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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..032e109 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53009 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53009) diff --git a/old/53009-0.txt b/old/53009-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e6470b7..0000000 --- a/old/53009-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,15420 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Patience Sparhawk and Her Times, by Gertrude -Franklin Horn Atherton - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Patience Sparhawk and Her Times - A Novel - - -Author: Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton - - - -Release Date: September 8, 2016 [eBook #53009] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES*** - - -E-text prepared by Mardi Desjardins and the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team (http://www.pgdpcanada.net) from page images -generously made available by Internet Archive/American Libraries -(https://archive.org/details/americana) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - https://archive.org/details/sparhawkpatience00atherich - - - - - -PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES - -A Novel - -by - -GERTRUDE ATHERTON - -Author of “A Whirl Asunder,” “The Doomswoman,” -“Before the Gringo Came,” etc. - - - - - - - -John Lane: The Bodley Head -London and New York -1897 - -Copyright, 1895, -By Gertrude Atherton. - -Copyright, 1897, -By John Lane. - -All rights reserved. - -University Press: -John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A. - - - -CONTENTS - - Book I - Book II - Book III - Book IV - Book V - - - - - TO - M. PAUL BOURGET, - -Who alone, of all foreigners, has detected, in its full significance, -that the motive power, the cohering force, the ultimate religion of that -strange composite known as “The American,” is Individual Will. Leaving -the ultra-religious element out of the question, the high, the low, the -rich, the poor, the man, the woman of this section of the Western world, -each, consciously or unconsciously, believes in, relies on himself -primarily. In the higher civilisation this amounts to intellectual -anarchy, and its tendency is to make Americans, or, more exactly, United -Statesians, a New Race in a sense far more portentous than in any which -has yet been recognised. As M. Bourget prophesies, destruction, chaos, -may eventuate. On the other hand, the final result may be a race of -harder fibre and larger faculties than any in the history of -civilisation. That this extraordinary self-dependence and independence -of certain traditions that govern older nations make the quintessential -part of the women as of the men of this race I have endeavoured to -illustrate in the following pages. - - G. A. - - - - - Patience Sparhawk and Her Times - - - - - BOOK I - - - I - -“Oh, git up! Git up! Did you ever see such an old slug? Billy! _Will_ -you git up?” - -“What’s the use of talking to him?” drawled a soft, inactive voice. “You -know he never goes one bit faster. What’s the difference anyhow?” - -“Difference is my mother wants these groceries for supper. We’re all out -of sugar ’n flour ’n beans, and the men’s got to eat.” - -“Well, as long as he won’t go, just be comfortable and don’t bother.” - -“I wish I could be as easy-going as you are, Rosita, but I can’t: I -suppose it’s because I’m not Spanish. Guess I’ve got some Yankee in me, -if I am a Californian.” The little girl leaned over the dash-board of -the rickety buggy, thumping with her whip-stump the back of the aged -nag. Billy was blind, uncertain in the knees, and as languid as any -_caballero_ that once had sighed at _doña’s_ feet in these dim pine -woods. As far back as Patience could remember he had never broken his -record, and his record was two miles an hour. In a few moments she set -the whip in the socket with an irritable thump, wound the reins about -it, and sat down on the floor beside her companion. For some reason best -known to themselves, the girls preferred this method of disposition when -Billy led the way,—perhaps because he had an errant fondness for the -roughest spots of the rough road, making the high seat as uneasy and -precarious as thrones are still; perhaps because Patience rebelled at -habit, and in all her divagations was blindly followed by her Spanish -friend. - -Billy ambled up and down the steep roads of the fragrant pine woods on -the hills behind Monterey, and the girls gave him no further heed. -Patience’s long plait having been shaken loose in her wild lurches over -the dash-board, she swung about, dangled her legs out of the buggy, and -commanded Rosita to braid her hair. The legs she kicked recklessly -against the wheel were not pretty. They were long and thin, clothed with -woollen stockings darned and wrinkled, and angled off with copper-toed -boots. She wore a frock of faded gingham, and chewed the strings of a -sunbonnet. - -“Don’t pull so, and do hurry,” she exclaimed as the Spanish girl’s deft -slow fingers moved in and out of the scanty wisps. - -“I’m not pulling, Patita, dear, and you know I can’t hurry. And I’m just -thinking that your hair is the colour of ashes.” - -“I know it,” said Patience, gloomily, “but maybe it’ll be yellow when I -grow up. Do you remember Polly Collins? When she graduated she had hair -the colour of a wharf rat, and when she came back from San Francisco the -next year it was as yellow as the hills in summer.” - -“I don’t care for yellow hair,” and Rosita moved her dark head with the -slow rotary motion which was hers by divine right. - -“Oh, you’re pretty,” said Patience, sarcastically. “You want to be told -so, I suppose—There! you pulled my hair on purpose, you know you did, -Rosita Thrailkill.” - -“I didn’t, Patita. Don’t fire up so.” And Rosita, who was the most -amiable of children, tied the end of the braid with a piece of tape, -rubbed her blooming cheek against the pale one, and was forgiven. - -Patience drew herself into the buggy and braced her back against the -seat. Her face had little more beauty than her legs. It was colourless -and freckled. The mouth was firm, almost dogged, as if the contest with -life had already begun. Her brows and lashes were several shades darker -than her hair, but her eyes, wide apart and very bright, were a light, -rather cold grey. The nose alone was a beautiful feature, straight and -fine; and the hands, although rough and sunburned, were tapering and -slender, and very flexible. - -In her red frock, the highly-coloured little Spanish girl glowed like a -cactus blossom beside a neglected weed. Her plump face was full of -blood; her large dark eyes were indolent and soft. Patience’s eyes -comprehended everything within their radius in one flashing glance; -Rosita’s, even at the tender age of fifteen, looked unswerving -disapproval of all exertion, mental or physical. - -“I wonder if your mother is drunk?” she asked in her slow delicious -voice. - -“Likely,” said Patience, with frowning resignation. “But let’s talk of -something more agreeable. Isn’t this perfume heavenly?” - -The dark solemn woods were ravishing with the perfumes of spring, the -perfume of wild violet and lilac and lily, and the faint sweet odour the -damp earth gives up as the sun goes down. From above came the strong -bracing scent of the pines. Now and again the wind brought a salt whiff -from the ocean. No birds carolled, but the pines sang their eternal -dirge. - -“What’s your ideal?” demanded Patience. - -“Ideal? What ideal?” - -“Why, of man, of course.” - -“Oh, man!” contemptuously. “I haven’t thought much about men. I don’t -read novels like you do. I wish somebody would die and leave me a -thousand dollars so I could live in San Francisco and have a new dress -every day and go to the theatre every night. Miss Galpin says we mustn’t -think about boys, and I don’t—perhaps because the boys in Monterey are -so horrid.” - -“Boys? Who said anything about boys?” The chrysalis elevated her -patrician nose. “I mean men.” - -“Well, you’re mean to turn up your nose at boys. They like you a good -deal better than they do me, and a good many of the other girls.” - -“That’s funny, isn’t it? and I not pretty. But I suppose it’s because I -talk. You just sit still and look pretty, and that’s not very -entertaining. I read in a novel that men like that; but boys have got to -be entertained. Goodness gracious! Don’t I know it? When I was at -Manuela’s party the other night in my old washed muslin frock and plaid -sash, didn’t I talk my throat sore to make them forget that I was the -worst dressed girl in the room and had the most freckles? Of course the -girls didn’t forget—nor some other things—” with a bitter lowering of -the lids—“but the boys did. Somehow I feel as if men would always be my -friends, if I’m not pretty.” - -“What do you know about men, anyhow? You’re only fifteen, and you’ve -never met any but old Mr. Foord, and the farm hands and store keepers, -who,” aristocratically, “don’t count.” - -“Haven’t I read novels? Haven’t I read Thackeray and Dickens and Scott -and ‘Jane Eyre’ and ‘Wuthering Heights’ and Shakespeare and Plutarch’s -Lives, and the life of Napoleon and Macaulay’s ‘History of England’ and -Essays—those all ain’t novels, but they write about men, real men, too. -I’ve made my ideal out of a lot of them put together, and I’ll never -marry till I find him.” - -“Well, I’d like to know where you’ll find him in Monterey,” said the -practical Rosita. “Miss Galpin says you’re too romantic, and that it’s a -pity, because you’re the brightest girl in the school.” - -“Did Miss Galpin say that?” Patience took a brass pin out of her frock -and extracted a splinter from her thumb with a fine air of indifference; -but the pink flooded her cheek. “She’s always reading Howells and James, -and says they’d keep anybody from being romantic. But that’s about all -I’ve got, so I think I’ll hold on to it.” - -The sun dropped below the horizon as they jolted out of the woods and -down the steep road toward Carmel Valley. They reached a ledge, and -Patience, forgetful of hungry men and an irascible parent, called: -“Whoa!” to which Billy responded with an alacrity reserved for such -occasions only. - -“I never get tired of this,” she said. “Do you?” - -“It’s pretty,” said Rosita, indifferently. “Why are you so fond of -scenery—nature, as Miss Galpin calls it—I wonder?” - -“I don’t know,” said Patience, and at that age she did not. She was -responsive but dumb. She gazed down and out and upward with a pleasure -that never grew old. A great bleak mountain loomed on the other side of -the valley. It was as steep as if the ocean had gnawed it flat, but only -the peaceful valley lay under; out in the ocean it tapered to an immense -irregular mass of rock over which the breakers leapt and fought. Carmel -River sparkled peacefully beneath its moving willows. The blue bay -murmured to the white sands with the peace of evening. Close to the -little beach the old Mission hung its dilapidated head. Through its -yawning arches dark objects flitted; mould was on the yellow walls; from -yawning crevice the rank grass grew. Only the tower still defied -elements and vandals, although the wind whistled through its gaping -windows and the silver bells were no more. The huts about the church had -collapsed like old muscles, but in their ruin still whispered the story -of the past. - -“Isn’t it splendid to think that we have a ruin!” exclaimed Patience. - -“It’s a ruin sure enough; but there’s uncle Jim. He must think we’re -dead.” - -A prolonged “Halloa!” came from the valley, and Patience, with a sigh, -bade Billy “Git up,” which he did in the course of a moment. - -“Halloa, you youngsters, why don’t you hurry?” cried a nasal voice. -“I’ve been waiting here an hour.” - -“Coming,” said Patience. “It’s too bad he had to wait.” - -“Oh, he smoked and swore, so he’s all right,” said Rosita, who had not -taken the trouble to reply. None of the girls was allowed to visit -Patience at her house; but Mrs. Thrailkill, who was fond of her -daughter’s chosen friend, and pitiful in her indolent way, often allowed -Patience to drive Rosita as far as the branching of the roads, where the -Kentucky uncle met his niece and took her to his farm. - -In the dusk below a wagon and two horses could be seen, and a big man -under a wide straw hat, sitting on the upper rail of a fence, his heels -hooked to the rail below. Patience inferred that he was chewing tobacco -and expectorating upon the poppies. - -“Well, I reckon!” he exclaimed as the buggy reached the foot of the -hill. “You two do beat all. Do you s’pose I’ve got nothing better to do -than moon round pikes waiting on kids like you? How’s your ma, Rosita? -Well, Patience, I won’t keep you—much obliged for giving my lazy -Spanish niece a lift. Come on now; supper’s ready ’n after.” - -The two little girls kissed each other affectionately. Mr. Thrailkill -lifted Rosita down, and Patience turned Billy in the direction of a -fiery eye and a dim column of smoke under the mountain. The evening -seemed very quiet after the rattle of Mr. Thrailkill’s team had become a -part of the distance. Only the roar of the surf, the moaning of the -pines, the harsh music of the frogs, the thousand vocal mysteries of -night—not a sound of man. Patience, after her fashion, rehabilitated -the Mission and peopled the valley with padres and Indians; but when -Billy came to a sudden halt, she sprang prosaically to the ground and -let down the bars of her mother’s ranch. After she had replaced them she -took hold of Billy’s bridle, and endeavoured, by jerks and -expostulation, to induce him to move more rapidly. The road now lay -through a ploughed field stretching gloomily on the east to the horizon, -where the stars seemed dropping into the dark. Cows roamed at will, or -lay heavily in their first sleep. Here and there an oak thrust out its -twisted arms, its trunk bent backward by ocean winds. The house soon -became plainly outlined, a long unpainted wooden story-and-a-half -structure, the type of ranch house of the second era. Castilian roses -clambered up the unpainted front. Clumps of gladiolus, pinks, and -fuschias struggled with weeds in the front garden. Beyond was a number -of out-buildings. - -When Patience reached the porch she dropped Billy’s bridle, lifted out -the sugar, and stepping to the kitchen window, looked through it for a -moment before opening the door. Her mother was very drunk. - - - II - -The room into which Patience frowned was a large rough kitchen of the -old familiar type. The rafters were festooned with cobwebs, through -which tin cans and aged pails were visible, and an occasional bundle of -rags. The board walls were unplastered and unpainted. Out of the uneven -floor, knots had dropped to the cellar below. The door of a cupboard, -built against the wall with primitive simplicity, stood open, revealing -a motley collection of cans, bottles, and cracked dishes. Pots and pans -were heaped on a shelf traversing two sides of the room. A table was -loaded with odds and ends, in the midst of which place had been made for -a lamp. - -Over a large stove a woman was frying bacon and eggs. She wore a brown -calico garment, torn and smudged. Her fine black hair, sprinkled with -ashes, hung raggedly above magnificent dark eyes, blinking in a crimson -face. The thin nostrils and full mouth were twitching. In her ruin she -was still a beautiful woman, and she moved her tall bloated form with -the pride of race, despite the alcohol in her veins. - -On a broken chair by the stove sat a young man in the overalls and -flannel shirt of a farm hand. His hair was clipped to his skull with -colourless result; his large red under lip curved down into a yellow -beard. In a long low room adjoining the kitchen a half dozen other men -were seated on benches about a table covered with white oilcloth and -chipped crockery. They also wore overalls and flannel shirts; and they -were bearded and seamed and brown. The Californian sun soon burns the -juices out of the flesh that defies it. - -Patience flung open the kitchen door and threw the sugar on the table. - -“Oscar,” she said peremptorily to the man by the stove, “take Billy -round to the barn and put him up, and bring in the flour and the beans. -They’re under the seat.” The man went out, muttering angrily, and she -turned to her mother, who had begun a tirade of abuse. “Keep quiet,” she -said. “So you’re drunk again? I thought you promised me that you -wouldn’t drink again for a week. Where did you get it?” - -“Couldn’t help it,” muttered the woman, cowed by the bitter contempt in -her small daughter’s eyes, and thrusting a long fork into the sputtering -fat. - -“Where did you get it?” - -“Couldn’t help it.” - -Patience opened the package of sugar with a jerk, and filling two bowls -with the coarse brown stuff carried them into the next room and set them -at opposite ends of the table. The men ceased talking as she entered, -and saluted her respectfully. They felt vaguely sorry for her; but they -were afraid of her, and she was not a favourite with them. Her mother, -“Madge,” as they called her to a man, they worshipped, despite or -because of her peccability. They went down before her deathless -magnetism, her coarse good nature, her spurious kind-heartedness. It was -only when very drunk that she became violent and vituperative, and even -then she fascinated them. Patience told herself proudly that she had no -attraction for “common men”—that she repelled them. Not being a seer, -she was saved the foreknowledge of a fatal gift in operation. - -She took the large coffee-pot from the back of the stove and filled the -men’s cups with its thick fluid. Her mother’s rolling eyes followed her -with a malignant sparkle. She was afraid of her daughter, and resentment -had eaten deep into her perverted nature. Patience filled a plate with -bread and apple sauce, and went into the parlour to eat her supper in -solitude. She took all her meals in this room, which with little -difficulty she appropriated to her exclusive use: it was very small. She -kept it in fairly good order: she was not the tidiest of children. But -the old brussels carpet was clean, barring the corners, and the -horsehair furniture had been mended here and there with shoe thread. As -it still prickled, however, Patience had made a cushion for the clumsy -rocker out of an elderly gown which she had found in a trunk in the -garret with other relics of finery. She occupied the rocker impartially -whether eating or reading. The marble-topped table also served for -dining and study. - -In a forlorn old bookcase were her only treasures, the few books, mostly -classics, which John Sparhawk had reserved when a succession of failures -had forced him to sell his library to Mr. Foord. In one corner was a -large family Bible on a small table. It was old and worn. Its gilt edges -shone dimly through a cobweb of infinite pains. - -On the papered walls were two large coloured photographs of Mr. and Mrs. -Sparhawk, taken apparently when each was close on thirty years. The -woman’s face bore traces of dissipation even then, and the red mouth was -very sensual. But the cheeks were still delicate and there were no bags -under the large flaming eyes. The bare neck and arms and half revealed -bust were superb; the poise of the head, the curve of the short upper -lip, the fine arched nostril, were the delicate insignia of race; the -pride stamped on every feature was that of birth, not of defiance. The -man had a slender upright figure and a finely modelled head and face. -The deeply set eyes were cold and piercing, but between the stern curves -of the mouth there was much passion. Patience had studied these faces, -but she was as innocent as if she had been bred in a cloister, and their -mystery baffled while it allured her. - -She ate her supper with a hearty appetite. Her mother’s lapses, being -accepted as part of the routine of existence, rarely depressed her -spirits. Nevertheless she frowned heavily as turbulent sounds pierced -the thin partition, not so much at her mother’s iniquity, as at the -prospect of being obliged to wash the supper dishes. The expected crash -came, and she ran into the kitchen. Her mother lay prone. Two of the men -lifted her immediately and carried her up the narrow stair. Patience -sullenly attacked the dishes. She dumped them into a large pan of hot -water, stirred them gingerly with a cloth fastened to a stick, drained -the water off, poured in a fresh pailful, and dried them hastily. She -filled the frying-pan with water and set it on the hottest part of the -stove to cook itself clean. Occasionally she coughed with angry -significance: the men in the next room were invisible behind a grey fog -of their own puffing. She spattered her clean pinafore, blackened her -hands, and devoutly wished herself alone on a desert island where she -could live on cocoanuts and bananas. At such times she forgot the few -compensations of her unfortunate life and felt herself only the -poverty-stricken drudge, the daughter of Madge Sparhawk. - - - III - -Who Madge Sparhawk was before she married the Yankee rancher had at one -time been an absorbing topic for dispute in Monterey. One gossip averred -that she had been the dashing leader of the lower ten thousand of San -Francisco, another that she had come from the Eastern States as the -mistress of a wealthy man who had wearied and cast her off; a third -confidently affirmed that she had been a brilliant New York woman of -fashion who had gone wrong through love of drink, and been sent under an -assumed name to California by her afflicted family; a fourth swore that -she had been an actress, a fifth that she had been the high-tempered -queen of a gambling house. On one point all agreed: she was -disreputable, and John Sparhawk was a fool to marry her. However, they -were somewhat disappointed that they saw so little of her. They were not -called upon to snub nor tolerate her. She rarely came into the town; -never excepting on horseback with her husband, when her splendid beauty -drew masculine Monterey from its perch on the fence tops,—where it sat -and smoked and murmured the hours away,—and gathered it about her, -stirring the diluted rill of _caballero_ blood. - -As far as the little world of Monterey could learn through the gossip of -servants, she was a helpful wife to a devoted husband who patiently -strove with the fiend that possessed her. When he was killed by the -accidental discharge of a gun her grief was so violent that only a -prolonged carouse could assuage it. Subsequently she recovered, and with -occasional advice from Mr. Foord attempted to run the farm. As John -Sparhawk had made no will, she was her child’s legal guardian, the -absolute mistress for eight years of what property her husband had left. -There was a little ready money, the dairy was remunerative, and the -ranch well stocked. But that was five years ago. Her habits had grown -upon her; the ranch was mortgaged and run down, the stock decreased by -half. - -Patience had rebelled heavily at her father’s death, and wondered, with -childish logic, why, if one parent had to die, it could not have been -her mother. Her father’s manner had been cold, repellent, like her own; -but that his nature was deep and passionate even her young mind had -never doubted. She felt it in the close clasp of his arms as he held her -before him on his horse when galloping about the ranch; in his sudden -infrequent caress; in the strong pressure of his hand as they wandered -through the woods or along the shore at night, not a word spoken between -them. - -It was not until after his death that she made acquaintance with her -social separateness. He had begun her education himself. Her only girl -companion was Rosita Thrailkill, the niece of a neighbour, whom her -father would not permit her to visit in Monterey. John Sparhawk’s only -friends were the Thrailkill brothers and Mr. Foord, an elderly -gentleman, who had lived in Monterey under the old régime, lost his -fortune in the great Bonanza time, and returned to the somnolent town to -end his days with his library, the memory of his dead Spanish wife, and -a few old friends, world-forgotten like himself. He lived in the -dilapidated Custom House on the rocks at the edge of the town, and -Patience had ruled his establishment since her baby days. It was the -only house in Monterey she was permitted to enter, and she entered it as -often as she could. A hundred times she had sat with the old gentleman -on the upper corridor and listened to the story of the capture of -Monterey by the United States fleet in 1846; stared breathlessly at the -crumbling fort—the _castillo_—on the hill above Junipero Serra’s -cross, as Mr. Foord verbally restored its former impregnability. - -He told her tales of the days of light and life and joy when Monterey -was the capital of the Californians, and the Americans were not yet -come,—stories of love and revenge and the great free play of the -primitive passions, unpared by modern civilisation. For her those old -adobe houses in the town were alive once more with dark-eyed _doñas_ and -magnificently attired _caballeros_. Behind the high walls of the old -gardens fans fluttered among the Castilian roses and dueñas stealthily -prowled. The twisted streets were gay again with the court life of the -olden time, the grand parades of the governors, the triumphant returns -from the race on the restless silver-trapped steeds. - -Every house had its history, and Patience knew them all. She wandered -with Mr. Foord along the dusty streets, lingered before the garden -walls, over which she could see and smell the nasturtiums and the sweet -Castilian roses. But gone were the _caballeros_ and the _doñas_. They -lay in the little cemetery of the _padres_ on the hill, over beyond the -yellow church which marked a corner of the old _presidio_, and well on -the road to a great hotel whose typical life was vastly different from -that old romantic time. They lay under their stones, forgotten. The -thistles and wild oats rioted under the gnarled old oaks. The new-comer -never paused to glance at the worn carvings on the thick rough slabs. - -Behind the garden walls a few brown old women lived alone, too practical -to brood upon an enchanted past. Cows nibbled in the _plaza_ where once -the bull and the bear had fought while the gay jewelled people screamed -with delight. Gone was the tinkle of the guitar, the flutter of fan, the -graceful woman hastening down the street half hidden in her mantilla, -the lovely face behind the grating. The screaming of the sea-gulls, the -moaning of the pines, the roar of the surf, alone remained the same, -careless of change or decay. Wooden houses crowded between the old -adobes. Most of the Spanish families were half American: their women had -preferred the enterprising intruder to the indolent _caballero_. Arcadia -was no more. The old had kissed the hand of the new, and spawned a -hybrid. - -After John Sparhawk’s death, Mr. Foord persuaded his widow to send -Patience to the public school. The little girl was delighted. She had -looked with envious longing at the stone building, painted a beautiful -pink, which stood well up on the hill at the right of the town and was -still known by the imposing name of Colton Hall; it had been built by -the first American _alcalde_, and was a court house for a brief while. - -But it was not long before Patience learned the bitter lesson that she -was not as other girls, despite the fact that at that time she was well -dressed and that she drifted naturally to the head of her classes. -School girls are coarse and cruel. Children are the periodical relapse -of civilisation into savagery. These girls of Monterey excluded Patience -from their games and recess conversations, and intimated broadly that -her mother was not respectable. - -At first Patience gave them little heed. She loved study, and was of a -wild happy nature beneath her prim exterior. Moreover, Rosita was her -loyal friend; and one of the older girls, Manuela Peralta, who had a -kind and independent heart, sheltered her as much as she could. But -Patience was too bright and observing to remain long in ignorance of her -hostile environment. When the awakening came her young soul was filled -with rage and bitterness. The full meaning of their innuendoes she was -too ignorant to understand, but that she was regarded as a pariah was -sufficiently evident. - -Little as she loved her mother, a natural impulse sent her to her only -remaining parent with the story of her wrongs. Mrs. Sparhawk became -violently indignant and shortly after very drunk. The subject was never -mentioned between them again; nor did Patience speak of it with any one -but Rosita, whom she regarded as a second, beloved, and somewhat -inferior self. But her soul cried out for the strength that only a man’s -strong soul can give to woman at any age; and the man that had prayed to -live and defend her lay with the forgotten Californians on the hill. - -Mr. Foord divined her trouble, and did what he could to make her life -endurable, although her shy reserve forbade any intimacy beyond the old -friendship. Miss Galpin, her teacher, made no secret of the fact that -Patience was her favourite scholar, and encouraged her to study and read -and forget. - -Patience indulged in no further outbreak, even to herself. She -cultivated a cold and impassive exterior, an air of rigid indifference, -and studied until her small head ached. She was not old enough to -analyse; it was instinct only that made her assume callousness; but in -her young vague way she grappled with the social problem. She did not -approve of Mrs. Sparhawk any more than others did; but Mrs. Sparhawk’s -daughter behaved herself, and stood at the head of her classes, and had -been assured again and again that she “looked like a little lady:” -therefore she was at a loss to comprehend why Patience Sparhawk was not -as good as other girls. There was Panchita McPherson, who lied profusely -and whose mother sat in the sun all day and baked herself like an old -crocodile, while her husband sat on the fence by the Post Office and -smoked a pipe from the first of January until the thirty-first of -December. Yet Panchita was of the _haute noblesse_, and treated Patience -as she would a rag-picker. Francesca Montez never knew a lesson and was -so vulgar that she brought the blush to Patience’s cheek; but she lived -in an adobe mansion which once had been the scene of princely splendour, -and gave two parties a year. The American girls had not even the -prestige of the past; they could not reckon up a great-grandfather -between them, much less peeling portraits of _caballeros_ and trunks of -splendid finery; but they were bright and aggressive, and made -themselves a power in the school. - -As Patience grew older she compelled the respect of her mates, and they -ceased to annoy her. The consciousness of social supremacy never faded, -not for an instant; but even tying a tin can to a dog’s tail becomes -monotonous in time, and they had numberless little interests to absorb -them. If Patience had been a rollicking emotional child she would -doubtless have kissed herself into popularity and been treated to much -good-natured patronage; but she scorned placation, and grew more -reserved as the years went by. She accepted her fate, and discovered -that there were times and hours when her mother, schoolmates, and social -problems could be forgotten. Her spirits were naturally buoyant, and her -mind grew philosophical; but as Mr. Foord once observed to Miss Galpin, -“her start in life had been all wrong, and it would matter more with her -than with some others.” - - - IV - -After Patience had put the kitchen in order she went up to her room. She -slept at one end of the house, her mother at the opposite. Several of -the hired men occupied a dormitory between; the rest slept over the -dairy. - -She lit her candle and began to undress, then extinguished the flame -suddenly and went down stairs and out of the house. She felt sullen and -heavy and depressed, and knew the remedy. - -The moon was at the full; the great ploughed fields were a sea of -silver; the dark pines on the hills opened their aisles to cataracts of -crystal, splashing through the green uplifted arms. Strange shadows -moved amidst the showers of cold light, twisting rhythmically under the -touch of the night wind. - -Patience loved nature too passionately to fear her in any mood or hour. -She sped over the rough field, climbed the fence, and walked hastily -toward the Mission, pausing now and again to inhale the rich perfumes of -Spring. The ruin looked like the skeleton of a mammoth caught in a -phantom iceberg. Even the dark things that haunted it were touched to -beauty by the silver light pouring through the storm-beaten rose window -over the massive doors, into the abysms between the arches. - -Patience skirted the long body of the church with haste; mouldering -skeletons lay under the floor, and like all imaginative minds she had a -lively horror of the dead. She entered the open doorway and ascended the -steep spiral stair in the tower. The steps were cut from solid stone and -were worn by the trampling of many feet. As she neared the top she -called,— - -“Tu wit! Tu woo!” and was promptly answered. - -As her chin appeared above the floor of the little room, where the -moonlight came through hollow casements, an old grey owl, a large wise -solemn owl, advanced from the wall with slow and stately step; and -despite his massive dignity there was expectancy in his mien. - -“Poor Solomon,” said Patience, contritely. “I forgot your supper.” She -climbed into the room and attempted to pat his head; but when he saw -that the hand was empty, he flapped his wings, and turning his back upon -her, retired to the wall, blinking indignantly. - -Patience laughed, then sighed, and sank on her knees before the low -window overlooking the ocean. The blue bay still whispered to the white -sands sparkling like diamond dust in the moonlight, the yellow stars -winking in its clear depths. But the ocean was uneasy, and hurtled -reiterantly in great deep-throated waves at the rocky shore as if its -giant soul were in final rebellion against this conventional war with a -passive foe. About Point Lobos its voice waxed trumpet-toned. It -shouldered itself into mighty waves and tossed the spray into writhing -shapes. Everything else was at rest. The great forces of nature were the -angry prisoners of the tides. The moon grinned in his superior way. The -little stars seemed to say: “Up here we are quite composed, and as vain -as pretty women. If you would only keep quiet you would make such a fine -large looking-glass.” - -As Patience gazed out upon the beautiful scene, her young mind shifted -its impressions. She forgot her life, and began to dream in a vague -sweet way. Not of a lover. Despite the fact that she had manufactured a -composite which occupied a pedestal in her imagination, she thought -little about love. Her reveries were a wandering of her ego through the -books she had read, environed by the nature whom she knew only in lovely -profile. Had she lived her fifteen years on the sterile plains of -Soledad, she might perhaps have been as harsh and bitter as its sands, -her soul as grey, so susceptible was she to the subtle influence of -great externals. But Monterey had saved her, and on nights like this she -felt as if she too were flooded with crystal light, now and again -clouded by something which perturbed, yet vibrated like the music of the -pines. - -When in a particularly romantic mood, she imagined herself Mariana in -the “Moated Grange,” or hummed “The Long Long Weary Day,” and tried to -feel sad, but could not. She never felt sad in her tower, with the owl -on guard and the slighted dead in the church below. Sometimes she took -herself to task for not having a proper amount of sentiment, but -concluded that no one could be unhappy when so high above the world and -all its hateful details. Occasionally she looked longingly at the -perpendicular mountain: it was many times higher than her tower; but she -was a lazy little thing, and would not climb. - -As she knelt, gazing out on the ocean, or up at the spangled night, she -was a very different-looking being from the sharp practical child that -had exhorted old Billy and berated her mother. The loosened hair clung -softly about her pale face, whose freckles the kind moon with his white -brush painted out. Her mouth had relaxed its stern lines. Her eyes were -full of the moon’s shimmer, and of something else,—the struggling light -of a developing soul. - -Patience’s soul had taken care of itself and showed virility in spite of -the forces at war against it. What the little battling spark strove for, -puzzled Patience even at that unanalytical age. Religion—Christianity, -to be more exact—said nothing to her; it appealed to no want in her; -even the instinct was lacking. John Sparhawk had clung to the rigid -faith of his fathers with a desperation which Patience, child as she -was, had half divined. He had had prayers night and morning, and -compelled his daughter to learn her catechism and many chapters of the -Bible. After his death Mr. Foord took her to church on Sunday mornings -and occasionally read her a little lecture. She listened respectfully, -but felt no interest. - -Nevertheless, when alone in her tower at night, when she had set her -foot on its lowest step with deliberate intent to get as high above the -earth as she could, she was conscious of an upreaching of the spiritual -entity within her, a wordless demand for the something higher and holier -of which the supreme beauty of the Universe is symbolical. - - - V - -The next morning, Patience, after helping her convalescent parent to get -breakfast, stood on the porch debating whether she should go over to Mr. -Thrailkill’s ranch and see Rosita or spend the day in Mr. Foord’s -library. - -The scholars of Colton Hall had a week’s vacation, and how to make the -most of seven long days of freedom in exquisite spring weather was a -serious question. - -As she hesitated she bethought herself of Solomon. She ran to the safe, -and gingerly extracting a piece of raw meat wrapped it in a newspaper, -and went over to the Mission. The owl had not moved, apparently, from -the spot where he had taken his indignant stand the night before. When -he scented the meat, however, he walked majestically forward, and taking -no notice whatever of Patience, began at once upon the meal she spread -at his feet. - -Patience had decided in favour of the library, and started leisurely for -Monterey. The ocean rested heavily after its labour of the night, -swinging forward at long intervals with deep murmur, or throwing an -occasional iridescent cloud of spray about Point Lobos. The keen air -sparkled under a flood of golden light. The earth was green with the -deep rich green of spring. Great bunches of it sprang from even the -ragged mountain side, and long blades struggled to life between the -broken tiles of the old Mission. Patience crossed the valley through -beds of golden poppies and pale blue baby-eyes struggling with infantile -pertinacity to raise themselves above the waving grass. She plucked a -poppy and held her nose in the great cup that covered half her face. She -liked the slight languor its heavy perfume induced. - -She climbed the hill, and the woods shut out the world. Patience forgot -her destination and wandered happily and aimlessly in the dim fragrance. -She plucked some pine needles, and rubbing their juices free pressed her -hands about her face. On the whole she preferred their pungent freshness -to the poppy. - -After a time she began to skip over the carpet of yellow violets and to -sing in a high childish treble. She was only a happy little girl with -her lungs full of oxygen, her veins warmed by the sun, her heart -exhilarated with the surpassing beauty of the morning. She threw pebbles -at the squirrels and laughed loudly when they scampered up the stately -trees. Spiritual problems did not trouble her, and social trials were -forgotten. - -She dawdled away the earlier hours of the morning in the woods, then -descending the hill on the town side, regained her severe and elderly -demeanour. The ocean was not visible here, but a bay bluer than sapphire -curved into sands whiter than marble dust. The sun shone down on the -red-tiled white adobes, on the high garden walls pink with Castilian -roses, as gaily as in the old Arcadian time. But alas! it shone also on -cheap wooden cottages and shops which had invaded even the hill on the -right, where once a few stately mansions stood alone. - -The town was very quiet. It was always quiet. Some holy unheard voice -seemed ever saying “Hush!” As Patience walked down Alvarado Street to -the Custom House, she saw a slender brown woman watering the roses -behind her garden wall. She had been the belle of Monterey in her time, -“La Tulita,” and tradition had it that she still watered a rose-bush -which General Sherman had planted. - -On the next block several dark lads sat on a fence in the approved -Montereño style, smoking _cigaritos_. As Patience passed they lifted -their caps as gallantly as ever _caballero_ had done, although they did -not fling them at her feet. - -She saw no one else until she reached the Custom House. Mr. Foord stood -on the corridor that overhung the rocks. He was a large round-shouldered -man, with a benign face the colour of aging marble and a brow of the old -time intellectual type. The eyes behind his spectacles were dim and -kind. The lower part of his face was humorous and stern. He wore a silk -hat, a well-brushed suit of broadcloth, and carried a gold-headed cane. - -“You’re going to town!” cried Patience. - -“I am,” he said smiling, “and I suppose you are going to read your eyes -out in the library. Well, I’ll not be back until to-morrow, so you’ll -have things all your own way. Tell Lola to cook you some dinner. I must -be off.” - -“Bring me a box of candy,” she commanded, as she stood on tiptoe to give -him the little peck she called a kiss. It was her mark of supreme -consideration. - -He promised, and she went into the library, a large room opening on the -corridor, where many a great ball had been given in the days before and -after the Americans came. A half dozen old-fashioned bookcases, crowded -with books, stood against the walls of the low room. The books were -bound in spotted calf or faded cloth, black cloth with peeling gilt -letters. One large case contained John Sparhawk’s library, and Patience -knew that it was practically hers. The floor was covered with a thick -red carpet. A large easy-chair was drawn before the deep fire-place, in -which a huge log crackled: it was still winter within adobe walls. - -“Altogether,” thought the philosopher of fifteen, as she flung her -sunbonnet on the floor, “I guess that so long as I’ve got my tower and -the woods and this room, I’m not so badly off as some.” - -She roamed about the room, opening the doors of the bookcases in turn. -One case had been filled with books selected for her especial use, but -Mr. Foord had not forbidden her the freedom of the others, being wiser -than many guardians. Nevertheless, certain books were placed on top -shelves, their titles concealed beneath the moulding of the case, and -Patience had looked speculatively at them more than once. To-day they -exerted a peculiar fascination. And it was rarely that she was alone in -the library. - -She possessed an investigating and tentative mind, and this forbidden -territory appealed eloquently to her unruly will. But to get them out -was not an easy task. They were tightly packed, and the moulding was -like unto a prison bar. But Patience was a person of resource. She gave -one of the books a smart thump, and it slanted inward. She inserted her -thumb under its lifted edge and worried it out. It was a small volume -bound in black, its lettering worn away. She opened it and glanced -curiously at the titlepage. “Boccaccio’s Decameron” winked invitingly. -The pages were spotted with yellow. The drawings looked as if the -stories might be reasonably interesting. - -Patience curled herself in the deep window-seat, quite sure that she had -found a treasure. The book had a furtive and apologetic air. “I have -grown old, at least,” it seemed to say. “I am but an elderly rake, and -can only mumble of the past.” - -She read a few stories, then put the book back in its place with a -resentful shove. Being wholly without the knowledge for which Eve pined, -the stories were stupid and meaningless to her. She took down a thick -volume bound in ragged calf. On the back was one large word, “Byron.” -The leaves of this book were spotted too, but on the leaves were poems, -and she loved poetry. Even when it was uninteresting she enjoyed the -rhythm. She returned to the window-seat, and child-like, looked at the -pictures first. The portrait of Byron she fell in love with immediately, -and knocking her composite off its pedestal, lifted that proud -passionate face to the station of honour. - -There was an immense-eyed picture of the Bride of Abydos which she -thought looked like Rosita, and one of the Corsair dashing in upon his -segregated love:— - - “My own Medora, sure thy song is sad!” - -Francesca and Paola gazed at each other across a table:— - - “That day no further leaf we did uncover.” - -A castle which looked older than the book loomed massively from the -page:— - - “Lake Leman lies by Chillon’s walls.” - -Never having heard of Byron, she was unable to enlarge her knowledge at -once with his most celebrated creations; but she liked the looks of -Conrad and Medora, and plunged into their fortunes. She read every line -of the poem, and when she had finished she read it over again. Then she -stared at the breakers booming to the rocks on the opposite horn of the -crescent, her eyes expanded and filled with a wholly new light. She -might be unlettered in woman’s wisdom, but the transcendent passion, the -pounding vitality of the poet, carried straight to intuition. The -insidious elixir drifted into the crystal stream. That incomparable -objectivity sang the song of songs as distinctly into her brain as had -it gathered the sounds of life for twenty years. Her cheeks were -flushed, her eyes were bright. She felt as if she were a musical -instrument upon which some divine unknown music were vibrating; and as -she was wont to feel in the tower—but with a substratum of something -quite different. She was filled with a soft tumult which she did not in -the least comprehend, and happy. She looked almost beautiful. - -After a time she read “The Bride of Abydos,” and dreamed over that until -she discovered that she was hungry. She had forgotten to order dinner, -and went to the kitchen to beg a crust. - -Lola, large, unwhaleboned, vibrating porcinely with every motion, her -brown coarsely moulded face beaming with good nature, her little black -eyes full of temper and kindness, her black hair in a neat small knot, -an unspotted brown and yellow calico garment secluding her person, stood -at a sink in a kitchen as brilliantly clean as a varnished boot. Even -the corners shone like glass, Patience often observed with a sigh. The -two tables were scrubbed daily. The stove was black, the windows white. -Not a pan nor a dish save those in the sink was in sight. - -Patience made a sudden dash, a leap, and alighted on Lola’s back, -encircling the yielding waist with her supple legs. The woman emitted a -hoarse shriek, then laughed and pinched the legs. Patience plunged her -cold hands into the creases of Lola’s neck, gathering a quantity into -the palms. She was unrebuked. There were a few persons that loved -Patience, and Lola was of them. - -“_Pobrecita!_” she exclaimed. “You are cold, no?” - -“_Mucho frizo_,” murmured Patience, sliding the back of her hands down -the mountainous surface of Lola’s. “And hungry, _madre de dios_.” - -“Hungry? You no have the dinner? When you coming?” - -“Hours ago, Lola. How cruel of you not to call me to dinner! How mean -and piggish to eat it all yourself!” - -“Ay, no call me the names. How I can know you are here _si_ you no tell? -Why you no coming here straight before going to the _librario_?” - -“I forgot, Lola _mia_; and then I became—interested. But do give me -something to eat.” - -“_Si._” And with Patience still on her back Lola waddled to the cupboard -and lifted down the remains of a corn cake rolled about olives and -cheese and peppers. - -“An _enchilada_!” said Patience. “Good.” - -Lola warmed the compound, and spread a napkin on a corner of one of the -tables; then, suddenly unloosening Patience’s arms and legs, tumbled her -headlong into a chair, laughing sluggishly as she ambled off. Patience -ate the steaming _enchilada_ as heartily as had Byron never been. In a -moment she begged for a cup of chocolate. - -“_Si_,” said Lola, “I have some scrape already;” and she brewed -chocolate in a little earthen pot, then beat it to froth with her -_molinillo_. Patience kicked her heels together with delight, and sipped -it daintily while Lola stood by with fat hands on fat hips in reflex -enjoyment. - -“Like it, _niña_?” - -“You bet.” Then after a moment she asked dreamily: “Lola, were you ever -in love?” - -“_Que!