was what was left -for one, that was what one became!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /> -<span class="smaller">A DARK TOWER</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> Stephen returned from his excursion with Professor -Mayne, Miss MacVane had installed a young woman in his -office and had herself taken charge of his house, filling her new -position with Fetzer's devotion.</p> - -<p>He had given no directions for Ellen's letters to follow him -and when he read them on his return he discovered with selfish -pleasure that she had missed a week. So she couldn't write, poor -child! A pretty dreary time she must have had with Miss Grammer! -So had he with Mayne. He longed to tease Ellen until her -eyes filled with tears and then to brighten them again. He had -changed his Christmas plans neither out of respect to Fetzer's -opinion, nor because he wished to avoid encouraging Ellen's -affection, but because of the sharp eyes of the other women in -his house, and because he believed his deliverance was at hand. -Hilda was worse, and her malady was likely to take henceforth -a more rapid course.</p> - -<p>Ellen's mid-year examinations were successfully passed and -he proudly showed her report card to Miss MacVane, who -looked at him keenly and enigmatically from behind her thick -glasses, but kept her thoughts to herself. Ellen and Miss Grammer -had been invited by Professor Anderson to the box of his -fraternity at the Junior Promenade, and Ellen had danced. Did -Ellen dance? His heart sank. Professor Anderson was an old man—she -must have had a more agile partner. She went to the -theater—she did not say with whom. She won election to -Phi Beta Kappa, and his eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p>In the spring impatience tortured him. He was tired and his -nights were restless. Life was passing; he was now forty-three -years old and joys, unless they were snatched quickly, would -cease to be joys.</p> - -<p>Late in May Dr. King asked for a personal interview—the -message could mean only a change for the worse. To be free, to -have a few years of life at high pitch—how eager was his longing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> -how clear his visualization of the nature of that happiness! -A year from now Ellen would have finished her course—it -would be absurd to wait beyond that time.</p> - -<p>But freedom was not at hand. Hilda, he learned, had seemed -to improve and had asked for her husband. Dr. King was almost -jubilant; the improvement offered hope for all similar cases. She -was so much better that he believed it might be possible for her -to have a period of liberty in her home under the care of attendants. -He felt an intense sympathy for Lanfair, and an intense -satisfaction in the news he had to impart. Mrs. Lanfair had not -been long enough away for her return to seem like a return from -the dead as sometimes tragically happened. But Lanfair must -not let himself be too hopeful.</p> - -<p>Stephen looked silently down upon the eager little man. Hopeful! -He began to tremble. Was he to take her home <i>now</i>? It -couldn't be; he would have to explain, to make excuses. He stammered -an incoherent answer and followed along thickly carpeted -corridors, his cheeks quivering. He fixed his eyes upon the back -of Dr. King's well-clad figure and was absurdly and grossly -offended by the pattern of his coat. He said that he must get -hold of himself, that this would never do.</p> - -<p>Only the fact that his guide locked and unlocked all doors -through which they passed differentiated the journey from a -journey through any large and well-appointed house. It appeared -to be endless, but when they paused before Hilda's door, it -seemed to have lasted no more than a second. Stephen laid his -hand on Dr. King's arm. With difficulty he commanded his -voice, and the words when they were formed seemed to come -from some other throat. If the interview could be only a little -delayed! It was not possible that he would faint! He had felt a -similar terror years ago when he had traveled toward Philadelphia -expecting to hear that he was forever disgraced.</p> - -<p>"Has she been prepared for my visit?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes! She's waiting for you!"</p> - -<p>The superintendent pushed the door open and tapped on an -inner door and a nurse greeted them in a friendly voice.</p> - -<p>"We've been watching for you, haven't we, Mrs. Lanfair?" -she said, turning to some one within.</p> - -<p>Stephen felt an insane desire to imitate with childish and impertinent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> -syllables the rise and fall of her voice. He found himself -in a luxurious sitting-room. For a moment he could see -nothing; then he discovered Hilda in a rocking-chair close to the -barred and awninged window which opened upon a portion of -the lawn laid out in imitation of a Japanese garden. He could -hear the delicate sound of running water, and see birds dipping -into a pool.</p> - -<p>While he tried to speak, he observed that Hilda had grown -stout; though she did not look like herself, face and figure were -nevertheless familiar. Ah! it was her uncle whom she had grown -to resemble, and there was something grossly unpleasant in the -change.</p> - -<p>"You see, I've brought him!" announced the superintendent, -as though this had been accomplished only by a very great effort.</p> - -<p>Poor Hilda saw plainly—for this moment she had been cunningly -planning. She did not rise or move forward or make any -motion, except a motion with her lips. All that she wanted to -say to her uncle and Dr. Good on the night when she came away, -she said now, eloquently. Her heavy, motionless body seemed to -add treble emphasis. Such accusations uttered with an accompaniment -of hysterical laughter or of waving arms would have -seemed mad; but she did not speak like a madwoman. One -would have said that her reasoning was sound though her premises -were false.</p> - -<p>She had uttered a dozen sentences before her audience came -to themselves. Then Stephen moved backward. He was not -afraid; he simply wished to get away, to end the intolerable -tirade as soon as possible. The nurse stepped between him and -Hilda, and the doctor closed and locked the door quickly, himself -and Stephen outside. Dr. King was distressed.</p> - -<p>"One can never tell," he said, frowning. "I can't say that I'm -altogether surprised, but I felt that the experiment should be -made. You understand my motive?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly," Stephen assured him.</p> - -<p>In the office Stephen repeated his directions for Hilda's comfort. -He would not sit down; he wished to escape quickly as he -had wished to escape from the hospital when there had been -lengthy operations with long incisions or with copious letting of -blood. He had always avoided contact with unpleasant realities.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> -When a nurse came to speak to the superintendent, he went out -and got into the car, which he had driven himself. He had expected -to go on to Philadelphia for the night, but his business -there seemed suddenly unimportant. Neither did he wish to -return home.</p> - -<p>At the first crossroad he got out to investigate a suspicious -sound in the running-gear of his car, and seeking the tool with -which to tighten a screw scratched his left hand deeply, and -irritably wiped away the blood. Then he stood still looking about. -Harrisburg lay toward the west—a road led there directly; -Philadelphia toward the east—Mayne was expecting him. He -could not see Mayne of all persons in the world!</p> - -<p>Then suddenly his eyes narrowed, the beat of his heart quickened, -he smiled slowly. He had once visited Ithaca in the spring, -it was lovely with its thick shade, its waterfalls, its lake; he -determined that he would see it again. Then he laughed. He -would go if it was as homely as Chestnut Ridge, if the month -was January! No one need know, no one would ever be the worse -for it. He could be there by to-morrow evening and any one so -industrious as Ellen could cut Saturday classes. Saturday and -Sunday would be days to set against months of unhappiness. -He said again that no one would be the worse for it.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he laughed at himself for a fool. Why had he not -gone before? Why not at Christmas-time? If the mere intention -could bring about this lightness of heart, this heavenly clearness -of vision, this certainty of purpose, this deep joy, why had he -not had all these long ago? She was, he did not doubt, prettier -than ever, but it was not her prettiness which he valued, it was -her youth, her steadfastness, her devotion. He was certain that -she loved him, he remembered with amusement his short-lived -jealousy.</p> - -<p>He speculated as he drove upon the rarity of human happiness. -His father's life—how dull, how arduous, how ill-rewarded! -Mayne's—how favorable from without, how hollow within! -What undeserved calamity had visited Fetzer—foolish Fetzer -to whom he had listened so obediently! What disappointment -Levis had suffered! How little satisfaction he himself had had -and with what high hope he had begun! But here was happiness -within reach!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> - -<p>He noticed with sharpened observation as he drove north, -those changes in the landscape with which he had been familiar -in his youth; he would point them out sometime to Ellen. He -drove rapidly and unweariedly, his depression passing, feeling -that he understood the joy of the aviator. His route lay to the -east of Chestnut Ridge, but he would see presently a country -similar to that in which he had been born and had spent his youth.</p> - -<p>He did not think of Hilda, sitting heavily by the shaded window; -his thoughts leaped ahead. He drove on and on like one -possessed.</p> - -<p>"I could give her riches and ease and travel," he said to himself. -"It wouldn't be an unfair exchange for youth." It may -have been the gathering dusk, it may have been a springing -breeze, but a cool wind seemed to blow across his very heart. -To wait another five years or ten! He must have Ellen now.</p> - -<p>He was tempted to stop as twilight fell, but he changed his -mind. He had come to the point when fifty miles nearer her was -a goal to be desired. He could reach her, he believed, before noon -of the next day; he did not care where he slept or whether he ate. -He had ceased to think of her good or of his own honor or of her -father—he thought of but one matter.</p> - -<p>"It won't hurt her to be kissed," he said to himself, smiling. -His thoughts came disjointedly, sometimes they expressed themselves -in single words—"Adorable" ... "hungry" ... "her -dark eyes" ... "peace" ... Once he laughed aloud. "It won't -hurt her mind, she'll blossom like a rose!" Sometimes he smiled -grimly. Fate should not cheat him, let her set her trap never so -well! There was, he believed, nothing between him and the -satisfaction of his desire but a few hours of swift driving.</p> - -<p>He was so occupied with his own thoughts that he did not -realize till darkness was almost complete that he had taken a -wrong turn. He stopped his car and got out, a tall gray figure in -the dusk, and surveyed the landscape, and discovered that he -had come into a country like the country of his youth. He could -not look far in any direction, for low, bleak hills had closed in -upon him. Through a cleft between two of them the sun cast a -last reflected gleam. Seeing no dim human habitation, he studied -the road—though it was little traveled, he believed that it -would be best to go on. In the next valley there would doubtless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> -be a village where they could set him straight. The pale light was -on his left; the road led at least in the right direction. Then suddenly -he smiled. Memory played queer tricks—a forgotten -fragment of poetry, recited often by his father, surprised him:</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"Naught in the distance but the evening, naught<br /> -To point my footsteps further! At the thought<br /> -A great black bird, Apollyon's bosom friend,<br /> -Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing, dragon-penned,<br /> -That brushed my cap—perchance the guide I sought."</p> -</div> - -<p>He shivered suddenly. This was a sinister landscape; familiar -as such scenes had been to him in his youth, he should not like -to be held here for the night. Alas, his poor father had had no -other landscape to look upon in all his latter years!</p> - -<p>He stepped out of the car and mounted a little bank, and discerned -far ahead a hopeful gleam. Driving on carefully and -slowly, he saw with relief that the light shone from the window -of a small, faintly outlined house. Amusedly, as he pushed open -the sagging gate, he went on with his appropriate verses.</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"What in the midst lay but the tower itself?<br /> -The round, squat tower, blind as a fool's heart,<br /> -Built of brown stone, without a counterpart<br /> -In the whole world—"</p> -</div> - -<p>He knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked -again more heavily. There was a light, there must be human -beings about; perhaps the occupant had gone to drive home the -cow. Perhaps a deaf person lived here. He stepped to the window -and peered in.</p> - -<p>The interior was like a hundred interiors which he had seen -in his childhood, a little room which was at once kitchen and -living-room, its furniture a bare pine table, a few chairs, a half-dozen -cooking-vessels, dirty, out-of-date calendars pinned -against the wall, rags in a broken sash, and, hanging on a nail, -a miner's grimy coat and a woman's shawl. He had driven with -his father to such houses as this a hundred times and had sat -waiting in the buggy or on the grass by the roadside amusing -himself with childish games. Sometimes he had been puzzled -and distressed by a sound whose cause he then understood but -dimly. Memory played him another trick, it caused him to hear -the same sound now.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> - -<p>He could not see into the inner room, perhaps the deaf person -was there; he knocked again and opened the door. Then he laid -his hand across his lips. The sound had not been remembered—it -had been heard. It proceeded from the inner room.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" he asked loudly and impatiently. "I've -come to ask my way. Is any one ill?"</p> - -<p>He saw that a distorted figure lay upon a low bed. Fearing -that here was an emergency which had been repellent to him -from his youth, he went unwillingly toward the inner room and -stood with his hand upon the jamb.</p> - -<p>"What is the trouble?" he asked again.</p> - -<p>With painful effort the woman turned and looked up at him. -It was not as he had feared; her need was of a different sort. -Upon her pale face stood drops of perspiration and she clutched -her thin chest with both hands. It was the same agony which -had smitten Edward Levis with merciful swiftness, here long -drawn out. He had seen but a few cases, but he recognized it as -different from all other sorts of anguish. But he could not be -delayed!</p> - -<p>"Bill's went for the doctor," said a faint voice from the bed.</p> - -<p>"How far has he gone?"</p> - -<p>"There's none nearer than Weller."</p> - -<p>"What!" Stephen gave a great start. Weller! Then he had -veered far to the west! This was a place he knew. He looked -back over his shoulder into the outer room and into the darkness -beyond the door. He recalled the neighborhood, the roads, the -ragged outlines of the ugly hills, the very house. Outside this -gate he had sat in his father's buggy and waited and waited. He -had heard his father's voice in the magic formula which he said -at dying beds, "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem"—it -was here, he remembered distinctly, at a Roman Catholic bedside. -No, he was dreaming, life did not present such strange -coincidences. He saw that the agonized figure was relaxed; he -heard himself asking, "Is there no doctor at Chestnut Ridge?"</p> - -<p>"Not now. They had one after the other, but they didn't -stay."</p> - -<p>"When did your husband leave?"</p> - -<p>"A half-hour ago, I guess. It seems longer. I guess the next -spell'll finish me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Did he walk?"</p> - -<p>"He thought perhaps he could get a ride. But there's three"—the -sentence was taken up after a long pause—"three grog-shops."</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid to stay alone a little longer? I have a car. I -can send the doctor back."</p> - -<p>Glistening drops appeared upon the pale face.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my God, don't leave me!" She raised herself feebly upon -her elbow, animated by a wild hope. "You ain't a doctor, I -suppose!"</p> - -<p>"I'm not a general practitioner."</p> - -<p>She sank down, accepting the excuse as final.</p> - -<p>"It don't make any difference, the next one'll finish me." She -lay quiet as death, fearing to breathe. It might be that another -moment would bring a fresh spasm, it might be that there would -be no other for hours.</p> - -<p>Stephen looked down upon her. He could see the pale face -with a black smutch across it; he saw an empty bottle on a -chair by the bed. He had had no experience in this department -of medicine for twenty years, and his practice had been limited -to hospital work under the eye of an instructor. He believed that -of simple specifics a mustard plaster would relieve—there was -certainly no other drug to be had here.</p> - -<p>Suddenly the pupils of his eyes dilated, then contracted. His -gaze was fixed absently on his own hand, still lifted against the -door frame. It was a slender white hand. Across the back the -blood from the scratch, now many hours old, had dried. The -wound looked for some reason unnatural, and he moved his -hand with a horizontal motion close to his eyes and put it back -against the door frame. He noticed with quickened perception -that he placed it exactly upon the spot which it had already -made warm. Then he laid it in the other hand and stroked it. A -drop of blood oozed out, but it was not the blood which alarmed -him, but the puffy redness of the wound, the thick, ominous -raising of either lip and a dull pain which he felt clear to his -elbow. He had a flask of peroxide in his bag, but he had not used -it, and now more drastic treatment was required. It was required, -moreover, at once; an infection like this broke down the tissues -with incredible swiftness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> - -<p>His hesitation, his silence, his effort to arrange his thought, -roused a suspicion in the mind of the woman on the low bed. -She raised herself to a sitting position, trying to hold together -the ragged gown which half covered her. Of his importance, his -wealth, his intellect, she had no conception and for none of them -would she have had any regard.</p> - -<p>"For God's sake, don't go away!"</p> - -<p>Stephen still cradled his hand. He looked curiously at the -wretched creature, now lying prone and exhausted. He frowned -in the effort to concentrate his mind upon a new and very simple -problem. He believed that his hand was seriously infected and -that it should be treated at once, that haste was imperative. He -believed also that the woman left alone might die. A cold sweat -broke out upon him. He had been acutely impatient with his -father because he had not weighed his valuable life against two -worthless lives and had suffered himself to be murdered. His -father, however, had merely taken a chance, there had been a -possibility of escape, but for him there was no escape. The mischief -was done; unless he had speedy aid he might die in agony.</p> - -<p>He felt his heart contract and laid his hand upon it. To die! -He was not old. Life which he had recently so bitterly complained -of—what inestimable happiness it offered! What delight -for the eye! What intense pleasure for the mind! And Ellen—what -of Ellen, with whom he had expected to be in a few -hours? He had anticipated rapture in the assurance of her love. -He might now never see her. It was curious that it was easier to -risk his life than to forget his passion!</p> - -<p>The moments passed; there was no sound within or without -the little house; the woman still lay motionless. It might be that -she slept; he realized basely that a step would carry him away.</p> - -<p>Then, quite suddenly and simply, he knew that for him there -was no choice. He had lived, for all his suffering, selfishly, his -heart hardened and not softened by the single affliction of his -life. He had done many kindnesses, but he had never made a -sacrifice. He had helped the poor, but it had cost him nothing; -he had performed almost miraculous cures, but they had been -performed in a sense easily.