_ Sure. Was I not marry? Poor my Pedro! How he lika the -_enchilada_ and the chocolaty; and the lard cakes and the little pig -cooking with onions. And now the worms eating him. Ay, yi!” and Lola sat -herself upon a chair and wept. - - - VI - -As Patience walked home through the woods subsequently to a long -afternoon with Byron, she was hazily sensible that she had stepped from -one phase of girlhood into another. She had an odd consciousness of -gazing through a veil of gauze upon an exquisite but unfamiliar -landscape over which was a dazzle of sunlight. She by no means -understood the mystery of her nature as yet; she was technically too -ignorant; but instinct was awake, and she felt somewhat as when she had -drained the poppy cup for long. She was in that transition state when -for the first and last time passion is poetry. - -She arrived home in time to get supper. Mrs. Sparhawk was unexpectedly -sober, and very cross. - -“My land, Patience Sparhawk!” she exclaimed, as her daughter opened the -door and untied her sunbonnet, “seems to me you might help cook dinner -in vacation instead of being off all day reading books or playing with -that Spanish girl.” - -“Seems to me,” said Patience, restored to her practical self, “that as -you’re twice as big as I am and twice as strong, you’re pretty well able -to get it yourself. And as it’s your fault there ain’t any servant in -this house, I don’t see why I should make one of myself for you. Seems -to me you’re fixed up.” - -Mrs. Sparhawk blushed, and smoothed her hair consciously. The hair had -been washed, and was decorated with a red bow. She wore a garment of -turkey red calico with a bit of cheap lace at the throat and wrists. Her -face was plastered with a whitewash much in vogue. She looked handsome, -but evil, and Patience stared at her with an uneasiness she was not able -to analyse. She turned away after a moment. - -“I’d put on an apron,” she remarked drily. “You might get spots on that -gorgeous window curtain dress of yours.” - -At that moment the man Oscar entered the room. He uttered a note of -admiration which made Patience turn about sharply. He was gazing upon -Mrs. Sparhawk’s enhanced charms with an expression which Patience did -not understand, but which filled her with sudden fury. - -“Here!” she exclaimed roughly, “go into the dining room until supper’s -ready. This kitchen ain’t big enough for three.” - -The man moved his eyes and regarded her angrily. - -“Who’s boss here?” he demanded. - -“It’s not your place to ask questions. You’re hired to work outside, and -when you come into this house there’s only one place for you. Now go -into the other room.” Her eyes were flashing, and she had drawn up her -shoulders. The man backed away from her much as dogs do when cats give -warning. - -“That girl gives me a chill. I hate her,” he muttered to his mistress. - -Mrs. Sparhawk gave a loud laugh which covered her embarrassment, and -slapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Go in, go in,” she said. “What’s -the use of family quarrels?” - -The man slunk away, and Patience went about her work with vicious -energy. She fried liver and baked biscuits while her mother stirred the -steaming cherries and brewed tea. When supper was ready she filled -Oscar’s plate first and served him last, not hating herself in the least -for her spite and spleen. After Mrs. Sparhawk had taken her place at the -head of the table even her exuberant beauty could not dispel the frown -on the hired man’s brow, until, to Patience’s disgust, she divined the -cause of his surliness, and deftly exchanged her plate for his. - - - VII - -That night Patience did not go to her tower, but wandered over the dark -fields, a drooping forlorn little figure in the crawling shadows. She -felt dull and tired and disheartened. By nine o’clock she was asleep. -She awoke as fresh as the morning. When Mr. Foord returned from San -Francisco in the afternoon he found her curled in the easy-chair by his -fire. She started guiltily as he entered, then tossed her head -defiantly, let Byron slide to the floor, and went forward to kiss him. - -As he was about to take the chair she had occupied he espied the fallen -volume. He lifted it hastily. - -“What is this?” he demanded. - -Patience blushed furiously, but set her lips with an expression he -understood. - -“It’s Byron, and I’m going to read it all. I’ve read a lot.” - -He shifted the book from one hand to the other for a moment, his face -much perturbed. Finally he laid it on the table, merely remarking: -“Sooner or later, sooner or later.” - -Patience offered him a piece of the candy he had brought her; but he -preferred his pipe, and she perched herself on the arm of his chair and -ate half the contents of her box without pause. She had not yet learned -the subtle delights of the epicure, and to enjoy until capacity was -exhausted was typical of her enthusiastic temperament. When she could no -longer look upon the candy without a shudder she climbed to the old -gentleman’s shoulder and scratched his bald pate with her ragged nails. -It was her emphatic way of expressing gratitude, and beloved by Mr. -Foord above pipe and _enchilada_. - -Patience took Byron home with her that evening, Mr. Foord merely -shrugging his shoulders. After supper she read until dark, then hid the -book under the bed and went over to the tower. She ran up the twisted -stair, and astonished the owl by clasping him in her arms and kissing -him passionately. He manifested his disapproval by biting at her -shoulder fiercely. She shrieked and boxed his ears smartly. He flapped -his large wings wildly. A battle royal was imminent in that sacred tower -where once the silver bells had called the holy men to prayer. But -Patience suddenly broke into a laugh and sank on her knees by the -window, while Solomon retreated to the wall, and regarded her with a -round unwinking stare, brooding over problems which he did not in the -least understand. - -Patience brooded also, but her lids drooped, and she barely saw the -beauty of ocean and rock and spray. The moon was not yet up, and the -half revealed intoning sea was full of mystery. - -She was conscious that her mood was not quite what it had been during -her last visit. All of that was there—but more. She felt higher above -the earth than ever before, but more conscious of its magnetism. -Something hummed along her nerves and stirred in her veins. Her musings -shaped to definite form, inasmuch as they assumed the semblance of man. -Inevitably Byron was exhumed for duty; and if his restless soul were -prowling space and Carmel Valley, his famous humour, desuetous in -Eternity, must have echoed in the dull ears of roaming shapes. - -Beside the white face of the child was the solemn and hebraic visage of -the owl. Some outworn chord of Solomon’s youth may have been stirred by -his friend’s tumultuous greeting, for he had stepped, with the dignity -of his years, to her side, and stood regarding, with introspective -stare, the reflection of the rising moon. - -Patience did not see him. She was gazing upon Byron, whose moody -passionate face was distinctly visible among the stars. Alas! her vision -was suddenly obscured by a hideous black object. A bat flew straight at -Carmel tower. Patience sprang to her feet, tossed her skirt over her -head, and fled down the stair. The owl stepped to the stair’s head and -gazed into the winding darkness, his eyes full of unutterable nothing. - - - VIII - -On Monday school re-opened, and Patience was late as usual. She loitered -through the woods, conning her lessons, having been too much occupied -with her poet to give them attention before. As she ascended the steps -of the schoolhouse the drone of the Lord’s Prayer came through the open -window, and she paused for a moment on the landing, swinging her bag in -one hand and her tin lunch-pail in the other. - -She was not a picturesque figure. Her sunbonnet was of faded blue calico -dotted with white. The meagre braid projecting beneath the cape was tied -with a shoe string. The calico frock was faded and mended and much too -short, although the hem and tucks had been let out. The copper-toed -boots were of a greyish-green hue, and the coarse stockings wrinkled -above them. The nails of her pretty brown hands looked as if they had -been sawed off. But the eyes under the old sunbonnet were dreamy and -happy. The brain behind was full of new sensations. In the sparkling -atmosphere was an electric thrill. The day was as still as only the days -of Monterey can be. The pines, and the breakers had never intoned more -sweetly. - -A voluminous A—men! startled Patience from her reverie. She went -hastily within, hung her bonnet and pail on a peg, and entered the -schoolroom, smiling half deprecatingly half confidently, at Miss Galpin. -The young teacher’s stern nod did not discompose her. As she passed -Rosita she received a friendly pinch, and Manuela looked up and smiled; -but while traversing the width of the room to her desk she became aware -of something unfriendly in the atmosphere. As she took her seat she -glanced about and met the malevolent eyes of a dozen turned heads. One -girl’s lip was curled; another’s brows were raised significantly, as -would their owner query: “What could you expect?” - -Patience blushed until her face glowed like one of the Castilian roses -on the garden wall opposite the window. “They’ve found out about Byron,” -she thought. “Horrors, how they’ll tease me!” - -School girls have a traditional habit of “willing” each other to “miss” -when in aggressive mood. To-day some twenty of the girls appeared to -have concerted to will that Patience should forget what little lore she -had gathered on her way to school. Patience, always sensitive to -impressions, was as taut as the strings of an Æolian harp from her -experience of the past week. Such natures are responsive to the core to -the psychological power of the environment, and once or twice this -morning Patience felt as if she must jump to her feet and scream. But -even at that early age she divined that the sweetest revenge is success, -and she strove as she had never striven before to acquit herself with -credit. - -All morning the silent battle went on. Miss Galpin, who was beloved of -her pupils because she was pretty and dressed well, was a graduate of -the San Francisco High School, and an excellent teacher. Frankly as she -liked Patience she had never shown her any partiality in the schoolroom; -but to-day, noting the antagonism that was brought to bear on the girl, -she exerted all her cleverness to assist her in such subtle fashion that -Patience alone should appreciate her effort. In consequence, when the -morning session closed, Patience wore the doubtful laurels and the bad -blood was black. - -As the girls trooped down into the yard Rosita laid her arm about -Patience and endeavoured to lead her away. Manuela conferred in a low -tone with the foe, voice and gestures remonstrant. But there was blood -in the air, and Patience squared her shoulders and awaited the -onslaught. Incidentally she inspected her nails and copper toes. - -Several of the girls walked rapidly up to her. They were smiling -disagreeably. - -“Can’t you keep her at home?” asked one of them. - -“Think she’ll marry him?” demanded another. - -Patience, completely taken aback, glanced helplessly from one to the -other. - -“What do you mean?” she asked. - -“Come, Patita,” murmured Rosita, on the verge of tears. - -Manuela exclaimed: “You are fiends, _fiends_!” and walked away. - -“Mean? Do you mean to say she got off without you knowing it?” - -“Knowing what?” A horrible presentiment assailed Patience. Her fingers -jerked and her breath came fast. - -“Why,” said Panchita McPherson, brutally, “your mother was in here -Saturday night with her young man and regularly turned the town upside -down. They were thrown out of three saloons. Can’t you keep her at -home?” - -Patience stared dully at the girls, her dry lips parted. She knew that -they had spoken the truth. She had gone to bed early on Saturday night. -Shortly afterward she had heard the sound of buggy wheels and Billy’s -uncertain gait. Many hours later she had been awakened by the sound of -her mother stumbling upstairs; but she had thought nothing of either -incident at the time. - -Panchita continued relentlessly, memories of many class defeats rushing -forward to lash her spleen: “You’ll please understand after this that we -don’t care to have you talk to us, for we don’t think you’re -respectable.” Whereupon the other girls, nodding sarcastically at -Patience, entwined their arms and walked away, led by the haughty Miss -McPherson. - -For a few moments Patience hardly realised how she felt. She stood -impassive; but a cyclone raged within. All the blood in her body seemed -to have rushed to her head, to scorch her face and pound in her ears. -She wondered why her hands and feet were cold. - -“Come, Patita, don’t mind them,” said Rosita, putting her arm round her -comrade. “The mean hateful nasty—_pigs!_” Never before had the indolent -little Californian been so vehement; but Patience slipped from her hold, -and running through a gate at the back of the yard crouched down on a -box. Rosita’s words had broken the spell. She was filled with a volcano -of hate. She hated the girls, she hated Monterey, she hated life; but -above all she hated her mother. - -After a time all the hate in her concentrated on the woman who had made -her young life so bitter. She had never liked her, but not until the -dreadful moments just past had she realised the full measure of her -inheritance. The innuendoes she had not understood, but it was enough to -know that her mother had disgraced her publicly and insulted her -father’s memory. Her schoolmates she dismissed from her mind with a -scornful jerk of the shoulders. She had beaten them too easily and often -in the schoolroom not to despise them consummately. They could prick but -not stab her. - -The bell rang; but she had an account to settle, and bonnetless she -started for home. - -Mrs. Sparhawk was sitting on the porch reading a novel when Patience -walked up to her, snatched the book from her hand, and flung it into a -rose-tree. The woman was sober, and quailed as she met her daughter’s -eyes. Patience had walked rapidly under a hot sun. Her face was scarlet, -and she was trembling. - -“I hate you!” she sobbed. “I hate you! It doesn’t do any good to tell -you so, but it does me good to say it.” - -The girl looked the incarnation of evil passions. She was elemental -Hate, a young Cain. - -“I wish you were dead,” she continued. “You’ve ruined every bit of my -life.” - -“Why—what—what—” mumbled the woman. But the colour was coming to her -face, and her eyes were beginning to glitter unpleasantly. - -“You know well enough what. You were in town drunk on Saturday night, -and were in saloons _with a farm hand_. To make a brute of yourself was -bad enough—but to go about with a common man! Are you going to marry -him?” - -Mrs. Sparhawk laughed. “Well, I guess not.” - -Patience drew a quick breath of relief. “Well, that’s what they’re -saying—that you’re going to marry him—a man that can’t read nor write. -Now look here, I want one thing understood—unless you swear to me -you’ll not set foot in that town again I’ll have you put in the Home of -the Inebriates—There! I’ll not be disgraced again; I’ll do it.” - -Mrs. Sparhawk sprang to her feet, her face blazing with rage. “You will, -will you?” she cried. She caught the girl by the shoulders, and shaking -her violently, boxed first one ear, then the other, with her strong -rough hands. For an instant Patience was stunned, then the blood boiled -back to her brain. She screamed harshly, and springing at her mother -clutched her about the throat. The lust to kill possessed her. A red -curtain blotted even the hated face from sight. Instinctively she -tripped her mother and went down on top of her. The crash of the body -brought two men to the rescue, and Patience was dragged off and flung -aside. - -“My land!” exclaimed one of the men, his face white with horror. “Was -you going to kill your ma?” - -“Yes, that she was,” spluttered Mrs. Sparhawk, sitting up and pulling -vaguely at the loose flesh of her throat. “She’d have murdered me in -another minute.” - -Patience by this time was white and limp. She crawled upstairs to her -room and locked the door. She sank on the floor and thought on herself -with horror. - -“I never knew,” she reiterated, “that I was so bad. Why, I’m fifteen, -and I never wanted to kill even a bird before. I wouldn’t learn to -shoot. I’d never drown a kitten. When the Chinaman stuck a red-hot poker -through the bars of the trap and burnt ridges in the live rat I screamed -and screamed. And now I’ve nearly killed my mother, and wanted to. Who, -who would have thought it?” - -When she was wearied with the futile effort to solve the new problem, -she became suddenly conscious that she felt no repentance, no remorse. -She was horrified at the sight of the black veins in her soul; but she -felt a certain satisfaction at having unbottled the wrath that consumed -her, at having given her mother the physical equivalent of her own -mental agony. Over this last cognisance of her capacity for sin she -sighed and shook her head. - -“I may as well give myself up,” she thought with young philosophy. “I am -what I am, and I suppose I’ll do what I’m going to do.” - -She went downstairs and out of the house. She passed a group of men; -they stared at her in horror. Then another little seed from the vast -garden of human nature shot up to flower in Patience’s puzzled brain. -She lifted her head with an odd feeling of elation: she was the -sensation of the hour. - -She went out on Point Lobos and listened to the hungry roar of the -waves, watched the tossing spray. Nature took her to her heart as ever, -and when the day was done she was normal once more. She returned to the -house and helped to get supper, although she refused to speak to her -equally sullen parent. - - - IX - -It was several days before the story reached Monterey. When it did, the -girls treated Patience to invective and contumely, but delivered their -remarks at long range. The mother of Manuela said peremptorily that -Patience Sparhawk should never darken the doors of the Peralta mansion -again, and even Mrs. Thrailkill told the weeping Rosita that the -intimacy must end. - -Miss Galpin was horrified. When school was over she took Patience firmly -by the hand and led her up the hill to her boarding-place, the widow -Thrailkill’s ancestral home. The long low adobe house was traversed from -end to end by a pillared corridor. It was whitewashed every year, and -its red tiles were renewed at intervals, but otherwise the march of -civilisation had passed it by. Mrs. Thrailkill, large and brown, with a -wart between her kind black eyes, and a handsome beard, was rocking -herself on the corridor. When she recognised the teacher’s companion she -arose with great dignity and swung herself into the house. - -Miss Galpin led Patience down the corridor to a room at the end, and -motioned her to a chair. Several magazines lay on a table, and Patience -reached her hand to them involuntarily; but Miss Galpin took the hand -and drew the girl toward her. The young teacher’s brown eyes wore a very -puzzled expression. Even her carefully regulated bang had been pushed -upward with a sudden dash of the hand. She was only twenty-two, and her -experience of human nature was limited. Her ideas of life were -accumulated largely from the novels of Mr. Howells and Mr. James, whom -she revered; and neither of these gentlemen photographed such characters -as Patience. It had probably never occurred to them that Patiences -existed. She experienced a sudden thrill of superiority, then craved -pardon of her idols. - -“Patience, dear,” she said gently, “is this terrible story true?” - -“Yes, ma’am,” said Patience, standing passively at Miss Galpin’s knee. - -“You actually tried to kill your mother?” - -“Yes, ma’am.” - -Miss Galpin gasped. She waited a moment for a torrent of excuse and -explanation; but Patience was mute. - -“And you are not sorry?” she faltered. - -“No, ma’am.” - -“Oh, Patience!” - -“I’m sorry you feel so badly, ma’am. Please don’t cry,” for the -estimable young woman was in tears, and mentally reviling her -preceptors. - -“How can I help feeling terribly, Patience? You break my heart.” - -“I’m sorry, dear Miss Galpin.” - -“Patience, don’t you love God?” - -“No, ma’am, not particularly. Leastways, I’ve never thought much about -it.” - -“You little heathen!” - -“No, ma’am, I’m not. My father was very religious. But please don’t talk -religion to me.” - -“Patience, I don’t know what to make of you. I am in despair. You’re not -a bad girl. You give me little trouble, and I’ve always said that you -had finer impulses than any girl I’ve ever known, and the best brain. -You ought to realise better than any girl of your age the difference -between right and wrong. And yet you have done what not another girl in -the school would do, inferior as they are—” - -“How do you know, ma’am? I never thought I would. Neither did you think -I would. You can’t tell what you’ll do till you do it.” - -Miss Galpin was distracted. She resumed hurriedly: - -“I want you to be a good woman, Patience,—a good as well as a clever -woman. And how can you be good if you don’t love God?” - -“Are all people good the same way?” - -“Well, it all comes to the same thing in the end.” Miss Galpin blessed -the evolution of verbiage. - -“Are all religious people good?” - -“Certainly.” - -“These girls are religious, especially the Spanish ones, and they’ve -behaved to me like devils. So have their mothers, and some of them go to -five o’clock mass.” - -“Girls are undisciplined, and mothers often have a mistaken sense of -duty.” - -“You are good, and Mr. Foord is good,” pursued the terrible child. “But -you’d be just as good if you weren’t religious. It’s born in you, and -you’re refined and kind-hearted. Those people are just naturally vulgar, -and religion won’t make them any better.” - -Miss Galpin drew the girl suddenly to her lap and kissed her. “I’m -terribly sorry for you, dear,” she said. “I wish I understood you -better, and could help you, but I don’t. I never knew any one in the -least like you. I worry so about your future. People that are not like -other people don’t get along nicely in this world. And you have such -impulses! But I love you, Patience, and I’ll always be your friend. Will -you remember this?” - -Patience was undemonstrative, but she kissed Miss Galpin warmly and -arranged her bang. - -“Now, let’s talk about something else,” she said. “Are you going to get -up those private theatricals for the night that school closes?” - -Miss Galpin sighed and gave up the engagement. “Yes,” she said. Then, -hesitatingly: “Do you wish to take part?” - -“No, of course I don’t. I’ll have nothing more to do with those girls -than I can help. You can bet your life on that. But I can help drill -Rosita. What’s the play?” - -“I’ll read it to you.” Miss Galpin took a pamphlet from a drawer and -read aloud the average amateur concoction. Rosita was to take the part -of an indolent girl with the habit of arousing herself unexpectedly. In -one act she would have to dash to the front of the stage and dance a -parlour breakdown. - -“I am afraid Rosita cannot act,” said Miss Galpin, in conclusion, “but -she is so pretty I couldn’t leave her out.” - -“Rosita can act,” said Patience, emphatically. “I’ve seen her imitate -every actress that has been here, and take off pretty nearly every crank -in Monterey. And Mrs. Thrailkill can teach her one of the old -Californian dances—and a song. Rosita has a lovely voice, almost as -pretty as a lark’s.” - -“Really? Well, I’ll talk to Mrs. Thrailkill and persuade her to forgive -you, and then you can come here every afternoon and drill Rosita. And -now will you promise me to be a good little girl?” - -“Yes, ma’am—leastways I’ll try. Good-bye,” and Patience gave her a -little peck, seized her sunbonnet, and went hurriedly out. - -“I suppose,” she thought as she sauntered down the hill, “I’d better go -and have it out with Mr. Foord. It’s got to come, and the sooner it’s -over the better. Poor man, I’ll make it as easy for him as I can. It’ll -be harder on him than on me, for I’m used to it now.” - -The old gentleman was walking up and down the corridor as she turned the -corner of the custom house. He looked very yellow and feeble, and -supported himself with a stick. - -“Oh, Patience!” he exclaimed. - -For the first time Patience felt inclined to cry, but her aversion to -display feeling controlled her. She merely approached and stood before -him, swinging her sunbonnet. - -“Don’t let us talk about it,” he said hastily. “I have something else to -say to you. Sit down.” - -They sat down side by side on a bench. - -“You know,” the old gentleman continued, “I have a half-sister in the -east—Harriet Tremont, her name is—in Mariaville-on-Hudson, New York. -She is the best woman in the world, the most sinless creature I ever -knew, yet full of human nature and never dull. She is very religious, -has given up her life to doing good, and has some eccentric notions of -her own. She writes me dutifully twice a year, although we have not met -for thirty, and in her last letter she told me she intended to adopt a -child, rescue a soul as she called it, and furthermore that she should -adopt the child of the most worthless parents she could discover in her -work among the worthless. Since—lately—I have been thinking strongly -of sending you to her. You must get away from here. You must have a -chance in life. If you remain here you will grow up bitter and hard, and -the result with your brain and temperament may be terrible. You are -capable of becoming a very bad or a very good woman. You are still -young—but there is no time to lose. Should you care to go?” - -“Of course I should,” cried Patience, enchanted with the idea of an -excursion into unknown worlds. Then her face fell. “But I shouldn’t like -to be adopted. That is too much like charity.” - -“Is the ranch entirely mortgaged?” - -Patience nodded. - -“Well, let us look at it as a business proposition. You will be little -expense to her—she is fairly well off; and one more in the household -makes no appreciable difference. You will attend the public schools with -the view to become a teacher, and when you are earning a salary you can -repay her for what little outlay she may have made. Do you see?” - -“Yes. I don’t mind if you look at it that way.” - -“I’ll see your mother in a day or two. You don’t think she’ll object, do -you?” - -“Object? What has she got to say about it?” - -“A great deal, unfortunately. She is your legal guardian. But she -doesn’t love you, and I think can be persuaded. I shall miss you, my -dear. What shall I do without my bright little girl?” - -Patience nestled up to him, and the two strangely assorted companions -remained silent for a time watching the seagulls sweep over the blue -bay. Then Mr. Foord drifted naturally into the past, and Patience grew -romantic once more. - - - X - -That night Patience felt no inclination for either bed or tower. She -wandered over the field, entered the pine forest, and walked to the -coast. The tall straight trees grew close together; their aisles were -very gloomy. From the ground arose the ominous voices of the night, and -the wind in the treetops moaned heavily. But Patience was not afraid. -She revelled in the vast dark silence, and felt that the world was all -her own. - -As she left the forest she saw great clouds of spray tossed high into -the starry dark, heard the ocean rush at the outlying rocks, breaking -into mist or leaping to the shore. The sea lions were talking loudly; -the seagulls, huddled on the high points of the coast, scolded hoarsely. - -On the edge of the forest was a cabin. Patience walked toward it. She -knew the old man that lived there. He was evidently awake, for the open -window was yellow with light. As she passed it on her way to the door -she glanced within. Her skin turned cold; her hair stiffened. A sheeted -corpse lay on the bed. Candles burned at head and foot. Patience, brave -as she was, abjectly feared the corpse. She believed that she could -survive a ghost, but she knew that if shut up with a dead body for ten -minutes she should go mad. To-night she would have fled shrieking were -it not that the room had a living occupant. - -In a chair beside the bed sat a man gazing at the floor, his chin -dropped to his chest. He wore rough clothes, but they were the -affectations of the gentleman, not the garb of the dead man and his -friends. Nor had Patience ever seen so noble a head. The profile was -beautiful, the expression mild and intellectual, and most melancholy. - -Patience forgot her terror as she wondered who the stranger could be; -but in a moment it was renewed tenfold. Down the ocean road from -Monterey came a wild hideous yell. The man by the corpse raised his head -apprehensively, rose as if to flee, then sank wearily to his chair -again. The clatter of hoofs on the hard road mounted above the thunder -of the waves. Patience staring into the dark suddenly saw the leaping -fire of torches, and a moment later tall figures riding recklessly. The -yelling was incessant and demoniac. - -“The man murdered Jim and they’re lynchers,” thought Patience. She -glanced about wildly. A small tree stood near. She scampered up the -trunk like a squirrel, and hid in the branches. None too soon. In -another moment those terrible figures were screaming and gesticulating -before the hut. - -The smoky flames revealed an extraordinary sight to Patience’s distended -eyes. These men were bearded like the men of modern civilisation, even -their hair was properly cut; but they wore the garments of Greece and -Japan, flowing robes of white and red; one dark sinister-looking being -upheld a glittering helmet. - -Patience rubbed her eyes. Did she dream over her Byron? But no mortal, -none but the sheeted dead, could have slept and dreamed in that infernal -clamour. Only the man by the bed sat immobile. He did not raise his -head. Out of the pandemonium of sound Patience at last distinguished one -word: “Charley! Charley!” If “Charley” were the man within the hut he -gave no sign; nor when they threw back their heads and as from one -throat gave forth a rattling volume of ribald laughter. - -Suddenly Patience, who, seeing no rope, began to recover her courage, -noticed that one of the men had ridden beneath her tree, taking no part -in this singular drama. Once he turned his head, and an aquiline -profile, fine and strong, with black hair falling above it, was sharply -revealed against the red glare. Impulsively Patience leaned down and -touched his shoulder. He looked up with a start, and saw a small white -face among the leaves. - -“What on earth is this?” he asked. “Is it a child?” His voice was rich -and deep, with a gentle hint of brogue. - -“What are they?” asked Patience. “Are they real devils, or only men? And -are they going to kill him?” - -The man laughed. “I certainly should ask the same question if I had not -happened to come with them. Oh, they won’t do any murder, unless they -happen to frighten some one to death. They’re members of the Bohemian -Club of San Francisco—newspaper men and artists—who are down here on a -lark.” - -“Who’s the man in there by him, and why do they yell at him so?” - -“Oh, he is a solitary spirit, a man of genius. He got tired of them and -gave them the slip to-night. This is revenge.” - -“They have the Estrada house on Alvarado Street,” said Patience. “I -heard they were here.” Then she noticed that her companion wore the -common garb of American civilisation. “Why aren’t you rigged up, too?” -she asked. - -“Oh, I’m hardly one of them. I’m only an Eastern man—a New Yorker—and -am staying at Del Monte for a day or two. I rode over to see them this -afternoon, and they insisted upon my staying for dinner. What on earth -are you doing here by yourself at this time of night?” - -Patience explained. Then she added wistfully, “I shall be frightened to -death going home through those woods alone. I’ll imagine that that -corpse and those dreadful-looking men are behind me at every step.” - -“Just drop onto my horse and I’ll take you home. I’m pretty tired of all -this.” He raised his arms and lifted her down, placing her in front of -him. “Lucky I had an English saddle,” he said, and as he bent his head -Patience could see that he was smiling. “Oh!” he added abruptly, “I have -seen you before. Now—tell me where to go.” - -Patience directed him, and they cantered away unobserved. - -“Where did you see me?” she asked, “and how odd that you should remember -_me_!” - -“You have wonderful eyes. Although I’m an Irishman I won’t go so far as -to say they are pretty, but they look as if they had been born to see so -much. It would be difficult to forget them. Upon me soul you are -actually trembling. Did you never have a compliment before?” - -“Never! And I guess I’ll remember it longer than you remember my eyes. -Where did you see me?” - -“I was standing at the window of the house in Alvarado Street when you -came along from school with a dozen or more of the girls. You all -stopped to gaze at a passing circus troupe, and—I noticed you first -because you stood a little apart from the others.” - -“I usually do,” said Patience, drily. - -He did not add that, attracted by the eagerness of her gaze and her -rapid changes of expression, he had asked who she was, and that a -Montereño present had related the family history and her own notable -performances in no measured terms. “She’s got bad blood in her and the -temper of Old Nick himself. She’ll come to no good, homely as she is,” -the man had concluded. “Curious enough, the boys all like her and would -spark her if they got a show; but she’s hell-set on gettin’ an education -at present and doesn’t notice them much.” - -Patience made him talk on for the pleasure of hearing his voice. “Are -you a real Irishman?” she asked. - -“Well, I’ve been an American for twenty years, but there’s a good deal -of Irish left in me yet, especially in me tongue.” - -“I’d keep it, if I were you. It’s nicer even than the Spanish. Do you -think our voices are horrid?” - -“I think that if you’d pitch yours a little lower it would be an -improvement,” he said, smiling. And Patience registered a vow which she -kept. In after years when great changes had come upon her, her voice was -envied and emulated. - -As they left the forest and entered Carmel Valley Patience pointed to -her home, then suddenly took the reins from his hand and directed the -horse toward the Mission. The waning moon hung over the ocean, and the -Mission stood out boldly. - -“Come up to my tower,” said Patience; “the view is _something_! That -will be your reward. I never took any one there before.” - -“All right,” he said, “I may as well make a night of it.” He tethered -his horse and followed her up the spiral stair. - -“Solomon is not here,” she said regretfully. “He’s out foraging. Now!” - -The young man walked to the window and inspected the view. Patience -regarded him with rapt admiration. He was tall and strong and well -dressed. She had never dreamed that anything romantic could really -happen to her; and as she was sure that it would be her last experience -as well as her first, she suddenly felt depressed and miserable, her -imagination leaping to the finish. - -He turned and met her eyes. “What are you thinking of?” he asked. - -But Patience was too shy to tell him, and asked him if he liked the -view. - -“It’s a jolly view and no mistake. You’re not a happy child, are you?” -he added, abruptly. With the enthusiasm and spontaneous kindness of his -Irish blood he had conceived the idea of dropping a seed in this plastic -soil, and was feeling his way toward the right spot. - -“I don’t know that I am,” said Patience, haughtily. “I suppose some of -those people told you things.” - -“Well, they did, that’s a fact. But you mustn’t get angry with me, -please, for upon me word I like you better than any one I’ve met in -California.” - -“Don’t you live here?” - -“My home is in New York, and I return to-morrow.” - -“Oh! Well, I don’t see how I should interest you.” - -“You do, though, and that’s all there is to it. I’m neither as cautious -as an Englishman nor as practical as an American—though God rest the -two of them; I mean nothing to their detriment. But there’s a force in -you, and force doesn’t go to waste, although it’s more often than not -misdirected. I can feel yours myself; and I’m told that you’re the -cleverest girl in the town as well as the proudest and most ambitious. -Now, what do you intend to do with yourself?” - -“I suppose I’ll be a teacher; and if Mrs. Sparhawk has no objections I -may go East soon and live with a religious old lady.” - -“Well, that’s not so bad; only I doubt if that life will suit you any -better than this.” He put his finger under her chin and turned her face -to the light. “I am a lawyer, you know,” he added, “and features and -lines and curves mean a good deal to me. You’ve got a good will, begad, -and like all first-class American women, you’ll keep your head up until -you drop. And you have all her faculty of beginning life over again -several times, if necessary. You’ll never rust nor mould, nor write -polemical novels if things don’t go your way. You’ve got a good strong -brain behind those eyes, and although you’ll make mistakes of various -sorts, you’ll kick them behind you when you’re done with them, begin -over and be none the worse. Remember that no mistake is irrevocable; -that there are as many to-morrows as yesterdays; that only the incapable -has a past. It is all a matter of will as far as the world is concerned, -and ideals as far as your own soul goes. No matter how often -circumstances and your own weakness compel you to let go your own -private ideals, deliberately put them back on their pedestal the moment -you have recovered balance, and make for their attainment as if nothing -had happened. Then you’ll never acquire an aged soul and never lose your -grip. Can you remember all that?” - -“You bet I can.” - -He laughed. “I believe you. I might add: Don’t love the wrong man, but -I’ll not throw away good advice. You’ll not be wholly guided by reason -in those matters. I will merely say, Rub the first experience in hard -and let a long while elapse before your second, or it will be the -greater mistake of the two. Your reactions will be very violent, I -should say. Well, I’ll be going now.” - -“I’d rather you’d stay and talk.” - -“Would you? Well, being a lawyer, I know where to stop. Besides, I’ll -have all those fellows after me if I stay too long. We’ll doubtless meet -again. The world is small these days.” - -Patience followed him reluctantly down the stair, and he walked beside -her across the valley, leading his horse. When they reached the -farmhouse he shook hands with her warmly, wished her good luck, and rode -away. She ran up to her room, and, lighting a candle, transcribed his -words into an old copybook. - - - XI - -Miss Galpin expostulated with Mrs. Thrailkill to such effect that -Patience spent two hours each afternoon in the family garret rehearsing -Rosita while the astonished rats took refuge in the chimney. Patience -could not act, but she had dramatic appreciation and an intellectual -conception of any part not beyond her years. Rosita was not -intellectual, but, as Patience had discerned, the spirit of Thalia was -in her. She quickly became enamoured of her unsuspected resources and at -the prospect of exhibiting herself on a platform. Not only did she rouse -herself to something like exertion, but she faithfully followed the -instructions of her strenuous teacher and discovered a talent for posing -and little tricks of manner all her own. Her mother taught her the song -and dance, which were to be the sensation of the evening. - -It was on the fourth day that Patience, returning home late in the -afternoon, met Mr. Foord in the woods. The old gentleman looked sad and -perplexed, and Patience sprang upon the step of his buggy and demanded -to know what was the matter. - -“It’s very odd,” he said, “but she won’t let you go.” - -“Won’t let me go?” cried Patience, furiously. “Well, I’ll go anyhow.” - -“You can’t, my dear. The law won’t let you.” - -“Do you mean to say that the law won’t protect me from that woman?” - -“I am afraid she has the best of it.” He recalled the woman’s angry -cunning face, as he had pleaded with her, and shook his head. “You see -she was never in the town in that condition before. The men out there -are so devoted to her that—so she has informed me—they would swear to -a man that they had never seen her drunk. And, you see, she’s never -abused you—the only time she struck you she had provocation—you must -admit that. You are under her control until you are eighteen, and I -don’t see that we can do anything. I’m very sorry. I never felt so -defeated in my life.” - -“But for gracious goodness sake why won’t she let me go? I’m no good to -speak of about the place, and she certainly isn’t keeping me for love.” - -“Well—I think it’s revenge. She remarked that she had a chance to pay -up and she’d do it.” - -“I’ll just run away, that’s all.” - -“The law would bring you back, and arrest me for abduction.” - -“I hate the law,” said Patience, gloomily. “Seems to me I’m always -finding something new to hate.” - -“You must not hate, my child,” and he quoted the Bible dutifully, -although in entire sympathy with her. “That is what I am so afraid -of—that you will become hard and bitter. I want to save you from that. -Well, perhaps she’ll relent. I shall see her again and again. I must go -on, Patience.” - -She kissed him and walked sullenly homeward. As she entered the kitchen -her mother looked up and laughed. Her face was triumphant and malignant. - -“You don’t go,” she said. “Not much. I’ve got the whip hand this time -and I’ll keep it. Here you’ll stay until you’re eighteen—” - -Patience turned abruptly and ran upstairs. As she locked her door she -thought with some satisfaction: “Now that I know myself I can control -myself. If I’d jumped on her then she’d have fallen in the stove.” - -As her imagination had not dwelt at great length upon the proposed -change the disappointment was not as keen as it might have been, much as -she desired to leave Monterey. Moreover, she was occupied with Rosita -and the coming examinations. And did she not have her Byron? She rose at -dawn and read him. In the evening she went over to the tower and -declaimed him to the grey ocean whose passions were eternal. The owl, -who regarded Byron as a great bore, closed his eyes when she began and -went to sleep. Sometimes—when the sun rode high—she sat upon the -rubbish over Junipero Serra’s bones, and with one eye out for rats and -snakes and tarantulas, conned a new poem. She liked the contrast between -the desolation and death in the old ruin and the warm atmosphere of the -poetry. As often Byron was unheeded, and she dreamed of the mysterious -stranger who had so magnetised her that she had forgotten to ask his -name. She had only to close her eyes to hear his voice, to recall the -words which seemed forever moving in one or other chamber of her mind, -to see the profile which she admired quite as much as Byron’s. As for -the voice, it had a possessing quality which made her understand the -wherefore of the thrilling notes of the male bird in spring-time. She -invested her ambitious young lawyer with all the dark sardonic -melancholic fascinations of Lara, Conrad, Manfred, and Don Juan. The -wild sweet sting of spring was in her veins. Her mind was full of vague -illusions, very lovely and very strange, shifting of outline and wholly -inexplicable. - - - XII - -On the afternoon of the last day of school several of the girls -decorated the hall with garlands and flags. Carpenters erected a stage, -and Patience arranged the “properties.” When the great night arrived and -Monterey in its best attire crowded the room, no curtain in the sleepy -town had ever been regarded with more complacent expectation. The -Montereñas were thoroughly satisfied with their offspring, and -performances of any sort were few. - -The programme was opened by Manuela, who wore an old pink satin frock of -her mother’s cut short and trimmed with a flounce of Spanish lace. Her -brown shining face looked good will upon all the world as she recited -“The Wreck of the Hesperus.” Then came a dialogue in which all the -little participants wore white frocks and crimped hair. - -Meanwhile, in the dressing-room, Rosita was limp in Patience’s arms. - -“Oh, Patita!” she gasped, “I can’t! I can’t! I’m frightened to death! -What shall I do?” - -“Do?” cried Patience, angrily, who was so excited herself that she -pumped Rosita’s arms up and down as if the unfledged Thespian had just -been rescued from the bay. “Do? You must brace up. When you get there -you’ll be all right. And you _must not_ get stage fright. Rosita, you -_must_ make a success. Remember you’ve got the star part. Don’t, _don’t_ -make a fool of yourself.” - -“Oh, if you could only hold my hand,” wailed Rosita. - -“Well, I can’t, and that’s the end of it. Now! brace up quick.” The -prompter was calling in a loud whisper,— - -“Miss Thrailkill, be ready when I say, ‘Life.’” - -“_Ay, dios de mi alma_,” almost sobbed Rosita. - -Patience dragged her to the wings and held her there. When the cue was -spoken she gave her a hard pinch, then a shove. Rosita gasped and -disappeared. - -Patience slipped round into the audience, her heart in her throat, her -eyes black with excitement. If Rosita broke down she felt that she -should have hysterics. - -At first Rosita had nothing to say. Upon entering she had merely to -fling herself upon a divan in an indolent attitude whilst the others -carried on a spirited dialogue. Patience saw that she had managed to get -to the sofa without falling prone, but also observed that her bosom was -heaving. Nevertheless, when her time came she managed to drawl her -lines, although with as little expression as she told her rosary. -Patience stamped her foot audibly. - -But as the play progressed it was evident that Rosita was recovering her -poise. When she finally had to come forward she moved with all the -indolent grace of her blood, and delivered her little speech with such -piquant fire that the audience applauded loudly. And with that clatter -of feet and hands a new light sprang into the Spanish girl’s eyes, an -expression half of surprise, half of transport. From that time on she -acted in a manner which astonished even her instructor. - -She looked exquisitely pretty. Her white rounded neck and arms were -bare. Her black soft hair hung to her knees, unbound, caught back above -one little ear with a pink rose. Her dress was of black Spanish lace -covered with natural roses. On her tiny feet she wore a pair of black -satin slippers which had belonged to her grandmother and twinkled many a -time to the music of El Son. - -When, upon being twitted with her indolence, she suddenly sprang to the -front of the stage, and after singing an old Spanish love-song to the -music of her own guitar, danced El Son with all the rhythmic grace of -the beautiful women of the old gay time, she was no longer an actress -but an impersonator. The more the delighted audience applauded the more -poetically she danced, the more significantly her long eyes flamed. Once -when the applause deafened she swayed as if intoxicated. As the dance -finished, her red lips were parted. She was panting slightly. - -When the curtain fell Patience rushed into the dressing-room and -embraced her rapturously. “Rosita!” she cried, “you were simply, -mag-_nif_-icent.” - -Rosita, who was trembling violently, hung about Patience’s neck. - -“Oh, Patita!” she gasped. “I was in heaven. I never was so happy. You -don’t know what it is to have a hundred people thinking of nothing but -you and applauding as if they were mad. Oh, I’m going to act, act, act -forever! I never want to do anything else. And isn’t my skin white? I -wish I had two necks and four arms.” - - - XIII - -The next morning prizes were distributed. Patience took most of them, -but Rosita was still the sensation of the hour, although she had not -passed an examination. At noon she had a luncheon party. She sat at the -head of her table in a white dotted Swiss frock and Roman sash, and -talked faster than she had ever talked in her life before. Altogether -she was by no means the Rosita of twenty-four hours ago. - -Mrs. Thrailkill had prepared a luncheon of old time Spanish dishes, and -hovered, large and brown and placid, about a table loaded with chickens -under mounds of yellow rice, _tamales_, and _dulces_. Patience, between -Manuela and a young cousin of Rosita’s, was not unhappy. Her prizes lay -on the window seat, she liked good things, and was infected with the -gaiety of the hour. True, she wore her old muslin frock and a plaid sash -made from an ancient gown of her mother’s, and the rest of the girls -looked like a bed of newly blossomed flowers; but at fifteen the spirits -rise high above trifles. - -When she started for home she was as light of heart as her more favoured -mates; but in the wood a dire affliction smote her. One of her teeth -began to ache. She had seen her mother many times with head tied up and -distorted face, and had wondered scornfully how any one could make a -fuss about a mere tooth. Now, however, when her own suddenly felt as if -impaled on a needle, she uttered a loud wail, and ran toward home as -fast as her legs could carry her. She found her mother similarly -afflicted, and a bottle of drops on the kitchen table. Mrs. Sparhawk -condescended to apply the remedy, and the agony left as suddenly as it -had come. - -After supper Patience went over to her tower, and as ever floated -between Carmel Valley and the stars, enveloped with warm ether, which -swirled to towers and turrets inhabited by a projection of herself which -she saw only as a lover. Unfortunately all this rapture was enacted in a -strong draught. Even Solomon uttered a sound once or twice which -resembled a sneeze. Again Patience’s tooth was punctured by a red-hot -needle. Her castles vanished. She caught her cheek with her hand, -stumbled down the winding stair, and flew across the valley, the needle -developing into a screw. - -The house was quiet, the kitchen dark. She lit a candle and searched -frantically for the drops. They were not to be found. Then it occurred -to her that her mother must have taken them to her room, and she ran up -the stair. - - - XIV - -At dawn next morning Patience found herself on the summit of the -mountain behind the house. Her progress thither had skimmed the surface -of memory and left no trace. - -The sea was grey, the sky was grey. A grey mist moved in the valley. -Beyond, the wood on the hill loomed in faint black outline. The birds in -the trees, the seagulls on the rocks, the very ocean itself, were locked -in the heavy sleep of early morning. Once, from the tower of the -Mission, came the plaintive hooting of the owl. - -After a time Patience plucked a number of stickers from her stockings, -and wiped blood from her torn hands with a large leaf wet with dew. She -clasped her hands inertly about her knees and stared down upon the -ocean. Horror was in her sunken eyes. The skin of her face looked faded -and old. Her nose and chin were as pinched as the features of the dead. -She did not look like the same child. Nor was she. - -Her eyes closed heavily, her head dropped. She roused herself. She felt -that she had no right to do anything again so natural as to sleep. But -suddenly she toppled over and lay motionless; until the sun sent its -slanting rays under her eyelids. Then she stretched herself lazily, -rubbing her eyes, and smiling as children do when waking. But the smile -froze to a ghastly grin. - -She raised herself stiffly and descended the mountain, clinging to the -brush, the stones rolling from beneath her feet. She ran across the -valley and plunged into the pine woods, but did not linger in those -fragrant aisles. - -When she reached the edge of the town she paused and half turned back; -but there was one thing she dreaded more than to meet the people of -Monterey, and she went on. - -She skirted the town and made her way toward the Custom House by a -roundabout path. She passed a group of boys, and averted her head with a -gesture of loathing. One boy, a gallant admirer, ran after her. - -“Patience!” he cried, “wait a minute.” But Patience took to her heels -and never paused until she reached the Custom House. The perplexed -knight stood still and whistled. - -“Well,” he exclaimed to his jeering comrades, “I always knew Patience -Sparhawk was a crank, but this lets _me_ out.” - -Patience stood for a few moments on the rocks, then went slowly to the -library and opened the door. Mr. Foord sat by the fire. He looked up -with a smile. - -“Ah, it’s you,” he said. “I’m very proud of you.—Why, what’s the -matter?” - -Patience, her eyes fixed on the floor, took a chair opposite him. - -“What is it, Patience?” - -She did not look up. She could not. Finally she moved her face from him -and stared at the mantel. - -“I’ve left home,” she said. “I’d like to stay here for a while.” - -“Why, of course you can stay here. I’ll tell Lola to put a cot in her -room. But what is the matter? Has your mother been drinking again?