</p> - -<p>Yet he was not at heart selfish, and now, rising from depths -almost unstirred since his youth, a single powerful impulse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> -moved him. He had come unknowing and unsuspecting to his -Dark Tower, which, well for him! was set in a familiar landscape, -presided over by the guiding spirit of his youth. There was a -verse which said, "Train up a child in the way he should go, -and when he is old, he will not depart from it." He had been -trained by precept and example; was his father's last hour made -easy by confidence in his ultimate return? Did his pleading gaze -ask only that the period of departure might not be long? As -tenderly as though he had been his father, he bent over the poor -bed, forgetting life and all its joys and Ellen.</p> - -<p>He remembered now that there was a spring a few yards -away. He had been sent there by his father and he had dipped -the clear water from an open space beside a bed of water-cress. -Making his way thither in the starlight, he filled a pail. He -found a box half filled with kindling and built a fire and set the -water on it, and fetched his traveling bag. He opened the sore -wound on his hand and poured into it half the contents of his -bottle of peroxide and bound it up. He found in a dirty cupboard -a supply of mustard, provided possibly for this emergency -and forgotten. He thought with a faint smile of Miss -Knowlton—if her professional eye could see him! He remembered -that he had sat for a long time on the weedy bank across -the road when he and his father had been here—his car stood -beside the exact spot. He seemed to hear now distinctly his -father's voice—would it be necessary for him to console the -dying? He could not offer a formula upon which he had not -thought for years!</p> - -<p>He heard a moan in the inner room and returned quickly. The -woman had turned once more on her back and had seized her -thin chest. Lip and brow were beaded. He worked quickly, the -perspiration standing on his own brow. When he had done all -he could, he knelt down on the floor and took the clutching -hands in his. He spoke, scarcely aware that he was speaking, -offering all the comfort that he could give. He had never spoken -to Hilda in this fashion; not even quite in this fashion had he -dreamed of speaking to Ellen.</p> - -<p>"I'll stay with you. I'm sorry for you. It will be better soon. -I'm sure it will be better."</p> - -<p>When the spasm was over he rose to his feet. In the cessation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> -of agony sleep came quickly. He stood motionless for a long -time, occupied with strange thoughts. He was intensely, incredibly -happy; he understood suddenly that his father had had -this happiness often; his own danger became negligible, he quite -forgot it. Even when, as he moved about, the pain in his hand -quickened, it was still negligible.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN UNDELIVERED MESSAGE</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Dawn</span>, which came as slowly as the dawns of winter, brought -a returning Bill in the car of a physician whom he had found -after much forgetful wandering. A lifeless body lay upon the -bed.</p> - -<p>Stephen looked curiously at the old doctor who descended -stiffly from his car.</p> - -<p>"You don't know me, Dr. Weller?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"I'm Albert Lanfair's son."</p> - -<p>"How do you happen to be here?"</p> - -<p>"I lost the road and came in to ask directions, and once here, -could do nothing but stay." He meant to exhibit his hand, but -thought better of it. He must get home without wasting time. -He had not undone the bandage, he felt less pain, and in the -cheerful light of day believed that he had exaggerated the -seriousness of his condition. If trouble appeared, however, he -wished to be at home.</p> - -<p>He drove with reckless speed southward, remembering grimly,</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"The King of France, with twenty thousand men,<br /> -Marched up the hill and then marched down again."</p> -</div> - -<p>He tried not to think of Ellen; when, sometimes, her face -appeared before him, his cheeks burned. The strange night had -affected all his thoughts; his heart had somehow changed; he -saw clearly what he would have made of Ellen.</p> - -<p>As he drove into Harrisburg he felt the first premonition of a -chill, and understood its significance. The pain in his hand had -returned and when he stepped into his office he stumbled. The -young assistant looked up from her desk and Miss Knowlton -appeared at once from the inner room. He held out his hand.</p> - -<p>"Ever see anything like that?"</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton undid the bandage. At his touch a blush covered -her pale cheek, but when she looked up the color had -vanished.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Dr. Lanfair! What have you done?"</p> - -<p>"I scratched myself on a wire. It's nothing."</p> - -<p>"A girl in the hospital jabbed her hand with an icepick and -infected it, and it had red streaks round it like this!"</p> - -<p>"Well, she has her hand, hasn't she?" asked Stephen banteringly.</p> - -<p>"She nearly lost it. You're going to see Dr. Salter?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; telephone for him, there's a good girl."</p> - -<p>He crossed the passageway to the library and sat down, suddenly -fearing that his pain might bring tears; then he laughed -at himself. There was nothing seriously the matter with him.</p> - -<p>"It was foolish to have called you," he apologized to Dr. -Salter. "Miss Knowlton is to blame."</p> - -<p>Dr. Salter bent above the outstretched hand, a stout, blue-eyed, -cheerful soul who possessed the secrets of hundreds of men -and women, and held in spite of them the most hopeful views -of humanity. He had known Hilda and Hilda's mother.</p> - -<p>"What in the world have you done?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"I scratched it on a wire."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you come home?"</p> - -<p>"I did. I'm here."</p> - -<p>Having concluded a cruel opening of the wound, the doctor -gave a hovering Miss Knowlton minute directions.</p> - -<p>"You have an ugly-looking hand, Lanfair."</p> - -<p>For the moment Stephen felt neither pain nor fear, only a -leaping excitement.</p> - -<p>"I'm not to be frightened," he said with a defiant laugh.</p> - -<p>By evening he walked the library floor. At ten o'clock he went -to his room and walked there. Miss Knowlton said lightly that -she would spend the night—the doctor wished the dressing -changed frequently.</p> - -<p>"Your professional manner is absurd," declared Stephen. -"You'll come presently and take my temperature and watch -to see that I don't read it."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton smiled and put a thermometer under his -tongue and placed herself beside him, her hand on his wrist, her -air important. She had sent for a fresh uniform which billowed -about her when she walked.</p> - -<p>At midnight Stephen went to bed. Exhaustion dulled his pain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -for half an hour; then he sat up, roused, he believed, by a -ghastly dream of Ellen in danger. But he knew in a second that -it was not Ellen's danger. When he lifted his hand, it felt heavy -and tight and burned like fire, and he understood exactly what -might happen to him. The infection suffered by his father had -affected him slowly, paralyzing irremediably both body and -brain; this was different; it could be fought, but it must be -fought quickly and with cruel weapons.</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton, hearing him stir, came in from the next room.</p> - -<p>"I'll look at your hand," she said in a new, smooth voice. -"You'd better lie down." Stephen obeyed, his mind not on his -pain, but on a graver necessity. "It doesn't look any worse," -said Miss Knowlton when the bandage was again in place. -"Would you like me to sit by you?"</p> - -<p>Stephen's negative sounded drowsy. But he was not drowsy. -There was an amazing fact to which he must give his mind and -he wished to be alone. He saw his father lying with half-closed -eyes upon his pillow; he saw that he himself lay fever-flushed -with a swollen, bandaged, torturing object by his side, and that -he had come to the same dark brink. His father had stepped out -bravely; he did not believe that he should go bravely. His father -had had a hope, but he had no hope. When his father had recited -the creed, he had spoken with conviction; but he had no -convictions.</p> - -<p>He believed suddenly that even to say the words would help -if he could remember them. Childishly pleased, he recited, -"Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem," in a tone which -brought Miss Knowlton to his side.</p> - -<p>"Did you speak to me?" She began to open the bandage.</p> - -<p>"I was only trying to remember some old Latin."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton remembered afterward that as Stephen said -this and as she saw his wrist, purple above the bandage, the -market-wagons had begun to rumble past and dawn was in the -sky.</p> - -<p>"I'm going for hot water," she said soothingly as one speaks -to a sick man.</p> - -<p>Outside the door she found Miss MacVane, pale and shocked, -her hand lifted to rap.</p> - -<p>"There was a call on the telephone from the Sanatorium,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> -she said in an awed tone, her eyes blinking behind her thick -glasses. "I don't know what to do about it."</p> - -<p>"Anything the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Lanfair is dead," said Miss MacVane. "They say -'suddenly,' that is all."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton grew a little paler and more important.</p> - -<p>"Well, he can't be told now," she said. "You get Dr. Salter, -quickly, will you?"</p> - -<p>Stephen did not realize that daylight had not yet fully come -when Dr. Salter appeared in his room. It seemed a long, long -time since he had come home—was it a day and night or two -days and nights or four? He didn't think it queer that there was -another man with Salter—nothing seemed queer or of any -moment whatsoever, not even a strange question put to him. -They did not mean to let Stephen die.