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Has she struck you again?” - -“No.” - -“Well, what is it, my dear child? You know that you are always more than -welcome here; but you must have some excuse for leaving home.” - -“I have an excuse. I can’t tell it. Please don’t say anything more about -it. I don’t think she’ll send for me.” - -“Well, well, perhaps you’ll tell me after a time. Meanwhile make -yourself at home.” - -He was much puzzled, but reflected that Patience was not like other -children; and he knew Mrs. Sparhawk’s commanding talent for making -herself disagreeable. Still, he was shocked at her appearance; and as -the day wore on and she would not meet his eye, but sat staring at the -floor, his uneasy mind glimpsed ugly possibilities. At dinner she ate -little and did not raise her eyes from her plate, although she made a -few commonplace remarks. - -At four o’clock Billy, the buggy, and a farm hand stopped before the -Custom House. The man handed a note to Lola, asking her to give it to -Patience. - -The note read: - - You come home—hear? If you don’t, I’ll see that you do. - - M. SPARHAWK. - -Patience went out to the man, who still sat in the buggy. “Tell her,” -she said, looking at Billy, “that I’m not going home,—not now nor at -any other time. Just make her understand that I mean it.” - -The man stared, but nodded and drove off. - - - XV - -At midnight Patience was awakened by a frantic clamour in the street. -“Those dreadful Bohemians,” she thought sleepily, then sat up with -thumping heart. - -“They say your name, _niña_, no?” said Lola, whose sonorous slumbers had -also been disturbed. - -Patience slipped to the floor and looked through the window. The moon -flooded the old town. The ruined fort on the hill had never looked more -picturesque, the pines above more calm. In the hollow near the blue -waters the white arms of Junipero Serra’s cross seemed extended in -benediction. The old adobes were young for the hour. One might fancy -Isabel Herrara walking down from the long house on the hill, her -_reboso_ fluttering in the night wind, old Pio Pico, glittering with -jewels, beside her. - -And in the wide street before the Custom House, surrounded by a hooting -mob, the refuse of the saloons, was a cursing gesticulating woman. Her -black hair was unbound, her garment torn. She flung her fists in the -face of those that sought to hold her. - -“Patience Sparhawk!” she shrieked. “Patience Sparhawk! Come down here to -your mother. Come down here this minute. Come, I say,” and a volley of -oaths followed, greeted with a loud cackling laugh by the rabble. - -Patience saw Mr. Foord, clad in his dressing-gown, go forth. She flung -on her clothes hastily and ran down the stair. Her mother and Mr. Foord -were in the kitchen. - -“Oh, she’ll come back,” Mrs. Sparhawk was saying. “I’ll see to that. How -do you like a row under your windows? Well, I’ll come here every night -unless she comes home. You’ll put me in the Home of the Inebriates, will -you? Think she’ll like to have that said of her mother when she’s grown -up? Not Patience Sparhawk. I know her weak point. She’s as proud as -hell, and I’m not afraid of going to any Home of the Inebriates.” - -Patience pushed open the door. “I’m going with you,” she said. “Now get -out of this house as fast as you can.” - -“Oh, Patience,” exclaimed Mr. Foord. His old cheeks were splashed with -tears. - -“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” said Patience, her hands clenching and -quivering. “I didn’t think she’d do this, or I wouldn’t have stayed. -What a return for all your kindness!” - -“Patience,” said the old gentleman, “promise me that you will come to -see me to-morrow. Promise, or I shall not let you go. She can do her -worst.” - -“Well, I’ll come.” - -She ordered her mother to follow her out of the back door that they -might avoid the expectant mob. Mrs. Sparhawk walked unsteadily, but -received no assistance from her daughter. If she had fallen, Patience -could not have forced herself to touch her. Had the woman been a reeling -mass of physical corruption, a leper, a small-pox scab, the girl could -not have shrunken farther from her. - -They did not speak until they ascended the hill behind the town and -entered the woods. Patience never recalled that night without inhaling -the balsamic odour of the pines, the heavy perfume of forest lilies, -without seeing the great yellow stars through the uplifted arms of the -trees. It was a night for love, and its guest was hate. - -No more terrible conversation ever took place between mother and -daughter. After that night they never spoke again. - - - XVI - -The next morning Patience, after breakfast, carried a pair of tongs and -a newspaper up to her room. She spread the newspaper on the table, then -with the tongs extracted Byron from beneath the bed and laid it on the -paper. She wrapped it up and tied it securely without letting her hands -come in contact with the cover. That same afternoon she carried the book -to the Custom House and threw it behind a row of tall volumes in one of -the cases. Long after, Mr. Foord found it there and wondered. He was not -at home when she arrived. When he returned she was deep in his -arm-chair, reading Gibbon’s “Rome.” He was not without tact, and -determined at once to ignore the events of the previous day and night. - -“What!” he exclaimed, “are you really giving poor old Gibbon a trial at -last? And after all your abuse? But perhaps you won’t find him so dry, -after all.” - -“I wish to read what is dry,” said Patience. “I’m going to take a course -in ancient history.” - -“No more poetry and novels?” - -“Not a line.” She spoke harshly, and compelled herself to meet Mr. -Foord’s eyes. Her own were as hard and as cold as steel. All the soft -dreaming light of the past two months had gone out of them. They were -the eyes neither of a girl nor of a woman. They looked the eyes of a -sexless intellect. - -Patience had done the one thing which a girl of fifteen can do when -crushed with problems; she had twitched her shoulders and flung them -off. She comprehended that her intellect was her best friend, and -plunged her racked head into the hard facts which required utmost -concentration of mind. The sweet vague dreams of the past were turned -from in loathing. If she thought of them at all it was with fierce -resentment that she had become conscious of her womanhood. The stranger -was thrust out of memory. She went no more to the tower. The owl hooted -in his loneliness, and she drew the bed-clothes over her ears. When she -walked through the woods, to and from the town, she recited Gibbon in -synopsis. She spent the day in Mr. Foord’s library, returning home in -time to get supper. She did her household duties mechanically, and the -eyes of mother and daughter never met. The man Oscar kept out of her -way. - -Miss Galpin had gone to San Francisco and would return no more: she was -to marry. Rosita was visiting in Santa Barbara. Manuela, now a young -lady, was devoting the greater part of her time to the Hotel Del Monte, -where the flower and vegetables of San Francisco gather in summer. She -went up to the tanks in the morning and to the dances in the evening; -and informed Patience, one day as they met on the street, that she was -having a perfectly gorgeous time, and had met a man who was too lovely -for words. - -The long hot days and the foggy nights wore slowly away. Patience grew -thinner, her face harder. Mr. Foord did his best to divert her, but his -resources were limited. She peremptorily forbade him to allude to the -romance of Monterey, and he took her out in his old buggy and talked of -Gibbon’s “Rome.” - -Once they drove through the grounds of Del Monte,—the trim artificial -grounds that are such an anomaly in that valley of memories. On the long -veranda of the great hotel of airy architecture people sat in the bright -attire of summer. Matrons rocked and gossiped; girls talked eagerly to -languid youths that sat on the railing. It was all as unreal to Patience -as the fairy-land of her childhood, when she had hunted for fays and -elves in the wood. She stared at the scene angrily, for the first time -feeling the sting of the social bee. - -“A vain frivolous life those people lead,” remarked Mr. Foord, who -disapproved of The World. “A waste of time and God’s best gifts, which -makes them selfish and heartless. Empty heads and hollow hearts.” - -But Patience, gazing at those girls in their gay dainty attire, the like -of which she had never seen before, experienced a sudden violent wish to -be of them, empty head, hollow heart, and all. They looked happy and -free of care. The very atmosphere of the veranda seemed full of colour -and music. Above all, they were utterly different from Patience -Sparhawk, blessed and enviable beings. Even the frivolity of the scene -appealed to her, so sick unto death of serious things. - - - XVII - -One day, late in September, Patience, as usual, left Monterey at half -past four in order to reach home in time to cook the supper. Nature had -smiled for so many successive days that she wondered if the lips so -persistently set must not soon strain back and reveal the teeth. The -sun, poised behind the pine woods, flooded them with yellow light. As -Patience walked through the soft radiance she set her teeth and recalled -the chapters of Thiers’ “French Revolution,” through which she had that -day plodded. But her head felt dull. She realised with a quiver of -terror that she was beginning to feel less like an intellect and more -like a very helpless little girl. Once she discovered her curved arm -creeping to her eyes. She flung it down and shook her head angrily. Was -she like other people? - -Mingling with the fragrance of the pines it seemed to her that she smelt -smoke. She hoped that her woods were not on fire. She walked slowly, -indisposed as ever to return home, the more so to-day as she felt -herself breaking. - -“I wish the sun would not grin so,” she thought. “I’ll be glad when -winter comes.” - -The smell of smoke grew stronger. She left the woods. A moment later she -stood, white and trembling, looking down upon Carmel Valley. The -Sparhawk farmhouse was a blazing mass of timbers. A volume of smoke, as -straight and full as a waterspout, stood directly above it. Men were -running about. Their shouts came faintly to her. - -Patience pressed her hands convulsively to her eyes. She clutched her -head as if to tear out the terrible hope clattering in her brain, then -ran down the hill and across the valley, feeling all the while as if -possessed by ten thousand devils. - -“Oh, I’m bad, bad, bad!” she sobbed in terror. “I don’t, I don’t!” - -As she reached the scene the roof fell in. She glanced hastily about. -The men, withdrawn to a safe distance, were gathered round the man -Oscar. One was binding his hands and face. As they saw Patience they -turned as if to run, then stood doggedly. - -“Where is she?” Patience asked. - -There was an instant’s pause. The crackling of the flames grew louder, -as if it would answer. Then one of the men blurted out: “Burnt up in her -bed. She was drunk. We was all in the field when the fire broke out. -When we got here Oscar tried to get at her room with a ladder, but it -was no go. Poor old Madge.” - -Patience without another word turned and ran back to the woods. She ran -until she was exhausted, more horrified at herself than she had been at -any of her unhappy experiences. After a time she fell among the dry pine -needles, her good, as she expressed it, still trying to fight down her -bad. She felt that the demon possessing her would have sung aloud had -she not held it by the throat. She conjured up all the horrible details -of her mother’s death and ordered her soul to pity; but her brain -remarked coldly that her mother had probably felt nothing. She imagined -the charred corpse, but it only offended her artistic sense. - -Finally she fell asleep. The day was far gone when she awoke. She lay -for a time staring at the dim arches above her, listening to the night -voices she had once loved so passionately. At last she drew a deep sigh. - -“I might just as well face the truth,” she said aloud. “I’m glad, and -that’s the end of it. It’s wicked and I’m sorry; but what is, is, and I -can’t help it. We’re not all made alike.” - - - XVIII - -Patience was once more installed in Lola’s room. Mr. Foord applied for -letters of guardianship, which were granted at once. But as he had -feared, she was left without a penny. He wrote to his half-sister, -asking her if she would take charge of his ward. Miss Tremont replied in -enthusiastic affirmation. Miss Galpin invited Patience to spend two -weeks with her in San Francisco, offering to replenish the girl’s -wardrobe with several of her own old frocks made over. - -Those two weeks seemed to Patience the mad whirl of excitement of which -she had read in novels. She had never seen a city before, and the very -cable cars fascinated her. To glide up and down the hills was to her the -poetry of science. The straggling city on its hundred hills, the crowded -streets and gay shop windows, the theatres, the restaurants, China Town, -the beautiful bay with its bare colorous hills, surprised her into -admitting that life appeared to be quite well worth living after all. -When she returned to Monterey she talked so fast that Mr. Foord clapped -his hands to his ears, and Rosita listened with expanded eyes. - -“Ay, if I could live in San Francisco!” she said, plaintively. “I acted -all summer, Patita, but I got tired of the same people, and I want to go -to the big theatres and see the real ones do it. I’d like to hear a -great big house applauding, only I’d be so jealous of the leading lady.” - -Patience was to start, immediately after Christmas, by steamer for New -York. Mr. Foord spent the last days giving her much good advice. He said -little of his own sorrow to part from her. Once he had been tempted to -keep her for the short time that remained to him, but had put the -temptation aside with the sad resignation of old age. He knew Patience’s -imperative need of new impressions in these her plastic years. - -The day before she left she went over to Carmel to say good-bye to -Solomon. He flapped his wings with delight, although he could not see -her, and nestled close to her side in a manner quite unlike his haughty -habit. Patience thought he looked older and greyer, and his wings had a -dejected droop. She took him in her arms with an impulse of tenderness, -and this time he did not repulse her. - -“Poor old Solomon,” she said, “I suppose you are lonely and forlorn in -your old age, but this old tower wouldn’t be what it is without you. -It’s too bad I can’t write to you as I can to my two or three other -friends, and you’ll never know I haven’t forgotten you, poor old -Solomon. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wonder if owls do suffer too. You look so -wise and venerable, perhaps you are thinking that lonely old age is -terrible—as I know Mr. Foord does.” - -Solomon pecked at her mildly. Her gaze wandered out over the ocean. She -wondered if a thousand years had passed since she had dreamed her -dreams. Their very echoes came from the mountains of space. - -When she went away Solomon followed her to the head of the stair. She -looked upward once and saw him standing there, with drooping wings and -head a little bent. The darkness of the stair gave him vision, and he -fluttered his wings expectantly, as she paused and lifted her face to -him. But when she did not return he walked with great dignity to his -accustomed place against the wall, nor even lifted up his voice in -protest. - -The next morning Rosita accompanied her to the station and wept loudly -as the train approached. But Patience did not cry until she stood in her -stateroom with Mr. Foord. - - - - - BOOK II - - - I - -Patience watched the dusty hills of San Francisco, the sparkling bay -alive with sail and spar, the pink mountains of the far coast range, the -brown hills opposite the grey city, willowed and gulched and bare, the -forts on rock and points, until the wild lurching of the steamer over -the bar directed her attention to the unhappy passengers. In a short -while she had not even these to amuse her, nothing but a grey plain and -empty decks. At first she felt a waif in space; but soon a delightful -sense of independence stole over her, of freedom from all the ills and -responsibilities of life. The land world might have collapsed upon its -fiery heart, so little could it affect her while that waste of waters -slid under the horizon. - -The few passengers came forth restored in a day or two. A husband and -wife and several children did not interest Patience; neither did the -captain’s wife, in whose charge she was. A young girl with a tangle of -yellow hair under a sailor hat was more inviting, but she flirted -industriously with the purser and took not the slightest notice of -Patience. Her invalid mother reclined languidly in a steamer chair and -read the novels of E. P. Roe. - -The only other passenger was an elderly gentleman who read books in -white covers neatly lettered with black which fascinated Patience. She -was beginning to long for books. The invalid lent her a Roe, but she -returned it half unread. As the old gentleman had never addressed her, -did not seem to be aware of her existence, she could hardly expect a -similar courtesy from him. - -She was glowering upon universal stupidity one morning when he appeared -on deck with a carpet bag, from which, after comfortably establishing -himself in his steamer chair, he took little white volume after little -white volume. Patience’s curiosity overcame her. She went forward slowly -and stood before him. He looked up sharply. His black eyes, piercing -from their shaggy arches, made her twitch her head as if to fling aside -some penetrative force. His very beard, silver though it was, had a -fierce sidewise twist. His nose was full nostrilled and drooped -scornfully. The spectacles he wore served as a sort of lens for the fire -of his extraordinary eyes. - -“Well?” he said gruffly. - -“Please, sir,” said Patience, humbly, “will you lend me a book?” - -“Book? I don’t carry children’s literature round with me.” - -“I don’t read children’s literature.” - -“Oh, you don’t? Well, not ‘The Chatterbox,’ I suppose; but I have -nothing of Pansy’s nor yet of The Duchess.” - -“I wouldn’t read them if you had,” cried Patience, angrily. “Perhaps -I’ve read a good many books that you haven’t re-read so long ago -yourself. I’ve read Dickens and Thackeray and Scott, and,” with a -shudder, “Gibbon’s ‘Rome’ and Thiers’ ‘French Revolution.’” - -“Oh, you have? Well, I beg your pardon. Sit down, and I’ll see if I can -find something for a young lady of your surprising attainments.” - -Patience, too pleased to resent sarcasm, applied herself to his elbow. - -“Why are they all bound alike?” she asked. - -“This is the Tauchnitz edition of notable English and American books. -How is this?” He handed her a volume of Grace Aguilar. - -“No, sir! I’ve tried her, and she’s a greater bore than Jane Austen.” - -“Oh, you want a love story, I suppose?” His accentuation was fairly -sardonic. - -“No, I don’t,” she said with an intonation which made him turn and -regard her with interest. Then once more he explored his bag. - -“Will this suit you?” He held out a copy of Carlyle’s “French -Revolution.” - -Patience groaned. “Didn’t I tell you I’d just read Thiers’?” - -“This isn’t Thiers’. Try it.” And he took no further notice of her. - -Patience opened the volume, and in a few moments was absorbed. There was -something in the storm and blare of the style which struck a responsive -chord. She did not raise her head until dinner time. She scarcely spoke -until she had finished the volume, and then only to ask for the second. -For several days she felt as if the atmosphere was charged with -dynamite, and jumped when any one addressed her. The owner of the -Tauchnitz watched her curiously. When she had finished the second volume -she told him that she did not care for anything more at present. She -leaned over the railing most of the day, watching the waves. Toward -sunset the gentleman called peremptorily,— - -“Come here.” - -Patience stood before his chair. - -“Well, what do you think of it?” he demanded. “Tell me exactly what your -impressions are.” - -“I feel as if there was an earthquake in my skull and all sorts of -pictures flying about, and exploded pieces of drums and trumpets, and -kings and queens. I think Carlyle must have been made on purpose to -write the French Revolution. It was—as if—there was a great picture of -it made on the atmosphere, and when he was born it passed into him.” - -“Upon my word,” he said, “you are a degree or two removed from the -letters of bread and milk. You are a very remarkable kid. Sit down.” - -Patience took the chair beside him. “He made my head ache,” she added. -“I feel as if it had been hammered.” - -“I don’t wonder. Older heads have felt the same way. What’s your name?” - -“Patience Sparhawk.” - -“Tell me all about yourself.” - -“Oh, there isn’t much to tell,” and she frowned heavily. - -“Don’t look so tragic—you alarm me. I’m convinced there is a great -deal. Come, I want to know.” - -Patience gave a few inane particulars. The old gentleman snorted. “It’s -evident you’ve never been interviewed,” he said grimly. “Now, I’ll tell -you who I am, and then you won’t mind talking about yourself. There’s -nothing so catching as egotism. My name is James E. Field. I own one of -the great newspapers of New York, of which I am also editor-in-chief. Do -you know what that means? Well, if you don’t, let me tell you. It is to -be a man more powerful than the President of the United States, for he -can make presidents, which is something the president himself can’t do. -He knows more about people’s private affairs than any of intimate -relationship; he has his finger on the barometer of his readers’ brain; -he can make them sensational or sober, intellectually careless or -exacting; he can keep them in ignorance of all that is best worth -knowing of the world’s affairs, by snubbing the great events and -tendencies of the day and vitiating their brain with local crimes and -scandals, or he can illumine their minds and widen their brain cells by -not only enlarging upon what every intelligent person should wish to -know, but by making such matter of profound interest; he can ignore -science, or enlighten several hundred thousand people; he can add to the -happiness of the human race by exposing abuses and hidden crime, or he -can accept hush money and let the sore fester; he can lash the unrest of -the lower classes, or chloroform it; he can use the sledge hammer, the -rapier, and the vitriol, or give over his editorial page to windy -nothings; he can demolish political bosses, or prolong their career. In -short, his power is greater than Alexander’s was, for he is a general of -minds instead of brute force.” - -“My goodness gracious!” exclaimed Patience. “What sort of a paper have -you got?” - -He laughed. “Wait until you’ve lived in New York awhile and you’ll find -out. Its name is the ‘Day,’ and it has made a president or two, and made -one or two others wish they’d never been born. By the way, I didn’t tell -you much about myself, did I? The auxiliary subject carried me away. I’m -married, and have several sons and daughters, and am off for a rest—not -from the family but from the ‘Day.’ I’ve been round the world. That will -do for the present. Tell me all about Monterey.” - -With consummate skill he extracted the history of her sixteen years. On -some points she fought him so obstinately that he inferred what she -would not tell. He ended by becoming profoundly interested. He was a man -of enthusiasms, which sometimes wrote themselves in vitriol, at others -in the milk of human kindness. His keen unerring brain, which Patience -fancied flashed electric search lights, comprehended that it had -stumbled upon a character waging perpetual war with the pitiless Law of -Circumstance, and that the issue might serve as a plot for one of the -mental dramas of the day. - -“Your experience and the bad blood in you, taken in connection with your -bright and essentially modern mind, will make a sort of intellectual -anarchist of you,” he said. “I doubt if you take kindly to the domestic -life. You will probably go in for the social problems, and ride some -polemical hobby for eight or ten years, at the end of which time you -will be inclined to look upon your sex as the soubrettes of history. -Your enthusiasm may make you a faddist, but your common sense may aid -you in the perception of several eternal truths which the women of -to-day in their blind bolt have overlooked.” - -A moment later he repented his generalisations, for Patience had -demanded full particulars. Nevertheless, he gave her many a graphic -outline of the various phases of current history, and was the most -potent educational force that she had yet encountered. She preferred him -to books and admired him without reserve, trotting at his heels like a -small dog. His unique and virile personality, his brilliant and -imperious mind, magnetised the modern essence of which she was made. -There was nothing of the old-fashioned intellectual type about him. He -might have induced the coining of the word “brainy,”—he certainly typed -it. Although he had the white hair and the accumulated wisdom of his -years, he had the eyes of youth and the fist of vigour at any age. One -day when two natives looked too long upon Patience’s blondinity, as she -and Mr. Field were exploring a banana grove during one of their brief -excursions on shore, he cracked their skulls together as if they had -been two cocoanuts. - -Patience laughed as the blacks dropped sullenly behind. “How funny that -they should admire me,” she said. “I’m not pretty.” - -“Well, you’re white. Besides, there is one thing more fascinating than -beauty, and that is a strong individuality. It radiates and magnetises.” - -“Have I all that?” Patience blushed with delight. - -He laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, I’ll stake a good deal that you have. -You may even be pretty some day; that is, if you ever get those freckles -off.” - -Inherent as was her passion for nature, she enjoyed the rich beauty of -the tropics the more for the companionship of a mind skilled in -observation and interpretation. It was her first mental comprehension of -the law of duality. - -As they approached New York harbour Mr. Field said to her: “I think I’ll -have to make a newspaper woman of you. When you have finished your -education, don’t think of settling down to any such humdrum career as -that of the school-teacher. Come to me, and I’ll put you through your -paces. If I’m not more mistaken than I’ve been yet, I’ll turn out a -newspaper woman that will induce a mightier blast of woman’s horn. Think -you’d like it?” - -“I’d like to be with you,” said Patience, on the verge of tears. -“Sha’n’t I see you again till I’m eighteen?” - -“No, I don’t want to see or hear from you again until you’ve kneaded -that brain of yours into some sort of shape by three years of hard -study. Then I’ll go to work on a good foundation. You haven’t told me if -you’ll take a try at it.” - -“Of course I will. Do you think I want to be a school-teacher? I should -think it would be lovely to be a newspaper woman.” - -“Well, it isn’t exactly lovely, but it is a good training in the art of -getting along without adjectives. Now look round you and I’ll explain -this harbour; and don’t you brag any more about your San Francisco -harbour.” - -They entered through The Narrows, between the two toy forts. A few lone -sentries paced the crisp snow on the heights of Staten Island, and -looked in imminent danger of tumbling down the perpendicular lawns. The -little stone windows of the earthen redoubts seemed to wink confidently -at each other across the water, and loomed superciliously above the -forts on the water’s edge. Long Island, had the repose of a giant that -had stretched his limbs in sleep, unmindful of the temporary hamlets on -his swelling front. Staten Island curved and uplifted herself -coquettishly under her glittering garb and crystal woods. Far away the -faint line of the New Jersey shore, looking like one unbroken city on a -hundred altitudes, hovered faintly under its mist. The river at its base -was a silver ribbon between a mirage and a stupendous castle of seven -different architectures surmounted by a golden dome—which same was New -York and the dome of a newspaper. Then a faint fairy-like bridge, -delicate as a cobweb, sprang lightly across another river to a city of -walls with windows in them—which same was Brooklyn. Under the shadow of -the arches was a baby island fortified with what appeared to be a large -Dutch cheese out of which the mice had gnawed their way with much -regularity. The great bay, blue as liquid sapphire, was alive with craft -of every design: rowboats scuttled away from the big outgoing steamers; -sails, white as the snow on the heights, bellied in the sharp wind; -yellow and red ferry boats gave back long symmetrical curves of white -smoke; gaunt ships with naked spars lay at rest. On Liberty Island the -big girl pointed solemnly upward as if reminding the city on the waters -of the many mansions in the invisible stars. Snow clouds were scudding -upward from the east, but overhead there was plentiful gold and blue. - -Patience gazed through Mr. Field’s glass, enraptured, and promised not -to brag. As they swung toward the dock he laid his hand kindly on hers. - -“Now don’t think I’m callous,” he said, “because I part from you without -any apparent regret. You are going to be in good hands during the rest -of your early girlhood, and I could be of no assistance to you; and I am -a very busy man. Let me tell you that you have made this month a good -deal shorter than it would otherwise have been; and when we meet again -you won’t have to introduce yourself. There are my folks, and there goes -the gang-plank. Good-bye, and God bless you.” - - - II - -Patience leaned over the upper railing, looking at the expectant crowd -on the wharf, wondering when the captain would remember her. She felt a -strong inclination to run after Mr. Field. As he receded up the wharf, -surrounded by his family, he turned and waved his hand to her. - -“Why couldn’t he have been Mr. Foord’s brother or something?” she -thought resentfully. “I think he might have adopted me.” - -As the crowd thinned she noticed two elderly women standing a few feet -from the vessel, alternately inspecting the landed passengers and the -decks. One was a very tall slender and graceful woman, possessed of that -subtle quality called style, despite her unfashionable attire. In her -dark regular face were the remains of beauty, and although nervous and -anxious, it wore the seal of gentle blood. Her large black eyes -expressed a curious commingling of the spiritual and the human. She was -probably sixty years old. At her side was a woman some ten years -younger, of stouter and less elastic figure, with a strong dark kind -intelligent face and an utter disregard of dress. She carried several -bundles. - -“Oh, hasn’t she come?” cried the elder woman. “Can she have died at sea? -I am sure the dear Lord wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Dear -sister, _do_ you see her?” - -The other woman, who was also looking everywhere except at Patience, -replied in a round cheerful voice: “No, not yet, but I feel sure she is -there. The captain hasn’t had time to bring her on shore. The Lord tells -me that it is all right.” - -“One of those is Miss Tremont,” thought Patience, “I may as well go -down. They appear to be frightfully religious, but they have nice -faces.” - -She ran down to the lower deck, then across the gang-plank. - -“I’m Patience Sparhawk,” she said; “are you—” The older woman uttered a -little cry, caught her in her arms, and kissed her. “Oh, you dear little -thing!” she exclaimed, and kissed her again. “How I’ve prayed the dear -Lord to bring you safely, and He has, praise His holy name. Oh, I am so -glad to see you. I do love children so. We’ll be so happy together—you -and I and Him—and, oh, I’m so glad to see you.” - -Patience, breathless, but much gratified, kissed her warmly. - -“Don’t forget me,” exclaimed the other lady. She had a singularly hearty -voice and a brilliant smile. Patience turned to her dutifully, and -received an emphatic kiss. - -“This is my dear friend, my dear sister in the Lord, Miss Beale, -Patience,” said Miss Tremont, flurriedly, “and she wanted to see you -almost as much as I did.” - -“Indeed I did,” said Miss Beale, breezily. “I too love little girls.” - -“I’m sure you’re both very kind,” said Patience, helplessly. She hardly -knew how to meet so much effusion. But something cold and old within her -seemed to warm and thaw. - -“You dear little thing,” continued Miss Tremont. “Are you cold? That is -a very light coat you have on.” - -Patience was not dressed for an eastern winter, but her young blood and -curiosity kept her warm. - -“Here comes the captain,” she said. “Oh, no, I’m all right. I like the -cold.” - -The captain, satisfying himself that his charge was in the proper hands, -offered to send her trunk to Mariaville by express, and Patience, wedged -closely between the two ladies, boarded a street car. - -“You know,” exclaimed Miss Tremont, “I knew the Lord would bring you to -me safely in spite of the perils of the ocean. Every night and every -morning I prayed: _Dear_ Lord, don’t let anything happen to her,—and I -knew He wouldn’t.” - -“Does He always do what you tell Him?” asked Patience. - -“Almost everything I ask Him,—that is to say, when He thinks best. Dear -Patience, if you knew how He looks out for me—and it is well He sees -fit, for dear knows I have a time taking care of myself. Why, He even -takes care of my purse. I’m always leaving it round, and He always sends -it back to me—from counters and trains and restaurants and everywhere. -And when I start in the wrong direction He always whispers in my ear in -time. Why, once I had to catch a certain train to Philadelphia, where I -was to preside at a convention, and I’d taken the wrong street car, and -when I jumped off and took the right one, the driver said I couldn’t -possibly get to the ferry in time. So I just shut my eyes and prayed; -and then I told the driver that it would be all right, as I had asked -the Lord to see that I got there in time. The driver laughed, and said: -‘W-a-a-l, I guess the Lord’ll go back on you this time.’ But I caught -that ferry-boat. _He_—the Lord—made it five minutes late. And it’s -always the same. He takes care of me, praised be His name.” - -“You must feel as if He were your husband,” said Patience, too gravely -to be suspected of irreverence. - -“Why, He is. Doesn’t the Bible say—” But the car began to rattle over -the badly paved streets, and the quotation was lost. - -Patience looked eagerly through the windows at purlieus of indescribable -ugliness; but it was New York, a city greater than San Francisco, and -she found even its youthful old age picturesque. The dense throng of -people in Sixth Avenue and the immense shop windows induced expressions -of rapture. - -“You don’t live here, do you?” she said with a sigh. - -“Oh, Mariaville is much nicer than New York,” replied Miss Beale, in her -enthusiastic way. “I hate a great crowded city. It baffles you so when -you try to do good.” - -“Still they do say that reform work is more systematised here, dear -sister.” - -“Forty-second Street,” shouted the conductor, and they changed cars. A -few moments later they were pulling out of the Grand Central Station for -Mariaville. - -Miss Beale had asked the conductor to turn a seat, and Patience faced -her new friends. As they left the tunnel she caught sight of a tiny bow -of white ribbon each wore on her coat. - -“Why do you wear that?” she asked. - -“Why, we’re W. C. T. U’s,” replied Miss Beale. - -“Wctus?” - -“Temperance cranks,” said Miss Tremont, smiling. - -“Temperance cranks?” - -“Why, have you never heard of the Woman’s Christian Temperance Union?” -asked Miss Beale, a chill breathing over her cordial voice. “The -movement has reason to feel encouraged all through the West.” - -“I’ve never heard of it. They don’t have it in Monterey, and I’ve not -been much in San Francisco.” - -“She’s such a child,” said Miss Tremont. “How could she know of it out -there? But now I know she is going to be one of our very best Y’s.” - -“Y’s?” asked Patience, helplessly. She wondered if this was the “fad” -Mr. Field had predicted for her, then recalled that he had alluded once -to the “Temperance movement,” but could not remember his explanation, if -he had made any. Doubtless she had evaded a disagreeable topic. But now -that it was evidently to be a part of her new life she made no attempt -to stem Miss Tremont’s enthusiasm. - -“The Y’s are the young women of the Union; we are the W’s. It is our -lifework, Patience, and I am sure you will become as much interested in -it as we are, and be proud to wear the white ribbon. We have done so -much good, and expect to do much more, with the dear Lord’s help. It is -slow work, but we shall conquer in the end, for He is with us.” - -“What do you do,—forbid people to sell liquor?” - -Both ladies laughed. They were not without humour, and their experience -had developed it. “No,” said Miss Tremont, “we don’t waste our time like -that.” She gave an enthusiastic account of what the Union had -accomplished. Her face glowed; her fine head was thrown back; her dark -eyes sparkled. Patience thought she must have been a beautiful girl. She -had a full voice with odd notes of protest and imperious demand which -puzzled her young charge. One would have supposed that she was -constantly imploring favours, and yet her air suggested natural hauteur, -unexterminated by cultivated humility. - -“I should think it was a good idea,” said Patience, with perfect -sincerity. - -“Oh, there’s dear Sister Watt,” cried Miss Tremont, and she rose -precipitately, and crossing the aisle sat down beside a careworn -anxious-eyed woman who also wore the white ribbon. - -“Come over by me until Miss Tremont comes back,” said Miss Beale, with -her brilliant smile. “Tell me, don’t you love her already? Oh, you have -no idea how good she is. She is heart and soul in her work, and just -lives for the Lord. She sometimes visits twenty poor families a week, -besides her Temperance class, her sewing school, her Bible Readings, her -Bible class, and all the religious societies, of which she is the most -active worker. She is also the Mariaville agent for the Society for -Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and trustee of the Bible Society. You -should hear her pray. I have heard all the great revivalists, but I have -never heard anything like Miss Tremont’s prayers. How I envy you living -with her! You’ll hear her twice a day, and sometimes oftener. She has a -nice house on the outskirts of Mariaville. Her father left it to her -twenty years ago, and she dedicated it to the Lord at once. It is -headquarters for church meetings of all sorts. She has a Bible reading -one afternoon a week. Any one can go, even a servant, for Miss Tremont, -like all true followers of the Lord, is humble.” - -Patience reflected that she had never seen any one look less humble than -Miss Beale. In spite of her old frock she conveyed with unmistakable if -unconscious emphasis that she possessed wealth and full knowledge of its -power. - -“You look so happy,” Patience said, her curiosity regarding Miss Tremont -blunted for the present. “Are you?” - -“Happy? Of course I am. I’ve never known an unhappy moment in my life. -When my dear parents died, I only envied them. And have I not perfect -health? Is not every moment of my time occupied?—why, I only sleep six -hours out of the twenty-four. And Him. Do I not work for Him, and is He -not always with me?” - -“They are so funny about God,” thought Patience. “She talks as if He -were her beau; and Miss Tremont as if He were her old man she’d been -jogging along with for forty years or so.—Do you live alone?” she -asked. - -“Yes—that is, I board.” - -“And don’t you ever feel lonesome?” - -“Never. Is not He always with me?” Her strong brown face was suddenly -illuminated. “Is He not my lover? Is He not always at my side, -encouraging me and whispering of His love, night and day? Why, I can -almost hear His voice, feel His hand. How could I be lonesome even on a -desert island with no work to do?” - -Patience gasped. The extraordinary simplicity of this woman of fifty -fascinated her whom life and heredity had made so complex. But she moved -restlessly, and felt an impulse to thrust out her legs and arms. She had -a sensation of being swamped in religion. - -“I shouldn’t think you’d like boarding,” she said irrelevantly. - -“I don’t like it particularly, but it gives me more time for my work. I -make myself comfortable, I can tell you, for I have my own bed with two -splendid mattresses,—my landlady’s are the hardest things you ever -felt,—and all my own furniture and knick-knacks. And I have my own tub, -and every morning even in dead of winter, I take a cold bath. And I -don’t wear corsets—” - -“Mariaville,” called the conductor. - -“Oh, here we are,” cried Miss Tremont. She made a wild dive for her -umbrella and bag, seized Patience by the hand, and rushed up the aisle, -followed leisurely by Miss Beale. - -The snow was falling heavily. Patience had watched it drift and swirl -over the Hudson, and should have liked to give it her undivided -attention. - -As they left the station they were greeted by a chorus of shrieks: “Have -a sleigh? Have a sleigh?” - -“What do you think, sister?” asked Miss Tremont, dubiously. “Do you -think Patience can walk two miles in this snow? I don’t like to spend -money on luxuries that I should give to the Lord.” - -“Perhaps the sleigh man needs it,” said Patience, who had no desire to -walk two miles in a driving storm. - -“We’d better have a sleigh,” said Miss Beale, decidedly. “We will each -pay half.” - -“But why should you pay half,” said Miss Tremont, in her protesting -voice, “when there are three of us?” - -“I will pay for myself,” said Patience. “Mr. Foord gave me a twenty -dollar gold piece, and I haven’t spent it.” - -“Oh, dear child!” exclaimed Miss Tremont. “As if I’d let you.” - -“Come, get in,” said Miss Beale; “we’ll be snowed under, here.” - -And a few minutes later Patience, on the front seat, was enjoying her -first sleigh-ride. She slid down under the fur robe, and winking the -snow stars from her lashes, looked out eagerly upon Mariaville. The town -rose from the Hudson in a succession of irregular precipitous terraces. -The trees were skeletons, the houses old, but the effect was very -picturesque; and the dancing crystals, the faint music of bells from far -and near, the wide steep streets, delighted a mind magnetic for novelty. - -They left Miss Beale before a pretty house, standing in a frozen garden, -then climbed to the top of a hill, slid away to the edge of the town, -and drew rein before an old-fashioned white one-winged house, which -stood well back in a neglected yard behind walnut-trees and hemlocks. -Beyond, closing the town, were the stark woods. Opposite was a prim -little grove in which the snow stars were dancing. - -“Here we are,” said Miss Tremont, climbing out. “Welcome home, Patience -dear.” She paid the man, and hurried down the path. The door was opened -by an elderly square-faced woman, who looked sharply at Patience, then -smiled graciously. - -“Patience, this is Ellen. She takes good care of me. Come in. Come in.” - -The narrow hall ran through the main building, and was unfurnished but -for a table and the stair. Miss Tremont led the way into a large double -room of comfortable temperature, although no fire was visible. Bright -red curtains covered the windows, a neat black carpet sprinkled with -flowers the floor. The chairs were stiffly arranged, but upholstered -cheerfully, the tables and mantels crowded with an odd assortment of -cheap and handsome ornaments. The papered walls were a mosaic of family -portraits. In the back parlour were a bookcase, a piano piled high with -hymn-books, and a dozen or so queer little pulpit chairs. A door opened -from the front parlour into a faded but hospitable dining-room. - -Patience for the first time in her life experienced the enfolding of the -home atmosphere, an experience denied to many for ever and ever. She -turned impulsively, and throwing her arms about Miss Tremont, kissed and -hugged her. - -“Somehow I feel all made over,” she said apologetically, and getting -very red. “But it is so nice—and you are so nice—and oh, it is all so -different!” - -And Miss Tremont, enraptured, first wished that this forlorn homely -little waif was her very own, then vowed that neither should ever -remember that she was not, and half carried her up to the bedroom -prepared for her, a white fresh little room overlooking the shelving -town. - - - III - -The next afternoon a sewing woman came and cut down an old-fashioned but -handsome fur-lined cloak of Miss Tremont’s to Patience’s diminutive -needs. When Miss Tremont returned home, after a hard day’s work, she -brought with her a hood, a pair of woollen gloves, and a pair of -arctics; and Patience felt that she could weather a New York winter. - -But Patience gave little attention to her clothes. When she was not -watching the snow she was studying the steady stream of people who -called at all hours, and invariably talked “church” and “temperance.” -The atmosphere was so charged with religion that she was haunted by an -uneasy prescience of a violent explosion during which Miss Tremont and -her friends would sail upward, leaving her among the débris. - -Her coat finished, she went in town with Miss Tremont to Temperance -Hall. The snow had ceased to fall. The sun rode solitary on a cold blue -sky, the ground was white and hard. The bare trees glittered in their -crystal garb, icicles jewelled the eaves of the houses. The telegraph -wires, studded with pendent spheres, looked like a vast diamond necklace -of many strings which only Nature was mighty enough to wear. The hills -were snowdrifts. The Hudson, far below, moved sluggishly under great -blocks of ice. The Palisades were black and white. Miss Tremont and -Patience walked rapidly, their frozen breath waving before them in -fantastic shapes. It was all very delightful to Patience, who thrust her -hands into her deep pockets and would have scorned to ride. At times she -danced; new blood, charged with electricity, seemed shooting through her -veins. Miss Tremont’s older teeth clattered occasionally. She bent -forward slightly, her brow contracted over eyes which seemed ever -seeking something, her long legs carrying her swiftly and with -surprising grace. Patience had solved the enigma of her voice after -hearing her pray, and she supposed that her eyes were on loyal watch for -the miseries of the world. - -After a time they descended an almost perpendicular hill to the business -part of the town. Beyond a few level streets the ground rose again, -wooded and thickly built upon. On the left was another hill, which, Miss -Tremont informed her, was Hog Heights, the quarter of the poor. - -The streets in the valley twisted and doubled like the curves of an -angry python. In the centre was a square which might have been called -Rome, since all ways led to it. - -Temperance Hall, a building of Christian-like humility, stood on a back -street flanked by many low-browed shops. On the first floor were the -parlour, reading-room, and refectory, on the second a large hall, on the -third bedrooms. The hall was already half full of boys and girls, kept -in order by the matron, Mrs. Blair, a middle-aged woman with the -expression of one who stands no nonsense. - -“Now, Patience,” said Miss Tremont, “you listen attentively, and next -time you can take Mrs. Blair’s place.” - -The occasion was the weekly assemblage of the Loyal Legion children, who -were being educated in the ways of temperance. Miss Tremont opened with -the Lord’s Prayer, which she invested with all its meaning; then the -children sang from a temperance hymn-book, and the lesson began. Miss -Tremont read a series of questions appurtenant to the inevitable results -of unholy indulgence, to which Mrs. Blair read the answers, which in -turn were repeated by the children. Then they sang “Down with King -Alcohol,” a minister came in and made a dramatic address, and the -children, some of whom were attentive and some extremely naughty, filed -out. - -“I only come on alternate Fridays,” said Miss Tremont, as they went -downstairs; “Sister Beale takes the other. Come and see our -reading-room. These are our boarders,” indicating several prim old maids -that sat in the front room by the window. - -In the dining-room a half dozen tramps were imbibing free soup. The -reading-room was empty. - - - IV - -Before a week had passed Patience was so busy that her old life slept as -heavily as a bear in winter. She passed her difficult examinations and -entered the High School, selecting the three years course, which -included French, German, mathematics, the sciences, literature, and -rhetoric. - -The recesses and evenings were spent in study, the afternoons in -assisting Miss Tremont; occasionally she snatched an hour to write to -her friends in California. Besides the temperance work, she had a class -in the church sewing school, kept the books of various societies, and -occasionally visited the poor on Hog Heights. The work did not interest -her, but she was glad to satisfactorily repay Miss Tremont’s -hospitality. But had she wished to protest she would have realised its -uselessness: she was carried with the tide. It might be said that Miss -Tremont was the tide. Her enthusiasm had no reflex action, and tore -through obstacles like a mill-race. When night came she was so weary -that more than once Patience offered to put her to bed; but the offer -was declined with a curious mixture of religious fervour and hauteur. -Miss Tremont had none of the ordinary vanity of woman, but she resented -the imputation that she could not work for the Lord as ardently at sixty -as she had at forty. - -When she prayed Patience listened with bated breath. A torrent of -eloquence boiled from her lips. All the shortcomings and needs of -unregenerate Mariaville, individual and collective, were laid down with -a vehement precision which could leave the Lord little doubt of His -obligations. The Temperance Cause was rehearsed with a passion which -would have thrilled the devil. Sounding through all was a wholly -unselfconscious note of command, as when one pleads with the pocket of -an intimate friend for some worthy cause. - -Patience saw so many disreputable people at this time that her mother’s -pre-eminence was extinguished. They had a habit of commanding the -hospitalities of Miss Tremont’s barn, sure of two meals and a night’s -lodging. Miss Tremont insisted upon their attendance at evening prayers, -and Patience assumed the task of persuading them to clean up. Her -methods were less gentle than Miss Tremont’s: when they refused to wash -she turned the hose on them. - -Projected suddenly into the dry bracing cold of an eastern winter she -quickly became robust. Before spring had come, her back was straight and -a faint colour was in her rounding cheeks. If there had been time to -think about it, or any one to tell her, she would have discovered that -she was growing pretty. But at this time, despite the distant advances -of the High School boys, Patience found no leisure for vanity. Sometimes -she paused long enough to wonder if she had any individuality left; if -environment was not stronger than heredity after all; if immediate -impressions could not ever efface those of the past, no matter how -deeply the latter may have been etched into the plastic mind. But she -was quite conscious that she was happy, despite the vague restlessness -and longings of youth. She loved Miss Tremont with all the sudden -expansion of a long repressed temperament endowed with a tragic capacity -for passionate affection. In Monterey the iron mould of reserve into -which circumstance had forced her nature, had cramped and warped what -love she had felt for Mr. Foord and Rosita; but in this novel -atmosphere, where love enfolded her, where everybody respected her, and -knew nothing of her past, where there was not a word nor an occurrence -to remind her of the ugly experiences of her young life, she quickly -became a normal being, living, belatedly, along the large and generous -lines of her nature. - -She had no friends of her own age with whom to discuss the problems dear -to the heart of developing woman. The girls at the High School rarely -talked during recess, and she left hurriedly the moment the scholars -were dismissed for the day. The “Y’s” she persistently refused to join, -as well as the young people’s societies of Miss Tremont’s church. - -“I’ll be your helper in everything,” she said to her perplexed guardian; -“but those girls bore me, and, you know, I really haven’t time for -them.” - -And Miss Tremont, despite the fact that Patience gave no sign of -spiritual thaw, was the most doting of old maid parents. After the first -few weeks she ceased to dig in Patience’s soul for the stunted seeds of -Christianity, finding that she only irritated her, and trusting to the -daily sprinkling of habit and example to promote their ultimate growth. - - - V - -With summer came a cessation of school, Loyal Legion, and sewing school -duties; but the Poor took no vacation and gave none. Nevertheless, -Patience had far more leisure, and borrowed many books from the town -library. She read much of Hugo and Balzac and Goethe, and in the new -intellectual delight forgot herself more completely than in her work. - -Moreover, the town was very beautiful in summer, and she spent many -hours rambling along the shadowy streets whose venerable trees shut the -sunlight from the narrow side ways. The gardens too were full of trees; -and the town from a distance looked like a densely wooded hillside, a -riot of green, out of which housetops showed like eggs in a nest. Over -some of the steep old streets the maples met, growing denser and denser -down in the perspective, until closed by the flash of water. - -The woods on the slope of the Hudson were thick with great trees -dropping a leafy curtain before the brilliant river, and full of -isolated nooks where a girl could read and dream, unsuspected of the -chance pedestrian. - -After one long drowsy afternoon by a brook in a hollow of the woods, -Patience returned home to find a carriage standing before the door. It -was a turnout of extreme elegance. The grey horses were thoroughbreds; a -coachman in livery sat on the box; a footman stood on the sidewalk. She -looked in wonder. Miss Tremont had no time for the fine people of -Mariaville, and they had ceased to call on her long since. Moreover, -Patience knew every carriage in the town, and this was not of them. - -She went rapidly into the house, youthfully eager for a new experience. -Miss Tremont was seated on the sofa in the front parlour, holding the -hand of a tall handsomely gowned woman. Patience thought, as she stood -for a moment unobserved, that she had never seen so cold a face. It was -the face of a woman of fifty, oval and almost regular. The mouth was a -straight line. The clear pale eyes looked like the reflection of the -blue atmosphere on icicles. The skin was as smooth as a girl’s, the -brown hair parted and waved, the tall figure slender and superbly -carried. She was smiling and patting Miss Tremont’s hand, but there was -little light in her eyes. - -As Patience entered, she turned her head and regarded her without -surprise; she had evidently heard of her. Miss Tremont’s face illumined, -and she held out her hand. - -“This is Patience,” she said triumphantly. “I haven’t told you half -about the dear child. Patience, this is my cousin, Mrs. Gardiner Peele.” - -Mrs. Gardiner Peele bent her head patronisingly, and Patience hated her -violently. - -“I am glad you have a companion,” said the lady, coldly. “But how is it -you haven’t the white ribbon on her?” - -Miss Tremont blushed. “Oh, I can’t control Patience in all things,” she -said, in half angry deprecation. “She just won’t wear the ribbon.” - -Mrs. Peele smiled upon Patience for the first time. It was a wintry -light, but it bespoke approval. “I wish she could make you take it off,” -she said to her relative. “That dreadful, dreadful _badge_. How can you -wear it?—you—” - -“Now, cousin,” said Miss Tremont, laughing good-naturedly, “we won’t go -over all that again. You know I’m a hopeless crank. All I can do is to -pray for you.” - -“Thank you. I don’t doubt I need it, although I attend church quite as -regularly as you could wish.” - -“I know you are good,” said Miss Tremont, with enthusiasm, “and of -course I don’t expect everybody to be as interested in Temperance as I -am. But I do wish you loved the world less and the Lord more.” - -Mrs. Peele gave a low, well modulated laugh. “Now, Harriet, I want you -to be worldly for a few minutes. I have brought you back two new gowns -from Paris, and I want you, when you come to visit me next week, to wear -them. I have had them trimmed with white ribbon bows so that no one will -notice one more or less—” - -“I’m not ashamed of my white ribbon,” flashed out Miss Tremont, then -relented. “You dear good Honora. Yes, I’ll wear them if they’re not too -fashionable.” - -“Oh, I studied your style. And let me tell you, Harriet Tremont, that -fashionable gowns are what you should be wearing. It does provoke me so -to see you—” - -But Miss Tremont leaned over and kissed her short. “Now what’s the use -of talking to an old crank like me? I’m a humble servant of my dear -Lord, and I couldn’t be anything else if I had a million. But you dear -thing, I’m so glad to see you once more. You do look so well. Tell me -all about the children.” - -Patience, quite forgotten, listened to the conversation with deep -interest. There was a vague promise of variety in this new advent. As -she watched the woman, who seemed to have brought with her something of -the atmosphere of all that splendid existence of which she had longingly -read, she was stirred with a certain dissatisfaction: some dormant chord -was struck—as on the day she drove by Del Monte. When Mrs. Peele arose -to go, she thought that not Balzac himself had ever looked upon a more -elegant woman. Even Patience’s untrained eye recognised that those long -simple folds, those so quiet textures, were of French woof and make. And -the woman’s carriage was like unto that of the fictional queen. She -nodded carelessly to Patience, and swept out. When Miss Tremont returned -after watching her guest drive away, Patience pounced upon her. - -“_Who_ is she?” she demanded. “And _why_ didn’t you tell me you had such -a swell for a cousin?” - -“Did I never tell you?” asked Miss Tremont, wonderingly. “Why, I was -sure I had often talked of Honora. But I’m so busy I suppose I forgot.” - -She sat down and fanned herself, smiling. “Honora Tremont is my first -cousin. We used to be great friends until she married a rich man and -became so dreadfully fashionable. The Lord be praised, she has always -loved me; but she lives a great deal abroad, and spends her winters, -when she is here, in New York. They have a beautiful place on the -Hudson, Peele Manor, that has been in the family for nearly three -hundred years. Mr. Peele is an eminent lawyer. I don’t know him very -well. He doesn’t talk much; I suppose he has to talk so much in Court. -I’ve not seen the children for a year. I always thought them pretty -badly spoiled, particularly Beverly. May isn’t very bright. But I always -liked Hal—short for Harriet, after me—better than any of them. She is -about nineteen now. May is eighteen and Beverly twenty-four. - -“Then there is Honora, cousin Honora’s sister Mary’s child, and the -tallest woman I ever saw. Her parents died when she was a little thing -and left her without a dollar. Honora took her, and has treated her like -her own children. Sometimes I think she is very much under her -influence. I don’t know why, but I never liked her. She is Beverly’s -age. Oh!” she burst out, “just think! I have got to go to Peele Manor -for a week. I promised. I couldn’t help it. And oh, I do dread it. They -are all so different, and they don’t sympathise with my work. Much as I -love them I’m always glad to get away. Wasn’t it kind and good of her to -bring me two dresses from Paris?” - -Patience shrewdly interpreted the prompting of Mrs. Peele’s generosity, -but made no comment. - -Miss Tremont drew a great sigh: “My temperance work—my poor—what will -they do without me? Maria Twist gets so mad when I don’t read the Bible -to her twice a week. Patience, you will have to stay in Temperance Hall. -I shouldn’t like to think of you here alone. I do wish Honora had asked -you too—” - -“I wouldn’t go for worlds. When do you think your dresses will come? I -do so want to see a real Paris dress.” - -“She said they’d come to-morrow. Oh, to think of wearing stiff tight -things. Well, if they are uncomfortable or too stylish I just won’t wear -them, that’s all.” - -“You just will, auntie dear. You’ll not look any less fine than those -people, or I’ll not go near Hog Heights.” - -Miss Tremont kissed her, grateful for the fondness displayed. “Well, -well, we’ll see,” she said. - -But the next day, when the two handsome black gowns lay on the bed of -the spare room, she shook her head with flashing eyes. - -“I won’t wear those things,” she cried. “Why, they were made for a -society woman, not for an humble follower of the Lord. I should be -miserable in them.” - -Patience, who had been hovering over the gowns,—one of silk grenadine -trimmed with long loops of black and white ribbon, the other of satin -with a soft knot of white ribbon on the shoulder and another at the back -of the high collar,—came forward and firmly divested Miss Tremont of -her alpaca. She lifted the heavy satin gown with reverent hands and -slipped it over Miss Tremont’s head, then hooked it with deft fingers. - -“There!” she exclaimed. “You look like a swell at last. Just what you -ought to look like.” - -Miss Tremont glanced at the mirror with a brief spasm of youthful -vanity. The rich fashionable gown became her long slender figure, her -unconscious pride of carriage, far better than did her old alpaca and -merino frocks. But she shook her head immediately, her eyes flashing -under a quick frown. - -“The idea of perching a white bow like a butterfly on my shoulder and -another at the back of my neck, as if I had a scar. It’s an insult to -the white ribbon. And this collar would choke me. I can’t breathe. Take -it off! Take it off!” - -“Not until I have admired you some more. You look just grand. If the -collar is too high, I’ll send for Mrs. Best, and we’ll cut it off and -sew some soft black stuff in the neck—although I just hate to. Auntie -dear, don’t you think you could stand it?” - -Miss Tremont shook her head with decision. “I couldn’t. It hurts my old -throat. And how could I ever bend my head to get at my soup? And these -bows make me feel actually cross. If the dress can be made comfortable -I’ll wear it, for I’ve no right to disgrace Honora, nor would I hurt her -feelings by scorning her gowns; but I’ll not stand any such mockery as -these flaunting white things.” - -Patience exchanged the satin for the grenadine gown. This met with more -tolerance at first, as the throat was finished with soft folds, and the -white ribbon was less demonstrative. - -“It floats so,” said Patience, ecstatically. “Oh, auntie, you _are_ a -beauty.” - -“I a beauty with my ugly scowling old face? But this thing is like a -ball dress, Patience—this thin stuff! I prefer the satin.” - -“You will wear this on the hot evenings. All thin things are not made -for the ball-room. You needn’t look at yourself like that. I only wish -I’d ever be half as pretty. Auntie, why didn’t you ever marry?” - -Miss Tremont’s face worked after all the years. Memories could not die -in so uniform a nature. - -“My youth was very sad,” she said, turning away abruptly. “I only talk -about it with the dear Lord.” And Patience asked no more questions. - - - VI - -The dressmaker was sent for, and the satin gown divested of its collar. -Miss Tremont ruthlessly clipped off the beautiful French bows and sewed -a tiny one of narrow white ribbon in a conspicuous place on the left -chest. The grenadine was decorated in like manner. Patience wailed, and -then laughed as she thought of Mrs. Gardiner Peele. She wished she might -be there to see that lady’s face. - -Miss Tremont changed her mind four times as to the possibility of -leaving Mariaville for a week of sinful idleness, before she was finally -assisted into the train by Patience’s firm hand. Even then she abruptly -left her seat and started for the door. But the train was moving. -Patience saw her resume her seat with an impatient twitch of her -shoulders. - -“Poor auntie,” she thought, as she walked up the street; “but on the -whole I think I pity Mrs. Peele more.” - -Her bag had been sent to Temperance Hall, and she went directly there, -and to her own room. As the day was very warm, she exchanged her frock -for a print wrapper, then extended herself on the bed with “’93.” It was -her duty to assuage the wrath of Maria Twist, but she made up her mind -that for twenty-four hours she would shirk every duty on her calendar. - -But she had failed to make allowance for the net of circumstance. She -had not turned ten pages when she heard the sound of agitated footsteps -in the hall. A moment later Mrs. Blair opened the door unceremoniously. -Her usually placid face was much perturbed. - -“Oh, Miss Patience,” she said, “I’m in such a way. Late last night a -poor man fell at the door, and I took him in as there was no policeman -around. I thought he was only ill, but it seems he was drunk. He’s been -awake now for two hours, and is awful bad—not drunk, but suffering.” - -“Why don’t you send for the doctor?” asked Patience, lazily. - -“I have, but he’s gone to New York and won’t be back till night. The man -says he can doctor himself—that all he wants is whisky; but of course I -can’t give him that. Do come over and talk to him. Miss Beale is over at -White Plains, and I don’t know what to do.” - -Patience rose reluctantly and followed the matron to the side of the -house reserved for men. As she went down the hall she heard groans and -sharp spasmodic cries. Mrs. Blair opened a door, and Patience saw an -elderly man lying in the bed. His grey hair and beard were ragged, his -eyes dim and bleared, his long, well-cut but ignoble face was greenishly -pale. He was very weak, and lay clutching at the bed clothes with limp -hairy hands. As he saw the matron his eyes lit up with resentment. - -“I didn’t come here to be murdered,” he ejaculated. “It’s the last place -I’d have come to if I’d known what I was doing. But I tell you that if I -don’t have a drink of whisky I’ll be a dead man in an hour.” - -“I can’t give you that,” said Mrs. Blair, desperately. “And you know you -only think you need it, anyhow. We try to make men overcome their -terrible weakness; we don’t encourage them.” - -“That’s all right, but you can’t reform a man when his inside is on fire -and feels as if it were dropping out—but my God! I can’t argue with -you, damn you. Give it to me.” - -“I’m of the opinion that he ought to have it,” said Patience. - -The man turned to her eagerly. “Bless you,” he said. “It’s not the taste -of it I’m craving, miss; it’s relief from this awful agony. If you give -it to me, I swear I’ll try never to touch a drop again after I get over -this spree. It’ll be bad enough to break off then, but it’s death now.” - -Mrs. Blair looked at him with pity, but shook her head. - -“I’ve been here seven years,” she said to Patience, “and the ladies have -yet to find one fault with me. I don’t dare give it to him. Besides, I -don’t believe in it. How can what’s killing him cure him? And it’s a -sin. Even if the ladies excused me—which they wouldn’t—I’d never -forgive myself.” - -“I’ll take the responsibility,” said Patience. “I believe that man will -die if he doesn’t have whisky.” - -The man groaned and tossed his arms. “Oh, my God!” he cried. - -Mrs. Blair shuddered. “Oh, I don’t know, miss. If you will take the -responsibility—I can’t give it to him—where could you get it?” - -“At a drug store.” - -“They won’t sell it to you—we’ve got a law passed, you know.” - -“Then I’ll go to a saloon.” - -“Oh, my! my!” cried Mrs. Blair, “you’d never do that?” - -“The man is in agony. Can’t you see? I’m going this minute.” - -The door opened, and Miss Beale entered. She looked warm and tired, but -came forward with active step, and stood beside the bed. A spasm of -disgust crossed her face. “What is the matter, my man?” she asked. “I am -sorry to see you here.” - -“Give me whisky,” groaned the man. - -Miss Beale turned away with twitching mouth. - -“The man is dying. Nothing but whisky can save him,” said Patience. “If -you called a doctor he would tell you the same thing.” - -“What?” said Miss Beale, coldly, “do you suppose that he can have whisky -in Temperance Hall? Is that what we are here for? You must be crazy.” - -“But you don’t want him to die on your hands, do you?” exclaimed -Patience, who was losing her temper. - -“My God!” screeched the man, “I am in Hell.” - -“My good man,” said Miss Beale, gently, “it is for us to save you from -Hell, not to send you there.” - -“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” His voice died to an inarticulate -murmur; but he writhed, and doubled, and twisted, as men may have done -when fanatics tortured in the name of religion. - -“Good heavens, Miss Beale,” cried Patience, excitedly, “you can’t set -yourself up in opposition to nature. That man must have whisky. If he -were younger and stronger it wouldn’t matter so much; but can’t you see -he hasn’t strength to resist the terrible strain? The torture is killing -him, eating out his life—” - -“Oh, it is terrible!” exclaimed the matron. “Perhaps it is best—” - -“Mrs. Blair!” Miss Beale turned upon her in consternation. Then she bent -over the man. - -“You can’t have whisky,” she said gently; “not if I thought you were -really dying would I give it to you. If it is the Lord’s will that you -are to die here you must abide by it. I shall not permit you to further -imperil your soul. Nor could that which has not the blessing of God on -it be of benefit to you. Alcohol is a destroyer, both of soul and of -body—not a medicine.” - -The man’s knees suddenly shot up to his chest; but he raised his head -and darted at her a glance of implacable hate. - -“Damn you,” he stuttered. “Murderer—” Then he extended rigid arms and -clutched the bed clothes, his body twitching uncontrollably. - -Miss Beale looked upon him with deep compassion. “Poor thing,” she -exclaimed, “is not this enough to warn all men from that fiend?” She -laid her hand on the man’s head, but he shook it off with an oath. - -“Whisky,” he cried. “O my God! Have these women—_women!_—no pity?” - -“I’m going for whisky—” said Patience. - -Miss Beale stepped swiftly to the door, locked it, and slipped the key -into her pocket. - -“You will buy no whisky,” she said sternly. “I will save you from that -sin.” Suddenly her face lit up. “I will pray,” she said solemnly, “I -will pray that this poor lost creature may recover, and lead a better -life—” - -“I swear I’ll never touch another drop after I’m out of this if you’ll -give it to me now—” - -“If it be the Lord’s will that you shall live you will not die,” said -Miss Beale. “I will pray, and in His mercy He may let you live to -repent.” - -She fell upon her knees by the bed, and clasping her hands, prayed -aloud; while the man reared and plunged and groaned and cursed, his -voice and body momentarily weaker. Miss Beale’s prayers were always very -long and very fervid. She was not eloquent, but her deep tear-voiced -earnestness was most impressive; and never more so than to-day, when she -flung herself before the throne of Grace with a lost soul in her hand. A -light like a halo played upon her spiritualised face, her voice became -ineffably sweet. Gradually, in her ecstatic communion with, her intimate -nearness to her God, she forgot the man on the bed, forgot the flesh -which prisoned her soaring soul, was conscious only of the divine light -pouring through her, the almost palpable touch of her lover’s hand. - -Suddenly Patience exclaimed brutally: “The man is dead.” - -Miss Beale arose with a start. She drew the sheet gently over the -distorted face. “It is the Lord’s will,” she said. - -After Patience was in her own room and had relieved her feelings by -slamming the door, she sat for a long time staring at the pattern of the -carpet and pondering upon the problem of Miss Beale. - -“Well,” she thought finally, “_she’s_ happy, so I suppose it’s all -right. No wonder she’s satisfied with herself when she lives up to her -ideals as consistently as that. I think I’ll label all the different -forms of selfishness I come across. There seems to be a large variety, -but all put together don’t seem to be a patch to having fun with your -ideals. Miss Beale would be the most wretched woman in Westchester -county if she’d given that man whisky and saved his life.” - - - VII - -The man was buried with Christian service at Miss Beale’s expense, and -her serene face wore no shadow. The following day she said to Patience: -“I spent nearly all of the last two nights in prayer, and I almost heard -the Lord’s voice as He told me I did right.” - -“You ought to write a novel,” said Patience, drily, but the sarcasm was -lost. In a moment Patience forgot Miss Beale: the postman handed her two -letters, and she went up to her room to read them. - -The first she opened was from Miss Tremont. - - PEELE MANOR, Friday. - - Oh my dear darling little girl, how I wish, _how_ I wish I were - with you and my work once more. I ought to be happy because they - are all so kind, but I’m not. I feel as if I were throwing away - one of the few precious weeks I have left to give to the Lord - (arrange for a prayer meeting on Wednesday, the day of my - return, and we’ll have a regular feast of manna). Do you miss - me? I think of you every moment. You should have seen dear - Cousin Honora’s face when I came down to dinner in the black - satin. She didn’t say anything, she just _looked_ at the bow, - and I felt sorry for her. But I know I am right. Hal giggled and - winked at me. (I do love Hal!) Honora Mairs said so sweetly - after Cousin Honora had left the room: “Dear Cousin Harriet, I - think you are so brave and consistent to wear the little white - bow of your cause. It is so _like_ you.” Was not that sweet of - her? Beverly has very heavy eyebrows, and he raised them at my - ribbon, and turned away his head as if it hurt his eyes. He is a - very elegant young gentleman, and his mother says he is a great - stickler for form, whatever that may mean. (They speak a - different language here anyway. I don’t understand half what - they say. Hal talks slang all the time.) I don’t like Beverly as - much as I did, although he’s quite the handsomest young man I - ever saw and very polite; but he smokes cigarettes all the time - and big black cigars. When I told him that five hundred million - dollars were spent annually on tobacco, he got up and went off - in a huff. May is just a talkative child—I never heard any one - talk so much in my life,—and about nothing but gowns and young - men and balls and the opera. Beverly talks about horses all the - time, and Hal thinks a great deal of society, although she - listens to me very sweetly when I talk to her about my work. - Yesterday she said: “Why, Cousin Harriet, you’re a regular steam - engine. It must be jolly good fun to carry a lot of sinners to - heaven on an express train.” I told her it was a freight train, - and it certainly is, as you know, Patience dear. She replied: - “Well, if you get there all the same, a century more or less - doesn’t make any difference. You must be right in it with the - Lord.” That was the only time I’d heard the dear Lord’s name - mentioned since I arrived, so I didn’t scold her. But Patience, - dear, I hope you’ll never use slang. I’ve talked to Hal about - you, and she says she’s coming to see you. - - Honora doesn’t use slang. She is very stately and dignified, and - Cousin Honora (it’s very awkward when you’re writing for two - people to have the same name, isn’t it?) holds her up as a model - for the girls. Hal and she _fight_. I can’t call it anything - else, although Honora doesn’t lose her temper and Hal does. Hal - said to me (of Honora) yesterday (I use her own words, although - they’re awful; but if I didn’t I couldn’t give you the same idea - of her): “She’s a d—— hypocrite: and she wants to marry - Beverly, but she won’t,—not if I have to turn matchmaker and - marry him to a variety actress. She makes me wild. I wish she’d - elope with the priest, but she’s too confoundedly clever.” Isn’t - it dreadful—Honora is a Catholic. She became converted last - year. Perhaps that’s the reason I can’t like her. But even the - Catholic religion teaches charity, for she said to me this - morning: “Poor Hal is really a good-hearted child, but she’s - worldly and just a little superficial.” - - They haven’t any company this week—how kind of Cousin Honora to - ask me when they are alone! I wish you were here to enjoy the - library. It is a great big room overlooking the river, and the - walls are covered with books—three or four generations of them. - Mr. Peele is intellectual, and so is Honora; but the others - don’t read much, except Hal, who reads dreadful-looking yellow - paper books written in the French language which she says are - “corkers,” whatever that may mean. I do wish the dear child - would read her Bible. I asked her if I gave her a copy if she’d - promise me to read a little every day, and she said she would, - as some of the stories were as good as a French novel. So I - shall buy her one. - - We sit in the library every evening. In the morning we sit in - the Tea House on the slope and Honora embroiders Catholic Church - things, Cousin Honora knits (she says it’s all the fashion), May - _talks_, and Hal reads her yellow books and tells May to “let - up.” I sew for my poor, and they don’t seem to mind that as much - as the white ribbon. They say that they always sew for the poor - in Lent. Hal says it is the “swagger thing.” In the afternoon we - drive, and I do think it such a waste of time to be going, going - nowhere for two hours. - - Well, Patience, I shall be with you on Wednesday, praise the - Lord. Come to the train and meet me, and be sure to write me - about _everything_. How is Polly Jones, and old Mrs. Murphy, and - Belinda Greggs? Have you read to Maria Twist, and taken the - broth to old Jonas Hobb? Give my love to dear sister Beale, and - tell her I pray for her. With a kiss from your old auntie, God - bless you, - - HARRIET TREMONT. - -“Dear old soul,” thought Patience. “I think I know them better than she -does, already. She is worth the whole selfish crowd; but I should like -to know Hal. Beverly must be a chump.” - - - VIII - -The other letter was from Rosita. Patience had not heard from her for a -long while. Three months previously, Mr. Foord had written of Mrs. -Thrailkill’s death, and mentioned that Rosita had gone to Sacramento to -visit Miss Galpin—now Mrs. Trent—until her uncle, who had returned to -Kentucky, should send for her. - - Oh, Patita! Patita! [the letter began], what do you think? _I am - on the stage._ I had been crazy to go on ever since _that - night_. A theatrical man was in Monterey just before mamma’s - death, and he told me they were always wanting pretty corus - girls at the Tivoli; so after the funeral I told everybody I was - going to stay with Miss Galpin until Uncle Jim sent for me—I - hated to lie, but I had to—and I went up to San Francisco and - went right to the Tivoli. He took me because he said I was - pretty and had a fresh voice. I had to ware tights. You should - have seen me. At first I felt all the time like stooping over to - cover up my legs with my arms. But after a while I got used to - it, and one night we had to dance, and everybody said I was the - most graceful. The manager said I was a born dancer and actress. - The other day what do you think happened? A New York manager was - here and heard me sing,—I had a little part by that time,—and - he told me that if I took lessons I could be a prima donna in - comic opera. He said I not only was going to have a lovely - voice, but that I had a new style (Spanish) and would take in - New York. He offered to send me to Paris for a year and then - bring me out in New York if I’d give him my word—I’m too young - to sign a contract—that I wouldn’t go with any other manager. - At first my manager, who is a good old sole (I didn’t tell you - that I live with him and his wife, and that their awful good to - me and stand the fellers off), wouldn’t have it; but after a - while he gave in—said I’d have to go the pace sooner or later - (whatever that means), and I might as well go it in first class - style. His wife, the good old sole, cried. She said I was the - first corus girl she’d ever taken an interest in, but somehow it - would be on her conscience if I went wrong. But I’m not going - wrong. I don’t care a bit for men. There was a bald-headed old - fool who used to come and sit in the front row every night and - throw kisses to me, and one night he threw me a bouquet with a - bracelet in it. I wore the bracelet, for it was a beauty with a - big diamond in it; but I never looked at him or answered any of - his notes, and Mr. Bell—the manager—wrote him he’d punch his - head if he came near the stage door. No, all I want is to act, - act, act, and sing, sing, sing, and dance, dance, dance, and - have beautiful cloths and jewels and a carriage and two horses. - Mr. Soper has told me ten times since I’ve met him that “virtue - in an actress pays,” and he’s going to send a horrid old woman - with me to Paris, as if I’d bother with the fools anyhow. I’m - sure I can’t see what Mrs. Bell cries about if I’m going to be - famous and make a lot of money. Anyhow, I’m going. I do so want - to see you, Patita dear. Maybe you can come up to the steamer - and see me off. I wonder if you have changed. I’m not so very - tall; but they all say my figure is good. Mr. Soper says it will - be divine in a year or two, but that I may be a cow at thirty, - so I’d better not lose any time. Good-bye. Good-bye. I want to - give you a hundred kisses. How different our lives are! Isn’t - yours dreadfully stupid with that old temprance work? And just - think it was you who taught me to act first! Mr. Soper says I - must cultivate the Spanish racket for all it’s worth, and that - he expects me to be more Spanish in New York than I was in - Monterey. He is going to get an opera written for me with the - part of a Spanish girl in it so I can wear the costume. He says - if I study and do everything he tells me I’ll make a _furore_. - _Hasta luego_—Patita _mia_. - - ROSITA ELVIRA FRANCESCA THRAILKILL. - - P. S.—I’m to have a Spanish stage name, “La Rosita,” I guess. - Mr. Soper says that Thrailkill is an “anti-climax,” and would - never “go down.” - - - IX - -Patience read this letter with some alarm. All that she had heard and -read of the stage made her apprehensive. She feared that Rosita would -become fast, would drink and smoke, and not maintain a proper reserve -with men. Then the natural independence of her character asserted -itself, and she felt pride in Rosita’s courage and promptness of action. -She even envied her a little: her life would be so full of variety. - -“And after all it’s fate,” she thought philosophically. “She was cut out -for the stage if ever a girl was. You might as well try to keep a bird -from using its wings, or Miss Beale and auntie from being Temperance. I -wonder what my fate is. It’s not the stage, but it’s not this, -neither—not much. Shouldn’t wonder if I made a break for Mr. Field some -day. But I couldn’t leave auntie. She’s the kind that gets a hold on -you.” - -She did her duty by Hog Heights during Miss Tremont’s brief holiday, but -did it as concisely as was practicable. She found it impossible to -sympathise with people that were content to let others support them, -giving nothing in return. Her strong independent nature despised -voluntary weakness. It was her private opinion that these useless -creatures with only the animal instinct to live, and not an ounce of -grey matter in their skulls, encumbered the earth, and should be quietly -chloroformed. - -Despite her love for Miss Tremont, she breathed more freely in her -absence. She was surfeited with religion, and at times possessed with a -very flood of revolt and the desire to let it loose upon every church -worker in Mariaville. But affection and gratitude restrained her. - - - X - -Miss Tremont returned on Wednesday morning. She stepped off the train -with a bag under one arm, a bundle under the other, and both arms full -of flowers. - -“Oh, you darling, you darling!” she cried as she fell upon Patience. -“How it does my heart good to see you! These are for you. Hal picked -them, and sent her love. Aren’t they sweet?” - -“Lovely,” said Patience, crushing the flowers as she hugged and kissed -Miss Tremont. “Here, give me the bag.” - -Miss Tremont would go to Temperance Hall first, then to call upon Miss -Beale, but was finally guided to her home. The trunk had preceded them. -Patience unpacked the despised gowns, while listening to a passionate -dissertation upon the heavy trial they had been to their owner. - -“I think you had a good time all the same,” she said. “You look as if -you’d had, at any rate. You’ve not looked so well since I came. That -sort of thing agrees with you better than tramping over Hog Heights—” - -“It does not!” cried Miss Tremont. “And I am so glad to get back to my -work and my little girl.” - -“And the Lord,” supplemented Patience. - -“Oh, He was with me even there. Only He didn’t feel so near.” She sighed -reminiscently. “But I’ve brought pictures of the children to show you. -Let us go down to the parlour where it’s cooler, and then we’ll stand -them in a row on the mantel. They’re the first pictures I’ve had of them -in years.” She caught a package from the tray of her trunk, in her usual -abrupt fashion, and hurried downstairs, Patience at her heels. - -Miss Tremont seated herself in her favourite upright chair, put on her -spectacles, and opened the package. “This is Hal,” she said, handing one -of the photographs to Patience. “I must show you her first, for she’s my -pet.” - -Patience examined the photograph eagerly. It was a half length of a girl -with a straight tilted nose, a small mouth with a downward droop at the -corners, large rather prominent eyes, and sleek hair which was in -keeping with her generally well-groomed appearance. She wore a tailor -frock. Her slender erect figure was beautifully poised. In one hand she -carried a lorgnette. She was not pretty, but her expression was frank -and graceful, and she had much distinction. - -“I like her. Any one could see she was a swell. What colour hair has -she?” - -“Oh, a kind of brown. Her eyes are a sort of grey. Here is May. She -always has her photographs coloured.” - -“Oh, she’s a beauty!” The girl even in photograph showed an exquisite -bit of flesh and blood. The large blue eyes were young and appealing -under soft fall of lash. The mouth was small and red, the nose small and -straight. Chestnut hair curled about the small head and oval face. The -skin was like tinted jade. It was the face of the American aftermath. -She wore a ball gown revealing a slender girlish neck and a throat of -tender curves. - -“She is a real beauty,” said Miss Tremont. “Poor Hal says, ‘she can’t -wear her neck because she hasn’t got any.’ Did you ever hear such an -expression?” - -“Hal looks as if she had a good figure.” - -Miss Tremont shook her head. “I don’t approve of all Hal does—she pads. -She doesn’t seem to care much who knows it, for when the weather’s very -warm she takes them out, right before your eyes, so it isn’t so bad as -if she were deceitful about it. Here is Beverly.” - -Patience looked long at the young man’s face. This face too was oval, -with a high intellectual forehead, broad black brows, and very regular -features. The mouth appeared to pout beneath the drooping moustache. The -expression of the eyes was very sweet. It was a strong handsome face, -high-bred like the others, but with a certain nobility lacking in the -women. - -“He is said to be the handsomest young man in Westchester County, and -he’s quite dark,” said Miss Tremont. “What do you think of him?” - -“He is rather handsome. Where is Honora?” - -“She never has pictures taken. But, dear me, I must go out and see -Ellen.” - -Patience disposed the photographs on the mantel, then, leaning on her -elbows, gazed upon Beverly Peele. The Composite, Byron, the Stranger, -rattled their bones unheard. She concluded that no knight of olden time -could ever have been so wholly satisfactory as this young man. Romance, -who had been boxed about the ears, and sent to sleep, crept to her old -throne with a sly and meaning smile. Patience began at once to imagine -her meeting with Beverly Peele. She would be in a runaway carriage, and -he would rescue her. She would be skating and fall in a hole, and he -would pull her out. He would be riding to hounds in his beautiful pink -coat (which was red) and run over her. - -She pictured his face with a variety of expressions. She was sure that -he had the courage of a lion and the tenderness of some women. -Unquestionably he had read his ancestors’ entire library—“with that -forehead,”—and he probably had the high and mighty air of her favourite -heroes of fiction. In one of her letters Miss Tremont had remarked that -he loved children and animals; therefore he had a beautiful character -and a kind heart. And she was glad to have heard that he also had a -temper: it saved him from being a prig. Altogether, Patience, with the -wisdom of sixteen and three quarters, was quite convinced that she had -found her ideal, and overlooked its extreme unlikeness to the Composite, -which was the only ideal she had ever created. A woman’s ideal is the -man she is in love with for the time being. - -She went up to her room, and for the first time in her life critically -examined herself in the mirror. With May Peele and one or two beauties -of the High School in mind, she decided with a sigh that _she_ was no -beauty. - -“But who knows,” she thought with true insight, “what I’d be with -clothes? Who could be pretty in a calico dress? My nose is as straight -as May’s, anyhow, and my upper lip as short. But to be a real beauty -you’ve got to have blue eyes and golden or chestnut hair and a little -mouth, or else black eyes and hair like Rosita’s. My eyes are only grey, -and my hair’s the colour of ashes, as Rosita once remarked. There’s no -getting over that, although it certainly has grown a lot since I came -here.” - -Then she remembered that Rosita had once decorated her with red ribbons -and assured her that they were becoming. She ran down to the best spare -room, and, divesting a tidy of its scarlet bows, pinned them upon -herself before the mirror, which she discovered was more becoming than -her own. The brilliant colour was undoubtedly improving—“And, my -goodness!” she exclaimed suddenly, “I do believe I haven’t got a freckle -left. It must be the climate.” - -“What on earth are you doing?” said an abrupt voice from the doorway. - -Patience started guiltily, and restored the bows to the tidy. - -“Oh, you see,” she stammered, “May is so pretty I wanted to see if I -could be a little less homely.” Patience was truthful by nature, but the -woman does not live that will not lie under purely feminine provocation. -Otherwise she would not be worthy to bear the hallowed name of woman. - -“Nonsense,” said Miss Tremont, crossly, “I thought you were above that -kind of foolishness. You, must remember that you are as the Lord made -you, and be thankful that you were not born a negro or a Chinaman.” - -“Oh, I am,” said Patience. - - - XI - -Thereafter, Patience roamed the woods munching chestnuts and dreaming of -Beverly Peele. Hugo and Balzac and Goethe were neglected. Her brain wove -thrilling romances of its own, especially in the night to the sound of -rain. She never emerged from the woods without a shortening of the -breath; but even Hal did not pay the promised call; nor did Beverly dash -through the streets in a pink coat, a charger clasped between his knees. - -“Well, it’s fun to be in love, anyhow,” she thought. “I’ll meet him some -time, I know.” - -Much to her regret she was not permitted to go to New York to see Rosita -off. Miss Tremont had a morbid horror of the stage, and after Patience’s -exhibition of vanity was convinced that “actress creatures” would exert -a pernicious influence. - -And, shortly after, Patience received news which made her forget Rosita -and even Beverly Peele for a while. Mr. Foord was dead. Patience had -hoarded his twenty dollar gold piece because he had given it to her. She -bought a black hat and frock with it, and felt as sad as she could at -that age of shifting impressions. A later mail brought word that he had -left her John Sparhawk’s library, which could stay in the Custom House -until she was able to send for it, and a few hundred dollars which would -remain in a savings bank until she was eighteen. He had nothing else to -leave except his books, which went to found a town library. All but -those few hundreds had been sunken in an annuity. Miss Tremont was quite -content to be overlooked in the girl’s favour. - -By the time Patience was ready to return to Beverly Peele the new term -opened, and the uncompromising methods of the High School left no time -for romance. Once more her ambition to excel became paramount, and she -studied night and day. She had no temptation to dissipate, for she was -not popular with the young people of Mariaville. The Y’s disapproved of -her because she would not don the white ribbon; and the church girls, -generally, felt that except when perfunctorily assisting Miss Tremont -she held herself aloof, even at the frequent sociables. And they were -scandalised because she did not join the church, nor the King’s -Daughters, nor the Christian Endeavor. - -The High School scholars liked her because she was “square,” and -cordially admired her cleverness; but there were no recesses in the -ordinary sense, and after school Miss Tremont claimed her. Even the boys -“had no show,” as they phrased it. Occasionally they lent her a hand on -the ice; but like all Californians, she bitterly felt the cold of her -second winter, and in her few leisure hours preferred the fire. - -Sometimes she looked at Beverly Peele’s picture with a sigh and some -resentment. “But never mind,” she would think philosophically, “I can -fall in love with him over again next summer.” When vacation came she -did in a measure take up the broken threads of her romance, but they had -somewhat rotted from disuse. - -Rosita wrote every few weeks, reporting hard work and unbounded hope. -“The _dueña_,” as she called her companion, “was an old devil,” and -never let her go out alone, nor receive a man; but she “didn’t care,” -she had no time for nonsense, anyhow. She was learning her part in the -Spanish opera, which had been written for her, and it was “lovely.” - -“It must be a delightful sensation to have your future assured at -seventeen,” thought Patience. “Mine is as problematical as the outcome -of the Temperance cause. I have had one unexpected change, and may have -more. If it were not for Rosita’s letters I should almost forget those -sixteen years in California. I certainly am not the same person. I -haven’t lost my temper for a year and a half, and I don’t seem to be -disturbed any more by vague yearnings. Life is too practical, I -suppose.” - -Miss Tremont did not visit the Gardiner Peeles this summer: they spent -the season in travel. Late in the fall Rosita returned to America. She -wrote the day before she sailed. That was the last letter Patience -received from her. Later she sent a large envelope full of clippings -descriptive of her triumphal début; thereafter nothing whatever. -Patience, supposing herself forgotten, anathematised her old friend -wrathfully, but pride forbade her to write and demand an explanation. - -She noticed with spasms of terror that Miss Tremont was failing. The -rush and worry of a lifetime had worn the blood white, and the -nerve-force down like an old wharf pile. But Miss Tremont would not -admit that she had lost an ounce of strength. She arose at the same hour -and toiled until late. When Patience begged her to take care of herself, -she became almost querulous, and all Patience could do was to anticipate -her in every possible way. But when school reopened she had little time -for anything but study. She was to finish in June, and the last year’s -course was very difficult. - -She graduated with flying colours, and Miss Tremont was so proud and -excited that she took a day’s vacation. A week later Patience hinted -that she thought she should be earning her own living; but Miss Tremont -would not even discuss the subject. She fell into a rage every time it -was broached, and Patience, who would have rebelled, had Miss Tremont -been younger and stronger, submitted: she knew it would not be for long. - - - XII - -Patience was languid all summer, and lay about in the woods, when she -could, reading little and thinking much. Her school books put away -forever, she felt for the first time that she was a woman, but did not -take as much interest in herself as she had thought she should. She -speculated a good deal upon her future career as a newspaper woman, and -expended two cents every morning upon the New York “Day.” But she forgot -to study it in the new interest it created: she had just the order of -mind to succumb to the fascination of the newspaper, and she read the -“Day’s” report of current history with a keener pleasure than even the -great records of the past had induced. She longed for a companion with -whom to talk over the significant tendencies of the age, and gazed upon -Beverly Peele’s dome-like brow with a sigh. - -Once, in the Sunday issue, she came upon a column and a half devoted to -Rosita, “The Sweetheart of the Public,” “The Princess Royal of Opera -Bouffe.” The description of the young prima donna’s home life, personal -characteristics, and footlight triumphs, was further embellished by a -painfully _décolleté_ portrait, a lace night gown, a pair of wonderfully -embroidered stockings, and a rosary. - -Patience read the article twice, wondering why fame realised looked so -different from the abstract quality of her imagination. - -“Somehow it seems a sort of tin halo,” she thought. Then her thoughts -drifted back to Monterey, and recalled it with startling vividness. -“Still even if I haven’t forgotten it, it is like the memory of another -life. Its only lasting effect has been to make me hate what is coarse -and sinful; and dear auntie, even if she hasn’t converted me, has -developed all my good. - -“I wonder if Rosita has been in love, and if that is the reason she has -forgotten me. But she hasn’t married, so perhaps it’s only adulation -that has driven everything else out of her head.” And then with her eyes -on the river, which under the heavy sky looked like a stream of -wrinkling lead from which a coating of silver had worn off in places, -she fell to dreaming of Beverly Peele and an ideal existence in which -they travelled and read and assured each other of respectful and -rarefied affection. - -Early in the winter the influenza descended upon America. Mr. Peele, his -wife wrote, was one of the first victims, and the entire family took him -to Florida. One night, a month later, Miss Tremont returned from Hog -Heights and staggered through her door. - -“Oh,” she moaned, as Patience rushed forward and caught her in her arms, -“I feel so strangely. I have pains all over me, and the queerest feeling -in my knees.” - -“It’s the grippe,” said Patience, who had read its history in the “Day.” -She put Miss Tremont to bed, and sent for the doctor. The old lady was -too weak to protest, and swallowed the medicines submissively. She -recovered in due course, and one day slipped out and plodded through the -snow to Hog Heights. She was brought home unconscious, and that night -was gasping with pneumonia. - -There was no lack of nurses. Miss Beale and Mrs. Watt, who had helped to -care for her during the less serious attack, returned at once, and many -others called at intervals during the day and night. - -Patience sat constantly by the bed, staring at the face so soon to be -covered from all sight. She wanted to cry and scream, but could not. Her -heart was like lead in her breast. - -At one o’clock on the second night, she and Miss Beale were alone in the -sick room. Mrs. Watt was walking softly up and down the hall without. - -Miss Tremont was breathing irregularly, and Patience bent over her with -white face. Miss Beale began to sob. - -“Is it not terrible, terrible,” she ejaculated, “that she -should die like this, she whose deathbed should have been so -beautiful,—unconscious, drugged—morphine, which is as accursed as -whisky—” - -“I am glad of it. It would be more horrible to see her suffer.” - -“I don’t want to see her suffer—dear, dear Miss Tremont. But she should -have died in the full knowledge that she was going to God. Oh! Oh!” she -burst out afresh. “How I envy her! It’s my only, only sin, but I can’t -help envying those who are going to heaven. I can’t wait. I do so want -to see the beautiful green pastures and the still waters—and oh, how I -want to talk with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!” - -Patience flung her head into her lap and burst into a fit of laughter. - - - XIII - -An hour later she went downstairs and turned up all the lights. Mrs. -Watt had gone to the next house to telephone for the undertakers. When -she returned she went upstairs to Miss Beale. Patience could hear the -two women praying. That was the only sound in the terrible stillness. -She paced up and down, wringing her hands and gasping occasionally. Her -sense of desolation was appalling, although as yet she but half realised -her bereavement. - -Suddenly she heard the sound of runners on the crisp snow. They stopped -before the gate. She ran shuddering to the window. The moon flooded the -white earth. Two tall black shadows came down the path. They trod as if -on velvet. Even on the steps and porch they made no sound. They knocked -as death may knock on a human soul, lightly, meaningly. Patience dragged -herself to the door and opened it. The long narrow black men entered and -bent their heads solemnly. Patience raised her shaking hand, and pointed -to the floor above. The men of death bowed again, and stole upward like -black ghosts. In a few moments they stole down again and out and away. -Patience rushed frantically through the rooms to the kitchen, where she -fell upon Ellen, dozing by the fire, and screamed and laughed until the -terrified woman flung a pitcher of water on her, then carried her -upstairs and put her to bed. - - - XIV - -A week later Patience wandered restlessly about the lonely house. The -hundreds of people that had thronged it had gone at last, even Miss -Beale and Mrs. Watt. - -She had cried until she had no tears left, and rebelled until reason -would hear no more. Her nerves felt blunt and worn down. - -Yesterday Miss Tremont’s lawyer had told her that after a few -unimportant bequests she was to have the income of the dead woman’s -small estate until she married, after which she would have nothing and -the Temperance cause all. She was therefore exempt from the pettiest and -severest of life’s trials. Miss Tremont had also left a letter, begging -her to devote herself to a life of charity and reform. But Patience had -at last revolted. She realised how empty had been her part, how -torrential the impulsion of Miss Tremont. - -The great world outside of Mariaville pressed upon her imagination, -gigantic, rainbow-hued, alluring. It beckoned with a thousand fingers, -and all her complex being responded. She longed for a talent with which -to add to its beauty, and thought no ill of it. - -She had sat up half the night thinking, and this morning she felt doubly -restless and lonely. She wanted to go away at once, but as yet she had -made no plans; and plans were necessary. She was too tired to go to Mr. -Field and apply for work; and she knew that her delicate appearance -would not commend itself to his approval. She went to the mirror in the -best spare bedroom and regarded herself anxiously. Her black-robed -figure seemed very tall and thin, her face white and sharp. - -“Even red bows—” she began; then her memory tossed up Rosita. “Oh,” she -thought, “if I could only see her,—see some one I care a little for. I -believe I’ll go—there may have been some reason—her letters may have -miscarried—I must see somebody.” - -She ran upstairs, put on her outing things, and walked rapidly to the -station. The sharp air electrified her blood. The world was full of -youth and hope once more. She forgot her bereavement for the hour. She -hoped Rosita would ask her to visit her: the popular young prima donna -must have drawn many brilliant people about her. - -When she reached New York she inquired her way to “Soper’s Opera House,” -obtained Rosita’s address, and took the elevated train up town. She -found the great apartment house with little difficulty, and was -enraptured with its marble floors and pillars, its liveried servants and -luxurious elevator. - -“I certainly had rich ancestors,” she thought, “and I am sure they were -swells. I have a natural affinity for all this sort of thing.” - -She was landed at the very top of the house. The elevator boy directed -her attention to a button, then slid down and out of sight, leaving -Patience with the delightful sensation of having stepped upon a new -stratum, high and away from the vast terrestrial cellar. - -A trim French maid opened the door. She stared at Patience, and looked -disinclined to admit her. But Patience pushed the door back with -determined hand. - -“I wish to see La Rosita,” she said in French. - -“But madame is not receiving to-day.” - -“She will see me, I am sure. Tell her that Miss Sparhawk is here.” - -The woman admitted her reluctantly, and left her standing in an -anteroom, passing between heavy portières. Patience followed, and -entered a large drawing-room furnished with amber satin and ebony: a -magnificent room, heavy with the perfume of great baskets of flowers, -and filled with costly articles of decoration. The carpet was of amber -velvet. Not a sound of street penetrated the heavy satin curtains. - -An indefinable sensation stole over Patience’s mind, a ghost whose -lineaments were blurred, yet familiar. She felt an impulse to turn and -run, then twitched her shoulders impatiently, and approaching other -portières, parted them and glanced into the room beyond. - -It was evidently a boudoir, a fragrant fairy-like thing of rose and -lace. - -In a deep chair, clad in a _robe de chambre_ of rose-coloured silk, -flowing open over a lace smock and petticoat, lay Rosita. Her dense -black hair was twisted carelessly on top of her head and confined with a -jewelled dagger. One tiny foot, shod in a high-heeled slipper of -rose-coloured silk, was conspicuous on a low _pouf_. The flush of youth -was in her cheek, its scarlet in her mouth. The large white lids lay -heavily on the languorous eyes. In one hand she held a pink cigarette in -a jewelled holder. She spoke in a low tantalising voice to a man who sat -before her, leaning eagerly forward. - -The maid had evidently not succeeded in gaining her attention. Patience, -conquering another impulse to run, pushed the hangings aside and -entered. Rosita sprang to her feet, the blood flashing to her hair; but -her eyes expanded with pleasure. - -“Patita! Patita!” she stammered, then caught Patience in her arms. As -both girls looked as if about to weep, the man hurriedly departed. - -The girls hugged each other as of old; then Rosita divested Patience of -her wraps and told the astonished maid to take them out of sight. - -“Now that you are here, you shall stay,” she said, “stay a long, long -while. Have you had luncheon?” - -“No—but I’m not—yes, I am, though, come to think of it. Get me -something to eat. Rosita, how good it is to see you again! Why, why -didn’t you write to me?” - -“O—h; I will tell you, perhaps; but you must have luncheon first. I -take a late breakfast, just after rising, so it will be a few minutes -before yours is ready.” She rang a bell and gave an order to the maid, -then pushed Patience into the deepest and softest chair in the room. - -“Now,” she said, smiling affectionately, “lie back and be comfortable; -you look tired. Oh, Patita, I am so glad to see you. Isn’t it like old -times?” - -With a grace which long practice had made a fine art, she sank upon one -end of a divan, and back among a mass of cushions. Her white arms lay -along the pillows in such careless wise as to best exhibit their -perfection; her head dropped backward slightly, revealing the round -throat. The attitude was so natural as to suggest that she had ceased to -pose. - -Patience stared at her, wondering if it could be the same Rosita. All -the freshness of youth was in that beautiful face and round voluptuous -form, but she looked years and years and years older than the Rosita of -Monterey. Patience suddenly felt young and foolish and green. The world -that had been so great and wonderful to her imagination seemed to have -shrunken to a ball, to be tossed from one to the other of those white -idle hands. - -“What has changed you so?” she asked abruptly. - -Rosita gave the low delicious laugh of which Patience had read in the -New York “Day.” She relit her cigarette and blew a soft cloud. - -“I will tell you after luncheon. You are the only person I would never -fib to. I believe those grey eyes of yours are the only honest eyes in -the world. Why are you in black?” - -Patience told her, and was drawn on to speak of herself and her life. -Rosita shuddered once or twice, an adorable little French shudder, and -cast upward her glittering hands, whose nails Patience admired even more -than their jewels. - -“_Dios de mi alma!