</p> - -<p>"Lanfair, can you understand me?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!" Stephen laughed.</p> - -<p>"Do you trust Mayne and me to use our best judgment for -you?"</p> - -<p>"About what?" asked Stephen. In a moment of full consciousness -he recognized Mayne, who bore upon his expansive face the -record of more than one shock. If clearness of mind had lasted -for another instant, Stephen might have suspected the cause of -Mayne's disturbance of mind. But he grew confused and asked -in a jovial and impertinent tone, "What's the matter with you, -old boy?"</p> - -<p>"About your welfare," said Mayne earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, bosh!" cried Stephen, and turned on his side. There was -but one thing he desired, peace to pursue a search. What was it -his father had said? He presently began to mix his English and -Latin. He knew that that which he sought was an ineffable happiness, -but he could not quite grasp it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /> -<span class="smaller">MATTHEW AND ELLEN</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Ellen</span> sent to Harrisburg no notification of her coming. She -was now convinced that she had thorough control of herself, -and that she could meet Stephen safely. He might be away—the -possibility brought a painful moment of mixed misery and -relief. Shifting her heavy bag from hand to hand, she walked up -the sunny street, past the jewelry shop of Mr. Goldstein, past -small hotels in whose windows idle men sat drowsily, to Front -Street. The river seemed to have no current, but lay a burnished -sheet under the low and glaring sun. In the park a few sprawled -figures occupied the benches.</p> - -<p>She rang the bell, and when no one answered, she opened the -door with a key which she had hesitated to use, and putting -down her bag walked through the hall and passageway to the -offices. It was long after working hours, but Miss Knowlton and -Miss MacVane would be putting desks and files in order and -closing the day's records. She believed that they would be glad -to see her, and she longed for the refuge of their homely femininity. -She now allied herself in spirit with them and their kind.</p> - -<p>But neither Miss MacVane nor Miss Knowlton was at work. -The office had an unused appearance; shades had not been -lifted, and even in the dim light she could see on all the furniture -a film of dust. The air was not merely cool, it was damp, and her -final impression of strangeness deepened to a fear of calamity. -The house seemed to be empty.</p> - -<p>She returned with a quickly beating heart to the front hall. -In the library shades were irregularly drawn and here also dust -covered the polished surfaces of tables and chairs. One small -article of furniture had been moved and at it she stared while a -deeper chill smote her heart. It was Hilda's little tabourette, -upon which now, as formerly, lay matches and boxes of cigarettes. -She leaned helplessly against the door. Had Hilda come -back?</p> - -<p>When she heard steps approaching she turned slowly and in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> -unreasonable terror. But they were heavier and slower steps -than Hilda's. Still her step might have changed! She looked toward -the stairway and beheld Professor Mayne, large, elegant, -cigarette in hand. Her heart leaped to a more terrible conclusion—Stephen -was dead!</p> - -<p>Mayne regarded her with his bland smile. He had lived recently -through two harrowing experiences, but one was on -the whole a relief, and the other, while it shocked him, did not -touch his own person or habits.</p> - -<p>"What is it you wish?" he asked kindly.</p> - -<p>"I'm looking for Miss MacVane."</p> - -<p>"You mean Dr. Lanfair's secretary?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"She has unfortunately been somewhat indisposed. She is -absent."</p> - -<p>"Is Miss Knowlton here?"</p> - -<p>"She is in the hospital attending Dr. Lanfair."</p> - -<p>"Is he ill?"</p> - -<p>"He has had an infected hand, a severe case of septicĉmia, -but we have saved him. He is improving."</p> - -<p>Ellen forgot all her resolutions.</p> - -<p>"Can he be seen?"</p> - -<p>Mayne shook his head, then looked at her curiously. Was she -an employee of Stephen's, like the middle-aged women who -were so concerned about him?</p> - -<p>"Oh, I remember you!" he said. "You are the young woman -who assisted with my niece. Are you still employed here?"</p> - -<p>A foolish red appeared in Ellen's cheeks.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Did you know that my niece had—had passed away?" -Mayne almost said "expired."</p> - -<p>"No," answered Ellen. She felt that she was not expected to -make any comment and she made none. She stood awkwardly -looking about. "Is there anything I can do?"</p> - -<p>"I believe not, thank you," answered Mayne in his booming -voice. He passed into the library and sat down in Hilda's corner -of the sofa and lifted a newspaper.</p> - -<p>Thus dismissed, Ellen lifted her heavy bag and carried it -across the street to a bench. The air was intensely hot and she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> -was hungry, but she did not connect weakness or hunger with -her despair. He was ill, he had been very ill or he would not be -in a hospital. And he had sent her no word! Moreover, she had -been in a sense turned out! Certainly Fate was helping her to -conquer herself!</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, a desperate longing came into her heart, a -longing for childhood, for innocence, for ignorance, for freedom -from this consuming passion. She wanted her father's sheltering -arm, the sound of his voice. Lacking him, she thought of those -nearest her in blood—Grandfather had loved her and so had -Matthew and Amos. She believed that they would welcome her. -Twilight was at hand; it was the hour when tired men and -women hasten homeward; she too would go home.</p> - -<p>She walked rapidly toward the railroad station. At the Square, -while she waited for a break in the line of automobiles, she saw -in a group of Salvation Army workers a tall brother shepherding -the passers-by to positions within earshot of the preacher's -voice. In that figure she could not be mistaken, it was the first -feature of a familiar landscape seen after a long journey. She -did not stop to account for his presence or his blue uniform, she -went up to him quickly.</p> - -<p>"Why, Amos!"</p> - -<p>Amos looked down at her, growing first pale, then crimson. -She had become, he believed, merely a part of the fearful and -unrighteous past; she had vanished entirely, together with impulses -to worldliness and evil. But here she was, looking up with -her dark eyes as she had looked when she was a little girl. Her -eyes seemed unhappy, and his heart bounded. Then it sank like -a stone and uneasiness succeeded his rapture.</p> - -<p>"I'm working for the Lord, Ellen," he explained, glancing at -the group of singers who had turned to look for him. "I'm -married."</p> - -<p>"Don't you live with Grandfather?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Is he alone?"</p> - -<p>"He doesn't want anybody," explained Amos quickly. "He -knows he has only to ask and I'll come." The sharp whirr of a -tambourine summoned him imperatively; it spoke, not with a -religious, but with a domestic sternness. His wife had been expecting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> -him to bring the stranger promptly into the circle of -inquirers; she did not approve of this lengthy conversation.</p> - -<p>"I must go," said Amos uneasily. "She is there."</p> - -<p>Back in the noisy group Amos neither spoke nor sang. When -one of his companions began to pray, he removed his cap and -bent his beautiful head. But he was not praying, he was thinking -of the Kloster and the past. Now that he was in the world he was -not of it. He was like a monk who had left his monastery too late. -The glare of the sun was too bright, the noise of the world too -loud. In his hard day's work he forgot himself, but his evening -tasks, his public orisons, his soliciting of strangers, were odious. -There were times when he bitterly regretted his marriage; there -was no time, indeed, when he did not wish it undone. But he -believed that in seeking to win souls he was obeying God, and -in this conviction he found consolation.</p> - -<p>In the dingy railroad station Ellen waited for her train. The -station had seemed hitherto an opening gateway; she had thought -it vast and wonderful when she had arrived with her father. -Her second entrance, when she came to make her living, had -been more sober. Waiting for her train for Ithaca, scarcely hearing -Fetzer's good-byes because she was thinking of Lanfair's, -she had found it again a dazzling portal. Now, at last, it was an -entrance to prison. She believed that all happiness lay behind -her. She stepped into the train, and when she reached Ephrata -went her way on foot.</p> - -<p>The moon shone brightly on the Kloster and on Grandfather's -cottage and on the white tombstones in the churchyard. Ellen -choked back a sob; her absence from this spot reproached her.</p> - -<p>It was a long time before Grandfather answered her pounding.</p> - -<p>"It's Ellen," she called, when at last she heard his hand on -the latch. "It's very late, I know."</p> - -<p>Grandfather opened the door. He was dazed; the moonlight -was not bright enough to make her outline clear.</p> - -<p>"May I stay here to-night?"</p> - -<p>He neither greeted her nor answered her.</p> - -<p>"It is Ellen, Grandfather."</p> - -<p>"Ellen?" He repeated a word without meaning.</p> - -<p>"May I stay here to-night?"</p> - -<p>He seemed now to see her, but he regarded her as though she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> -were a jinn or spook or other baleful creature of the witching -night.</p> - -<p>"I never turned any one away," he said at last in a gentle tone.</p> - -<p>It was clear in the morning that she was regarded not only as -a transient, but as a disturbing visitor. Grandfather followed a -regular routine which took him now to the Saal, now to Saron, -now out into the fields, as the brethren might have traveled a -hundred and fifty years ago. He believed himself to be, indeed, -one of them.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon Ellen took up her journey to Matthew's. -Inexpressibly tired, she wanted only sleep in a quiet bed.