_” she cried finally. “What an existence!—I cannot -call it life. I should have jumped into the river. That life would drive -me mad, and I do not believe that it suits you either.” - -She spoke with a Spanish accent, and with the affected precision of a -foreigner that has carefully learned the English language. Her monotony -of inflection was more effective than animation. - -“No, it doesn’t,” said Patience, “and I have no intention of pursuing -it. I’m going to be a newspaper woman.” - -Rosita gave forth a sound that from any other throat would have been a -shriek. - -“A newspaper woman! And then you will come and interview me. How droll! -I shall have to become eccentric, so that I can furnish you with -‘stories,’ as they call them. I have been pumped dry. When the newspaper -women have run out of everything else they come to me, and they love me -because I am good-natured, and turn my things upside down for them. I -never refuse to see them, so they have never written anything horrid -about me. Oh, I can tell you I have learned a great many lessons since I -left Monterey. But here is your luncheon. While you are eating it I will -do something for you that I have never done for any one else off the -stage: I will sing to you.” - -The maid placed a silver tray on a little table, and while Patience ate -of creamed oysters and broiled partridge, Rosita sang as the larks of -paradise may sing when angels awake with the dawn. Once Patience glanced -hastily upward, half expecting to see the notes falling in a golden -shower. When she expressed her admiration, Rosita’s red lips smiled -slowly away from the white sharp little teeth. - -“Do you like it, Patita _mia_?” she asked with bewitching graciousness. -“Yes, I can sing. I have the world at my feet.” - -She resumed her languid attitude on the divan. “_Bueno_,” she said, “now -I am going to tell you all about it. People are always a little heavy -after eating; I waited on purpose. But you must promise not to move -until I get through. Will you?” - -“Yes,” said Patience, uncomfortably. “I hope it is nothing very -dreadful.” - -“That all depends upon the way you look at things. It will seem odd to -tell it to you. You used to be the one to do what you felt like and tell -other people that if they did not like it they could do the other thing; -but I suppose you are W. C. T. U’d.” - -“No, I’m not. Go on.” - -“Well, I will.” She paused and laughed lightly. “Funny world. We do not -usually tell this sort of story to a woman, but you and I are different. -_Bueno._ - -“I went to Paris and studied hard. Yes, I am lazy yet, but I had made up -my mind to be a great, great, great success. I had what in insane people -is called the fixed idea, and the American in me conquered the Spanish. -Everybody praised my voice. No one said it was the greatest voice in the -world, nor even better than two or three others over there; but I had no -discouragement. I attracted a great deal of attention from men, but the -_dueña_ never let them get a word with me, and I did not care. I used to -wonder at the stories told about some of the other girls, and did not -half understand. Two sold themselves; but why? with a fortune in one’s -throat. Others fell in love, and talked about the temperament of the -artist, but I could not understand that nonsense either. - -“_Bueno_, at the end of the time Soper came over and bought me eight -trunks full of the most beautiful clothes you ever saw,—mostly for the -stage, but lots for the house and street. He said I was a first-class -investment, and worth the outlay. When he heard me sing he shook all -over. I ought to tell you that I had been kept on short allowance, and -had had very dowdy clothes, which broke my heart. - -“_Bueno_, we came home. On the steamer, Soper treated me like a father, -but never let me talk to a man. Either he or the _dueña_ was at my heels -all the time. He is a coarse-looking man, but I really liked him because -he had been so good to me, and there was something very attractive about -him. When we reached New York the _dueña_ left us. She said she was -going straight to Philadelphia to her home. Soper and I got in another -cab and drove to an apartment on Broadway. I did not know until the next -day that it was his apartment. That was in the evening. The next -morning, while I was at a late breakfast, he sent me a note, saying that -he would call in an hour and have a business talk with me. I was -practising my scales when he came in, and he clapped his hands and -offered me a chair. He drew one up for himself, and then said in a -perfectly business-like voice:— - -“‘When I ran across you I knew that you only needed training to become a -queen of opera bouffe, and to make a fortune for some one besides -yourself. I also saw that you were going to become a beautiful woman. I -made up my mind that I would own both the woman and the artist. Don’t -look like a little tigress—still, I’m glad you can look that way,—you -may be able to do Carmen yet. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not a -villain, merely a practical man with an eye to beauty. I have no idea of -letting you get under the influence of any other man,—not even if you -weren’t so pretty. Let me console you by telling you that for the sort -of woman you are there is no escape. You were made to drive men mad, and -for the comic opera stage. That sort of combination might as well get -down to business as early in the game as possible: it saves time. - -“‘Had I never discovered you, you would have drifted from company to -company, gone the pace with nothing to show for it, and worn out your -youth at one-night stands. I saved you from a terrible fate. You know -the rest. You know what you owe me. You have developed even beyond my -hopes, but—mark you this—I have not advertised you in any way. You are -as unknown as on the day you left California. If you mount the high -horse and say: ”Sir, you are a villain. Go to, go to!“ I shall merely -turn you loose without your trunks. You may imagine that with your voice -and beauty you could get an engagement anywhere. So you could—without -advertising, without an opera, and without a theatre of your own. Every -existing troupe has its own prima donna; you would have to take a second -or third rate part,—and unquestionably in a travelling troupe. There is -no place for you in New York but the one I propose to create. Lillian -Russell practically owns the Casino, and will, unless all signs fail, -for many years. She would not tolerate you on the same stage five -minutes; neither would any prima donna who had any influence with her -manager,—and they mostly have. Your career would be exactly what it -would have been if I had not met you,—full of hardships and change and -racing about the country; arriving at six in the evening, singing at -eight, leave the next morning at four, get what sleep you could on the -train. That’s about the size of it. You’d be painting inside of a year, -if not wearing plumpers. And what you’re mad at now, you’d be looking -upon as a matter of course then, and grateful for the admiration. - -“‘Moreover, no success is worth a tinker’s dam that ain’t made in New -York,—I think I wrote you that on an average of once a month. If you -show that you have horse sense, and will sign a contract with me for -five years, I’ll make you the rage in New York inside of two months. Now -it is success or failure: you can take your choice. I’ll be here -to-morrow at ten.’ And he was gone before I could speak. - -“_Bueno_, after I had gotten over being fearfully mad I sat down and -thought it all over. I knew that all he said was true. I had heard too -much in Paris. He had kept writing me that virtue paid in an actress to -keep me straight, but I had heard the opposite about nine hundred times. -_Bueno_, I was in a trap. I had made up my mind to succeed. I had even -worked for it,—and you know how much that meant with me. I made up my -mind that succeed I would, no matter what the price. It is one of two -things in this world,—success or failure,—and if you fail nobody cares -a hang about your virtue. - -“You know I never was sentimental nor romantic. Soper had made a plain -business proposition in a practical way that I liked. If he had gone on -like a stage lover it would have been much harder. And after all I would -be no worse than a society girl who sells herself to a rich husband. So, -after turning it over for twenty-four hours—or all the time I was -awake—I concluded not to be a fool, but La Rosita, Queen of Opera -Bouffe. When he called I merely shrugged my shoulders and said -‘_Bueno_.’ He laughed, and said I would certainly succeed in this world; -that the beautiful woman with the cool calculating brain always got -there. So—here I am. What do you think of it?” - -During this recital her voice had not for one instant broken nor -hardened. She told her story in the soft sweet languid voice of Spain; -she might have been relating an idyl of which she was the Juliet and -Soper the Romeo. - -Patience stared at her with wide eyes and dry lips. - -“And you have never regretted it?” she asked; “you don’t care?” - -Rosita raised her beautiful brows. “Regret? Well, no, I should say not. -Have I not realised my dreams and ambition? Am I not rich and famous and -happy instead of a scrambling nobody? Regret?—No—rather. What is more, -I know how to save. A good many of us have learned that lesson. When I -have lost voice and youth I shall be rich,—rich. We do not end in a -garret, like in the old days. And I do not drink, and I rest a great -deal—it will be a long time before I go off. Besides, there are the -beauty doctors—Oh, no, I am not regretting. And Soper is getting tired -of me, I am happy to say.” - -Patience rose and went into the room where the maid had carried her hat -and jacket. It was a bedroom, a white nest of lace and velvet. When she -returned she said: “I should like to go home and think it over. I feel -queer and stunned. You have taken me so completely by surprise that I -can hardly think.” - -Rosita coloured angrily. - -“You are shocked, I suppose,” she said with a sneer. “I should think—” -She paused abruptly. She was still an amiable little soul. - -Patience understood perfectly, and turned a shade paler. “I told you -that I did not understand how I felt. In fact, I hardly ever know just -how I feel about anything. I suppose it is because I have the sort of -mind that is made to analyse, and I haven’t had experience enough to -know how. And I never judge any one. Why should I? Why should we judge -anybody? We are not all made alike. I couldn’t do what you have done, -but that is no reason why I should condemn you. That would be absurd. If -any one else had told me this story I should only have been -interested—I am so curious about everything. But you see you are the -only girl friend I ever had, and that is what makes me feel so -strangely. Good-bye;” and she hurriedly left the room. - - - XV - -When she reached home she forgot her horror of death chambers, and went -to Miss Tremont’s room and flung herself on the bed. She did not -cry—her tears had all been spent; but she felt something of the -profound misery of the last year in Monterey. During the intervening -years she had seen little of the cloven hoof of human nature; the -occasional sin over on Hog Heights hardly counted; creatures of the -lower conditions had no high lights to make the shadows startling. But -to-day the horror of old experiences rushed over her; she was filled -with a profound loathing of life, of human nature. - -So far, of love, in its higher sense—if it possessed such a part—she -had seen nothing; of sensuality, too much. True, she had spent two weeks -with Miss Galpin, during that estimable young woman’s engagement; but -Miss Galpin took love as a sort of front-parlour, evening-dress affair, -and Patience had not deigned to be interested. She had speculated -somewhat over Miss Tremont’s early romance, but could only conclude that -it was one of those undeveloped little histories that so many old maids -cherish. - -She recalled all the love stories she had read. Even the masters were -insipid when they attempted to portray spiritual love. It was only when -they got down to the congenial substratum of passion that they wrote of -love with colour and fire. Was she to believe that it did not -exist,—this union of soul and mind? Her dreams receded, and refused to -cohere. She wondered, with natural egoism, if any girl of her age had -ever received so many shocks. She was on the threshold of life, with a -mass of gross material out of which to shape her mental attitude to -existing things. True, she had met only women of relative sinlessness -during these last years, but their purity was uninteresting because it -was that of people mentally limited, and possessed of the fad of the -unintellectual. Moreover, they had their erotism, the oddest, most -unreal, and harmless erotism the world has known in the last two -thousand years; and after all quite incidental: her keen eyes had long -since observed that the old maids were far more religious than the -married women, that the girls cooled perceptibly to the great -abstraction as soon as a concrete candidate was approved. - -She longed passionately for Miss Tremont. All her old restlessness and -doubt had returned with the flight of that ardent absorbing personality. -She wished that she could have been remodelled; for, after all, the dear -old lady, whatever her delusions, had been happy. But she was still -Patience Sparhawk; she could only be thankful that Miss Tremont had -cemented her hatred of evil. - -She rose abruptly, worn out by conjectures and analysis that led -nowhere, and went out into the woods. - -“Oh,” she said, lifting her arms, “this at least is beautiful.” - -The ground was hard and white and sparkling. The trees were crystal, -down to the tiniest twig. They glittered iridescently under the level -rays of the sun descending upon the Palisades on the far side of the -Hudson. The river was grey under great floating blocks of ice. Groves of -slender trees in the hollows of the Palisades looked like fine bunches -of feathers. On the long slopes the white snow lay deep; above, the dark -steeps were merely powdered, here and there; on the high crest the woods -looked black. - -She walked rapidly up and down, calmed, as of old, by the beauty of -nature, but dreading the morrow and the recurring to-morrows. Suddenly -through those glittering aisles pealed the rich sonorous music of the -organ. The keys were under the hands of a master, and the great notes -throbbed and swelled and rolled through the winter stillness in the -divine harmonies of “The Messiah.” Patience stood still, shaking a -little. On a hill above the wood a large house had been built recently; -the organ must be there. - -The diamond radiance of the woods was living melody. The very trees -looked to bow their crystal heads. The great waves of harmony seemed -rolling down from an infinite height, down from some cathedral of light -and stars. - -The ugly impressions of the day vanished. The sweet intangible longing -she had been used to know in Carmel tower flashed back to her. What was -it? She recalled the words of the Stranger. It was long since she had -thought of him. She closed her eyes and stood with him in the tower. His -voice was as distinct as the notes of the organ. She felt again the -tumult of her young half-comprehending mind. Was not life all a matter -of ideals? Were not the bad and the good happy only if consistent to a -fixed idea? Did she make of herself such a woman as the Stranger had -evoked out of the great mass of small feminity, could she not be -supremely happy with such a man? Where was he? Was he married? He seemed -so close—it was incredible that he existed for another woman. Who more -surely than she could realise the purest ideal of her imaginings,—she -with her black experience and hatred of all that was coarse and evil? -She closed her eyes to her womanhood no longer. It thrilled and shook -her. If he would come—She trembled a little. - -All men were henceforth possible lovers. Unless the Stranger appeared -speedily his memory must give way to the definite. The imperious demands -of a woman’s nature cannot be satisfied with abstractions. The ideal -which he stood for would lend a measure of itself to each engaging man -with whom she exchanged greeting. - - - XVI - -“Miss Patience!” cried a strident voice. - -Patience turned with a violent start. Ellen was a large blotch on the -white beauty of the wood. - -“There’s a young lady to see you. She didn’t give her name as I -remember.” - -Patience followed the servant resentfully. The world was cold and dull -again. But when she recognised the Peele coachman and footman on the -handsome sleigh before the door she forgot her dreams, and went eagerly -into the house. - -A girl was standing before the mantel, regarding through a lorgnette a -row of photographs. She turned as she heard footsteps, and came forward -with a cordial smile on her plain charming face. She wore a black cloth -frock and turban which made Patience feel dowdy as Rosita’s magnificence -had not. - -“I am Hal,” she said, “and you are Patience, of course. I hope you have -heard as much of me as I have of you. Dear old girl, I was awfully fond -of her. You look so tired—are you?” - -“A little. It is so good of you to come. Yes, I’ve heard a very great -deal of you.” - -“I’ll sit down, thank you. Let’s try this sofa. I’ve already tried the -chairs, and they’re awful. But I suppose dear old Harriet never sat down -at all. I wonder if she’ll be happy in heaven with nothing to do.” - -Patience smiled sympathetically. “She ought to be glad of a rest, but I -don’t believe she is.” - -“She thought we were all heathens—dear old soul; but I did love her. -What was the trouble? We only had one short letter from Miss Beale. Do -tell me all about it.” - -Miss Peele had an air of reposeful alertness. She leaned forward -slightly, her eyes fixed on Patience’s with flattering attention. She -looked a youthful worldling, a captivating type to a country girl. Her -voice was very sweet, and exquisitely modulated. Occasionally it went -down into a minor key. - -“What shall you do with yourself, now?” she asked anxiously, when -Patience had finished the brief story. “I am so interested in you. I -don’t know why I haven’t called before, except that I never find time to -do the things I most care for; but I have wanted to come a dozen times, -and when we returned yesterday and heard of the dear old girl’s death I -made up my mind to come at once. And I’m coming often. I know we shall -be such good friends. I’m so glad she left you her money so you won’t -have to work. It must be so horrid to work. I’m going to ask mamma to -ask you to visit us. She’s feeling rather soft now over Cousin Harriet’s -death, so I’ll strike before she gets the icebergs on. She isn’t -pleasant then. I’ll tell her you don’t wear the white ribbon yet—” She -broke into a light peal of laughter. “Poor mamma! how she used to -suffer. Cousin Harriet’s white bow was the great cross of her life. It -will go far toward reconciling her—Don’t think that my parent is -heartless. She merely insists upon everything belonging to her to be -_sans reproche_. That’s the reason we don’t always get along. What -lovely hair you have—a real _blonde cendrée_. It’s all the rage in -Paris. And that great coil is beautiful. Tell me, didn’t you find that -Temperance work a hideous bore?” - -“Oh, yes, but no one could resist Miss Tremont.” - -“Indeed one couldn’t. I believe she’d have roped me in if I’d lived with -her; but I’m a frivolous good-for-nothing thing. You look so serious. Do -you always feel that way?” - -Patience smiled broadly. “Oh, no. I often feel that I would be very -frivolous indeed if circumstances would permit. It must be very -interesting.” - -“You get tired of yourself sometimes—I mean I do. Are you very -religious?” - -“I am not religious at all.” - -“Oh, how awfully jolly. I do the regulation business, but it is really -tragic to carry so much religion round all the time. I wonder how Cousin -Harriet and the Lord hit it off, or if they liked each other better at a -distance? I corresponded once with the brother of a school friend for a -year, and when I met him I couldn’t endure him. Those things are very -trying. I am going to call you Patience. May I? And if ever you call me -Miss Peele you’ll be sorry. How awfully smart you’d look in gowns. My -colouring is so commonplace. If I didn’t know how to dress, and hadn’t -been taught to carry myself with an air, I’d be just nothing—no more -and no less. But you have such a lovely nose and white skin—and that -hair! You are aristocratic looking without being swagger. I’m the other -way. You can acquire the one, but you can’t the other. When you have -both you’ll be out of sight. - -“What fun it would be,” she rambled on in her bright inconsequential -way, “if Bev should fall in love with you and you’d marry him. Then I’d -have such fun dressing you, and we’d get ahead of my cousin Honora -Mairs, whom I hate, and who, I’m afraid, will get him. Propinquity and -flattery will bring down any man—they’re such peacocks. But I’ll bring -him to see you. You ought to have a violet velvet frock. I’d bet on Bev -then. But, of course, you can’t wear colours yet, and that dead black is -wonderfully becoming. Can I bring him up in a day or two?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Patience, smiling as she recalled her brief periods of -spiritual matrimony with Beverly Peele; “by all means. I’ll be so glad -to meet all of you. And you are certainly good to take so much interest -in me.” - -“I am the angel of the family. Well, I must be off, or I’ll have to dine -all by me lonely. None of the rest of the family uses slang: that is the -reason I do. May is a grown-up baby, and never disobeyed her mamma in -her life. Honora is a classic, and only swears in the privacy of her -closet when her schemes fail. Mother—well, you’ve seen mother. As you -may imagine, she doesn’t use slang. Papa doesn’t talk at all, and Bev is -a prig where decent women are concerned. So, you see, I have to let off -steam somehow, and as I haven’t the courage to be larky, I read French -novels and use bad words.” - -She rose and moved toward a heavy coat that lay on a chair. “Well, -Patience—what a funny lovely old-fashioned name you have—I’m going to -bring Bev to see you as a last resource. I’ve tried him on a dozen other -girls, but it was no go. I’ll talk you up to him meanwhile—I’ll tell -him that you are one of the cold haughty indifferent sort, and yet -withal a village maiden. He admires blondes, and you’re such a natural -one. We’ll come up Sunday on horseback. Now be sure to make him think -you don’t care a hang whether he likes you or not—he’s been so run -after. Isn’t it too funny? I did not come here on matchmaking thoughts -intent, but I do like you, and we could have such jolly good fun -together. I’ll teach you how to smoke cigarettes—” - -“But Miss Peele—Hal—you know—I don’t want to marry your brother—I -have never even seen him—much as I should like to live with you—I’d -even smoke cigarettes to please you—but really—” - -“Oh, I know, of course. I can only hope for the best, and Bev certainly -is fascinating. At least he appears to be,” and she smiled oddly; “but -being a man’s sister is much like being his valet, you know. Would you -mind helping me into this coat? - -“I hate these heavy fur things,” she said petulantly. “Oh, thanks—they -don’t suit my light and airy architecture, and I can’t get up any -dignity in them at all. I need fluffy graceful French things. You’d look -superb in velvet and furs and all that sort of thing. Well, -bye-bye,—no,—_au revoir_.” - -She took Patience’s face between her hands and lightly kissed her on -either cheek. - -“Don’t be lonesome,” she said. “I’d go frantic in this house. Can’t I -send you some books? I’ve a lot of naughty French ones—” - -“No!” said Patience, abruptly, “I don’t want them. Don’t think I’m a -prig,” she added, hastily, as a look of apprehension crossed Miss -Peele’s face; “but I had a hideous shock to-day, and I don’t want to -read anything similar at present—” - -“Oh, tell me about it. How could you have a shock in Mariaville?” - -“I didn’t. It was in New York—” - -“Oh, was it real wicked? Did you have an adventure? Do tell me—Well, -don’t, of course, if you don’t want to, only I’m so interested in you. -Well, I must, must go;” and despite the furs she moved down the walk -with exceeding grace. As she drove off she leaned out of the sleigh and -waved her hand. - -“Oh!” thought Patience, “I’m so glad she came. It was like fresh air -after a corpse covered with sachet bags.” And then she went to the -mantel and gazed upon Beverly Peele. - - - XVII - -When Sunday came Patience dressed herself with unusual care. It did not -occur to her that people in different spheres of life arose at different -hours, and she expected her guests any time after eight o’clock. - -Of course she must wear unrelieved black, but after prolonged regard in -the becoming mirror of the best spare room, she decided that it rather -enhanced her charms, now that a week’s rest had banished the circles -from her eyes and cleared her skin. - -She had coiled her soft ashen hair loosely on the top of her head, -pulling it out a little about her face—she wore no bangs. Her restless -eyes were dark and clear and sparkling, her mouth pink. She carried her -slender figure with a free graceful poise. The carriage of her head was -almost haughty. Her hips had a generous swell. Her hands and teeth were -very white. - -“I certainly have a look of race,” she thought, “if I’m not a beauty. -I’d give a good deal to know that my ancestors really did have good -blood in their veins. I don’t care so much for money, but I’d like to be -sure of that.” - -After breakfast she wandered about restlessly. She had known few moments -of peace since Miss Peele’s visit. The train had been fired, and her -being was in a tumult. Beverly Peele, the Stranger, and the vague ideals -of her earlier girlhood were inextricably mixed. The result was a being -before whom she trembled with mingled rapture and terror. Her vivid -imagination had evoked a distinct entity, and the love scenes that had -been enacted between the girl and this wholly satisfactory eidolon were -such as have time out of mind made life as it is seem a singularly -defective composition to the wondering mind of woman. - -At times she was terrified at the rich possibilities of her nature, so -little suspected. The revelation gave her vivid comprehension of woman’s -tremendous power for sacrifice and surrender, possibilities of which she -had read with much curiosity, but little sympathy. For those women she -felt a warm honour, a fierce desire to espouse their cause. For Rosita -she had only loathing and contempt. - -It was not only passion that was awake. Sentiment, that finer child of -the brain, and the sweet faint feeling which assuredly lingers about the -region of the heart, whatever its physical cause may be, were there in -full measure to lend their potent lashings to that primeval force which -is as mighty in some women as in some men. It is doubtful if a woman -ever loves a man when in his arms with the same exaltation of soul and -passion which she feels for that creation of her brain that he little -more than suggests, and that is only wholly hers when the man himself is -absent. Imagination in woman is as arbitrary as desire in man, and she -is beaten down and crushed by this imperious and capricious brain-imp so -many times in her life that the wonder is she is not driven to the hopes -and illusions of religion, or to humour, long before the skin has -yellowed and the eye paled. - -And when the imagination has full sway, when the man has not been -beheld, when he has been invested with every quality dear to the heart -of the generously endowed woman, when, indeed, all eidola blend, and she -has a confused vision of an immense and mighty force bearing down upon -her which shall sweep every tradition out of existence and annihilate -the material world, then assuredly man himself would do well to retire -into obscurity and curse his shortcomings. - -It was four o’clock, and she had been through the successive stages of -hope, despair, hope, melancholia, hope, and resignation, before she -heard the sharp clatter of hoofs on the road. She ran to the dining-room -window, her heart thumping, and peered through the blind. They were -coming! Hal sat her horse like a swaying reed, but the young man on the -large chestnut rode in the agonised fashion of the day. He was of medium -height, she saw, compactly and elegantly built, and the beauty of his -face had defied the photographer’s art. - -Patience ran to the kitchen and told Ellen to answer the bell -immediately, then sat down by the stove to compose herself. She was -still trembling, and wished to appear cold and stately, as Hal had -recommended. When Ellen returned and announced the visitors, she sprang -up, patted her hair, pulled down the bodice of her gown, and then, with -what dignity she could muster, went forth to meet her fate. She did wish -she had a train. It was so difficult to be stately in a skirt that -cleared the ground. - -As she entered the parlour Mr. Peele was standing by the opposite door. -His riding gear was very becoming. Patience noted swiftly that his eyes -were a spotted brown and that his mouth pouted under the dark moustache. - -Hal came forward with both hands extended. “We have come, you see,” she -said, “and we had to make a wild break to do it—had a lot of company; -but I was bound to come. Patience, this is Beverly. He’s quite frantic -to meet you. It was all I could do to keep him away until to-day.” - -The young man bowed in anything but a frantic manner, and stood -gracefully until the girls were seated. Then he took a chair and -caressed his moustache, regarding Patience attentively. - -“Would you mind if Bev smoked?” asked Hal. “He is just wild for a cigar. -We had to ride so hard to keep warm that he didn’t have a chance, and -he’s a slave to the weed.” - -Patience glanced swiftly at the door, half-expecting to see the -indignant wraith of Miss Tremont, then, almost reluctantly, gave the -required permission. Mr. Peele promptly lit a cigar. Patience wondered -if he would ever speak. Perhaps he did not think it worth his while. He -looked very haughty. - -“We had a perfectly beautiful ride,” said Hal, in her plaintive voice. -“I’d rather be on a horse than on an ocean steamer, and I do love to -travel. You look ever so much better than you did, Patience. You must -have needed a rest.” - -Mr. Peele removed his cigar. “Perhaps that was what she had been -_im_patiently waiting for,” he remarked. - -Patience stared at him. Her eyes expanded. Something seemed crumbling -within her. - -“Oh, Bev, you do make me so tired,” said his sister. “I tell him -eighteen times a day that punning is the lowest form of wit, but he’s -incorrigible. I suppose it’s in the blood, and I’m glad it broke out in -him instead of in me. It is well to be philosophical in this life—” - -“When you can’t help yourself—” interrupted Mr. Peele, easily. - -Patience felt it incumbent upon her to make conversation, although her -thoughts were dancing a jig. - -“You have a beautiful horse,” she said to the young man. - -His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Isn’t she a beauty?” he exclaimed. -“She’s taken two prizes and won a race. She’s the daughter—” - -“Patience doesn’t know anything about horses,” interrupted Hal. “What -does she care whose daughter Firefly is?” - -“Oh, I’m very much interested,” faltered Patience. - -“Are you really?” cried Mr. Peele, with a smile so beautiful that -Patience caught her breath. “I’ve got the rarest book in the country on -horses—beautiful pictures—coloured—I’ll bring it up and explain it to -you. Tell you a lot of stories about famous horses.” - -“I shall be delighted.” - -“Do you ride?” - -“I used to ride a pony, but I haven’t been on a horse for so long I’ve -almost forgotten what it’s like.” - -“That’s too bad. There’s nothing like it. Makes you feel so good. When I -have dyspepsia I just jump on Firefly, and I’m all right in less than no -time. I take a canter for dyspepsia—although I can’t—er—always feel -at home that way. Ahem!” - -Patience wanted to tear her hair. It was with an effort that she kept -her face from convulsing with disgust. She caught sight of the young -man’s intellectual brow, and, without any premonitory consciousness, -laughed aloud. Mr. Peele smiled back with the pleasure of appreciated -wit, and resumed his cigar. - -“Bev isn’t such a fool as he looks,” remarked Hal, airily. “Just have -patience with him. We all have our little failings.” - -Patience sat as if turned to clay. She could not talk. All her natural -animation had deserted her. She wished they would go and leave her -alone. But Hal pulled off her riding gloves, and made herself -comfortable on the sofa. As she rattled on, Patience noticed how -beautiful her nails were. She turned her own hands over so that the -palms lay upward. - -“Never mind,” said young Peele, in a low tone. “They’re much prettier.” - -“What’s that?” cried Hal. “What are you blushing about, Patience? How -lovely it is to blush like that. I’ve forgotten how—and I’m only -twenty-two. There’s tragedy for you. It’s not that I’ve had so many -compliments about my beauty, nor yet about my winning ways,—which are -my strong point,—but I found so much to blush about when I was first -launched upon this wicked world that I exhausted my capacity. And Bev -always did tell such naughty stories—” She paused abruptly. “Dear me! -perhaps I’ve made a bad break, and prejudiced you against my brother; -and I want you to be good friends so that we can have jolly times -together. Perhaps you have an ideal man—a sort of Sir Galahad. I -haven’t sounded you yet.” - -“Sir Galahad is not my ideal,” said Patience, with the quick scorn of -the woman who is born with intuitive knowledge of man. “I could not find -anything interesting in an elongated male infant.” - -“Oh, how lovely!” cried Hal. “Give me the man of the world every time. I -tell you, you appreciate the difference when you have to entertain ’em. -And the elongated infant, as you put it, never understands a woman, and -she has no use for that species whatever. He doesn’t even want to -understand her, and a woman resents that as a personal insult. The bad -ones hurt sometimes, but they’re interesting; and when you learn how to -manage them it’s plain sailing enough. Mrs. Laurence Gibbs—a friend of -mamma’s, awfully good, goes in for charity and all that sort of -thing—said the other day that at the rate women were developing and -advancing, the standard of men morally would have to be raised. But I -said ‘Not much!’ that the development of woman meant that women were -becoming more clever, not merely bright and intellectual, and that -clever women would demand cleverness and fascination in man above all -else; and that Sir Galahads were not that sort. It’s experience that -makes a man interesting to us women,—they represent all we’d like to be -and don’t dare. If they were like ourselves—if they didn’t excite our -imaginations—we wouldn’t care a hang for them. Mrs. Gibbs was -horrified, of course, and told me I didn’t know what I was talking -about. But I said I guessed it was the other way. I’m not clever—not by -a long sight,—and if I can’t stand a prig I know a clever woman can’t -and won’t.” - -“I’m so glad I’m not a prig,” murmured Mr. Peele. - -“Oh, you’re a real devil. If you were clever now, you’d have to be shut -up to protect society; but as it is, you just go on your good looks, so -you’re not as dangerous as some.” - -She rattled on, not giving the others a chance for more than a stray -remark. Patience, listening with deep curiosity to this new philosophy, -became aware of an increasing desire to turn her eyes to the man that -had so bitterly disappointed her. A direct potent force seemed to -emanate from him. It was her first experience of man’s magnetism, but -she knew that he possessed it to a remarkable degree. When he finally -shot out an insignificant remark she felt, in the excuse it gave her to -turn to him, a sensation of positive relief. He was leaning back in his -chair, in the easy attitude of a man that has been too accustomed to -luxury all his life to look uncomfortable in any circumstances. With his -picturesque garb, his noble, beautiful face, his subtle air of elegance -and distinction, he looked the ideal hero of girlhood’s dreams. Patience -wondered what Nature had been about, then recalled the many tricks of -that capricious dame made famous in history, the round innocent faces of -the worst boys in the Loyal Legion class, the saintly physiognomy of a -Mariaville minister who had recently fallen from grace. - -Peele was watching her out of his half-closed eyes, and as she met them -he smiled almost affectionately. Patience averted her head quickly, -angry that she had felt an impulse to respond, and fixed her attention -on Hal. “Dear old Cousin Harriet,” that young woman was remarking, “how -I do wish that I were even sorrier than I am that she is dead. I try to -think it’s because I saw so little of her; but I know it’s just because -I’m so beastly selfish. I don’t care a hang for anything that doesn’t -affect my own happiness—” - -“You’re not selfish,” interrupted Patience, indignantly. - -“Oh, but I am,” said Miss Peele, with a comical little air of disgust -which sat as gracefully upon her as all her varying moods and manners. -“I get up thinking what I can get out of the day, and I go to bed glad -or mad according to what the day has done for me. I don’t go in for -Church work like Honora—dear Honora!—nor am I always doing some pretty -little thing for people like May. I suppose you think I’m an angel -because I came to see you. I assured myself at great length that it was -my duty—but it was plain curiosity, no more nor less; and now I like -you awfully, better than any woman I ever met—and I do so want you to -come and visit us, but—” - -“Couldn’t you come and stay with me?” asked Patience, hurriedly. She had -no desire to visit Mrs. Gardiner Peele. “You know you have more or less -company, and I should be very quiet for a while. And oh! I should so -like to have you.” - -“Oh, I’d love to! I’ll come and stay a week. I’m so sick of the whole -family, Bev included. We won’t be going anywhere for three months out of -respect for Cousin Harriet—mamma is very particular about those -things—and I can get away as well as not. I’ll come on Tuesday,—can I? -Bev will come up occasionally and see how I’m getting on—won’t you, -Bevvy, dear?” - -“I’d much rather you would not be here,” said Mr. Peele, calmly. - -“Oh—really—well, we’re all young yet. I’m coming all the same. I -suppose we must be going. We have to get home to dress for dinner, you -know.” - -She rose, and drew on her gloves. Her brother stood up immediately and -helped her into her covert coat. “Well, Patience,” she said, kissing her -lightly, “you’ll see me on Tuesday. I’ll come by train, and wire you -beforehand. Mamma’ll raise Cain, but I’ll manage it. It’s only -occasionally she’s too much for me. The cold glare of those blue eyes of -hers freezes my marrow at times and takes all the starch out of me. It’s -awful to have been brought up under that sort of eye. When Honora -marries it’s the sort of eye she’ll have. She cultivates the angelic at -present. Have I talked you to death, Patience? So good of you to ask me -to come.” - -Peele held out his hand, and Patience could do no less than lay hers -within it. As it closed she resisted an impulse to nestle her own more -closely into that warm grasp. He held her hand longer than was -altogether necessary, and she felt indignantly that she had no desire to -draw it away. - -“That’ll do for one day,” said Hal, drily. “Come along, Beverly Peele. -We won’t get home for coffee at this rate.” - -When they had gone Patience threw herself on the sofa and burst into -tears, then laughed suddenly. “I feel like the heroine of a tragedy,” -she thought. “And the tragedy is a pun!” - - - XVIII - -Hal arrived on Tuesday afternoon. Patience for twenty-four hours after -Beverly Peele’s visit looked upon life through grey spectacles. She had -an impression of being a solitary figure on a sandy waste, illimitable -in extent. Life was ugly practical reality. It frightened her, and she -cowered before it, hating the future, her blood chilled, her nerves -blunt, her brain stagnant. - -But by Tuesday morning, being young and buoyant, she revived, and roamed -through the woods, entirely loyal to the Stranger. She made up her mind -that she would find him, that he could not be married. He must have -waited for her. “Oh!” she thought, “if I could not believe that -something existed in this world as I have imagined it, some man good -enough to love and look up to, I believe I’d jump into the river. At -least I have heard Him talk. He could not be a disappointment, like that -hollow bronze. If there are many men in the world like Beverly Peele I -don’t wonder women are in revolt. Women start out in life with big -ideals of man, and if they are disappointed I suppose they unconsciously -strive to make themselves what they should have found in man. But it is -unnatural. It seems to me that man must be able to give woman the best -she can find in life, whether he does or not. Something in civilisation -has gone wrong.” - -“I’ve been so restless,” she said to Hal, as the girls sat on the edge -of the bed in the spare room, holding each other’s hand. “If you had not -been coming I’d have gone to New York before this and seen Mr. Field, -the editor of the ‘Day’—He promised me once he’d make a newspaper woman -of me—” - -“A what?” cried Hal. “What on earth do you want to be a newspaper woman -for?” - -“Well, I must be something. I couldn’t live out of Mariaville on my -income, and the few hundred dollars Mr. Foord left me, and I don’t know -of anything else I want to be.” - -“You are going to be Mrs. Beverly Peele,” said Hal, definitely. “Beverly -has the worst attack of my recollection. He has simply raved about you. -Tell me, don’t you like him?” - -Patience said nothing. - -Hal leaned forward and turned Patience’s face about. “Don’t you like -him?” she asked in a disappointed tone. “Tell me. Please be frank. I -hate people who are not.” - -“Well, I’ll confess it—I was disappointed in him. You see, I’d thought -about him a good deal—several years, if you want to know the truth—and -I was sure he was an intellectual man—” - -Hal threw back her head and gave a clear ringing laugh. “Bev -intellectual! That’s too funny. I don’t believe he ever read anything -but a newspaper and horse literature in his life. But we all think he’s -bright. I think it my duty to tell you that he has a fearful temper. -He’s always been mamma’s pet, and she never would cross him, so he flies -into regular tantrums when things don’t go to suit him; but on the whole -he’s pretty good sort. Don’t you think he’s good-looking?” - -“Oh, wonderfully,” said Patience, glad to be enthusiastic. - -“Well, I’m sure you’ll like him when you’ve forgotten the ideal and got -used to the real. Do please try to like him, for I’m bent on having you -for a sister-in-law.” - -“Well, I’ll try,” said Patience, laughing. - -“You have no idea,” continued the astute Miss Peele, “how many girls -have been in love with him. I’ve known girls that looked like marble -statues—the marble statue with the snub nose; that’s our swagger New -York type, you know,—well, I’ve seen them make perfect idiots of -themselves about him. But so far he’s rather preferred the ladies that -don’t visit at Peele Manor. I’ve brought some cigarettes. Can I smoke?” - -“You can just do anything you like.” - -“Thanks. Well, I think I’ll begin by lying down on this soft bed. It’s -way ahead of the chairs and sofa in the parlour.” - -She exchanged her frock for a _peignoir_, and extended herself on the -bed. Patience sat beside her in a rocking chair, her troubles forgotten. - -“By the way,” said Hal, suddenly removing her cigarette, “what was the -shock you had the other day? Tell me.” - -“Well, I will,” and Patience told the story of Rosita from beginning to -end. Hal listened with deep interest. - -“That’s a stunner,” she said, “and worth coming to Mariaville for. The -little rip. She didn’t tell you half. I’ll bet my hopes of a tiara on -that. But she does dance and sing like an angel. And so you were -children together? How perfectly funny! Now tell me your history, every -bit of it.” - -Patience hesitated, then impulsively told the story, omitting few -particulars. - -Miss Peele’s cigarette was allowed to go out. “Well, well,” she said, -when Patience had finished. “Fate did play the devil with you, didn’t -she? I’m so glad you’ve told me. I’ll tell the family what I like, and -you keep quiet. I have the inestimable gift of selection. You poor -child! I’m so glad you fell in with Cousin Harriet; and now you are -going to be happy for the rest of your life. Oh, it’s so good to be here -in this quiet place. I’m so tired of everybody. Sometimes I get a -fearful disgust. The same old grind, year after year. If I could only -fall in love; but when I do I know it’ll be with a poor man. I never did -have any luck.” - -“Wouldn’t you marry him?” - -Hal shook her wise young head. “I don’t know. You never can tell what -you’ll do when you get that disease; but I do know that I’d be miserable -if I did. Money, and plenty of it, is necessary to my happiness. You see -we’re not so horribly rich. Papa gives mamma and May and me two thousand -dollars each a year, and his income comes mostly from his practice. We -haven’t anything else but a little house in town, and Peele Manor—which -of course we’ll never sell—and a big farm adjoining. Bev runs that, and -has the income from it—about three thousand dollars a year. When he -wants more mamma gets it for him, and when he’s married of course he’ll -have a lot more. Two thousand stands me in very well now, but as a -married woman I want nothing under thirty thousand a year—and that’s a -modest ambition enough. You can’t be anybody in New York on less. Oh, -dear—life is a burden.” - -“Your woes are not very terrible,” said Patience, drily. - -“Oh, you’d think so if you were me. We suffer according to our -capacities and point of view. What is comedy to one is tragedy to -another. If I had to wear the same clothes for two seasons I’d be as -miserable as a defeated candidate for the Presidency. Beer makes one man -drunk and champagne another. Bev, by the way, never drinks. He’s rather -straight than otherwise. What’s your ideal of a man, by the way? Of -course you have an ideal.” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” said Patience, vaguely. “A man with a big brain and -a big heart and a big arm.” - -Miss Peele laughed heartily. “You are not exacting in your combinations, -not in the least.” - -The week passed delightfully to Patience, although Hal became rather -restless toward the end. She arranged Patience’s hair in six different -fashions, then decided that the large soft coil suited her best. -Patience’s nails were manicured, she was taught how to smoke cigarettes, -and select extracts from French novels were read to her. Hal was an -accomplished gossip, and regaled her hostess with all the whispered -scandals of New York society. She was a liberal education. - -Beverly did not call, nor did he write, and Hal anathematised him -freely. - -“But I have my ideas on the subject,” she said darkly. “Just you wait.” - - - XIX - -On the evening of Hal’s departure, as Patience was braiding her hair for -the night, there was a sharp ring at the bell, and a few moments later -Ellen came upstairs with a card inscribed “Mr. Beverly Peele.” Patience -felt disposed to send word that she had retired, so thoroughly had she -lost interest in the young man; but reflecting that he had probably -ridden ten miles on a cold night to see her, told Ellen to light all the -burners in the parlour, and twisted up her hair. - -As she went downstairs she saw a heavy overcoat on the hall table. - -“If it had occurred to me that he had come by train,” she thought, “I’d -have let him go home again.” - -He came forward with his charming smile, looking remarkably handsome in -his evening clothes. - -“It was kind of you to come,” she said, too unsophisticated to feel -embarrassed at receiving a man at night in a house where she lived alone -with a servant. “Of course you knew how lonely I must be.” - -“Hal is good company, isn’t she?” he asked, holding her hand and staring -hard at her. “But I should think she’d miss you more than you’d miss -her.” - -Patience withdrew her hand abruptly. Her face wore its accustomed cold -gravity, contradicted by the eager eyes of youth. “Won’t you sit down? I -hope Hal has missed me, but she has hardly had time to tell you so.” - -“Hasn’t she? She has had several hours, and I suppose you know by this -time how fast she can talk. She’s awfully bright, don’t you think so?” - -“Indeed she is.” - -“She isn’t a beauty like May, nor intellectual like Honora, but you -can’t have everything—that is, everybody can’t.” - -“Does any one?” asked Patience, indifferently. - -“Hal says you are the cleverest woman she has ever met,—and—” - -“I’m afraid Hal is carried away by the enthusiasms of the moment,” said -Patience, as he paused. She was highly gratified, nevertheless. - -“—you are the prettiest woman I ever saw,” he continued, as if she had -not spoken. - -“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Patience, angrily, but the colour flew to her -face. - -“I mean it,” and indisputably his eyes spoke admiration. “I’ve thought -of no one else since I was here. I haven’t come before, because there’s -nothing in calling on your sister, and that’s what it would have -amounted to. But, you see, I’m here the very night she left.” - -“You are very flattering.” Patience was beginning to feel vaguely -uncomfortable. She realised that the lore gathered from novels was -valueless in a practical emergency, and longed for the experience of -Hal. “I understand that you are considered fascinating, and I suppose -most women do like to be flattered.” - -“I never paid a woman a compliment before in my life,” he said, -unblushingly. “You don’t look a bit like any woman I ever saw. Hal says -you look like a ‘white star on a dark night,’ and that’s about the size -of it. You have such lovely hair and skin. I’ve always rather admired -plump women, but your slenderness suits you—” - -“Oh, please talk about something else! I am not used to such stuff, and -I don’t like it. Suppose you talk about yourself.” (She had read that -man could ever be beguiled by this bait.) “Are you as fond of travel as -Hal is?” - -“I never travel,” he said shortly. “When I find a comfortable place I -stay in it. Westchester County suits me down to the ground.” - -“You mean to say that you can travel and don’t? that you don’t care at -all to see the beautiful things in Europe?” - -“Oh, my mother always brings home a lot of photographs and things, and -that’s all I want of it. I never could understand why Americans are so -restless. I’m sick of the very sound of Europe, anyway.” - -“Are you fond of New York?” - -“New York is the centre of the earth, and full of pretty—interesting -things, dontcherknow? I’ve had some gay times there, I can tell you. But -I’ve settled down now, and prefer Westchester County to any place on -earth. I’d rather be behind or on a horse than anything else.” - -“Don’t you care for society?” - -“I hate it. One winter was enough for me. Wild horses wouldn’t drag me -into a ball-room again. Of course when the house is full of company in -summer I like that well enough. I play billiards with the men and -spoon—flirt with the girls and the pretty married women; but I’m just -as contented when they’ve all cleared out.” - -“Do you mean to say that you stay in the country by yourself all winter? -What do you do? Read?” - -“N-o-o-o. I don’t care much about books. We have a big farm and I run -it, and I skate and drive and ride and smoke—Oh, there’s plenty to do. -Occasionally I go to town and have a little fun.” - -“What do you call fun if you don’t like society,—the theatre?” - -“The theatre!” he laughed. “I never sat out a play in my life. Oh, I -don’t know you well enough to tell you everything yet. Sometime, I’ll -tell you a lot of funny things.” - -“Perhaps you enjoy the newspapers in winter,” said Patience, hastily. - -“Oh, I read even the advertisements. The papers are all the reading any -man wants. There are two or three good sensational stories every day.” - -“I don’t read those,” said Patience, disgustedly. This idol appeared to -be clay straight up to his hair. “I like to read the big news and Mr. -Field’s editorials.” - -“Oh, you need educating. I read those too—not Field; he’s too much for -me. But I didn’t come here to talk about newspapers—” - -“Won’t you smoke a cigar?” - -“No, thanks. I smoked all the way down, and in the cab too, for that -matter—” - -“Are the horses standing out there in the cold? Wouldn’t you like to -tell him to take them to the barn?” - -“I suppose he can look after his own horses. They’re nothing but old -hacks, anyhow.” He leaned forward abruptly and took her hand, pressing -it closely. “Oh!” he said. “I’ve been wild to see you again.” - -Patience attempted to jerk her hand away, acutely conscious of a desire -to return his clasp. She did the worst thing possible, but the only -thing that could be expected: she lost her head. “I don’t like you to do -that,” she exclaimed. “Let me go! What do you mean, anyhow?” - -“That you are the loveliest woman I ever saw. I have been wild about -you—” He had taken her other hand, and his face was close to hers. He -had lowered his lids slightly. - -“And you think that because I am alone here you can say what you like?” -she cried passionately. “You would not dare act like this with one of -your mother’s guests!” - -“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He laughed disagreeably. “But what is the use of being -a goose—” - -Patience sprang to her feet, overturning her chair: but she only -succeeded in pulling him to his feet also; he would not release her -hands. - -“I wish you would leave the house,” she said, stamping her foot. “If you -don’t let me go, I’ll call Ellen.” - -“Oh, don’t make a goose of yourself. And I’m not afraid of a servant. -I’m not going to murder you—nor anything else. Only,—do you drive all -men wild like this?” - -“I don’t know anything about men,” almost sobbed Patience, “and I don’t -want to. Will you go?” - -“No, I won’t.” He released her hands suddenly; and, as she made a spring -for the door, flung his arms about her. She ducked her head and fought -him, but he kissed her cheeks and brow and hair. His lips burnt her -delicate skin, his powerful embrace seemed absorbing her. She was filled -with fury and loathing, but the blood pounded in her ears, and the very -air seemed humming. The man’s magnetism was purely animal, but it was a -tremendous force. - -“You are a brute, a beast!” she sobbed. “Let me go! Let me go!” - -“I won’t,” he muttered. He too had lost his head. “I’ll not leave you.” -He strove to reach her mouth. She managed to disengage her right arm, -and clinching her hand hit him a smart blow in the face. He laughed, and -caught her hand, holding it out at arm’s length. - -“Ellen!” she cried. As she lifted her head to call he was quick to see -his advantage. His mouth closed suddenly on hers. - -The room swam round her. She ceased to struggle. Her feet had touched -that nether world where the electrical forces of the universe appear to -be generated, and its wonder—not the man—conquered her. She shook -horribly. She felt a tumultuous impulse to spring upon her ideals and -beat them in the face. - -Heavy footfalls sounded in the kitchen hall. - -“There is Ellen!” she gasped, wrenching herself free. The man stamped -his foot. He looked hideous. - -“Go!” said Patience. “Go, just as fast as you can, and don’t you ever -come here again. If you do, it won’t do you any good, for you’ll not see -me.” - -And she ran upstairs and locked her door loudly. - - - XX - -For some time she walked rapidly up and down, pressing her hands to her -hot face. Chaos was in her. She could not think. She only felt that she -wanted to die, and preferred the river. She poured water into a basin -and plunged her face into it again and again. The water had the chill of -midwinter, and sent the blood from her brain; but she felt no cleaner. -Still, her brain was no longer racing like a screw out of water, and she -sat down to think. It was her trend of mind to face all questions with -the least possible delay, and she looked at herself squarely. - -“So,” she thought, “I am the daughter of Madge Sparhawk, after all. The -horror of that night left me as I was made. Three years with the best -woman the sun ever shone on only put the real me to sleep for a time. -All my ideals were the vagaries of my imagination, a sort of unwritten -book, of the nature of those that geniuses write, who spend their -leisure hours in debauchery. I am no better than Rosita. I have not even -the excuse of love—if I had—if it had been Him—I might -perhaps—perhaps—look upon passion as a natural thing. Certainly it is -not disagreeable,” and she laughed unpleasantly. “But I despised this -man. He has not the brain of a calf nor the principle of a savage, and -yet it is he that made me forget every ideal I ever cherished. If I met -Him now, I would not insult him with the gift of myself. . . . - -“If Beverly Peele came in here now I verily believe that I should kiss -him again. What—what is human nature made of? I have the blood of -refined and enlightened ancestors in my veins—I know that. I have seen -nothing of sexual sin that did not make me abhor it. Barring my mother, -I had the best of influences in Monterey, and I knew the difference. I -have—or had—a natural tendency toward all that was refined and -uplifting. I was even sure I had a soul. My brain is better, and better -furnished, than that of the average woman of my age. And yet, at the -first touch, I crumble like an old corpse exposed to air. I am simply a -body with a mental annex, and the one appears to be independent of the -other. - -“Is the world all vile?” she continued, resuming her restless walk. -“This man attacked me as if he had no anticipation of a rebuff. And yet -I am the friend of his sister, the adopted daughter of his mother’s -cousin, and, he has every reason to think, of irreproachable life. If -the world—his mother’s world—were not full of such women as he -imagined me to be—he would never have taken so much for granted. He -acted as if he thought me a fool, and I appear to be remarkably green. I -am certainly learning. Oh—the brute! the brute!” And she flung herself -on the bed and burst into violent weeping, which lasted until she was so -exhausted that she fell asleep without disrobing. - - - XXI - -The next morning her head ached violently. She started for the woods, -but turned back. They held her lost ideals. She sat all day by the -window, looking at the Hudson, listless, and mentally nauseated. - -During the afternoon a special messenger brought a note of abject -apology from Beverly Peele. She burnt it half read and told the man -there was no answer. There is only one thing a woman scorns more than a -man’s insult, and that is his apology. - -The next day he called, but was refused admission by the sturdy Ellen. -Patience spent the day on Hog Heights. On the following day he called -again, with the same result. The next day Hal came. - -“What is the row between you and Bev?” she exclaimed, before she had -seated herself. “He says you’ve taken a dislike to him, and is in the -most beastly temper about it. I never saw him so cut up. He’s sent me -here to patch it up and give you this letter. Do tell me what is the -matter?” - -“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Patience, grimly. “The idea of his sending -his sister to patch it up!” And she gave an account of Mr. Peele’s -performance, woman-like omitting her own momentary forbearance. - -Hal listened with an amused smile. “So Bev made a bad break,” she -remarked when Patience had concluded. “I’m not surprised, for he’s -pretty hot-headed, and head over ears in love. You mustn’t take life so -tragically. I’ve had several weird experiences myself, although I’m not -the kind that men lose their head about as a rule; only given the hour -and the occasion, some men will lose their head about any woman. Perhaps -I should have said New York men. They are a rare and lovely species. -They admire God because he made himself of their gender and knew what he -was about when he invented woman. I was out on a sleighing party one -moonlight night last winter, and on the back seat with a man I’d never -seen out of a ball-room before. The way that man’s legs and arms flew -round that sleigh made my hair curl. You see, a lot of us are fast, but -then plenty of us are not. The trouble is that the men can’t -discriminate, as we look pretty much alike on the outside. They’re not a -very clever lot—our society men—and they don’t learn much until -they’ve been taught. Then when they are forced to believe in your virtue -they feel rather sorry for you, and later on are apt to propose—if you -have any money. Bev would propose to you if you were living in a tent -and clad in a gunny sack. He would have preferred things the other -way—it’s so much less trouble—but as he can’t, he won’t stop at any -such trifling nuisance as matrimony. Oh, men are a lovely lot! Still, -the world would be a pretty stupid place without them. You’ll learn to -manage them in time, and then they’ll only amuse you. They are not -really so bad at heart—they’ve been badly educated. I know four married -women of the type we call ‘friskies,’ whom my mother would shudder at -the thought of excluding from her visiting list, and whom I’d bet my new -Paquin trunk, several men I know have had affairs with. So what can you -expect of a man?” - -“Is the world rotten?” asked Patience, in disgust. - -“It’s just about half and half. I know as many good women as bad. Half -the women in society are good wives and devoted mothers. The other half, -girls and married women, old and young, are no better than your Rosita. -Sometimes their motives are no higher. Usually, though, it’s craving for -excitement. I don’t blame those much myself. The most fascinating woman -I know is larky. She as much as told me so. Some of the confessions I’ve -had from married women would make you gasp. Well—let’s quit the -subject. Promise me you’ll forgive Bev.” - -“I shall not. I hate him. I shall never look at him again if I can help -it.” - -“Oh, dear, dear, you are young! And I do so want you for a sister. May -is such a fool, and I do hate Honora.” - -“You wouldn’t have me loathe myself for the sake of being your sister, I -suppose?” - -“Of course I wouldn’t have you marry Bev if you couldn’t like him; but I -believe you really do, only things haven’t turned out as you planned in -that innocent little skull of yours. Bev is a good fellow, as men go. -You’ll get used to him and his kind in the course of time, and then -you’ll enjoy life in a calm practical way.” - -“Is there no other way?” asked Patience, bitterly. - -“Not in my experience. And if you stay here in your woods you’ll get -tired of your ideals after a while. You can’t live on ideals—the human -constitution isn’t made that way. If it was there’d be no such thing as -society. We’d live in caves and bay the moon. So you’d better come into -the world, Patience dear, and accept it as it is, and drain it for all -it’s worth.” - -“Oh, hush! You are too good to talk like that.” - -“Good?—what is good? I am the result of my surroundings—a little -better than some, a little worse than others. So was Cousin Harriet. So -is La Rosita. I’m not cynical. I merely see life—my section of -it—exactly as it is. If you become a newspaper woman you’ll probably -receive a succession of shocks. As nearly as I can make out they’re -about like us—half and half. I became quite chummy with a newspaper -woman, once, crossing the Atlantic. She was awfully pretty, and, as -nearly as one woman can judge of another, perfectly proper. She related -some wild and weird experiences she had had with men. Yours would -probably be wilder and weirder, as you appear to be possessed of an -unholy fascination; and in a year or two you’ll be a beauty. All you -want is a little more figure and style—or rather clothes.” - -“Well, if I’m to have wild and weird experiences I prefer to have them -with men of brains, not with a lot of empty-headed society men.” - -“Don’t generalise too freely, my dear. There are newspaper men and -newspaper men,—according to this girl I’ve just told you of. Some are -brainy, some are merely bright; some are gentlemen, most are common -beyond words. And, as she said—after you’ve worked with man in his -shirt sleeves, you don’t have many illusions about the animal left.” - -“I have not one, and I lost them in an hour. Your brother is supposed to -be a gentleman with a long array of ancestors, and he acted like a wild -Indian.” - -“My dear, he merely lost his head. That was a compliment to you, and you -should not be too hard on a man in those circumstances. He won’t do it -again, I’m sure of that. He has some control. I warned him before he -came not to pun, and he says he didn’t, not once. Now, tell me one -thing—Don’t you like him just a little?” - -“No,” said Patience; but she flushed to her hair, and Hal, with her -uncanny wisdom, said no more. - - - XXII - -The next day Patience went to the woods for the first time since Beverly -Peele’s onslaught. A natural reaction had lifted her spirits out of the -slough, and she turned to nature, as ever. She could never be the same -again, she thought with a sigh; and once more she must readjust herself. -She wondered if any girl had ever done so much readjusting in an equal -number of years. - -The woods were no longer a scene of enchantment. The ice had melted. The -trees were grey and naked again. The ground was slush, and nasty to walk -upon. - -“But the spring must come in time,” she thought; “and then perhaps I’ll -feel new too—but not the same, for like the spring I shall have other -seasons behind me. - -“But—perhaps—who knows?—I may be the better for knowing myself. I was -in a fool’s paradise before. Perhaps I was in danger of becoming an -egoist, and imagining myself made of finer fibre than other women. Great -writers show that the same brute is in all of us, and I can believe it. -Some work it off in religion, but the majority don’t. There seems to be -some tremendous magnetic force in the Universe that makes the human race -nine-tenths Love—for want of a better name. Circumstances and ancestors -determine the direction of it. It seems too bad that Civilisation has -not done more for us than to give us the analytical mind which -understands and rebels, and no more, at the inheritance of the savage. -But now that I know myself, perhaps I can go forward more surely on the -path to the higher altitudes of life. I should like to be as good as -auntie, and worldly-wise beside. - -“I suppose my horrid experience with this man will make me more exacting -with all men. I think I could not blunder into matrimony, as some women -do. I feel as if I never wanted to see another man, but that impression -will pass—all impressions appear to pass. I may even want to meet Him -after a time, and perhaps he will forgive. Shouldn’t be surprised if -he’d want a good deal of forgiveness himself. Meanwhile I can work, and -learn all I can of what life means, anyway. I’ll go to Mr. Field—” - -The soft ground echoed no footfalls, but Patience suddenly became aware -that some one was approaching her. She turned, and saw Beverly Peele. - - - - - BOOK III - - - I - -“I do hope you’ll make a hit, Patience,” said Hal, regarding her -critically. “The public, even the little public of a garden party, is a -thing you can’t bet on, but you certainly are stunning. If ever papa -loses his fortune, in the curious American way, I shall follow the ever -seductive example of the English aristocracy and go in for dressmaking. -That frock is a triumph of art, if I do say it myself.” - -Patience revolved slowly before the Psyche mirror which stood between -two open windows in one corner of Hal’s pretty terra-cotta bedroom. She -too was pleased with the airy concoction of violet and white. On a chair -lay a picture hat, another bird of the same feather. Hal placed it on -Patience’s head, a little back, and the violet velvet of the interior -made a very effective frame for the soft ashen hair and white skin. - -“You certainly carry yourself well,” continued Hal, “and before long you -will acquire an air. Always keep in mind that _that_ is the most -important thing in life—our life—to acquire. But you look like a lily, -a purple and white forest lily.” - -“I haven’t the faintest idea what to talk to fashionable people about.” - -“Don’t be too clever—don’t frighten the men and antagonise the women. -You see, you’re not known at all, so people won’t begin by being afraid -of you—as they would if they knew all that went on in that pretty skull -of yours. Just be Mrs. Beverly Peele. Nobody would ever suspect Bev of -marrying a clever woman. You can’t do the artless and infantile, like -May: your face is too strong; but you can be unsophisticated, and that -always goes.” - -“I’m not unsophisticated!” - -“Oh, don’t look like that. All the light seems to go out of your skin. I -mean give everybody the impression that you have everything to learn, -and that each, individually, can teach it all. It’s awfully fetching. -That is what has made May’s success. Of course you wouldn’t be another -May, if you could; but you want to begin at the beginning—don’t you -know? You must let society feel that it gives you everything, tells you -everything. Then it will love you. But if it suspects that you are -alien—the least little bit—then there will be the devil to pay. Of -course a few of the best sort would like you, but I’m set on your making -a hit.” - -“I’m afraid I’ll never take,” said Patience, with a sigh, “but I am wild -to see Vanity Fair, all the same. It must be great fun—all that -brilliancy and life. But somehow I don’t feel in tune with the people I -have met, so far.” - -“Oh, that’s natural. You are not acclimatised yet, so to speak. Society -is a distinctly foreign country to those that have not been brought up -in it. Just sit down on the edge of that chair and rest while I take a -look at myself.” - -“White is certainly my day colour,” she continued, revolving in her turn -before the mirror. “It is wonderful how it clears the skin, especially -with a touch of blue near the face. Pink would make me as yellow as -October, and green would suggest thirty-five. Your grey matter will be -spared the wear and tear of The Study of Colour, but if I hadn’t reduced -it to a fine art, I’d have had to turn literary or something when May -came out.” - -“You look just like a fairy! I never saw anything so dainty.” - -“Oh, of course; I’m so little and light that I have to work the fairy -racket for all it’s worth. It’s a heavenly day, isn’t it? The country’s -got its best spring clothes on, sure enough.” - -The girls leaned out of each of the windows in turn, scrutinising the -grounds. In front and on both sides of the house the land rolled away in -great irregular waves. Woods were in the sudden hollows, on the lofty -knolls; between, shelving expanses of green, bare but for an occasional -oak or elm. Beside the driveway was a long narrow avenue of elms, down -which two might pace shoulder to shoulder, and no more. In a deep hollow -on the right was the orchard, a riot of pink and white. The immediate -grounds were small and trim, and fragrant with the flowers of -civilisation; out on the hills beyond the wild-flowers and tall grass, -the locust and hawthorn, had their way. Behind all flowed the Hudson -under the green Palisades, its surface gay with sail and steamboat. - -A dancing booth had been erected on one of the lawns, and the musicians -were already assembling under the silken curtains. - -“It looks very well,” said Hal, “and you couldn’t have a more perfect -day for your _début_. Not that I care much for garden parties; the fresh -air makes me sleepy, and there’s no concentration, as it were—as there -is in a ball-room, don’t you know? But mamma decreed that the world -should make your acquaintance out of doors, and that is the end of it. I -wonder if you’ll manage to induce Bev to go to town for the winter.” - -“I hope so! It will be horribly dull to stay here all winter, with all -of you away.” - -“That’s an edifying sentiment for a bride of three months. However, I -agree with you. I’d go mad shut up in a country house in winter with the -most fascinating man that ever breathed. And the dickens of it is, mamma -always takes his part, whether he’s wrong or right. She’ll preach wifely -duty to you until you’d live on a desert island to get rid of her.” - -“I’ve heard her,” said Patience, gloomily. - -“I wondered if that was what she was at in the library yesterday. When -mamma has her chin well up and her lower lip well out I can tell at long -range that she’s embracing the cause of virtue. But she tackled you -rather early in the game, considering you haven’t made any notable break -as yet.” - -“I wouldn’t go driving with Beverly yesterday,—the sun makes my head -ache,—and I’d also begged him to take me to the theatre to see Rosita, -and he wouldn’t.” - -“Oh, you’ll never get Bev to the theatre. We’ll go by ourselves to a -matinée. However, it’s better than being a newspaper woman on several -dollars a week—come now, own up?” - -“I enjoyed Florida and New Orleans and Canada immensely.” - -“That was a tremendous concession for Bev to make—he detests -travelling. He certainly is in love; but I imagine he expects you to -live on that same concession for some time to come—thinks it’s your -turn to do the self-sacrificing act. Such is man. Anyhow, I’m glad it’s -all turned out so comfortably, and that you are here, and that all is -settled—” - -“I want to ask you something. I couldn’t get it out of Beverly. Did your -mother make a very violent objection to his marrying me? Of course I am -a social nobody, and she must have made great plans for her only son. -She didn’t say anything when she came to call; but, you see, she didn’t -call until three days before the wedding, and Beverly’s and your excuses -were not very good.” - -“Oh, of course she raised Cain,” said Miss Peele, easily; “that was to -be expected. But papa put his foot down and said he was glad to have -Beverly marry a clever woman: it might be the making of him. And _I_ -just fought! Of course I’d told papa that you were as high bred as any -woman in America, and that you’d look a swell in less than no time. That -weighed heavy with him, for, in his opinion, God may have made himself -first, but he made the Peeles next, and no mistake. And Bev! He went -into the most awful tantrums you ever saw. I think that was what brought -mamma round—she was afraid he’d burst a blood-vessel. When she wrote -and asked Miss Beale to live with you I knew the day was won. And now -that you are Mrs. Beverly Peele she’ll respect you accordingly, although -you’ll have some lively tussles. But make her think you adore Bev, and -you’ll pull through. Suppose we go down now. Tra-la-la! I wish it were -over.” - - - II - -The girls descended the twisted stair into the wide hall. All the doors -and windows were open, and the soft air blew through the great house, -lifting the lace and silken curtains. - -A girl, looking like a large butterfly, in her yellow frock, was -fluttering about the hall amidst the palms and the huge vases of -flowers. Her skin was of matchless tints, her large blue eyes as -guileless as those of an infant. - -“Oh! Oh!” she cried, as Hal and Patience reached the first landing, “how -perfectly sweet! Hal, is my frock all right in the back? My things never -fit quite as well as yours do. Isn’t Patience too fetching for words? I -wish I was just white like that. How perfectly funny that we should be -giving a garden party for Bev’s wife! Who would have thought it last -year? Isn’t it odd how things do happen? And hasn’t Honora been -perfectly lovely about it? I always knew she didn’t care. I wonder if -any decent men will come up! It’s so hard—Hal, _does_ my frock wrinkle -in the back?” - -“Oh, no, no,” drawled Hal, without looking at her. She glanced at the -tall clock in an angle. “They’ll be here in ten minutes, now—Oh—h—h!” - -A portière was pushed aside, and a girl entered the hall from a dark -background of books and heavy curtains. She was far above the ordinary -height of woman, and extremely slender. Golden hair clustered about a -long face, pale rather than white. The large azure eyes had the -extraordinary clarity of childhood, and an expression of perfect purity. -The nose was long, the mouth thin, but well curved and very red. She -wore a clinging gown of white crêpe and a large knot of blue -wild-flowers at her belt. She moved slowly forward, managing her long -limbs with much dexterity, but could hardly be called graceful. Patience -thought her the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and murmured her -admiration to Hal, who snorted in a gentle, ladylike way. - -“They will be here in a moment, I suppose,” said Honora, wearily. “I -think I shall not go out. I’ll stay in the drawing-room and entertain -the older people. Some one must attend to them, and I really prefer the -house.” - -“You are always so amiable,” said Hal, drily, “and you certainly won’t -get freckled.” - -“It is true that I don’t like freckles,” said Honora, calmly, “and I do -like the older people. Even you, when you have a few white hairs, may -become more or less interesting. Patience, dear, you look very lovely. -You must let me kiss you.” She bent her cool lips to the brow of the -bride, swaying over her. Her voice could not be described by any -adjective devoid of the letter L. It was liquid, silvery, cold, light. - -“She certainly is a stunning-looking woman,” said Hal, as Honora passed -into the drawing-room, “but she’s a whole rattlesnake, and no mistake. -I’ve never seen her strike real hard yet; she merely spits occasionally, -and always in that amiable way. You can imagine how subtle she is, and -what a dangerous force such self-control is. I shall never understand -how she failed to get Bev.” - -“Perhaps, as May suggests, she didn’t want him.” - -“Oh, didn’t she! Just wait! you’ll hear from her yet. There’s the -whistle. The train’ll be here in three minutes. Let us group ourselves -gracefully under Peele the First.” - -They went into the large white drawing-room, whose old-fashioned -woodwork was as it had been nearly three hundred years ago, even to the -heavy shutters over the small-paned windows. The ceiling was fretted -with floral designs, executed in _papier mâché_, surrounding a _bas -relief_ of “our well beloved Whyte Peele,” who had received the grant of -these many acres from James the First. All the woodwork was painted -white, and carved. The furniture, modern, but of colonial design, was -upholstered in pale pink and blue. - -Beyond a side hall was a long dining-room panelled to the ceiling in -oak, and hung on all sides with dead and living Peeles. The carved oaken -table was spread with the light unsubstantial feast of the modern time. -Adjoining the dining-room were two small reception-rooms looking upon -the terrace at the back of the rambling old house. In the middle of this -hall, under the carved twisted stair, was a round enclosure whose door -opened upon a well, from whence a secret passage led to the river. - -Mrs. Peele swept across the hall from the dining-room, and raising her -lorgnette, considered Patience. - -“You look very well,” she said, coldly. “Don’t get nervous, please; it -is the one thing for which people have no toleration. Where is Beverly?” - -“He has gone for a drive. You know he does not like entertainments.” -Patience’s nerves were muttering, and her mother-in-law’s admonition was -not of the nature of balm. - -Mrs. Peele raised her brows. “It is odd that a bride should have so -little influence over her husband,” she remarked; and Patience was now -in that equable frame of mind which carries one through the severe -ordeals of life. - -How she did live through that ordeal of introduction to some five -hundred people she never knew. Fortunately, all but the neighbours -arrived on the special train which had been sent for them, and there was -little for her to do but smile and bend her head as Mrs. Peele named her -new daughter-in-law to her guests. - -And whatever might be that exalted dame’s private opinion of her son’s -choice, whatever methods she might employ in untrammelled domestic hours -to make her disapproval felt, to the world she assumed her habitual air -of being supremely content with all that pertained to the house of -Peele. Had Patience been the daughter of a belted earl she could not -have been presented to New York with a haughtier pride, a calmer -assumption that New York must embrace with gratitude and enthusiasm this -opportunity to meet the daughter-in-law of the Gardiner Peeles. - -Her manner gave Patience confidence after a time. Her own pride had -already conquered diffidence; and trying as the long ordeal was, she -thrilled a little at the sudden realisation of half-formed ambitions. -There was no taint of the snob in her; some echo-voice of other -generations lifted itself out of the inherited impressions which had -moulded her brain cells, and protested against its descendant ranking -below the first of the land. - -Many of the guests were politely indifferent to the honour provided for -them; the girls stared at her in a manner calculated to upset any -_débutante’s_ equilibrium; but the gracious kindness of others and the -languid admiration of the men kept her in poise. - -The neighbours arrived shortly after the train, and it was an hour -before the greater part of the company had dispersed over the grounds, -and Patience could sit down. Mrs. Peele remained in the drawing-room -with some eight or ten people, and as Hal and May had both disappeared, -Patience stayed with her mother-in-law, not knowing where to go. - -She thought the girls very forbidding with their pert noses and keen -eyes, although she admired their luminous skin and splendid grooming, -striking even in the airy attire of spring. The older women looked as if -they would patronise her did Mrs. Peele withdraw her protecting wing, -and one man, passing the window, inserted a monocle and regarded her -deliberately. Suddenly Patience experienced a sensation of profound -loneliness. No force in life is surer of touch than the subtle play of -spirit on spirit, and Patience read that these people did not like her -and never would, that they recognised the alien who would regard their -world spectacularly, never acquire their comic seriousness. - -“Are you fond of golf, Mrs. Peele?” asked one girl, languidly. - -“I never have played golf.” - -The girl raised her brows. “Really! Are you fond of tennis?” - -“I have never played tennis.” Patience repressed a smile as the girl -looked frankly shocked. Still the guest was evidently determined to be -amiable. - -“I hope you don’t think it frivolous?” - -“Oh, no, I should like to learn all those things very much.” - -“Well, Miss Peele can teach you. She is awfully clever at all those -things. Don’t you think Miss Mairs looks like Mary Anderson?” - -“Mary Anderson?” - -“Yes, the actress, you know.” - -“I have never seen her.” - -The girl was visibly embarrassed. Another, who looked as if harbouring a -grin in her straight little mouth, came to the rescue. - -“Oh, I do think Mr. Peele is so good-looking,” she exclaimed, with a -fine show of animation. “We all think you are to be congratulated.” - -Patience smiled at the frank rudeness of this remark, and said nothing. - -“You know Amy Murray was wild about him. She’s not here to-day, I -notice. We did think it too bad that he wouldn’t go out. Some of the -girls have met him here, but I never have. They say he is awfully -fascinating.” - -“Oh, yes, he is fascinating,” said Patience. - -“What have you been doing with yourself if you have never learned to -golf nor play tennis?” asked another girl, insolently. She was a tall -girl, with a wooden face, a tight mouth, and an “air.” - -“Oh, I read, mostly,” said Patience, with an extremely bored air. - -The mother of the third girl turned swiftly and smiled at the bride, a -humorous smile in which there was some pity. Patience had observed her -before. She was a tall woman with a slender figure of extreme elegance. -Her dark bright face was little older than her daughter’s. Her ease of -manner was so great that it was almost self-conscious. - -“Oh, say!” she exclaimed, “don’t think we’re all like that. The girls -don’t have much time to read—that’s true—but after they settle down -they do, really. Hal reads French novels—the little reprobate!—We read -French novels too, but a lot else besides. Oh, really! Outsiders—the -people that only know society through the newspapers, don’t you -know?—misjudge us terribly, really. Some of the brightest women of the -world are in New York society—why shouldn’t they be? And if the girls -don’t study it’s their own fault; they certainly have every opportunity -under the sun. I was made to study. My father was old-fashioned, and had -no nonsense about him. I always say I was educated beyond my brains, but -I’d rather have it that way than the other. Now, I assure you I read -everything. I have a standing order on the other side with an English -and a French book-seller, to send me every book the minute it attracts -attention—” - -“Oh, you’re real intellectual, you are,” drawled Hal’s mocking voice. - -The lady turned with a start and a little flush. - -“Oh, Hal!” she cried gaily, “how you do take the starch out of one.” - -“You’ve got enough to stock a laundry, so you needn’t worry. I’ve come -to rescue my fair sister-in-law before you talk her to death. Come, -Patience.” - -Patience arose with alacrity, and followed her out of the house. - -“Don’t you like her?” she asked. - -“Oh, immensely. She’s as bright as a woman can be who has so little time -to think about it. She’s a tall and majestic pillar of Society, you -know, and she carries it—the intellect, not the pillar—round like a -chip on her shoulder. That makes me weary at times. I’ve heard her talk -for an hour without stopping. The only thing that makes me forgive her -is her slang. We have a match occasionally.” - -“Her daughter doesn’t look as if she used slang.” - -“Oh, she doesn’t. She’s no earthly use whatever. Are you enjoying -yourself?” - -“Not particularly. But it’s a lovely scene.” - -The lawns, and knolls, and woods were kaleidoscopic with fashionettes in -gay attire, shifting continually. There were not men enough to mar the -brilliant effect. The music of birds soared above the chatter of girls, -the sound of wood and brass. The river flashed away into the distance, a -silver girdle about Earth’s green gown. - -“Yes, very pret,” said Hal. “But come, I’m going to introduce you to my -latest.” - -“You didn’t tell me that you had a latest.” - -“I’ve only met him a few times—he’s from Boston. I expect I forgot -about him.” - -They were walking over the lawns toward the Tea House, a long low rustic -building which stood on the edge of the slope. A hubbub of voices -floated through the windows, peals of laughter, affected shrieks. - -“A lot of my intimates are there,” said Hal. “I’ve managed to get them -together. May is doing the hostess act with her accustomed grace and -charm, and I’m taking a half hour off.” - -They went round to the front of the house and entered. It was an airy -structure of polished maple. Little tables, each with a delicate -tea-service, were scattered about with artistic irregularity; round the -wall ran a divan, luxurious, but not too low for whaleboned forms. On -this the girls were stiffly lounging. The men were more at their ease. -All were smoking, the girls daintily, but firmly. - -“Hal! Hal! sweet Queen Hal!” cried one of the young men, rising to his -feet. “I’ve been keeping this place—directly in the middle—for you. -See, it shall be a throne.” He piled three cushions atop, and with -exaggerated homage led her forward amidst the ejaculatory applause of -the others. - -“Isn’t Norry too witty?” said one girl to Patience, as she made room for -her, “and so original! Whoever else would have thought of such a -thing?—although Hal ought to be a queen, don’t you think so? We just -rave about her. Do you smoke? try my kind.” - -Patience, thankful that at last she could do something like these -people, accepted the cigarette. During her three months’ trip she had -not smoked, as Beverly thought it shocking. - -“Mr. Wynne,” cried Hal, suddenly, “come over here and talk to my -sister-in-law. Patience, this is the young man from Boston, famous as -the only New Englander whose ancestors did not come over on the ‘May -Flower.’” - -A man with a smooth serious face rose from his cushions and came -forward. - -“Awfully good-looking,” murmured the girl who had proffered the -cigarette, “and wonderfully smart, considering he’s not a New Yorker. -It’s too bad he’s so beastly poor, for he’s terribly _épris_ with Hal.” - -The young man, who had paused a moment to speak with Hal, inserted -himself as best he could between Patience and her new acquaintance. - -“I am glad you are here,” murmured the bride. “You do not look quite at -home, and I am not, either.” - -He smiled with instant sympathy. “Oh, I don’t care very much for -society, and I don’t like to see women smoke. It’s an absurd prejudice -to have in these progressive days, but I can’t help it.” - -“You mean you don’t like to see Miss Peele smoke,” said Patience, -mischievously. - -He flushed, then laughed. “Well, perhaps that is it. They are all -charming, these girls, but there is something about Miss Peele that -distinguishes her. Did you ever notice it?” - -“Oh, yes. She is herself, and these others are twelve for a dozen.” - -“That is it.” He glanced about at the girls in their bright gowns, which -clung to their tiny waists and hips, their narrow chests and modest -busts, with the wrinkleless perfection that has made the modern milliner -the god he is. Their polished skin and brilliant shallow eyes, their -elegant sexless forms, their haughty poise and supercilious air, laid -aside among themselves but always in reserve, their consciousness of -caste, were the several parts of a unique and homogeneous effect, which, -Patience confided to Mr. Wynne, must mark out the New York girl in -whatever wilds she trod. - -“Oh, it does,” he said. “The New York girl is _sui generis_, and so -thoroughly artificial a product that it seems incredible she can exist -through another generation. I will venture to predict that the species -will be extinct in three, and that American women of a larger and more -human type will gradually be drawn into New York, and found a new race, -so to speak. Why, it seems to me that the children of these women must -be pigmies—imagine one of those girls being the mother of a man. It is -well that New York is not America.” - -Involuntarily Patience’s eyes wandered to Hal. Her waist was as small, -her figure as unwomanly as the others. - -“It is true,” said Wynne, answering her thought; “but she is so charming -that one is quite willing she should do nothing further for the human -race.” - -Patience burst into a light laugh. - -“What’s the matter?” asked Wynne. - -“It suddenly struck me—the almost comical difference between these -girls and the ‘Y’s,’ and the ‘King’s Daughters.’ It does not seem -possible that such types can exist within ten miles of each other. I -should explain that I have passed the last three years in a country -town.” - -“It is odd how religion holds its own in those small places. It is -opera, theatre, balls, Browning societies, everything to those people -shut out of the manifold distractions of cities. Religion seems to be -the one excitement of the restricted life. Human nature demands some -sort of emotional outlet—” - -“What on earth are you two talking about?” cried the girl on the other -side. “Will you have another cigarette, Mrs. Beverly?—that is what we -shall all call you, you know. Mr. Wynne, please talk to me a while. -Isn’t this Tea House too sweet?” - -“It is more,—it is angelic,” said Wynne, gravely. - -“Oh! you’re guying!” Even her voice pouted. “Oh! please shake those -ashes off my gown—quick!—thanks. Oh, your eyes are grey. I thought -they were brown. I’m afraid of grey eyes, aren’t you, Mrs. Beverly—Oh, -dear! your eyes are grey too. What ever shall I do?” and she cast up her -hands. Even her sleek hair seemed to quiver. - -“It is the misfortune of the American race to run to grey eyes,” said -Wynne. “Habit should have steeled you by this time—” - -“Oh, he made a pun! he made a pun!” cried the girl. - -“I did not!