</p> - -<p>She saw Matthew crossing from the house to the barn and -called to him. He did not come to meet her, but let her approach -him, which was exactly like Matthew. His face was set in a somber -expression, his shoulders were bent. Seeming neither glad -nor sorry to see her, he took her satchel and walked with her -back to the house.</p> - -<p>In the kitchen the old chaotic condition persisted. Esther had -achieved the object of her life and had gone away with her prize -to a distant farm, and Millie had had a succession of inefficient -servants. She languidly accepted Ellen's offered help.</p> - -<p>"Where are your grand people?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"Mrs Fetzer has left there."</p> - -<p>"And the man, where's he?"</p> - -<p>"He has been ill."</p> - -<p>A plate slid suddenly from Ellen's hands into the iron sink. -Her course appeared incredible.</p> - -<p>"He's ill, and I'm here!" she said to herself. "He might die -and I not see him!"</p> - -<p>When Matthew said at supper that he would drive to the -station for her trunk, she asked whether she might go with him. -She saw at once that Millie wished to go, but she could not yield -her place. From the drug-store she would call the hospital and -talk to Miss Knowlton—why had she not thought of it this -morning? She could have cried with relief. She was sorry that -Millie was disappointed, but she would make it up to Millie -twenty times over.</p> - -<p>The drug-store was crowded with customers for ice-cream and -soda water, all of whom were trying to speak above a strident<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> -talking machine which ground out a lively song. Only a little -man of one of the plain sects seemed anxious to hear the music -at the same time that he was a bit disturbed by his own pleasure. -The proprietor and the customers regarded Ellen curiously, but -did not recognize her. When the telephone bell rang, all looked -at her and ceased speaking, believing that she was calling a lover.</p> - -<p>The talking machine, too, was silenced and she knew that -every word could be heard through the thin booth. Miss Knowlton -could not come to the telephone, but a message would be -given her. Ellen inquired for Lanfair and was told in the optimistic -tone characteristic of hospitals that he was entirely out of -danger. She opened the door of the booth weakly and paid the -charge. Matthew was waiting outside and she climbed into the -wagon. She would have liked to tell him everything, but that -was a weakness. He had, she surmised, enough to bear.</p> - -<p>She was conscious of an added coolness in Millie's attitude, -but to her weary mind it seemed unimportant. She laid her -head upon the pillow which had been hers in childhood, and -before the tears were dry upon her cheeks she was asleep.</p> - -<p>But Millie's attitude was not unimportant. Her disposition -was now thoroughly established; she was worn and sour and -unhappy and she found pleasure only in believing herself ill-treated. -She had never forgotten that Matthew had taken Ellen -to the Kloster two years ago without inviting her, and the repetition -of the offense was grossly insulting. It was not he whom -she blamed, but Ellen. She would have been glad to believe that -Ellen was deliberately trying to "come between" them.</p> - -<p>The next day Ellen wrote to Stephen. She said that she had -gone to the house in Harrisburg and had heard from Professor -Mayne about his illness and that he was better. She had then -come to her brother's. She had called the hospital and had heard -that he was still better. She was sorry that he had been ill. An -undefined feeling restrained her from speaking of Hilda.</p> - -<p>In a week she had an answer from Miss Knowlton. Dr. Lanfair -was improving and was glad that she was with her brother—that -was the best place for her to be. He would be well enough -in a day or two to leave the hospital, then he and Fickes and -Miss Knowlton would go to the shore. Even though it was Miss -Knowlton who wrote, Ellen did not visualize him as helpless.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> -She cried at night, but by day she went quietly about innumerable -tasks. The postscript of Miss Knowlton's letter was a -"Finis" at the end of a story: "We hope that you will pay us a -call on your way back to college."</p> - -<p>She grew slowly and miserably aware of the domestic volcano -over which she lived. Millie believed now with all her heart that -she had come to make trouble; though Ellen's help lightened -her tasks by more than half and enabled her to put on flesh she -made it appear constantly, by devices difficult to describe, but -known to all who are compelled to associate with women of her -type, that she believed the help to be unwillingly given.</p> - -<p>For a long time Ellen did not understand the exact source of -this resentment. She laid her hand as of old on Matthew's shoulder; -she walked with him about the farm on Sunday afternoons; -she pored with him over calculations. Most foolishly of all she -tried to improve the extraordinary speech of little Matthew.</p> - -<p>The summer was intensely warm; through July the opening -of an outer door brought heat like a leaping flame into one's face, -and the nights were often one long wish for morning. Ellen grew -gradually accustomed to the hard labor, to the rising before -dawn, to the insufferable afternoons. She shared Matthew's -anxiety about the harvest; it seemed that before the wheat crop -was brought in destructive storms must break.</p> - -<p>Sometimes in the late afternoon when vitality was at its lowest -point, she remembered the airy rooms in which she had lived last -summer, the bare floors, the furniture in chintz covers, the drifting -of white curtains in a gentle breeze. But of last summer she -did not often let herself think. She heard no word from Stephen, -nor sent him any. She remembered now half-acknowledged -dreams, more vivid in retrospect than they had been in actuality, -of position and travel and great possessions, and her heart -burned, now with self-reproach, now with resentment at life's -cruel chances.</p> - -<p>The wheat was safely harvested and no rain fell. Matthew, -increasingly anxious about the corn, searched the sky for clouds. -He was irritable even with the children. Ellen bore with him and -pitied him and obeyed the commands of Millie.</p> - -<p>Early in August Matthew sat one evening on the doorstep. -There had been since noon a low bank of clouds in the west,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> -but he had often been deceived by banks of clouds. When they -rose higher, he was immensely cheered, pointing them out to -Millie, who merely looked sullenly in the opposite direction, and -said nothing. He turned to Ellen and asked her to walk with -him to the woodland from which they could get a better view. -She looked at Millie's lowering face.</p> - -<p>"Won't you go, Millie? I'll stay here."</p> - -<p>"I wasn't asked," said Millie briefly, her very flesh tingling -with resentment.</p> - -<p>For an instant Ellen hesitated; then she followed Matthew -across the yard and the stubble-field to the woodland.</p> - -<p>Before their eyes the sun sank in a blaze of glory. On bright -days only could a low range of hills be seen from this point, but -now they believed they could see beyond to the gleaming river. -As the sun disappeared they sat down on the old tree-trunk. The -hot wind bred restlessness and sadness.</p> - -<p>"I was wrong about everything," said Matthew soberly after -a long time. "What I said in the meeting-house was nonsense, -as my father said it was. I was misled."</p> - -<p>Ellen was appalled. Matthew had arranged his whole life in -accord with that confession. But she could give him no comfort; -when Levis died she had been a child, and since that time, -greatly as she had been troubled, she had felt no need for superhuman -reassurance.</p> - -<p>"It must have been very hard to give it all up after you had -believed it."</p> - -<p>Matthew snapped his fingers. "It went, like that! I simply -didn't hold to it, that was all."</p> - -<p>"Did you ever try to believe again?" asked Ellen.</p> - -<p>"No; why should I? I don't want you to think I don't believe -anything. When I come up here and the wind is blowing, it seems -to me that I get an idea about God, greater than was ever thought -of down in those little rooms. But I can't get hold of it. Perhaps -some day I shall. It's only that He is and that He's here. I can't -describe it."</p> - -<p>A long sigh stirred the leaves above them. Ellen was disturbed.</p> - -<p>"There's surely going to be a storm, and we should go down."</p> - -<p>As she rose there was a bright flash of lightning and the oaks -began to sing. She held out her hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Let's run, Matthew!"</p> - -<p>Matthew took the hand and lifted it. Thus they stood for a -second, their arms outstretched, and then plunged down the -smooth field and into the yard. In the doorway Matthew called -Millie, but she did not answer. He went upstairs to find her, but -she was not there. Both the children were asleep and pinned to -the pin-cushion on the bureau, in true melodramatic fashion, -was a note. Matthew read it and returned to the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Where is she?" asked Ellen.</p> - -<p>"She has started home," said Matthew slowly. "She says it is -to stay."</p> - -<p>For a long moment there was only the tick of the clock and -the rumble of distant thunder. Then Ellen lifted her head.</p> - -<p>"Would it help if I went away?"</p> - -<p>Matthew leaned heavily against the table. His face was -intensely white, his gray eyes darkened. The hand upon which -he leaned trembled.</p> - -<p>"I have a friend at the University with whom I can stay for -any length of time. She'll be glad to have me till the term opens."</p> - -<p>Matthew lifted his hand and examined the callous spots upon -it. It had seemed to him that peace had descended upon his -house. He believed that Ellen would stay with him if he needed -her. He saw the peace continued, the old life restored, his children -brought up correctly, himself contented. He longed intensely -for Ellen's learning, for her outlook upon life. If she -stayed he might yet repair the effect of his own madness. But like -Ellen, he had been trained to follow a certain rule of conduct -and he could not go counter to that which he had been taught.