—I beg pardon, but I never did such a thing in my life,” -cried Wynne, indignantly; and Patience felt suddenly depressed, although -she too had found a friend in habit. - -Hal rose while the girl was lisping mock apologies. - -“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Isn’t it hateful? But I must go and do my -duty. Patience, you must come too. Why are you blocking the doorway, Mr. -Wynne?” - -“I am going with you.” - -“Really? Well, bye-bye;” and the three went off, followed by a gentle -chorus of regrets. - -“Patience, my dear,” said Hal, “there is a group of people over there -looking hideously bored. You go and cheer them up, while I do my duty by -those austere and venerable dames who are staring through their -lorgnettes at the dining-room windows—” - -“Oh, Hal, I can’t! Don’t send me to those people alone. What can I say -to them?” - -“Patience, my dear, this is a world of woe. One day you will be -châtelaine of this place and be giving garden-parties on your own -account, so you’d better take the kindergarten course, and be thankful -for the chance. Go on.” - -Patience walked unwillingly over to a group of four women seated under a -drooping oak. She had forgotten the names of nine tenths of the guests, -but she recognised Mrs. Laurence Gibbs, a plain rather dowdy little -woman with sad face and abstracted gaze. Beside her on the rustic seat -was a woman who gave a dominant impression of teeth: they fairly flashed -in the shadows. In a chair sat a woman of remarkable prettiness. She -would have been a beauty had her features been larger, so regular were -they, so sweet her expression, so soft her colouring of pink and white -and brown, so tall and full her figure. In another chair was a young -woman of no beauty but much distinction. Her prematurely white hair was -curled and tied at the base of her head with a black ribbon, realising -an eighteenth century effect. Her face was dark and brilliant. She sat -forward, her slim figure full of suppressed energy. She had been talking -with much animation, but as Patience approached she paused abruptly. The -pretty woman burst into a merry laugh. - -“Mrs. Lafarge was just remarking what hideous bores garden parties are,” -she said audaciously. - -“Oh, you needn’t mind me,” said Patience, sitting down on the grass, as -there was no other seat. “I quite agree with you.” - -“Oh, that’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Peele,” said Mrs. Lafarge, “and -awfully mean of you, Mary Gallatin. Of course this is one of the -loveliest places on the Hudson, and I love to come here; but there are -not enough men. That’s the whole trouble.” - -“That always seems to be the cry with you American women,” said she of -the teeth. “You have no resources. You should be independent of men. -They seem to be of you.” - -“Perhaps you are driven to resources in Russia,” said Mrs. Gallatin, -sweetly, “but your observation is faulty. We are spoiled over here, and -that is the reason we grumble occasionally.” - -“You see we haven’t a large leisure class, as you have,” said Mrs. -Gibbs, hastily. - -“I really think the reason men avoid garden parties is that they are -afraid they might be betrayed into sentiment,” broke in Mrs. Lafarge. -“They do protect themselves so fiercely. How did you ever make Tom -Gallatin propose, Mary dear? He had the most ideal bachelor apartment in -New York, and entrenched himself as in a fortress.” - -“Oh, one or two fall by the wayside every year, you know, and this time -Gally happened to stumble over me. Poor Gally, he told me yesterday that -he hadn’t seen me to speak to for a month. The idea of the lower classes -grumbling. I should like to know who works as hard as we do. How do you -manage to do the society and the charity, both?” she asked of Mrs. -Gibbs. “Does Mr. Gibbs ever see _you_?” - -“I never neglect my husband,” said Mrs. Gibbs, sternly. “When I must -neglect anything it is society. I came to-day because I longed for a -glimpse of the country, and I have not been able to go to Woody Cliffs -yet—the poverty is so terrible this year. I wish you would come with me -sometime and see for yourself—” - -“God forbid! I never could stand the smells. I give my pastor so much a -year, and I really think that’s doing one’s share. Of course if you like -it, it’s another thing.” - -“Like it!” cried the Russian. “You speak as if it were her pastime. I -cannot express how gratifying it is to me to meet a serious woman -occasionally in New York society.” - -“I had a lovely time in Petersbourg,” murmured Mrs. Gallatin. “I never -met an offensive Russian inside of the country. Poor America!” - -“I don’t understand,” said the foreigner, stiffly. - -“Oh, I am sure you understand English—you express yourself so clearly. -We all weep over America occasionally, you know. It is a sort of dumping -ground for foreigners,—who sit at our feet, and abuse us.” - -“One is at liberty to abuse insolence,” said the Russian, with -suppressed wrath, “and the women of New York are the most insolent I -have ever met.” - -“Oh, not among ourselves—not really. We think it insolent in outsiders -to elbow their way in—” - -“Mary! Mary!” cried Mrs. Gibbs. “I hear that you spent some years with -Miss Harriet Tremont,” she continued, addressing Patience. “She passed -her entire life in charitable work, did she not?” - -“Oh, she did, and she enjoyed it too. Don’t you?” - -Mrs. Gallatin laughed softly. - -“Enjoy it?” said Mrs. Gibbs. “I never have looked at it in that way. I -think it my duty to aid my miserable fellow beings, and I am thankful -that I am able to aid them.” - -“Odd, the fads different people have,” murmured Mrs. Gallatin. “Now mine -is Russians. What is yours, Leontine?” - -“Oh, Mary, you deserve to be shaken,” exclaimed Mrs. Lafarge, as the -Russian sprang to her feet and stalked away. - -“I can’t help it. She’s a boor, and I wish she’d go back and live with a -Cossack. Foreigners are all very well on their native heath, but as soon -as they are transplanted to this side and treated with common decency -they become intolerable. They grovel at our feet, swell because we -receive them, and sneer at us behind our backs.” - -“I think you have a way of irritating them, my dear,” said Mrs. Gibbs. -“You are a very naughty girl. Won’t you sit up here by me, Mrs. Peele? I -am afraid the ground is damp. I shall ask you some time to explain to me -Miss Tremont’s methods. I often feel sadly at sea.” - -“Oh, dear!” said Patience, “I doubt if I know them. I just followed her -blindly. I may as well confess it—I didn’t take a very great interest -in the work.” - -“Oh, how lovely!” cried Mrs. Gallatin. - -“I am sorry that I have made a mistake,” said Mrs. Gibbs, stiffly. - -“Oh, well—you know—there is such a thing as getting too much of -anything—” - -“Is there?” Mrs. Gibbs rose, and shook out her skirts with an absent -air. “I think I will go over and talk to Mrs. Peele;” and she walked -away with an awkward gait, her head bent forward. She certainly did not -have an “air.” - -“Dear! dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Gallatin. “Just think! you have lost the -interest of Mrs. Laurence Gibbs. She might have invited you to her -exciting musicales or her cast-iron dinners.” - -“Oh, don’t abuse her,” said Mrs. Lafarge. “She is a harmless little -soul, and does what she thinks is right.” - -“She is happier too,” said Patience, her thoughts in Mariaville. “It is -odd, but they always are. I think it’s because they’ve unconsciously -cultivated the supremest and most inspired form of egoism, and naturally -they get a tremendous amount of joy out of it—” - -“Hear! Hear!” cried Mrs. Gallatin. “She analyses!” - -“My dear, you mustn’t do that out loud,” said Mrs. Lafarge. “You’ll be a -terrible failure if you do.” - -“That would be a pity, because you are so pretty,” said Mrs. Gallatin, -smiling. “I’ve been staring at you whenever I’ve had the chance, and you -don’t know how many charming things I’ve heard said of you this -afternoon.” - -“Oh, have you really?” asked Patience, warming instantly, as much to the -kindly sympathy as to the agreeable words. - -“Indeed I have. That violet against your hair and skin makes a perfect -picture of you. _N’est-ce pas_, Leontine?” - -“It certainly does.” - -“I think you are both very kind,” said Patience, with a young impulse to -be frank. “I feel so out of it all. You see this is my first experience -of this sort of thing, and some of those girls have made me feel like a -barbarian.” - -“They’d be glad of your freshness, not only of looks but of mind,” said -Mary Gallatin. “I should think it would be a blessed relief to have some -other sort of interest but just this,” and she swept out her arm -disdainfully. “That’s the reason I go, go, all the time. I don’t dare -think. When you have no talent, and are not intellectual, and not -frantic about your husband, what are you to do? There’s no other -resource, in spite of that Russian prig. I’d give a good deal to be -beginning it all again at eighteen.” - -“There is no spice in life without violent contrasts,” said Mrs. -Lafarge. “That’s the real reason why so many of our good young friends -are larky. The trouble with this world is that although there is variety -enough in it, each variety travels in a different orbit. The social -scheme is all wrong, somehow.” - -“True! True!” said Mrs. Gallatin, plaintively. “But I see they are about -to eat. The open air always makes me hungry. That is variety enough for -the present.” - -As they crossed the lawn she laid her arm about Patience’s waist. “Bev -doesn’t like society,” she said, “and I’m afraid you’re not in any -danger of satiety; but don’t think out loud when you are in it. Leontine -never does, do you, Leontine? And she is clever too. It must be -delightful to be clever. Heigh-ho! Well, you must be sure to come to see -me anyhow. I feel positive we shall be friends. Come some morning at -eleven. That is just after I have had my tub and am back in bed again. I -love to see my friends then. Oh, dear, we must scatter. There are not -two seats together anywhere. Bye-bye.” - - - III - -“Thank God they’re gone.” Hal divested herself of her tight smart frock, -got into a lawn gown, lit a cigarette, and extended herself on the divan -in her bedroom. “Well, Patience, how did you like it?” - -“I don’t think I made the hit you expected.” - -“N-o-o-o, you didn’t exactly create a _furore_; but I don’t know that -any one could do that with so much oxygen round: makes peoples so -drowsy, don’t you know? But you were admired awfully. And then you are -an unconventional beauty, and that always takes longer. Now, May made a -howling sensation, but people are tired of her already. That type -doesn’t wear. My plain phiz wears much better, because there was never -any chance of reaction with me. Oh, dear, here comes Bev.” - -A knock, and in response to Hal’s languid invitation, Beverly entered. -He was in evening clothes, and as handsome as ever; but he looked rather -sulky. - -“You might have met me when I got home,” he said to his wife. “I haven’t -seen you since luncheon.” - -“Tragic!” exclaimed Hal. - -“I was so tired I just drifted in here and fell in a heap,” said -Patience, apologetically. “My skull feels empty, and aches inside and -out.” - -“Then you don’t like society?” said Mr. Peele, eagerly. - -“Oh, very much indeed! I think it is delightful, delightful! Only the -first time is rather trying, you know. I met some charming people, and -want to meet them again.” - -Peele grunted, and lit his cigar. His eyes devoured his wife’s fair -face. Patience looked at Hal. - -“My mother says you carried yourself very well,” remarked Mr. Peele, -gracefully; “that after the first you were quite at your ease. That was -one reason I went away: I was so afraid you’d break down, or something.” - -Patience flushed angrily, but made no reply. She had learned that even a -slight dispute would move her husband to a violent outbreak. - -“She looked more to the manor born than half the guests,” said Hal, “and -if you took her out next winter she’d become the rage—” - -“I don’t wish my wife to be the rage! And she is going to stay here. If -she loves me as much as I love her she’ll be as contented with my -society as I am with hers.” - -“As if any woman ever loved a man as much as he loved her,” remarked -Miss Peele. “I am sure Patience is no such idiot.” - -“What?” cried Beverly. Patience rose hastily. - -“I think I’ll go and brush my hair,” she said, moving to the door; but -he sprang to his feet and stood in front of her. - -“Tell me!” he cried, his voice shaking. “Don’t you love me as much as I -love you?” - -“Oh, Beverly,” she said, impatiently, “how can you get into such tempers -about nothing? You have asked me if I loved you about nine thousand -times since we were married. How am I to know how much you love me? Have -you a plummet and line about you?” - -“You are dodging the question. And you have never asked me if I loved -you—not once—” - -Patience slipped past him and ran down the hall to her room. Before she -could close the door he was beside her. He caught her in his arms and -kissed her violently. - -“I shall always be mad about you,” he said. “And I believe you are -growing cold. You have not been the same lately. Sometimes I think that -you shrink from me as you did at first. Tell me what I have done. I’d -sell my soul to keep you. If you are tired of me, I’ll kill myself—” - -She disengaged herself. “Listen,” she said; “I’ve tried to explain—but -you don’t seem to understand—that I didn’t want to fall in love with -you—not in that way. That should not come first. Then when I found -myself made of common clay, I said that I would forget that I had ever -been Patience Sparhawk, and begin life again as Mrs. Beverly Peele. -Novelty helped me; and when one is travelling, one’s ego appears to be -dissolved into the changing scene—one is simply a sensitised plate. But -now I am beginning to feel like Patience Sparhawk again, and it -frightens me a little.” - -Beverly, to whom the larger part of these remarks were pure Greek, -blanched to the lips. - -“Then you regret it,” he stammered. - -“I didn’t say that. I only mean that I seem to spend life readjusting -myself; and that now I seem to be all at sea again.” - -“You don’t love me any longer! Oh, God!” and he flung himself on the -floor, and burying his face in a chair, groaned aloud. - -Patience was disgusted, but his suffering, primary as it was, touched -her. Moreover, her broad vein of philosophy was active once more. She -was by no means prepared to leave him—the tide was ebbing very slowly. -She sat down on the chair, and lifted his face to her lap. “There,” she -said, “I am sorry I spoke. You don’t seem to understand me. If you did, -though, this scene could never have occurred. But I love you—of -course—and I do not regret it. So get up and bathe your eyes. It is -after seven o’clock.” - -He kissed her hands, his face glowing again. The words were all -sufficient to him. “Then if you love me you will see how happy I’ll make -you,” he exclaimed. “I’ll never leave you a minute I can help; but if -you stop loving me I’ll make life hell for you.” - -“I thought you said you’d kill yourself.” - -“Well, I would, but I’d get square with you first.” - -“Well, suppose you go into your own room now, and let me dress for -dinner.” - - - IV - -The summer passed agreeably enough. Circumstances prevented Beverly -bestowing an undue amount of his society on his wife, and until a woman -is wholly tired of a man she retains her self respect. Moreover, -Patience chose to believe herself in love with him: “it had been in her -original estimate of herself that she had been at fault.” She persuaded -herself that she loved him as much as she could love any man, and she -did her pathetic best to shed some glimmer of spiritual light into a man -who might have been compounded in a laboratory, so little soul was in -him. But despite the clay which was hers, she loved it a great deal for -a time in loving it at all, for that was her nature. - -She went to several other garden-parties, and found them more amusing -than her own, although the young men that frequented them were quite -uninteresting: even Beverly scintillated by contrast, for he, at least, -had a temper; these more civilised youths appeared to have no emotions -whatever. - -Peele Manor was full of company all summer. Patience found the married -men more entertaining than the younger ones, although they usually made -love to her; but after she had outgrown her surprise and disapproval of -their direct and business-like methods, it amused her to fence with -them. They had more self-control than Beverly Peele, and were a trifle -more skilful, but their general attitude was, as she expressed it to -Hal: “There’s no time to lose, dontcherknow! Life is short, and New -York’s a busy place. What the deuce is there to wait for? Sentiment? Oh, -sentiment be hanged! It takes too much time.” - -Hal was an accomplished hostess, and allowed her guests little time to -make love or to yawn. There were constant riding and driving and -yachting parties, picnics and tennis and golf. In the evening they -danced, romped, or had impromptu “Varieties.” - -Patience was fascinated with the life, although she still had the sense -of being an alien, and moments of terrible loneliness. But she was too -much of a girl not to take a girl’s delight in the dash and glitter and -picturesqueness of society. She was not popular, although she quickly -outgrew any external points of difference; but the essential difference -was felt and resented. - -On the whole there was concord between herself and her mother-in-law. -Mr. Peele she barely knew. His family saw little of him. He had not -attended the wedding. When Patience had arrived at Peele Manor after her -trip, he had kissed her formally, and remarked that he hoped she “would -make something of Beverly.” - -He was an undersized man with scant iron grey hair whose tint seemed to -have invaded his complexion. His lips were folded on each other so -closely, that Patience watched them curiously at table: when eating they -merely moved apart as if regulated by a spring; their expression never -changed. His eyes were dark and rather dull, his nose straight and fine, -his hands small and very white. He was not an eloquent man at the bar; -he owed his immense success to his mastery of the law, to a devilish -subtlety, and to his skill at playing upon the weak points of human -nature. No man could so adroitly upset an “objection,” no man so terrify -a witness. It was said of him that he played upon a jury with the -consummate art of a great musician for his instrument. He rarely lost a -case. - -His voice was very soft, his manners exquisite. He was never known to -lose his temper. His cold aristocratic face looked the sarcophagus of -buried passions. - -He deeply resented his children’s failure to inherit his brain, but in -his inordinate pride of birth, forgave them, for they bore the name of -Peele. Hal was his favourite, for she, at least, was bright. - -May admired her sister-in-law “to death,” as she phrased it, and bored -her with attentions. Patience preferred Honora, who puzzled and repelled -her, but assuredly could not be called superficial, although her claims -to intellectuality were based upon her preference for George Eliot and -George Meredith to the lighter order of fiction, and upon her knowledge -of the history of the Catholic Church. - -One day, as Patience was crossing the lawn in front of the house, May -called to her from the hall, beckoning excitedly. She and Hal and Honora -were standing by a table on which was a saucer half full of what -appeared to be dead leaves. As Patience entered, May lifted the saucer -to her sister-in-law’s nostrils. - -“Why? What?” asked Patience, then paused. - -“Oh,—what a faint, delicious, far-away perfume,” she said after a -moment. “What is it?” - -May dropped the saucer and clapped her hands. Hal laughed as if much -gratified. Honora’s eyes wandered to the landscape with an absent and -introspective regard. - -“What is it?” asked Patience again. - -“Why, it’s dried strawberry leaves,” said May. “Don’t you know that they -say in the South that you can’t perceive their perfume unless every drop -of blood in your veins is blue? The common people can’t smell it at -all.” - -Patience blushed and moved her head disdainfully, but she thrilled with -pleasure. - -“Won’t you come up and see my room?” said Honora, softly. “You’ve never -called on me yet, and I think I have a very pretty room.” - -“Oh, I’ll be delighted,” said Patience, who was half consciously -avoiding Beverly: Peele Manor was without guests for a few hours. - -“Now you must tell me if you like my room as much as you do me,” said -Honora, who looked more like an angel than ever, in a white mull frock -and blue sash. Her manner to Patience was evenly affectionate, with an -undercurrent of subtle sadness and reproach. - -As she opened the door of her room, Patience exclaimed with admiration. -The ceiling was blue, frescoed with golden stars, the walls with -celestial visions. A blue carpet strewn with lilies covered the floor, -fluttering curtains of blue silk and white muslin, the old windows. From -the dome of the brass bedstead mull curtains hung like clouds. A faint -odour of incense mixed with the sweet perfumes of summer. - -“Is it not beautiful?” said Honora, in a rapt voice. “It makes me think -of heaven. Does it not you? It was dear Aunt Honora’s last Christmas -gift to me. It was so sweet of her, for of course I am only the poor -cousin.” - -Patience looked at her, wondering, as she had often done, whether the -girl were a fool, or deeper than any one of her limited experience. -Honora rarely talked, but she had reduced listening to a fine art, and -was a favourite in society. Whether she had nothing to say, or whether -she had divined that her poverty would make eloquence unpardonable, -Patience had not determined. One thing was patent, however: she managed -her aunt, and her wants were never ignored. - -“Now,” she said softly, “I am going to show you something that I don’t -show to every one—but you are dear Beverly’s wife.” She folded a screen -and revealed an altar covered with cloth of silver, antique -candlesticks, and heavy silver cross. - -“My faith which sustains me in all the trials of life,” whispered -Honora, crossing herself. “Ah, if I could have made dear Beverly a -convert. Once he seemed balancing—but he slipped away. I have tried to -win Hal and May to the true faith too; but we were always so much more -to each other—Beverly and I,—playmates from childhood. I think I know -him better than anybody in the world.” - -Patience felt an interloper, a thief and an alien, but out of her new -schooling answered carelessly: “Oh, he is awfully fond of you, but I -don’t think he is inclined to be religious. This room is too sanctified -to speak above a whisper in. Come to my room and talk to me awhile.” - -Honora opened a door by the head of her bed, and they passed through a -large lavatory, then through Beverly’s room to that of the bride, a -square room whose windows framed patches of Hudson and Palisade, and -daintily furnished in lilac and white. A photograph of Miss Tremont hung -between the windows. On one side were shelves containing John Sparhawk’s -library. - -Beverly arose from a deep chair, where he had been smoking and glowering -upon the Hudson. Patience caught Honora firmly by the waist and pushed -her into the most comfortable chair in the room, then with much skill -engaged her in a discussion with Beverly upon the subject of music, the -one subject besides horse which interested him. - - - V - -In August the girls went to Newport, and Patience became very tired of -her mother-in-law. May returned engaged to a wealthy Cuban, who had been -dancing attendance on her blondinitude for some months past, and Mrs. -Peele became so amiable that she forgot to lecture her daughter-in-law -or irritate her with the large vigilance of her polaric eyes. The girls -left again for Lenox and Tuxedo. On the first of January the family -moved to their town house for the winter. - -Patience was alone with her husband. - -During the first three days of this new connubial solitude it snowed -heavily. Beverly could not ride nor drive, and wandered restlessly -between the stable and the library, where his wife sat before the -blazing logs. - -There were some two thousand volumes at Peele Manor. Patience had had no -time to read since her marriage, but on the morning of the family’s -departure she made for the library, partly in self defence, partly with -pleasurable anticipation. She hoped that Beverly would succumb to the -charms of the stable, where there were many congenial spirits and a -comfortable parlour; but she had barely discovered Heine’s prose and had -read but ten pages of the “Reisebilder,” when the door opened, and he -came in. She merely nodded, and went on reading. She was barely -conscious of his presence, for Heine is a magician, and she was already -under his spell. - -“Well, you might shut up your book and talk to me,” said Beverly, -pettishly, flinging himself into a chair opposite her. “This is a nice -way to treat a fellow on a stormy day.” - -“Oh, you read too,” murmured Patience. - -“No, I will not. I want to talk to you.” - -Patience closed the book over her finger and looked at him impatiently. -Then an idea occurred to her, and she spoke with her usual -impulsiveness. - -“Look, Beverly,” she said, “you and I have to spend many months alone -together, and if we are to make a success of matrimony we must be -companions, and to be companions we must have similar tastes. Now I’ll -make a bargain with you: I’ll try to like horses if you’ll try to like -books. On pleasant days I’ll ride and drive with you, and when it storms -we’ll read together here in the library. I am sure you will like it -after a time. If you find it tiresome to read to yourself I’ll read -aloud. I don’t mind, and then we can talk it over.” - -“All right,” said Beverly. “Anything you say. What’s that you’re reading -now?” - -“Heine’s prose. He is wonderful—such a style and such sardonic wit, and -such exquisite thoughts. I’ll begin all over again. Now light a cigar -and make yourself comfortable.” - -For a half hour she read aloud, and then Mr. Peele remarked,— - -“Hang it! The skating is spoiled for a week.” - -“Oh, Beverly, you haven’t been listening.” - -“Well, I don’t like it very much. He skips around so. Besides, I always -did hate Germans. Give me America every time.” - -“Well, read something American then,” said Patience, crossly. - -“You find something and read it to me. I like to hear your voice, even -if I can’t keep my mind on it. Wait a while though. I guess I’ll go and -see how the stable is getting on.” - -He bent down to kiss his wife, but she was once more absorbed, and did -not see him. He snatched the book from her with an oath and flung it -across the room. She sprang to her feet with flashing eyes, pushed him -aside with no gentle hand, and ran after the book. - -“You sha’n’t read that book!” he cried. “The idea of forgetting your -husband for a book—_a book_! You are a lovely wife! You are a disgrace -to the name! You would rather read than kiss your husband! I’ll lock -this room up, damned if I don’t.” - -“I’ll go and live with Miss Beale and do Temperance work,” sobbed -Patience. “I won’t live with you.” - -“Oh, you won’t—what? What did I marry you for? My God! What did I marry -you for? My life is hell, for I’m no fool. I know you don’t love me. You -married me for my money.” - -“I wish I had,” she exclaimed passionately, then controlled herself. “I -hope we are not going to squabble in the usual commonplace way. I shall -not, at any rate. If you lose your temper, you can have the quarrel all -to yourself. I shall not pay any attention to you. Now go out to the -stable and cool off, and when you come back I’ll read something else to -you.” - -“Do you love me?” - -“Oh, yes—yes.” - -And Beverly disappeared, slamming the door behind him. - -“I wonder if any one on earth has such a temper,” she thought. “And -people believe that vulgarity and lack of control are confined to the -lower classes! What is the matter with civilisation anyhow? I can only -explain my own remarkable aberration in this way: youthful love is a -compound of curiosity, a surplus of vitality, and inherited -sentimentalism. It is likely to arrive just after the gamut of -children’s diseases has run its course. Of course the disease is merely -a complacent state of the system until the germ arrives, which same is -the first attractive and masterful man. All diseases run their course, -however. I could not be more insensible to Beverly Peele’s dead -ancestors out in the vault than I am to him. No woman is capable of -loving at nineteen. She is nothing but an overgrown child, a chaos of -emotions and imagination. There ought to be a law passed that no woman -could marry until she was twenty-eight. Then, perhaps a few of us would -feel less like—Well, there is nothing to do but make the best of it, -regard life as a highly seasoned comedy, in which one is little more -than a spectator, after all—and at present I have Heine.” - -Beverly did not return for an hour. When he did she rose at once, and -running her eye along the shelves, selected a volume of Webster’s -Speeches. - -“You like politics,” she said; “and all of us should read the great -works of our great men. I’ll read the famous Seventh of March Speech.” - -And she did, Beverly listening with considerable attention. When she had -finished he remarked enthusiastically,— - -“Do you know what that speech has made me make up my mind to do? I’m -going to run for the Senate, and make speeches like that myself.” - -Patience merely stared at him. She wondered if he were really something -more than a fool; if there was a sort of post-graduate course. - -“What makes you look at me like that? Don’t you think I can?” - -“Well—” She hardly knew what to say. - -“Well! Is that the way you encourage a fellow? You are a nice wife. Here -my father has been at me all my life to do something, and just as soon -as I make up my mind, my wife laughs at me.” - -“I didn’t laugh at you.” - -“Well, it’s all the same. If I never do anything, it’ll be your fault.” - -“Go to the Senate just as fast as ever you can get there. And you might -as well spend the rest of the day studying Webster; but suppose you read -to yourself for a while: my throat is tired.” - -“I don’t like to read to myself.” - -“Well, anyhow, I hear Lawson coming. Luncheon is ready.” - -The table in the dining-room had been divested of its leaves, and the -young couple sat only a few feet apart. The room had once been a -banqueting-hall. It was very large and dark. The white light filtered -meagrely through the small panes. The wind moaned through the naked -elms. - -“The country is awfully dull in winter,” remarked Patience. “I wish we -were in town.” - -“That’s a beautiful speech to make to a husband. I don’t mind so long as -you are here.” - -“Of course I am deeply flattered,” and she smiled upon him. There seemed -nothing else to do. - -“Damn it!” cried Beverly, “this steak is as thin as a plate and burnt to -a cinder. Patience, I do wish you’d give some of your attention to -housekeeping and less to books. It is your place to see that things are -properly cooked, now that Honora is gone.” - -“Oh, dear. I don’t know anything about cooking, or housekeeping, -either.” - -“Well, then, I’d be much obliged if you’d learn as quickly as possible. -Take this steak out,” he said to the maid, “and bring some cold beef or -ham. Damn it! I might have known that when Honora went away I’d have -nothing fit to eat, with this new cook.” - -But Patience refused to continue the conversation, and when the ham and -beef came he ate of them with such relish that his good-nature returned -as speedily as it had departed. - -During the afternoon the scene of the morning was repeated with -variations, and the same might be said of the two following days. Then -came an interval of sleighing and skating. Then rain turned the snow to -slush, and once again Beverly exhibited the characteristics of a caged -tiger. - -“I shall have nervous prostration before the winter is over,” thought -Patience, who was still determined to take the situation humorously, -still refused to face her former self. “I do wish the family would come -back, mother-in-law and all.” - -Occasionally, despite Beverly’s indignant protests, she went to town for -the day, and shopped or paid calls with Hal. On one occasion they went -to see Rosita. That “beautiful young prima donna of ever increasing -popularity” wore black gauze over gold-coloured tights, and acted and -sang and danced and allured with consummate art. The opera house was -two-thirds crowded with men, although there was the usual matinée -contingent of girls and young married women. - -“Well,” thought Patience, “she’s way ahead of me, for she’s made a -success of herself, at least, and is not bothered with scruples and -regrets.” - -The winter dragged along as slowly as if time had lamed the old man, -then fallen asleep. The relations between Patience and Beverly became -very strained. His frequent tempers were alternated by sulks. He was -genuinely unhappy, for limited as he was, mentally and spiritually, he -was very human; and in his primitive way he loved his wife. - -Patience’s resolution to go through life as a cynical humourist, deaf -and blind to the great wants of her nature, died hard, but it died at -last. Monotony accentuated fact, and the time came when pretence failed -her, and she visibly shrank from his lightest caress. The tide of horror -and loathing had risen slowly, but definitely. He threatened to kill -her, to commit suicide, to get a divorce; but his threats did not -disturb her. He was too weak to kill himself, too proud to make himself -ridiculous in the divorce courts, and too much in love to put her beyond -his reach. What sustained her was the hope that his passion would die a -natural death, and that they would then go their diverse ways as other -married people did,—that had come to seem to her the most blessed -meaning of the holy state of matrimony. Then she could enjoy her books, -and he would permit her to spend the winters in New York, or in travel. - -Beverly’s affections, however, showed no sign of dissolution. - - - VI - -One afternoon in March, Patience, glancing out of the library window, -saw Hal coming up the lawn from the path that led down the slope to the -station. She suppressed a war-whoop with which she and Rosita had been -used to awake the echoes of the Californian hills, opened the window, -and vaulted out. - -“Well,” cried Miss Peele, as Patience ran toward her, “you do look glad -to see me, sure enough. Bev can’t be very exciting, for you don’t look -as if it were me particularly—just somebody. Oh, matrimony! matrimony! -I envy the women that have solved the problem in some other way—the -journalists and artists, and authors and actresses, and even the -suffragists, God rest them. Hello, there’s Bev. He looks as if he were -about to cry. What have you been doing to him?” - -“I left him writing an order for some new kind of horse-feed,” said -Patience, indifferently. Her husband stood at the window, staring -gloomily at the beaming faces. When the girls entered the room he had -gone. - -“He looks as if he had just been let out of the dark room. Do you beat -him? What do you suppose my mother will say?” - -“Oh, I suppose he’s bored too. You see it’s nearly three months now. I -tried to make him read, but after the third day he went to sleep.” - -Hal drew a low chair to the fire, close to the one Patience occupied. -She laughed merrily. - -“Fancy your trying to make Bev intellectual! That would be a good -subject for a one-act farce. Well, I’ve come up here to tell you -something, and to talk it over. I, too, am contemplating matrimony.” - -“Oh, don’t!” cried Patience. - -“I believe that is usually the advice of married people, but the world -goes on marrying itself just the same. But my problem is much more -complicated than the average, for there are two men in the question.” - -“Two? You don’t mean to say you don’t know your own mind?” - -“That is exactly the fact in the case. You remember Reginald Wynne? -Well, Patience, I do like that man. I never liked any man one tenth as -much. I might say he’s the only serious man I’ve ever met, the only one, -to put it in another way, that I ever could take seriously as a man. He -has brains—he’s a lawyer, you know, and they say very fine things of -him—and he is so kind, and _strong_. When I am with him I don’t feel -frivolous and worldly and one of a dozen. If I have any better nature -and any apology for a brain, they are on top then. He is the last sort -of man I ever thought I’d fall in love with, but it takes us some years -to become acquainted with ourselves, doesn’t it? I do respect him so, -and it is such a novel sensation. He even makes me read. Fancy! And I’ve -even promised him that I won’t read any more French novels, excepting -those he selects, nor smoke cigarettes. So, you see, I am in love. - -“But, Patience,” she continued with tragic emphasis, “he hasn’t a -red—and I know I’d be miserable, poor. When papa saw which way the wind -was blowing, he took me into the library and told me that although he -made fifty thousand dollars a year, we spent nearly all of it, and that -he should not have much to leave besides his life insurance—one hundred -thousand—which of course would go to mamma. It is a matter of honour -never to sell this place, and the revenue from the farm—which is to go -to Beverly—would keep it up in a small way. The town house is to be -May’s and mine; but what will that amount to? May and I have always -pretty well understood that if we want to keep on having the things that -habit has made a necessity to us, we must marry rich men! Oh, dear! Oh, -dear!” - -“Well, the other man?” - -“He has appeared on the scene lately. He is not the usual alternative by -any means, for he is very attractive in his way. He has the manners of -the man of the world, a _fin de siècle_ brain, and the devil in his eye. -He is rather good-looking and tremendously good form. And, my dear, he -has three cold millions. Think what I should be with three millions! -Fancy me in Boston on three or four hundred dollars a month. Oh, -Patience, what shall I do?” And Hal, the most undemonstrative of women, -laid her head on Patience’s knee and sobbed bitterly. - -“I had to come to see you, Patience,” she continued after a moment. “I -have no one else; I could never have said a word of this to mamma or -May. And I like you better than any one in the world except Reginald -Wynne. And you seem to understand things. Do tell me what to do.” - -“Do this: Be true to your ideals. If love means, and has always meant -more to you than anything else in the world, marry Reginald Wynne. If -money and power and luxury are the very essentials of happiness to you, -marry the other man. No temporary aberration can permanently divert -one’s paramount want from its natural course. As soon as the novelty has -gone, the ego swings back to its old point of view as surely as water -does that has been temporarily dammed. There is only one thing that -persists, and that is the ideal,—that habit of mind which is bred of -heredity and environment, even where care or consciousness is lacking. -It is as relentless and pitiless as the law of cause and effect. I -believe it would outlive a very leprosy of the soul. And it makes no -difference whether that ideal be great or small, high or low, its hold -is precisely the same, for it is individuality itself. Rosita is happy -because she has realised her ideal. Miss Tremont was happy because she -lived up to hers. Miss Beale was supremely satisfied with herself when -she let a man die whom she might have saved by smirching her ideals. The -religionists are happy generally, not through communion with the -presiding deity, as they imagine, but because they have arbitrarily -created a sort of spiritual Blackstone whom they delight to obey. The -author is happy when he toils, even without hope of reward. Martyrs have -known ecstasy—But one could go on for a week. Don’t marry Wynne if you -feel that you would be unhappy in poverty after the first few months; -and if you feel that great wealth without love would be misery, don’t -marry the other.” - -“Oh, I could like Latimer Burr well enough,” said Hal, staring gloomily -at the fire; “and after a time I suppose I’d forget. You see, I have -been in love so short a time that the wrench would be a good deal less -violent than the wrench from luxury—I’d soon get over it, I expect. But -I do like him—I never thought I could feel like this.” - -Patience fondled the sleek head, but she was not in a mood to feel in -sympathy with love. The only thing that to her seemed of paramount -importance was to fix a clear eye on the future. - -“You see,” she said, “the present is ever with us, and the past recedes -farther and farther. If the rich man can give you what you most want, -time will make you forget the very sensation of love. If you marry Wynne -and the love goes, you will have equal difficulty to recall it, and -nothing to compensate in the present.” - -“I’m not afraid that it would go; but I know that I should be thoroughly -miserable poor, and make him miserable too. I do love it all so—all -that money means—why, one can’t even be well groomed without money. It -has gone to make up nine-tenths of my composition; the other tenth is -only a bit of miserable wax. But I love this new feeling, and I never -believed that anything could be so sweet. Oh, dear; I’ll have to dry up. -Here comes Bev.” - -“Remember this,” said Patience, “and let it console you: however you -feel or are torn, you’ll do one thing only,—follow along the line of -least resistance.” - -Beverly entered and kissed his sister affectionately. Her back was to -the light, and he did not notice her swollen eyes. - -“Well, you are looking hilarious,” she remarked in her usual flippant -tones. “Has Tammany gone lame, or Mrs. Langtry refused to take her five -bars?” - -“My wife doesn’t love me!” Beverly had brooded upon his wrongs for two -months. Hal’s words were as a match to a mine. - -“Oh!” exclaimed Patience, springing to her feet, “don’t let us have a -scene for Hal’s benefit. Do cultivate a little good taste, if good sense -is too far beyond you.” - -Her words were not soothing, and Beverly exploded in one of his most -violent passions. He tore up and down the room, banging his fist -alternately on the table, the mantel, and the books, and once he hit the -panel of a door so heavy a blow that it sprang. Patience sat down and -turned her back. Hal endeavoured to stop him; but he had found a -listener, and would discharge his mind of its accumulated virus. He told -the tale of the winter in spasmodic gusts, hung and fringed with oaths. -Finally he flung himself out of the room, shouting all the way across -the hall. - -For a moment there was an intense and meaning silence between the two -women; then Hal stood up and laid her palms to her head. - -“Patience!” she said, “Patience! this is awful. What have I done? Oh, -does it really mean anything? I have seen Bev go into tempers all my -life—but—Tell me, please—does this really mean anything—” - -“Whether it does or does not it need not worry you beyond warning you -against mistakes on your own account. I married with my eyes open, and I -can take care of myself. Don’t marry your rich man unless you like him -well enough to pretend to like him a good deal more. If you do, you’ll -end by loathing him and yourself—and what is more, he’ll know it.” - -“Oh, no, I don’t think I am as intense as you are—but what do you -suppose makes Beverly such a wild animal? We are none of us like that, -and never have been, as far as I know, although some of the old boys -were pretty gay, not to say lawless. But for two or three generations we -seem to have been a fairly well-conducted lot. Beverly is almost a -freak.” - -Patience crossed the room, and lifting down a volume of Darwin’s -“Descent of Man” read from the chapter on Civilised Nations:— - - “‘With mankind some of the worst dispositions which - occasionally, without any assignable cause, make their - appearance in families, may perhaps be reversions to a savage - state from which we are not removed by very many generations.’” - - - VII - -Two weeks later Patience received a letter from Hal which induced no -surprise. - - The die is cast [it read]. Reginald Wynne has gone back to - Boston, and I am going to marry Latimer Burr. On the first of - April we sail for Europe—mamma and May and I—to get our - things. - - Don’t imagine that I am doing the novel-heroine act, and - sprinkling my pillow o’ nights. I did feel terribly, and I’ll - never love any other man; but the thing is done, and done for - the best, and that is the end of it. What you said about - following along the line of least resistance is as sure as love - and fate and a good many other things; for what Latimer Burr can - give me I want more than what Reginald Wynne can give me, and it - drew me like a magnet. And the other thing you said is equally - true,—that the only joy in life is to pursue your ideals to the - bitter end. Mine are not lofty, but they are _me_, and that is - all there is to it. I shall not weep it out, because I’ve no - beauty to lose, and weeping does no earthly good, anyway. If it - would give Wynne Burr’s fortune I’d drown New York. - - We’ll be back on the first of June. We’re only going over to - order things. I wish you joy of Honora. It’s too bad Bev is so - much in love with you, or you might switch him off on to her. - Oh, Patience, dear, you don’t know how much I’ve thought about - you. It hurts me _hard_ to think that you are unhappy. I feel as - guilty as a murderer, but really I thought you’d get along. So - many women had been in love with Bev, I thought you would be, - too. I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that women - sometimes had a soul. If I had known as much then as I do now - I’d have done all I could to keep you apart, for Beverly Peele - certainly has not the attenuated ghost of a soul. - - But Patience, dear, do stand it out. Don’t, _don’t_ get a - divorce. Remember that all over the world women are as miserable - as you are, and as I might be if I would let myself go. Now, at - least, you have compensations; and when I am married I’ll do - everything I can to make life gay and pleasant for you; but - don’t make a horrid vulgar newspaper scandal and leave yourself - without resources. This world is a pretty good place after all - when you are on top, but it must be hell underneath. - - Lovingly HAL. - - - VIII - -The day Mrs. Peele and her daughters sailed for France Mr. Peele and his -niece returned to the Manor. Honora kissed Patience on either cheek. - -“Oh, I am so glad to come back to my lovely room, and to see you, -Patience dear,” she said wearily. “We have had such a gay winter, and I -am so tired. Dear me, how fresh and sweet you look in that white frock. -I just long to get into thin things.” - -When Mr. Peele came up in the evening he narrowed his lids as he kissed -Patience, and regarded her critically. “Well, how does Beverly wear in a -three months’ _tête-à-tête_?” he asked. “Gad! I shouldn’t care to try -it.” - -“Oh,” she said flushing, “we didn’t talk much. He had the farm and the -horses to attend to, you know, and I had the library. Oh, I am so glad -you have that library.” - -He laughed aloud, with the harsh notes of a voice unused to such music. - -“I see you have had a Paul and Virginia time, as Hal would say. I’m -sorry you’ve put your foot in it, for even you can’t make anything of -him; but make the best of it. Don’t leave him—Hal has told me -something, you see. It was best that she should. There must be no -scandal. If he makes too great a nuisance of himself come to me; and if -he cuts off your allowance at any time just let me know, and I’ll see -that you have all the money you want. He doesn’t own the farm. I like -you. You’re a clever woman. If you’d been my daughter I’d have been -proud of you.” - -And whether he really found pleasure in his daughter-in-law’s society, -or whether he merely thought it politic to lighten her burden, from that -time until the return of the family he devoted his evenings to her. He -was deeply read, and Patience, after years of mental loneliness, was -grateful for his companionship, although personally he antagonised her. -He was a mentality without heart or soul, and she knew that he would -sacrifice her as readily as he accepted her if it better suited his -purpose. - -She clung to Honora during the day and read aloud to her in the Tea -House, while that devoted young Catholic embroidered for the village -church or sewed for the poor of her beloved priest. Father O’Donovan, a -young man with a healthy serious face and a clear eye, frequently joined -them. Every morning the girls rode or sailed. Beverly frequently made -one of the party, and Patience and Honora exercised all their tact to -keep him in good humour. In the evening he played duets with his cousin. -Her touch was as light and hollow as an avalanche of icicles from the -roof, he pounded the piano as if it were a prize fighter’s chest. - -One evening Patience did not go downstairs until a few moments before -dinner was announced. As she entered the library she saw that a stranger -stood at the window with Mr. Peele. The priest was present, and she -shook hands with him before going over to greet the stranger and her -father-in-law. While she was agreeing with him that Honora in her white -robe and blue sash looked exactly like an angel, the man at the window -turned, and she recognised Mr. Field. She ran forward and held out her -hand. - -“Oh! Oh!” she cried. “I’m so glad to see you again. I’ve wanted and -wanted to.” - -He took her hand, smiling, but regarded her with the keen gaze she so -well remembered. - -“Bless my soul,” he said, “but you have changed. It is not too much to -say that you have improved. Even the freckles have gone, I see. I -thought I was to make a newspaper woman of you. I felt rather cross when -you married. But this life certainly agrees with you. You look quite the -_grande dame_—quite—ah! Good evening, sir,” as Beverly entered and was -presented. Mr. Field darted a glance from one to the other, his mouth -twitching sardonically. - -He sat at Patience’s right during dinner, and they talked constantly. -Beverly was sulky, and said nothing. Mr. Peele rarely talked at table, -even to Patience. Honora and the priest conversed in a solemn undertone. -It is doubtful if two courses had been served before the terrible old -man understood the situation. - -“There’s tragedy brewing here,” he thought, grimly. “That fellow has the -temper of a fiend in the skull of a fool, and this girl is not the -compound I take her to be if she lives a lie very long for the sake of -champagne and truffles. I’d give a good deal to foresee the outcome. -Unless I’m all wrong there’ll be a two column story on the first page of -the ‘Day’ some fine morning. Well, she’ll have its support, right or -wrong. She’s a brick, and he’s the sort of fellow a man always wants to -kick.—What is that?” he asked of the priest, who had begun a story that -suddenly appealed to Mr. Field’s editorial instinct. - -“A physician over at Mount Vernon, who stands very high in his -profession, has been accused of poisoning his wife. She died in great -agony, and her mother insisted upon a post-mortem. Her stomach was full -of strychnine. He maintains that she threatened to commit suicide -repeatedly, and that he is innocent; but opinion is against him, and -people seem to think that the jury will convict him. I knew both, and I -feel positive of his innocence.” - -“Undoubtedly he is innocent,” said Mr. Field. “No physician of ordinary -cleverness would bungle like that. Strychnine! absurd! Why, there are -poisons known to all physicians and chemists which absolutely defy -analysis. I don’t doubt that more than one doctor has put his wife out -of the way, and the world none the wiser.” - -“Is that true?” said Patience, eagerly, leaning forward. Her curious -mind leapt at any new fact. “What are they like?” - -“That I can’t say. That is a little secret known to the fraternity only, -although I don’t doubt they give their friends the benefit of their -knowledge occasionally. Indubitably a large proportion of murderers are -never discovered—unless they discover themselves, like the guilty pair -in ‘Thérèse Raquin.’” - -“Oh, they belonged to the cruder order of civilisation,” said Patience, -lightly. “I am sure that if I committed a murder, I should not be -bothered by conscience if I had felt myself justified in committing it. -It seems to me that if the development of the intellect means anything -it means the casting out of inherited prejudices. Of course I don’t -believe in murder,” she continued, carried away as ever by the pleasure -of abstract reasoning, “but if a man of the world and of brains, after -due deliberation, makes way with a person who is fatal to his happiness -or his career, then I think he must have sufficient development of -mental muscle to scorn remorse. The highest intelligences are -anarchistic.” - -“Undoubtedly there are those that have reached that point of -civilisation,” said Mr. Field, “but for my part, I have not. Although I -keep abreast of this extraordinary generation, my roots are planted -pretty far down in the old one. But assuredly if I did feel the -disposition to murder, and succumbed, I’d cover up my tracks.” - -“Do these poisons give pain? Are they mineral or vegetable?” - -As Mr. Field was about to answer, a peculiar expression crossed his -face, and Patience, following his eyes, looked at Beverly. Her husband -was staring at her with his heavy brows together, the corners of his -mouth drawn down in an ugly sneer. To her horror and disgust she felt -the blood fly to her hair. At the same time she became conscious that -Mr. Peele, the priest, and Honora were exchanging glances of surprise. -Beverly gave an abrupt unpleasant laugh, and pushing his chair violently -back, left the room. Patience glanced appealingly about, then dropped -her glance to her plate. She felt as if the floor were dissolving -beneath her feet. - - - IX - -A week later, after a pleasant morning in the Tea House with Honora and -Father O’Donovan, she left it to go to the library. As she turned the -corner of the house she saw Beverly standing close to one of the -windows. - -“What are you doing there?” she asked in surprise. - -His brows were lowered and his skin looked black, as it always did when -his angry passions were risen. - -“I’ve been watching you and that priest,” he said savagely, following -her as she retreated hastily out of earshot of the people in the Tea -House. “I saw you exchanging glances with him! Now I know why you want -to know so much about poisons—” - -“Are you insane?” she cried. “What on earth are you talking about?” - -“No, I’m not insane—by God! You’re in love with that priest, and I know -it. But I’m on the watch—” - -“Oh,—you—you—” stammered Patience. She could not speak. Her face was -crimson with anger and disgust. In her husband’s eyes she was an image -of guilt. He burst into a sneering laugh. - -“You think I’m a fool, I suppose, because I don’t know anything about -books. But a woman said once that I had the instincts of the devil, and -I’ve no idea of—” - -Patience found her tongue. “You poor fool,” she said. “It was ridiculous -of me to pay any attention whatever to you; but I am not used to being -insulted, even by you. And remember that I am not used to any display of -imagination in you. As for _love_—” the scorn with which she uttered -the word made even him wince—“do not worry. You have made me loathe the -thing. I could not fall in love with a god. Don’t have the least fear -that I shall be unfaithful to you. I couldn’t!” - -She walked away, leaving Beverly trembling and speechless. When she -reached her room she locked the doors and sobbed wildly. - -“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?” she thought. “I can’t stand it -any longer. I believe I really would kill him if I stayed. I feel as if -my nature were in ruins. I hate myself! I loathe myself! I’ll leave this -very day!” - -But she had said the same thing many times. Why does a woman hesitate -long before she leaves the man who has made life shocking to her? -Indolence, abhorrence of scandal, shame to confess that she has made a -failure of her life, above all, lack of private fortune and the -uncertainty of self-support. For whatever the so-called advanced woman -may preach, woman has in her the instinct of dependence on man, -transmitted through the ages, and a sexual horror of the arena. Patience -let the days slip by, hoping, as women will, that the problem would -solve itself, that Beverly Peele would die, or become indifferent, or -that she would drift naturally into some other sphere. - - - X - -Mrs. Peele and the girls returned with the June roses; the house was -filled with guests at once. The Cuban had gone to his islands for the -summer, and May chose to wear the willow and occasionally to weep upon -Patience’s unsympathetic shoulder; but as frequently she consoled -herself with the transient flirtation. Hal, apparently, was her old gay -self. She did not mention Wynne’s name, and Patience was equally -reticent. - -“I should be the last to remind any woman of what she wished to forget,” -she thought. “And love—what does it amount to anyhow? If He came I -believe I should hate him, because once I felt something like passion -for him too.” - -She had looked forward with some curiosity to meeting Latimer Burr. He -also had been in Paris. He followed his lady home on the next steamer, -and immediately upon his return came to Peele Manor. Patience did not -meet him until dinner. She sat beside him, and at once became acutely -aware that he was a man of superlative physical magnetism. She -proscribed him accordingly—magnetism was a repellent force at this -stage of her development. She was rather surprised that she could feel -it again, so completely had Beverly’s evaporated. - -Burr was a tall heavily built man about forty years old. He carried -himself and wore his clothes as only a New York man can. His face was -florid and well modelled, his mouth and half closed eyes sensual. But -his voice and manners were charming. He appeared to be deeply in love -with Hal, and his voice became a caress when he spoke to her. Patience -did not like his type, but she forgave him individually because he was -fond of Hal and appeared to possess brains. - -She fell into conversation with him, and his manner would have led her -to believe that while she spoke neither Hal nor any other woman existed. -To this Patience gave little attention: she had met that manner before; -it was pleasant, and she missed it when lacking; but she had practised -it too often herself to feel more than its passing fascination. His -eyes, however, were more insistently eloquent than his manner, and their -eloquence was of the order that induced discomposure. - -Patience at times looked