</p> - -<p>"I guess I should bring her back," he said at last thickly. -Then a quiver passed over his face. His sense of honor was of -the variety which leads, if need be, to the stake. What he said -was not easy to say. "Oh, I have many, many times wished for -my father!"</p> - -<p>In a few minutes his horse galloped down the lane. The lightning -was now almost incessant and the thunder rumbled heavily. -Standing at the door Ellen saw his white face against the side -of the buggy. Then she went upstairs, and when she had closed -the windows and looked in upon the sleeping children she began -to pack her trunk.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>In the morning she walked slowly down the road. Matthew -had come back, and Millie would return later in the day. The -storm had made all fresh; goldenrod was abloom along the -fences. She thought with longing of Miss Grammer and of the -deep Seminar room at the library. Work!—ah, that remained!</p> - -<p>She wished that she did not have to go to the Lanfair house, -even though Stephen was away, but there were a few possessions -in her room which she must secure. Besides, she did not know -how to explain her failure to go. In the station she inquired about -the night train to the north. When she heard that it still left at -10.35, she smiled with bitter amusement, having unconsciously -expected that a new era had begun, even for trains.</p> - -<p>The open space before the station was almost deserted, only -occasionally a traveler plunged into the sunshine from the cool -shadow of the portico. But indifferent to the heat, which was -almost tropical in spite of last night's storm, Ellen made her way -toward the street of Mr. Goldstein and thence toward the river. -She saw the dome of the Capitol and stood still. Why not spend -her brief hour with memories of her father and spare herself a -keener pain?</p> - -<p>But she went on toward the shining river, her shoulders lifted -so that three elderly gentlemen sitting in the windows of a clubhouse -opened drowsy eyes and craned admiring necks. All had -comfortable fortunes, one had great possessions and one had -memories of intense happiness, but all would have exchanged -that which they had for that which Ellen had and which they -would have no more.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she crossed the street and sat down on a bench in -the park. She was breathing rapidly, she must compel herself -to be composed. She must forget her dreams, she must take -account of what she still had and thus fortify herself before she -entered Stephen's house.</p> - -<p>Work?—the reminder had consoled her this morning, why -could it not console her now? Friends?—she had made few, -and Miss Grammer was old. Books?—ah, what miserable defect -in her made them seem dull? The beauty of the world?—it, -alas! merely quickened one's pain.</p> - -<p>How often she had stolen away to the heights above the lake -or to a secluded seat from which she could watch Triphammer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> -Fall! She thought of it now without pleasure. How often she -had marked the perpetually changing aspect of the stream before -her! As if to recall her pleasure she looked at it with attention. -Below her on the bank stood a pair of young aspen trees whose -delicate interlacing branches formed a lattice-work through -which the river showed here a pale lavender, here a delicate gray. -Toward the farther bank a mile away a rosy cloud seemed to -rest upon the water. The sight brought not pleasure but tears. -She was to see the river no more with the eye of possession; this -was not home to her, it was a place of strangers.</p> - -<p>She rose quickly. She would get the books which Lanfair had -given her, the dress which hung in the closet which had been -hers, and she would flee.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A BITTER WAKENING</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Stephen</span> woke from unconsciousness to incredible sensations of -nausea and weakness and pain. In his mind two convictions alternated; -the first that he was an enormous body which no room -could contain; the second that he had no body whatever, that -all flesh had been removed from his bones by some terrible process. -Gradually all the indefinable pain and terror concentrated -in his left side.</p> - -<p>As consciousness quickened he realized that he was not at -home, but in a strange bed in a strange room, and that a strange -woman in a white dress sat beside him. Slowly he accounted for -his presence in this place, confusing, however, in spite of the -pain, his right hand with his left. It was his right hand, he believed, -which he had hurt. He tried for a long time to lift it and -succeeded at last in bringing it with a feeble jerk within his area -of vision. It was still there and he could see no change in it. He -gave a long sigh and recognized Miss Knowlton's blue eyes -looking at him from a white face. After gazing at her steadfastly -he brought out a few foolish words.</p> - -<p>"Your—mouth—is—twisted."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton's mouth was twisted. She yearned to be of -heroic service and at the same time she desperately hoped for -the return of Dr. Salter. She had sat often by the bedsides of -reviving women who had to be told that no living joy had come -from hours of purgatory; and it was after many experiences of -this sort that she had become an attendant in a doctor's office. -She waited for Stephen's return to consciousness with even more -frightful apprehensions.</p> - -<p>Another hour passed and she was still sitting in the same -place, when the first numbing suspicion of the truth dawned upon -Stephen. If his hand was there and sound, why this agony in his -other shoulder? He turned his unpillowed head slowly and looked -down, but the covers hid his body. He tried to lift his left hand -as he had lifted his right, but he could not move it. It was -doubtless tightly bandaged; it was necessary in such cases to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> -thorough and Salter and his assistants cut deep. He closed his -eyes to shut out thought.</p> - -<p>But thought was not to be permanently shut out. With a sudden -impulse he reached across his body, but he reached vaguely -and met only Miss Knowlton's strong grasp.</p> - -<p>"I'd try to lie perfectly still," she advised earnestly.</p> - -<p>He left his hand in hers. It was comfortable to feel a human -touch and it suited a cunning plan to pretend to yield. Her -mouth twisted again, but he made no comment upon it. He -closed his eyes and after a while withdrew his hand gently and -slipped it back under the covers. Miss Knowlton had an eagle -eye and he must move with caution. He smiled feebly—she -furthered his scheme by drawing up the covers to his neck. He -moved his hand little by little, and touched with the tips of his -fingers after long and exhausting effort his left shoulder.</p> - -<p>His first emotion was, incongruously, one of amusement.</p> - -<p>"They've taken it off," he said aloud as though his circumvention -of watchfulness was the only important fact.</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton ignored his cleverness. "I'd try to get to sleep -now." In the effort to prevent her lips from twisting she looked -at him with a threatening gaze. If Dr. Salter would only come! -Suddenly he caught her hand and held it in a weak and desperate -grip. She closed both her own upon it.</p> - -<p>"Did they take it off?"</p> - -<p>Denial was useless.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Doctor."</p> - -<p>"At the shoulder?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." She lifted his hand and held it against her breast, then -she bent over him and wiped away his tears. He turned his head, -conscious of his ignominy, but she felt solemnly that she had -lived through a great moment.</p> - -<p>He slept a drugged sleep. In the morning he woke to consciousness -as one wakes to bereavement; first a vague suspicion that -all is not right, then full perception of the leaden weight from -which there is to be henceforth no escape.</p> - -<p>Dr. Salter repeated to him presently the opinions of his colleagues, -their hesitation, their deep concern, their final agreement -that delay would be fatal, and Stephen managed to answer -gayly. Then he closed his eyes and Salter went away.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> - -<p>With returning strength came increasing activity of mind. -He remembered the journey upon which he had set out and its -interruption. He was uplifted no longer by the spirit of sacrifice; -he felt only a sort of shamed humility. Some mighty power -had mishandled him, and resistance was absurd. There were -moments when he wept feebly.</p> - -<p>He believed presently that he was going to die, and he tried -to recollect a magic formula which had once comforted him, but -which he could no longer remember. Miss Knowlton saw his -knitted brows.</p> - -<p>"Is there anything you want?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything which begins 'I believe'?" No sooner -were the words uttered than he realized that he had delivered -himself to the tyranny of a sentimental piety.</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton, being a church woman, knew the Creed perfectly. -Having concluded a glib recitation she began a psalm. -Her mouth was once more awry, she believed that she had lived -through a second great moment.</p> - -<p>It was not until the fifth day that he thought of Ellen. At once -a reviving flood filled his veins; he became impatient with his -helplessness, with bandages, with feeding with a spoon, with the -tender ministrations of over-solicitous nurses. He moved restlessly -in his narrow bed. Ellen would be coming home—if she -did not stay for the Senior festivities, she might be on her way -now! But Fetzer was not at home and he was not there! He tried -to reckon the time which had passed since he had written to her, -but the problem was too difficult. When he saw her, everything -would be right, everything; she would smile at him, she—</p> - -<p>"Oh," he cried suddenly, "I am helpless, useless, weak, -crippled!"</p> - -<p>It was midnight and no one but Stephen himself was present -at this first moment of full mental and physical consciousness. -The various shocks through which Miss Knowlton had sustained -him were slight compared with the cruel realization that -life was over and done for, that even Hilda's death could not -give him Ellen, that she was lost to him. He measured for the -first time his love. Without his hope of Ellen he had nothing. -He felt himself sinking deep into an abyss; he knew that body -as well as soul was faint, he believed that death might be at hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> - -<p>Then suddenly an extraordinary experience was his; he seemed -to grasp for an instant that solution of life for which he had -struggled a week ago in fever and pain. He lay thinking intently -in the quiet night. The door was closed, traffic on the street was -for a short time suspended, the nurse did not return. His father -had had all Stephen's youth in which to sow; now suddenly, -warmed not by sunshine, but by the heat of pain, and watered -by affliction, the seed bore fruit. Forlorn, maimed, broken in -spirit, he remembered his father's teaching, he heard his father's -voice describing again the wooing of that importunate Lover in -whom he believed:</p> - -<div class="poem"> -<p>"Yet let him keep the rest,<br /> -But keep them with repining restlessness;<br /> -Let him be rich and weary, that at least,<br /> -If goodness lead him not, yet weariness<br /> -May toss him to My breast."</p> -</div> - -<p>He remembered the Chestnut Ridge schoolhouse, filled after -a mine explosion with weeping women and children; he recalled -his father's prayers, their prayers. Even he had prayed and had -been comforted!</p> - -<p>The memory of boyhood became detailed; he was suddenly in -the midst of an almost fatal experience. He had gone to swim in -a deep mine hole and had become exhausted. Hanging over the -edge of the bank was a branch of an old tree, and he had reached -for it desperately without any expectation that it would sustain -him, but it had proved firm and he had drawn himself slowly -but safely out of the black water. He remembered the rough bark -against his bare, shivering body, the heavenly consciousness of -safety. He felt now a similar security, but it was of the soul.</p> - -<p>On the seventh day Mayne came to visit him. He did not know -exactly where to look, and with recourse to a physician's gesture, -he laid his hand on Stephen's wrist. He glanced meaningly at the -nurse, and she, returning his gaze with an understanding nod, -departed.</p> - -<p>"I have sad news for you, my boy," he said solemnly.</p> - -<p>In a flash Stephen saw himself walking through carpeted corridors -following the back of a Prince Albert coat.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Hilda has passed on."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<p>"When?"</p> - -<p>"A week ago."</p> - -<p>Then everything was over, even the poor body was put away. -He felt for an instant more than an orthodox solemnity, a tenderness -which bred tears; then misery sprang upon him like a beast -from the jungle. If he had not gone on his journey northward, if -he had waited a few pitiful days, he would not be lying here, -done for! His slight color vanished, his hand trembled, the skin -of his face quivered.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" Mayne's hand went back to his wrist.</p> - -<p>He began babbling his formula. He tried not to say it, but his -weak tongue would not be controlled, and Mayne looked down -upon him more embarrassed than he had ever been in his life. -His philosophic good-humor furnished him with no panacea to -offer this smitten creature, returning in feebleness of mind to -some forgotten piety of his youth.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Stephen after a few days that he could, if he were -clever enough, get Ellen back. He still had periods of pain, but -his brain now worked smoothly. She had an angel's heart. If he -needed her before, he needed her doubly now. Her youth was -only a small part of her; he needed her cheerfulness, her devotion, -her enthusiasm. In exchange he would give her riches, -travel to the ends of the earth, everything she could desire. He -would not be tyrannical over her, but she must be his. When the -fires of his soul burned lowest he promised her liberty and riches—if -she served him till his death! The meditations of his midnight -hour had not yet worked their complete work upon him.</p> - -<p>But where was Ellen? To-morrow was the latest day upon -which she could be expected. He was to have sat up, but he would -postpone it another day because they would certainly not let -him both sit up and see a visitor.</p> - -<p>When she did not come, he grew restless. She had attended -dances, she had mentioned the names of young men. The weakness -of body which had kept him humble and quiet had vanished, -physical strength intensified each emotion.</p> - -<p>When another day passed, his restlessness became apparent -to his nurse. He would have inquired of Miss Knowlton but he -believed that she enjoyed prying into his soul and he feared some -betraying expression. He asked for his letters and was allowed to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> -look over them. Miss MacVane had attended to his business correspondence -and now awaited eagerly his further pleasure. He -cared nothing for business correspondence—here was a letter -from Ellen, written two weeks ago from the University—Miss -Knowlton helped him with the stiff paper.</p> - -<p>"She ought to be coming along," he said, trying to keep his -excitement out of his weak voice.</p> - -<p>"She came to the house some days ago to inquire and went on -to her brother's. She asked for you by telephone from there—at -least some one called from Ephrata."</p> - -<p>Stephen turned his head away. Miss Knowlton spoke as -though Ellen's inquiry were unimportant. He was sharply irritated. -She needn't think that Ellen would not come!</p> - -<p>But only Ellen's letter came.</p> - -<p>"She's sorry I am ill!" said Stephen to himself. He closed his -eyes and Miss Knowlton thought that he was drowsy. She -treated him now like a loved infant.</p> - -<p>"Would you like to <i>go sleepy by</i>?"</p> - -<p>Under his breath Stephen said, "Curses on the tribe!"</p> - -<p>By leaving at this moment Miss Knowlton missed another -great crisis.</p> - -<p>"I shall send for Ellen," said a certain Stephen.</p> - -<p>"You shall not send for her," said another Stephen. "She is -young, lovely, she must be free."</p> - -<p>"But I will."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no, you won't! You are old, maimed, forlorn."</p> - -<p>"But she'll come!"</p> - -<p>"If you love her," the other whispered, "you will never let -her come."</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton asked, presently, whether she should not -answer Ellen, and he nodded, and turned away his face. It was -surely not required that he prevent her from coming! His heart -warmed to Miss Knowlton and he knew nothing of her kindly -postscript. Her eyes were as sharp as Fetzer's, and she had once -had a suspicion. But it was unfounded, she knew perfectly, and -she had only friendly feelings for Ellen. Sometimes the beating -of her heart almost suffocated her. Stephen was helpless without -her and she believed that his misfortune had narrowed to nothingness -the gap between them. She interpreted a growing humility<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> -and gentleness as a growing regard for herself. A little color -remained steadily in her cheeks and she acquired a sort of -majesty of mien. She selected the friends who should be admitted -to his room; she barred out those who, she thought, would prove -exciting; she did not inform him, until he was almost well, of -the concern for his life which was almost city-wide.</p> - -<p>Stephen continued humble and patient. The next week he -went to the shore with Miss Knowlton and Fickes. He had now, -he believed, given Ellen up. Among his friends was a conspiracy; -they all had confidence in the healing power of occupation -and they meant presently to bring him back to an orderly -house and to an office set to run with its former machine-like -regularity. Devoted assistance should make his affliction of no -account, for his office practice at least.</p> - -<p>At the shore he passed an intolerable month. Miss Knowlton -read to him in a voice which took on after the first page the -mournful tones of an Ĉolian harp set to sing in a south wind. -She selected religious compositions which made him blush. -Fickes carried him about, over miles upon miles of smooth roads, -but Fickes, always a dull companion, was now awed and more -silent than ever.</p> - -<p>He put the thought of Ellen away and sometimes he recited -the Creed against her. He meant when he was delivered from -Miss Knowlton to look secretly into this strange return to his -believing youth, to discover whether he had been cheated in his -weakness or helped in his need. At times, looking down at -his shoulder, he said bitterly, "I should have something in -exchange." At other times he dwelt upon possibilities which he -could not put into words, but which answered the questions of -weariness and despair.</p> - -<p>There was a cruel bitterness in the fact that Ellen did nothing -whatever to make the putting away of her difficult. Of all the -world, she was indifferent to his misery. He evolved presently -an unworthy explanation for her absence—she was repelled by -his maimed condition. Then he grew sensitive to the eye of -mankind.</p> - -<p>One day Miss Knowlton approached his shaded chair on the -beach with a letter. Unexpectedly another conspirator had -joined them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> - -<p>"To Dr. S. Lanfair, M.D."</p> - -<p>Stephen smiled. Poor Fetzer, was an eye easier to lose than -an arm?</p> - -<p>"Read it."</p> - -<p>"'Dear Friend,'" read Miss Knowlton noting all Fetzer's -peculiarities of style. "'I take my pen in hand'—it is a pencil -by the way—'to say that my prayers are answered and he is -gone to where there is no more sin and sorrow. <i>He made a good -end</i>'—italics—'I heard of your troubles, but we all must -bear troubles, that is God's law. I suppose your holiday is over—anyhow, -I will be at my old stand when you come back. -Yours respect.'—period—'Mrs. James Fetzer.'"</p> - -<p>"My holiday! Does Fetzer think I'm off on a holiday?"</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton looked at him, her long, homely face beaming -with encouragement.</p> - -<p>"Aren't you? She expects you to go back and get to work."</p> - -<p>"She does, does she?"</p> - -<p>"There isn't any reason why you shouldn't."</p> - -<p>He looked at Miss Knowlton and grinned.</p> - -<p>"I'll bet you and Salter and Fetzer and all the rest are in -cahoot."</p> - -<p>"When shall we go?" asked Miss Knowlton, trembling and -believing, poor Miss Knowlton! that she was taking the first -step toward her throne.</p> - -<p>"At once, by all means," said Stephen grimly.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /> -<span class="smaller">A QUIET HOUR</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the journey was over and the offices inspected, Stephen -sat in his room. Fetzer, controlling her emotions in his presence, -had gone to the third story both to rejoice and to weep; Miss -MacVane and Miss Knowlton, moving about the office, worked -with shining eyes. Stephen had promised to see a few patients -to-morrow; life would be, Miss MacVane expected, if there was -to be any change, happier. Miss Knowlton did not put into -words what she expected. Neither thought of Ellen Levis; their -household was complete.</p> - -<p>The storm in the night had given the park a springlike greenness. -The river from Stephen's room was blue, with tiniest silver -ripples. A soft breeze stirred the curtains gently and a cool green -light filled the pleasant room. The familiar walls rested his eyes; -though he had known little but misery in this house, he loved -its stateliness and it was now a safe haven. He had begun to be -curious about what had been said and done in the medical world -in his absence. He had not forgotten the quest upon which he intended -to go when he should be wholly relieved from espionage. -In the meantime, he thought, drowsily and childishly, it was -sufficient to be quiescent and humble. He believed that he -should never see Ellen nor desire greatly to see her.</p> - -<p>Then he opened his eyes at a slight sound. Ellen was at hand; -she had crossed the street and her familiar figure which had -a moment ago startled the women in the office approached his -door, though Miss Knowlton had directed her with lofty kindness -to Fetzer's room.</p> - -<p>"She'll take you to see the doctor," Miss Knowlton promised.</p> - -<p>"Is he still ill?" Ellen asked, astonished.</p> - -<p>"He's not entirely well." Miss Knowlton spoke as though he -were her child. "But he'll see you, I'm sure."</p> - -<p>If Miss MacVane's sight had been keener, she would have -interpreted the long look which Ellen gave Miss Knowlton. In -it were astonishment, resentment, and even defiance. She would -break no resolutions, would not endanger her self-control, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> -ticket for her journey was in her purse, but she would not be -escorted to Dr. Lanfair's room by Mrs. Fetzer at Miss Knowlton's -suggestion!</p> - -<p>Stephen saw her at first dimly across the wide room—could -she be a deluding vision? He felt the injured resentment of a -man hit when he is down.</p> - -<p>When he was convinced of her reality, he clutched the arm -of his chair. He did not rise to meet her, realizing that he would -need all his physical strength to support his resolution and his -pride. When she came toward him, and he saw that some harsh -trouble had deepened her eyes, he grew still more weak. He -wished for Fetzer or Miss MacVane or Miss Knowlton—he -thought with confused rage of Miss Knowlton—if she was -worth anything she should have defended him from this!</p> - -<p>"I didn't know you were here," said Ellen in her low voice. -"Miss MacVane and Miss Knowlton just told me."</p> - -<p>"Or I suppose you wouldn't have come!" Had he said the -foolish words or merely thought them?</p> - -<p>"I'm going to Ithaca to-night," went on Ellen.</p> - -<p>She was halfway across the room on her way to shake hands -with him when she halted. "I'm going to—" She stood staring, -incredulous, at his maimed body. She could not move or speak. -It is hard to say which she felt more deeply, an anguished pity -or a sharp resentment.</p> - -<p>Stephen saw her horror; the theory which he had framed to -account for her absence was then quite proved. He even believed -that he saw her hands lifted to shield her eyes. Her repulsion -and terror were unendurable, they constituted the final -insult of fate.</p> - -<p>"Does it frighten you?" he asked, wishing to hurt her. She -had no business to come now!</p> - -<p>Her gaze transferred itself to his eyes and held them for a -second. After a long moment she spoke slowly, looking down, -with the slightest emphasis on her last word.</p> - -<p>"What did you say to me?"</p> - -<p>Stephen leaned forward, hating himself.</p> - -<p>"Didn't you know, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>A dumb mouth answered.</p> - -<p>"I had an infected hand. Won't you sit down?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ellen did not move. Her eyes lifted, regarded him steadily.</p> - -<p>"Did you never wonder why I didn't come?"</p> - -<p>Stephen could not endure her gaze. Alas, he was not cured, -she was dearer, more desirable than she had ever been. Perhaps -if he were wise and wary, if he did not betray himself, he could -keep her childish affection until some one won her away! He -could then grow gradually accustomed to that which now seemed -worse than death.</p> - -<p>"You wrote and I answered," he said lightly. "Did you say -you were going back to school? Why so early, Ellen?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to—"</p> - -<p>"Do sit down!" he cried. Did she mean to flee? "I won't hurt -you. I can't hurt you!" With an effort of his will he looked at her -again; he saw her waving hair, her broad forehead, her dark eyes, -her round figure, all of sweet Ellen. He looked at her, steadily and -long, in the quiet room as though he should never see her again.</p> - -<p>He saw not only her body; he saw with a clear vision her soul, -and knew that his journey northward would have been in vain, -that he could never in such fashion have made her his. In her -gaze was all her father's quiet dignity, all his self-respect, which -could not be impaired though all else were taken. She had -gained, Stephen saw plainly, the resources of maturity; though -she had been cruelly hurt, she still lifted her head.</p> - -<p>But he saw more than the beauty of Ellen's body and the -worth of her soul; he read her heart and found there that what -he desired was to be given him. He rose to his feet without taking -his eyes from her. The energy of life returned; he felt no weakness; -he knew that that which he was to have was of inestimable -value and he determined to be lacking in no grateful return.</p> - -<p>Ellen moved a little toward him, her eyes now downcast.</p> - -<p>"I have come to say good-bye."</p> - -<p>He made no answer. The edge of the awning was slightly -lifted in the breeze, the green light brightened, a shaft of sunlight -struck across the room, and he stood still. He would not -say, "Ellen, I am too old," or, "Ellen, I am maimed." He would -not hurt her more than she had been hurt. She had, it was clear, -no suspicion that Fate had given her less than the best. He -stood looking at her quizzically, almost merrily, waiting for her -to lift her eyes.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> -<span class="smaller">FETZER CLOSES A DOOR</span></h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Fetzer</span> presently dried her tears and, remembering a message -which was to be delivered to Miss Knowlton, smoothed her hair -which was already smooth and went down to the office. When -she entered both women looked up in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Where is Ellen?" asked Miss MacVane. "Is she going to -stay? It's too early to go back to school."</p> - -<p>"Ellen," repeated Fetzer. "Is she here? Do you mean our -Ellen?"</p> - -<p>Miss MacVane grew a little pale and Miss Knowlton turned -her head quickly.</p> - -<p>"She came in a long time ago and I sent her to find you. I -told her that Dr. Lanfair was in his room and that you'd take -her to speak to him."</p> - -<p>"Did she go upstairs the front way?" asked Fetzer.</p> - -<p>"She must have," answered Miss Knowlton.</p> - -<p>"How long ago was this, then?"</p> - -<p>"A half-hour," said Miss MacVane.</p> - -<p>"It's much longer than that," corrected Miss Knowlton. She -rose, her cheeks scarlet. Ellen should have followed directions.</p> - -<p>"Doctor should have some nourishment," she said sharply. -"I'm going to take him a cup of iced broth."</p> - -<p>Then to her astonishment Miss Knowlton found her way -barred. Fetzer had closed the door and placed herself in front of -it. She stood again in the hall on a hot August afternoon and -saw Ellen's look. A flame leaped to life in her heart, then died -down, leaving only glowing embers. She believed that she knew -what was happening in Stephen's quiet room. As for these poor -souls, they had had no experience of life. She looked at them -with the utmost kindness.</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't go now," she said, flushing. "He'll ring when -he wants"—she had meant to say "you," but she said valiantly -"us." Then a sound startled her, almost shocked her. It -was a man's laugh, hearty, clear, happy, ringing through the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> -quiet house, and penetrating the closed door. She laid her hand -on the side of her face, the tips of her fingers covering the black -patch, and smiled a brave smile. All of them heard the laugh -again.</p> - -<p>"Ellen, she will make him happy," said Fetzer in her pleasant -idiom.</p> - -<p>"He deserves to be happy," said Miss MacVane soberly after -another moment of silence.</p> - -<p>Miss Knowlton, who was younger, said nothing. She returned -to the inner room, and there with automatic regularity of motion -lifted bottles from a shelf which had not been dusted to -one which had.</p> - - -<p class="center space3">THE END</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="tnnote"> - -<p>Transcriber's Note:</p> - -<p class="tnlist">Page <a href="#p190_obstrusive">190</a><br /> -always unobstrusive <i>changed to</i><br /> -always unobtrusive</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ellen Levis, by Elsie Singmaster - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELLEN LEVIS *** - -***** This file should be named 52019-h.htm or 52019-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/1/52019/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Ian Crann and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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