very lovely, and she was at her best to-night. -Her white skin was almost transparent, and the wine had touched her -cheeks with pink. The sadness of her spirit had softened her eyes. Her -gown of peacock blue gauze fitted her round elastic figure very firmly, -and her bare throat and neck and arms were statuesque. She had by no -means the young married woman look, but she had some time since acquired -an “air,” much to Hal’s satisfaction. To all appearances she was a girl, -but her figure was womanly. Although about five feet six, and built on a -more generous plan than the average New York woman, she walked with all -their spring and lightness of foot. Her round waist looked smaller than -it was; she never laced. Lately she had discovered that she “had an -arm,” as Hal would have phrased it, and the discovery had given her such -satisfaction that she had forgotten her troubles for the hour, and sent -for a dressmaker to take the sleeves out of her evening gowns. - -Mr. Burr also discovered it, and murmured his approval as caressingly as -were he addressing his prospective bride. - -“The milk-white woman!” he ejaculated softly. “The milk-white woman!” - -“Can’t you get any farther?” asked Patience. “If you were a poet now, -that would make a good first line for a rhapsody—to Hal, for instance.” - -He laughed indulgently. “How awfully bright you are. I am afraid of -you.” But he did not look in the least afraid. “You are to be my sister, -you know. We must become friends at once.” - -“And flattery is the quickest and surest way of establishing the -fraternal relation? Well, you are quite right; but just look at my hair -for a change, will you?” (She felt as if her skin must be covered with -red spots.) “Or my profile. They are also good points.” - -“They are exquisite. I have rarely seen a woman so beautiful.” - -“Dear! Dear! How relieved you must be to feel that you can keep your -hand in without straying too far from Peele Manor. And there is also -Honora.” - -“I don’t admire Miss Mairs. She is too tall, and her nose is too long.” - -“Poor dear Honora! But how well you understand women! What tact! I like -you so much better than I did before.” - -He laughed again in his indulgent way. “You mustn’t guy me. It is your -fault if I pay you too many compliments. You are a very fascinating -woman.” - -“You are wonderfully entertaining. What must you be when you are in -love! What do you and Hal talk about?” - -“Isn’t Hal a dear little girl? I do love her. I never loved a woman so -much in my life—never proposed before. She is so bright. She keeps me -amused all the time. I always said I’d never marry a woman that didn’t -amuse me, and I’ve kept my word. It isn’t so much what she says, don’t -you know, as the way she says it. Dear little girl!” - -On this subject they could agree, and Patience kept him to it as long as -possible. - -After dinner Burr went with Mr. Peele into the library. Patience, -passing through the room, found them talking earnestly upon the great -question of the day,—the financial future of the country. She paused a -moment, then sat down. To her surprise she found that Burr was master of -his subject, and possessed of a gift of words which fell little short of -eloquence. - -The argument lasted an hour, during which Patience sat with her elbows -on the table, her chin on her folded hands, her eager eyes glancing from -one to the other. Occasionally she smiled responsively as Burr made some -felicitous phrase. When the discussion was over, Mr. Peele left the -room. Burr arose at once and seated himself beside her. - -“I never talked so well,” he said. “You inspired me;” and he took her -hand in the matter-of-fact manner she knew so well. - -“You talked quite as well before you saw me—” - -“I knew you were there—” - -“Kindly let me have my hand. I have only two—” - -“Nonsense! Let me hold your hand. I want to! I am going to—Why are -you—” - -“Haven’t you Hal’s hand?” - -“Oh, my God! You don’t expect me to go through life holding one woman’s -hand? Hal is the most fascinating woman in the world, and I love -her—but I want you to let me love you, too.” - -“It is quite immaterial to me whether you love me or not; and, I think, -if you want plain English, that you are a scoundrel.” - -“Oh, come, come. You—_you_—must know more of the world than to talk -like that. Why am I a scoundrel?” He looked much amused. - -“You are engaged to one woman and are making love to another.” - -“Well, what of that so long as she doesn’t know it? I shall be the most -uxorious and indulgent of husbands—but faithful—that is not to be -expected.” - -“You must have great confidence in me. Suppose I describe this scene and -conversation to Hal?” - -“You will not,—not out of regard for me, but because you love Hal—dear -little girl! And you are one of the few women devoid of the cat -instincts. That long-legged girl, now, has a whole tiger inside of her, -but you have only the faults of the big woman. I hope you have their -weaknesses.” - -“Well, you shall never know if I have. Please let go my hand.” - -He flung it from him. “Oh, well,” he said, haughtily, “I hoped we should -be friends, but if you will have it otherwise, so be it;” and he stalked -out, and devoted himself to Hal for the rest of the evening. - - - XI - -“Funny world,” thought Patience. She shrugged her beautiful young -shoulders cynically, and went forth to do her duty by the guests. As she -passed out of the front door to join some one of the scattered groups on -the lawns, she heard a voice which made her pause and tap her forehead -with her finger. It was a rich deep voice, with a vibration in it, and a -light suggestion of brogue. She turned to the drawing-room, whence it -came. A man in riding clothes was talking to Mrs. Peele, who was -listening with a bend of the head that meant much to Patience’s trained -eye. The man had an athletic nervous figure, suggestive of great -virility and suppressed force, although it was carried with a fine -repose. The thick black hair on his large finely shaped head glinted -here and there with silver. His profile was aquiline, delicately cut and -very strong, his mouth, under the slight moustache, neither full nor -thin, and both mobile and firm, the lips beautifully cut. The eyes, -deeply set, were not large, and were of an indefinite blue grey, but -piercing, restless, kind, and humourous. There were lines about them, -and a deep line on one side of his mouth. His lean face had a touch of -red on its olive. He might have been anywhere between thirty-five and -forty. - -Patience recognised him and trembled a little, but with excitement, not -passion. She had understood herself for once when she had said that in -her present conditions she was incapable of love. Beverly Peele would -have to go down among the memories before his wife could shake her -spirit free, and turn with swept brain and clear eyes to even a -conception of the love whose possibilities dwelt within her. - -But she was fully alive to the picturesqueness of meeting this man once -more, and suddenly became possessed of the spirit of adventure. There -must be some sort of sequel to that old romance. - -She withdrew to the shadow of a tree, where she could watch the -drawing-room through the window. Burr entered, slapped the visitor on -the back, and bore him away to the dining-room, presumably to have a -drink. When they returned, Mr. Peele was in the room. He shook hands -with the stranger more heartily than was his wont. In a few moments he -crossed over to the library, and Patience, seeing that her early hero -would be held in conversation for some time to come, followed her -father-in-law and asked casually who the visitor was. - -“Oh, that’s Bourke, Garan Bourke, the legal idol,” sarcastically, “of -Westchester County. In truth he’s a brilliant lawyer enough, and one of -the rising men at the New York bar, although he will go off his head -occasionally and take criminal cases. I don’t forgive him that, if he -_is_ always successful. However, we all have our little fads. I suppose -he can’t resist showing his power over a jury. I heard an enthusiastic -youngster assert the other day that Bourke whips up a jury’s grey matter -into one large palpitating batter, then moulds it with the tips of his -fingers while the jury sits with mouth open and spinal marrow paralysed. -Personally, I like him well enough, and rather hoped he and Hal would -fancy each other. But he doesn’t seem to be a marrying man. You’d better -go over and meet him. He’ll just suit you.” - -Patience returned to her post. Burr had disappeared, Bourke was talking -to half a dozen women. In a few moments he rose to go. Patience went -hastily across the lawns to the narrow avenue of elms by the driveway. -No two were billing and cooing in its shadows, and Beverly was in bed -with a nervous headache. - -The moon was large and very brilliant. One could have read a newspaper -as facilely as by the light of an electric pear. As Bourke rode to the -main avenue a woman came toward him. He had time to think her very -beautiful and of exceeding grace before she surprised him by laying her -hand on his horse’s neck. - -“Well?” she said, looking up and smiling as he reined in. - -“Well?” he stammered, lifting his hat. - -“I am too heavy to ride before you now.” - -He stared at her perplexedly, but made no reply. - -“Still if I were up a tree—literally, you know—and a band of terrible -demons were shouting at a man beside a corpse—” - -“What?” he said. “Not you?—not you? That homely fascinating little -girl—no, it cannot be possible—” - -“Oh, yes,” lifting her chin, coquettishly. “I have improved, and grown, -you see. I was more than delighted when I saw you through the window. It -was rather absurd, but I disliked the idea of going in to meet you -conventionally—” - -He laid his hand strongly on hers, and she treated him with a passivity -denied to Latimer Burr. - -“I am going to tie up my horse and talk to you a while, may I?” America -and the law had not crowded all the romance out of his Irish brain, and -he was keenly alive to the adventure. He had forgotten her name long -since, and it did not occur to him that this lovely impulsive girl was -the property of another man; but although he had lived too long, nor yet -long enough, to lose his heart to the first flash of magnetism from a -pretty woman, yet his blood was thrilled by the commingling of -spirituality and deviltry in the face of this high-bred girl who cared -to give the flavour of romance to their acquaintance. He saw that she -was clever, and he had no intention of making a fool of himself; but he -was quite willing to follow whither she cared to lead. And it was night -and the moon was high; the leaves sang in a crystal sea; a creek -murmured somewhere; the frogs chanted their monotonous recitative to the -hushed melodies and discords of the night world; the deep throbbing of -steamboats came from the river. - -He tied his horse to a tree, and they entered the avenue. - -“You told me that it was a small world, and that we should probably meet -again,” she said; “and I never doubted that we should.” - -“Oh, I never did either,” he exclaimed. He was racking his brains to -recall the conversation which had passed between them a half dozen years -ago, and for the life of him could not remember a word; but he was a man -of resource. - -“I am glad that it is at night,” he continued, “even if the scene is not -so charming as Carmel Valley from that old tower. How beautiful the -ocean looked from there, and what a jolly ride we had in the pine -woods!” - -She understood perfectly, and grinned in the dark. - -“Ah! I remember I gave you some advice,” he exclaimed with suspicious -abruptness. “I thought afterward that it was great presumption on my -part.” - -“I wonder if you had an ideal of your own in mind when you spoke?” - -“An ideal?” He cursed his memory and floundered hopelessly. Even his -Irish wit for once deserted him. - -“Oh, I hoped you had not forgotten it. Why, I have made a little ‘Night -Thoughts’ of what you said, and it has been one of the strongest forces -in my development. Shall I repeat it to you?” - -“Oh, please.” He was blushing with pleasure, but sore perplexed. - -And she repeated his comments and advice, word for word. - -“Is it possible that you remember all that? I am deeply flattered.” And -he was, in fact. - -“What more natural than that I should remember? I was a lonely little -waif, full of dreams and vague ideals, and with much that was terrible -in my actual life. I had never talked with a young man before—a man of -seventy was my only experience of your sex, barring boys, that don’t -count. And you swooped down into my life in the most picturesque manner -possible, and talked as no one in my little world was capable of -talking. So, you see, it is not so remarkable that I retain a vivid -impression of you and your words. I was frightfully in love with you.” - -“Oh—were you? Were you?” He was very much at sea. It was true that she -had paid him the most subtle tribute one mind can pay to another, but -her very audacity would go to prove that she was a brilliant coquette. -He had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and he was still a little afraid -of her. He took refuge on the broad impersonal shore of flirtation, -where the boat is ever dancing on the waves. - -“If you felt obliged to use the past tense you might have left that last -unsaid.” - -“Oh, there are a thousand years between fifteen and twenty-one. I am -quite another person, as you see.” - -“You are merely an extraordinary child developed; and you have carried -your memory along with you.” - -“Oh, yes, the memory is there, and the tablets are pretty full; but -never mind me. I want to know if your ideals are as strong now as I am -sure they were then—if any one in this world manages to hold onto his -ideals when circumstances don’t happen to coddle them.” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m afraid I haven’t thought much about -them since that night. I doubt if I’d given too much thought to them -before. Deep in every man’s brain is an ideal of some sort, I imagine, -but it is seldom he sits down and analyses it out. He knows when he’s -missed it and locked the gates behind him, and perhaps, occasionally, he -knows when he’s found it—or something approximating it. We are all the -victims of that terrible thing called Imagination, which, I sometimes -think, is the sudden incursion of a satirical Deity. I have not -married—why, I can hardly say. Perhaps because there has been some -vague idea that if I waited long enough I might meet the one woman; but -partly, also, because I have had no very great desire to marry. I keep -bachelor’s hall over on the Sound, and the life is very jolly and free -of small domestic details. There are so many women that give you almost -everything you want—or at least four or five will make up a very good -whole—that I have never yet faced the tremendous proposition of going -through life expecting one woman to give me everything my nature and -mind demand. But there are such women, I imagine,” he added abruptly, -trying to see her face in one of the occasional splashes of moonlight. - -“A very clever woman—Mrs. Lafarge; perhaps you know her—said to me the -other day, that many men and women of strong affinity took a good deal -of spirituality with them into marriage, but soon forgot all about -it—matrimony is so full of reiterant details, and everything becomes so -matter of course. Do you think that is true?” - -“I am afraid it is. The imagination wears blunt. The Deity is sending -his electricity elsewhere—to those still prowling about the shores of -the unknown. Perhaps if one could keep the danger in mind—if one were -unusually clever—I don’t know. I fancy civilisation will get to that -point after a while. Unquestionably the companionship of man and woman, -when no essentials are lacking, is the one supremely satisfying thing in -life. If we loved each other, for instance—on such a night—it seems to -me that we are in tune—” - -“But we don’t love each other, as it happens, and we met about three -quarters of an hour ago. We’ll probably hate each other by daylight.” - -“Oh, I hope not,” he said, accepting the ice-water. “But tell me what -your ideals were. I hope they have proved more stable than mine.” - -“Oh, mine were a sort of yearning for some unseen force in nature; I -suppose the large general force from which love is a projection. Every -mortal, except the purely material, the Beverly Peele type, for -instance, has an affinity with something in the invisible world, an -uplifting of the soul. Christianity satisfies the great mass, hence its -extraordinary hold. Do you suppose the real link between the soul of man -and the soul of nature will ever be established?” - -He laughed a little, piqued, but amused. “You are very clever,” he said, -“and this is just the hour and these are just the circumstances for -impersonal abstractions. Well—perhaps the link will be established when -we have lived down this civilisation and entered upon another which has -had drilled out of it all the elements which plant in human nature the -instincts of cupidity and sordidness and envy and political corruption, -and all that goes to make us the aliens from nature that we are. About -all that keeps us in touch with her now are our large vices. There is -some tremendous spiritual force in the Universe which projects itself -into us, making man and nature correlative. What wonder that -man—particularly an imaginative and intelligent child—should be -affected and played upon by this Mystery? What wonder that the heathens -have gods, and the civilised a symbol called the Lord God?—a concrete -something which they can worship, and upon which unburden the load of -spirituality which becomes oppressive to matter? It is for the same -reason that women fall in love and marry earlier than men, who have so -many safety-valves. On the other hand, men who have a great deal of -emotional imagination and who can neither love nor accept religion take -refuge in excess. It is all a matter of temperament. Cold-blooded -people—those that have received a meagre share of this great vital -force pervading the Universe, which throws a continent into convulsions -or a human being into ecstasy—such, for instance, are religious only -because their ancestors were,—their brain is pointed that way. Their -blood has nothing to do with it, as is the more general case—for -Christianity is pre-eminently sensuous.” - -“What do you suppose will take its place? The world is bound to become -wholly civilised in time; but still human nature will demand some sort -of religion (which is another word for ideality), some sort of -lodestar.” - -“A superlative refinement, I think; a perfected æstheticism which shall -by no means eradicate the strong primal impulses; which shall, in fact, -create conditions of higher happiness than now exist. Do we not enjoy -all arts the more as they approach perfection? Does not a nude appeal -with more subtle strength to the senses the more exquisite its beauty, -the more entire its freedom from coarseness? When people strive to place -human nature on a level with what is highest in art and in nature -itself, the true religion will have been discovered. So far, man himself -is infinitely below what man has achieved. It is hard to believe that -genius is the result of any possible combination of heredity. It would -seem that it must, like its other part, imagination, be the direct and -more permanent indwelling of the supreme creative force—as if the -creator would lighten his burden occasionally, and shakes off rings -which float down to torment favoured brains.” - -“I always knew that I should love to hear you talk,” murmured Patience. - -His hand closed over hers. He drew it through his arm and held it -against his heart, which was beating irregularly. - -“And I haven’t talked so much nor such stuff to a woman since God made -me. I believe that I could talk to you through twenty years. You have -said enough to-night to make me hope that our minds have been running -along the same general lines. Tell me—honestly—no coquetry—has what I -said that night had the slightest effect in your development?” - -She told the tale of the day in the crystal woods, giving a sufficiently -comprehensive sketch of the events which had led up to it to make her -the more keenly interesting to the man whose brain was beginning to -whirl a little. - -“If you had come at that moment,” she concluded, “I would have gone with -you to the end of the earth. I have a pretty strong personality, but -there was a good deal of wax in me then, and if you could have gotten it -between your hands I think that what you moulded would have closely -resembled your ideal—the impression you had already made had so -strongly coloured and trained my imagination. But,” she continued -hastily, and glancing anxiously to the far distant end of the avenue, -“you see my life changed immediately after that, and I went into the -world and became hard and bitter and cynical. I have no ideals left, and -I do not want any—I have seen too much—” - -“Hush!” he said passionately, “I do not believe a word of it. Why, that -was not two years ago, and you are still a young girl. Have you loved -any one else?” he asked abruptly, his voice less steady. - -“No!” - -He was too excited to note the meaning of her emphasis. He was only -conscious that he was very close to a beautiful woman who allured him in -all ways as no one woman had ever done before. - -“You are full of a girl’s cynicism,” he said; “you have seen just enough -to make you think you know the world—to accept the superficial for the -real. You—you yourself are an ideal. All you need is to know yourself, -and I am going to undertake the task of teaching you—do you hear? If I -fail—if I have made a mistake—if it is only the night and your beauty -that have gone to my head—well and good; but I shall have the -satisfaction of having tried—of knowing—” - -“No, no! No, no!” she said. “You must not come here again. I do not want -to see you again—” - -“Nonsense! You have some sentimental foolish idea in your head,—or -perhaps you are engaged to some man who can give you great wealth and -position. I shall not regard that, either. If I feel to you by daylight -as I do now, I’ll have you—do you understand?” - -Patience opened her lips to tell him the truth, then cynically made up -her mind to let matters take their course. At the same time she was -bitterly resentful that she should feel as she did, not as she had once -dreamed of feeling for this man. - -“Very well,” she said, “I shall be here for a while.” - -“And I shall see you in the course of a day or two. I’m going now. -Good-night.” He let her arm slip from under his, but held her hand -closely. “And even if it so happened that I never did see you again, I -should thank you for the glimpse you have given me of a woman I hardly -dared dream existed.” - -When he had gone she anathematised fate for a moment, then went back to -her guests. - - - XII - -Latimer Burr was evidently a man upon whom rebuff sat lightly. The next -morning he came suddenly upon Patience in a dark corner, and tried to -kiss her. Whenever the opportunity offered he held her hand, and once, -to her infinite disgust, he planted his foot squarely on hers under the -dinner table. A few hours later they happened to be alone in one of the -small reception-rooms. - -“Look here,” exclaimed Patience, wrathfully, “will you let me alone?” - -“No, I won’t,” he said good-naturedly. “Jove! but you are a beauty!” - -She wore a gown of white mull and lace, trimmed with large knots of -dark-blue velvet. She had been talking all the evening with Mr. Peele, -Mr. Field, and Burr, and was somewhat excited. Her lips were very pink, -her eyes very bright and dark. She held her head with a young triumph in -beauty and the intellectual tribute of clever men. - -“Hal would be delighted. She has always wanted me to become the -fashion.” - -“You never will be that, for there are not enough brainy men in society -to appreciate you. If all were like myself, you would be wearied with -the din of admiration—” - -“There’s nothing like having a good opinion of oneself.” - -“Why not? I don’t set up to be an intellectual man—intellectual men are -out of date; but I’m a brainy man, and I’d like to know how I’m to help -being aware of the fact. I certainly don’t claim to be pretty, so you -can’t say I’m actually wallowing in conceit.” - -Patience was forced to laugh. “Oh, you’d do very well if you’d exercise -as much sense in regard to women as you do to affairs. Just answer me -one question, will you? Are you so amazingly fascinating that women have -the habit of succumbing at the end of the second interview?” - -“I never set up to be an ass.” - -“But your manner is quite assured. You seem very much surprised that I -don’t tumble into your arms and say ‘Thank you.’ Oh, you New York men -are so funny!” - -“Well, answer me one question—you don’t love your husband, do you?” - -“No, I don’t.” - -“Do you like me?” - -“I would if you wouldn’t make such an idiot of yourself. You certainly -are very agreeable to talk to.” - -He came closer, his lids falling. The fine repose of his manner was a -trifle ruffled. “Do you love anybody else?” he asked. - -“I do not.” - -“Then let me love you.” - -“I shall not.” - -“Then if you don’t love your husband and you like me and will not let me -love you, you must have a lover.” - -Patience burst into brief hilarity. - -“Is that the logic of your kind?” - -“A beautiful woman that does not love her husband always loves another -man.” - -“Or is willing to be loved by the first man that happens to have no -other affair on hand.” - -“You have said that you like me.” - -“I didn’t say I loved you!” - -“I’d make you!” - -“Oh!” with a deep contempt he was incapable of understanding, “you -couldn’t. But tell me another thing; I’m very curious. Has it never -occurred to you that a woman must be wooed, that it is somewhat -necessary to arouse sentiment and feeling in her before she is willing -to advance one step? Why, you and your kind demand her off-hand in a way -that is positively funny. What has become of all the old traditions?” - -“Oh, bother,” he said. “Life is too short to waste time on old-fashioned -nonsense. If a man wants a woman he says so, and if she’s sensible and -likes him she meets him half way. Men and women of the world know what -they want.” - -“That is all there is to love then? It no longer means anything else -whatever?” - -“Oh—you are all wrong. If you were not a spiritual woman I wouldn’t -cross the room to win you. One can buy the other sort. It is your -spirituality, your intellectuality, that fascinates me as much as your -beauty.” - -“What do you know about spirituality?” she said contemptuously. “I don’t -like to hear you speak the word. You desecrate it.” - -He flushed purple. “There are few things I don’t understand—and a good -deal better than you do, perhaps.” - -“You have a clever man’s perception, that is all. Association with all -sorts of women has taught you the difference between them. But what -could you give a spiritual woman? Nothing. You have not a shrunken -kernel of soul. The sensual envelope is too thick; your brain too -crowded with the thousand and one petty experiences of material life. -You are as ingenuous as all fast men, for the women you have spent your -life running after make no demands upon subtlety—” - -“Take care,” he said angrily; “you are going too far. I tell you I have -as much soul as any man living.” - -“Perhaps. I doubt if any man has much. Men give women nothing, as far as -I can see. If we want companionship there seems nothing to do but to -descend to your level and grovel with you.” - -“I would never make you grovel. I would reverence—” - -“Oh, rot!” she cried, stamping her foot. “What a fool—and worse—the -average woman must be. You have no idea how ingenuously you are giving -away the women of society. And soul! The idea of a man who pretends to -love the woman he is engaged to and is making love to another, and that -her sister-in-law and most intimate friend, claiming to have a soul! -Have you no sense of humour? I say nothing about honour, as I wish to be -understood, if possible; but you are clever enough to see the ridiculous -in most things—Please don’t walk over me. There is plenty of room. And -the windows are open, you know—” - -“Yes, and I am here,” cried a furious voice, and Beverly sprang into the -room. - -Patience stepped back with a faint exclamation. Burr turned white. -Beverly was shaking with rage. His face was almost black; there were -white flecks on his nostrils. - -“I kept quiet,” he articulated, “to hear every word. You dog!” to Burr. -“I may be pretty bad, but I’d never do what you have done. And as for -you,” he shook his fist at his wife, “you were only leading him on. If I -could only have held myself in another moment I’d have seen you in his -arms. Get out of this house,” he roared, “both of you. You’ll never -marry my sister. I’m going to tell her this minute—” - -Burr sprang forward and caught him by the collar; but Beverly was not a -coward. He turned, flinging out his fist, and the two men grappled. -Patience closed the door and glanced out of the window. No one was near. -Voices floated up from the cliffs. Burr was the more powerful man of the -two, and in a moment had flung Beverly, panting, into a chair. - -“Keep him here,” said Patience, rapidly, and she left the room. - -“Man is certainly still a savage, a brute,” she thought. “What is the -matter with civilisation?” - -As she crossed the lawn, she met one of the servants. - -“Go and find Miss Hal, and ask her to come here,” she said. A few -moments later her sister-in-law hurried up from the cliffs. - -“What is it?” she called cheerily. “Has Bev had an apoplectic fit?” - -“Beverly has been making a greater fool of himself than usual,” said -Patience, as the girls met, “and I want to see you before he does. I was -standing in one of the reception-rooms talking to Mr. Burr after Mr. -Field and Mr. Peele had gone out, and he had on all his manner and was -telling me how beautiful I was, in his usual after dinner style, when -Beverly leaped through the window like the wronged husband in the -melodrama and accused us of making love. He threatened to come and tell -you, and he and Mr. Burr wrestled like two prize-fighters. If Beverly -were put on the witness stand he’d be obliged to admit that Mr. Burr had -not so much as touched my hand. I suppose you will believe me?” - -Hal gave her light laugh. “Certainly, my dear, certainly; although if I -were a man I should fall in love with you myself. I wouldn’t bet on -Latimer, but I would on you—so don’t worry your little head. Do you -suppose I expect a man with that mouth and those eyes to be faithful to -me? Still, I must say that I should have given him credit for more -decency than to make love to my sister-in-law—” - -“He didn’t! I swear he didn’t.” - -“Oh, of course not! Nor will he make love to every pretty woman he finds -himself alone with for five minutes. He can’t help it, poor thing. Let -us go and talk to the gentlemen.” - -As they entered the little room she exclaimed airily, “Been making a -fool of yourself again, Bev? No, don’t speak. Patience has told me all -about it. I have every confidence in her and Latimer. Better go and take -a spin with Tammany. Latimer, you really must mend your manners. They’re -too good. From a distance a stranger would really think you were making -love when you are swearing at the heat. Now, come down to the Tea House. -Good-night, Bevvy dear.” - -And she went off between her lover and her sister-in-law, leaving her -brother to swear forth his righteous indignation. - -That night Patience opened the door of her husband’s room for the first -time. Beverly, who had just entered, was so astonished that the wrath he -had carefully nourished fell like quicksilver under a cool wave, and he -stared at her without speaking. - -“I wish to tell you,” said his wife, “that you were entirely justified -in being angry to-night. I could have suppressed Burr by a word, but I -chose to lead him on to gratify my curiosity. Hal wishes to marry him, -and I am determined that she shall. If I had admitted the truth to her -or permitted you to enlighten her, her self-respect would have forced -her to break the engagement. That would have been absurd, for the match -is exactly what she wants, and she is not marrying with illusions. But -you have been treated inconsiderately, and I apologise for my share in -it. Will you forgive me?” - -“Of course I’ll forgive you,” said Beverly, eagerly. “I wasn’t angry -with you, anyhow—only with that scoundrel. But I never believed you’d -do this. Do you care for me a little?” - -Patience averted her face that she might not see the expression on his. -Despite her loathing of him she gave him a certain measure of pity. With -all the preponderance of the savage in him and the limitations of his -intelligence he had his own capacity for suffering, and to-night he -stood before her crushed under the sudden reaction, his eyes full of the -dumb appeal of shrinking brutes. - -“If we are going to live peacefully don’t let us discuss that subject,” -she said gently. “We have both missed it, and I sometimes think that you -are more to be pitied than I am. However, I shall not flirt—I promise -you that. Good-night.” - -That was the last of Mr. Burr’s illegal love-making at Peele Manor. He -had had a fright and a lesson, and he forgot neither. - - - XIII - -“Garan Bourke is coming to dinner to-night,” said Hal, the next day. -“It’s the hardest thing in the world to get him; he never goes anywhere; -but he half promised mamma, when he called the other night, that he’d -come some day this week, and he wrote yesterday, saying he’d dine with -us to-day. I want you to meet him. He is awfully clever, and when he -talks I want to close my eyes and listen to his voice. If the dear girls -ever get the vote and do jury duty, all he’ll have to do will be to -quote law. He needn’t take the trouble to sum up. His voice will do the -business every time.” - -Patience, in a French gown of black chiffon, was very beautiful that -night. She did not go down to dinner until every one was seated. Bourke -sat next to Mrs. Peele. Her own chair was near the end of the opposite -side of the long table. For a time she did not look at Bourke. When she -did she met his eyes; and knew by their expression that some one had -told him she was the wife of Beverly Peele. - -After dinner he went with Mr. Peele and Burr into the library. Patience -was about to follow a party of young people down to the bluff, when Mr. -Field drew her arm firmly through his. - -“You are not going to desert your court?” he said. “Why, you don’t -suppose I come up here to talk to Peele, do you? If you go out with -those boys I’ll never come here again.” And he led her into the library. - -It was nearly twelve o’clock when she found herself alone with Bourke. -The others had gone out, one by one. She had made no attempt to follow -them. She sat with defiant eyes and inward trepidation. Bourke regarded -her with narrowed eyes and twitching nostrils. - -“So you are married?” he said at last. - -“Yes.” - -“And you deliberately made a fool of me?” - -“No—no—I did nothing deliberately that night—no—I acted on impulse. -And all that I said was quite true. Of course I should have told you—” - -“But it would have spoiled your comedy.” - -“No—no—don’t think that. I see that I was dishonest—I am not making -excuses—I never thought you’d become really interested—” - -“I am not breaking my heart. Don’t let that worry you. The mere fact of -your dishonesty is quite enough to break the spell—for you are not the -woman I imagined you to be. I was merely worshipping an ideal for the -hour. Do you love your husband?” - -“No.” - -“Then you are a harlot,” he said, deliberately. “It only needed that.” -He rose to his feet and looked contemptuously at her scarlet face. “At -all events it was an amusing episode,” he said. “Good-night.” - - - XIV - -It was a matter of comment before the summer was over, both among the -guests at Peele Manor and the neighbours, that Mr. and Mrs. Beverly -Peele had come to the parting of the ways. As the young man’s -infatuation was as notable as his wife’s indifference, he received the -larger share of sympathy. The married men championed Patience and -expressed it in their time-honoured fashion; and although they worried -her she looked forward with terror to the winter: she would willingly -have taken them all to board and trusted to their wives to keep them in -order. - -Beverly had confided his woes long since to his mother. She declined to -discuss the subject with her daughter-in-law, but treated her with a -chill severity. Fortunately they were gay that summer, and Patience had -much to do. Hal and May were absorbed in preparations for their wedding, -and the duties of hostess fell largely on her shoulders. - -Late in the fall there was a double wedding under the medallion of Peele -the First. Immediately thereafter May went to Cuba; and Hal to Europe, -to pay a series of visits. Mrs. Peele continued to entertain, and was -obliged to confess that her daughter-in-law was very useful, and in -deportment above reproach. Outwardly Patience looked almost as cold a -woman of the world as herself, and gave no evidence of the storms -brewing within; but one day she hung out a signal. Mrs. Peele announced -that she should go to town on the first of December. Patience followed -her into her bedroom and closed the door. - -“May I speak to you a moment alone?” she asked. - -“Certainly,” said Mrs. Peele, frigidly. “Will you sit down?” - -She herself took an upright chair, and suggested, Patience thought, a -judge on his bench. - -“I want to go to town with you this winter.” - -“I should be happy to have my dear son with me, and I will not deny that -you are a great help to me; but Beverly is as strongly opposed as ever -to city life. I asked him myself to go down for the winter, but he -refused. He is one of Nature’s own children, and loves the country.” - -“He certainly is very close to Nature in several of her moods. But I -wish to go whether he does or not.” - -“You would leave your husband?” Mrs. Peele spoke with meditative scorn. - -“It will be better for both of us not to be shut up here together for -another winter. I—I will not answer for the consequences.” - -“Is that a threat?” - -“You can take it as you choose.” - -“Do you not love my son?” - -“No, I do not.” - -“And you are not ashamed to make such an admission?” - -“Would you prefer to have me lie about it?” - -“It is your duty to love your husband.” - -“That proposition is rather too absurd for argument, don’t you think so? -Will you persuade Beverly to let me go with you to town?” - -“I shall not. You should be glad, overjoyed, to have such a husband. You -should feel grateful,” she added, unburdening her spite in the vulgarity -which streaks high and low, “that he loved you well enough to overlook -your lack of family and fortune—” - -But Patience had left the room. - -That evening she went to her father-in-law and stated her case. She -spoke calmly, although she was bitter and sore and worried. “I cannot -stay here with Beverly this winter,” she continued. “I need not explain -any farther. Mrs. Peele will not consent to my going to town with her. -But couldn’t I live abroad? I could do so on very little. I should care -nothing for society if I could live my life by myself. I should be quite -contented with books and freedom. But I cannot stay here with Beverly -alone again.” - -Mr. Peele shook his head. “It wouldn’t do. I understand; but it would -only result in scandal, and I don’t like scandal. We have never gone to -pieces, like so many great New York families. Our women have been proud -and conservative, and have not used their position to cloak their -amours. I have perfect confidence in you, of course; but if you went to -Europe and left Beverly raging here, people would say that you had gone -to meet another man. Moreover, it would do no good. Beverly would follow -you. And he will give you no cause for divorce: he has the cunning -peculiar to the person of ugly disposition and limited mentality. No, -try to stand it. Remember that all the humours of human nature have -their limit. Beverly will become indifferent in time. Then he will let -you come to us. I intend to take a rest in a year or two and go abroad, -and I shall be glad to have you with us. I do not mind telling you that -you are the brightest young woman I have ever known—and Mr. Field has -said the same thing.” - -But Patience was not in a mood to bend her neck to flattery. She shook -her head gloomily. - -“If I have any brain, cannot you see that I suffer the more? Mr. Peele, -I cannot stay here with Beverly! Do you know that sometimes I have felt -that I could kill him? I am afraid of myself.” - -“Hush! Hush! Don’t say such things. You excitable young women are -altogether too extravagant in your way of expressing yourselves. Words -carry a great deal farther than you have any idea of—take an old -lawyer’s word for it. Now try to stand it. In fact, you must stand it. -I’ll do all I can. I’ll leave a standing order with Brentano to send you -all the new books, and I’ll insist upon your coming up every week or so -to have some amusement. But for God’s sake make no scandal.” - - - XV - -On the first of December Patience and Beverly were alone once more. The -weather was fine, and Beverly temporarily absorbed in breaking in a colt -on his private track. Patience spent the first day wandering about the -woods, tormented by her thoughts. She remembered with passionate regret -the old crystal woods where she had been a girl of dreams and ideals. -Her ideals were in ruins. The hero of her dreams had told her a hideous -truth that had made her hate him and more abundantly despise herself. -She longed ardently to get away to a mountain top, a hundred miles from -civilisation. Nature had been her friend in the old Californian days, -and the green or white beauty of her second environment had satisfied -her in that peaceful intermediate time. But Westchester County, although -exquisitely pretty, lacked grandeur and the suggestion of colossal -throes in remote ages with which every stone in California is eloquent. -That was what she wanted now. But there was no prospect of getting away. -Did she have enthusiasm enough left to leave summarily she had little -money. She was very extravagant, and left the larger part of her -quarterly allowance with New York shops and milliners and dressmakers; -but she knew that the end was approaching, and listlessly awaited it. - -Heavy with rebellious disgust she returned to the house and went -mechanically to the library. For a while she did not read; she felt no -impulse to do so. But after a time she took down a book in desperation, -a volume of a new edition de luxe of “Childe Harold.” She had not read -it during her brief Byronic fever, and had not opened the poet since. -Gradually she forgot self. She began with the third canto, and when she -had finished the fourth she discovered that her spirits were lighter, a -weight had risen from her brain. She had always regarded “notes” as an -evidence of the amateur reader, but to-day she scrawled on a fly-leaf of -Mr. Peele’s new morocco edition:— - - “As the Christian goes to his God for help, the intellectual, in - hours of depression and disgust and doubt go to the great - Creators of Literature, those master minds that lift our own - temporarily above the terrible enigma of the commonplace, and - possess us to the extinction of personal meditation. Are not - these genii as worthy of deification by the higher civilisation - as was Jesus Christ—their brother—by the great illogical - suffering mass of mankind? ‘Faith shall make ye whole,’ said - Christ; ‘come unto me, all ye that are heavy laden.’ ‘Develop - your brain, and I will give you self-oblivion, philosophy, and a - soul of many windows,’ say the great masters of thought and - style, the stupendous creative imaginations.” - -Beverly came home in high good humour; his colt had showed his blood, -and nearly pulled him out of the break-cart. Patience endeavoured to -appear interested, and he was so pleased that the atmosphere during -dinner was quite domestic. Afterward he went to sleep on a sofa by the -library fire, and his wife read. - -A week passed more placidly than Patience had expected. Beverly was -evidently under stress to make himself agreeable. His wife suspected -that he had had a long and meaning conference with his father. In truth -he was desperately afraid that she would leave him. Patience did not -know whether she hated him most when he was amiable or violent; but she -hated herself more than she hated him. - -“I think I’ll go to town and see Rosita,” she thought one morning as she -awakened. “It seems to me that she is the fittest companion I could -find.” - -At the breakfast-table she appeared in a tailor frock and turban, and -informed Beverly that she was going to town to pay some visits. Beverly -looked at her for a moment with black face, then dropped his eyes -without comment. He recalled his father’s advice. - -“What train shall you come home in?” he asked after a moment. “I’ll go -down to the station to meet you.” - -“I cannot say. I shall be back to dinner.” - -“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-bye?” he asked sullenly, when she was -about to open the front door. She hesitated a moment, then raised her -face, closing her eyes, lest he should see the impulse to strike him. He -saw the hesitation and turned away with an oath, then ran after her, -flung his arms about her and kissed her. She walked down to the station -with burning face, rubbing her mouth and cheeks violently, careless of -the wide-eyed regard of two gardeners. - - - XVI - -When she arrived at Rosita’s the maid admitted her without protest, not -recognising in this elegant young woman the countrified girl of two -years before. She left Patience in the dark drawing-room, but returned -in a moment and announced that Madame would see Mrs. Peele at once. -Patience followed the woman through the boudoir and bedroom to the -bath-room, a classic apartment of pink tiles. The tub was merely one -corner of the room walled off with tiles; and in it, covered from throat -to foot with a sheet, her head on a silken strap, lay Rosita. By her -side sat a girl in a fashionable ulster and large hat, a note-book and -pencil on her lap. Rosita looked like a dark-haired Aphrodite, and was -as fresh as a rose. A maid had just dried one pink and white hand, and -she held it out to Patience. - -“Patita! Patita! Patita!” she said with her sweet drawl and accent, and -without a trace of resentment in her soft heavy eyes. “Where, where have -you been all these years? Miss Merrien, this is my oldest and dearest -friend, Mrs. Beverly Peele [she pronounced the name with visible pride]. -Patita, this is Miss Merrien of the ‘Day.’ She is interviewing me.” - -Patience flushed as she bent her head to the young woman, who regarded -her with conspicuous amazement, and whose nostrils quivered a little, as -if she scented a “story.” She was a pretty girl with a dark rather worn -face, a frank eye, and a nervous manner. - -“Patita, sit down there just for a moment while I look at you. Then we -will go into the other room. I could not wait to see you. _Dios de mi -alma_, but you have changed, Patita _mia_. Who would ever have thought -that you would be such a beauty and such a swell. Gray cloth and -chinchilla! Just think, Miss Merrien, we used to wear sunbonnets and -copper-toed boots, and drove an old blind horse that would not go off a -walk.” - -“May I put that down?” asked the girl, eagerly. - -“Oh, please don’t,” exclaimed Patience. Miss Merrien’s face fell. Then -she smiled, and said good-naturedly, “All right, I won’t.” - -“And now Patita is a swell,” pursued Rosita, as if no interruption had -occurred, “and I am a famous _prima donna_. Such is life. Patita, do you -know that I have two hundred thousand dollars invested?” - -“Really?” - -“_Si, señorita!_ Oh, my price has gone up, Patita _mia_,” and she -laughed her low delicious laugh. - -Miss Merrien smiled. “A man shot himself for that laugh the other day—I -suppose you read about it,” she said. - -“No, I did not. I have read the newspapers irregularly of late—the -‘stories,’ at least.” - -“It is true,” said Rosita, complacently. “Oh, Patita, life is so lovely. -To think that we both had such great destinies! _Pobre_ Manuela, and -Panchita, and all the rest! _Bueno_, go into the bedroom, both of you, -and I will be there in ten minutes.” - -Patience and Miss Merrien seated themselves in the white bower of velvet -and lace. - -“Please do not put me into your story,” said Patience, hastily. “It -would not do—you see my husband would not like it—but we are old -friends, and I wanted to see her.” - -Miss Merrien nodded intelligently. With the suspicion of her craft she -leaped to the conclusion that the fashionable young woman came to her -disreputable friend for an occasional lark. - -“Oh, I promise you. If you hadn’t asked me I should though. It would -make a fine story.” - -“Tell me,” said Patience abruptly, “do you like being a newspaper woman? -Is it very hard work?” - -“Yes, it’s hard work,” Miss Merrien answered in some surprise; “but then -it is the most fascinating, I do believe, in the whole world. I have a -family and a home out West, and I could go back and be comfortable if I -wanted to; but I wouldn’t give up this life, with all its grind and -uncertainty, for that dead and alive existence. I only go out there once -a year to rest. I came on here for an experiment, to see a little of the -world. I had a dreadful time catching on; once I thought I’d starve, for -I was bound I wouldn’t write home for money; but I hung on and got -there. And I’m here to stay.” - -“Oh, is it really so pleasant? Sometimes I wish I were a newspaper -woman.” - -“You? You? I never saw anybody that looked less like one.” - -“I am very strong. I am naturally pale, that is all.” - -“Oh, your skin is lovely: it’s that warm dead white. I wasn’t thinking -of that. But you look like the princess that felt the pea under sixteen -mattresses.” - -“One adapts one’s self easily to luxury. I have only had it two years. I -do like it certainly. Nevertheless, I’d like to be a newspaper woman. -You look tired; are you?” - -“Yes, I am, Mrs. Peele. It’s hard work, if it is fascinating; for -instance, I’ve chased about this entire week for stories that haven’t -panned out for a cent. I haven’t made ten dollars. I came up here as a -last resource. La Rosita is always good-natured, and I hoped she’d have -a story for me. But all I’ve got is a crank that’s following her about -threatening to kill her if she doesn’t marry him, and that’s such a -chestnut. If I could only fake something I know she’d let it go, but my -imagination’s worn to a thread—” - -The portière was pushed aside, and Rosita entered. She wore a glistening -night-robe of silk and lace and ribbon under a yellow plush bath gown. -Her dense black hair fell to her knees. She slid into bed and ordered -her maid to admit the manicure. An old woman, looking like a witch and -clad in shabby black, came in and took a chair beside the bed. The maid -brought a crystal bowl and warm water, and a golden manicure set, and -Rosita held forth her incomparable arm with its little Spanish hand. She -lay with indolent grace among the large pillows. - -“You certainly are a beauty,” exclaimed Miss Merrien, enthusiastically. - -Rosita smiled with much pleasure. “I love to hear a woman say that, and -I shall make good copy for many years yet. I shall not fade like most -Spanish women. Oh, I have learned many secrets.” - -“I wish you hadn’t told them to me, and then I should still have them to -write about. They made a great story.” - -“_Dios! Dios!_” said Rosita, plaintively, “I wish we could think of -something. I hate to send you away with nothing at all. I love to be -written about. Patita, can’t you think of something?” - -“Now, Mrs. Peele,” said Miss Merrien, “let us see if you are a good -fakir. That is one of the first essentials of being a successful -newspaper woman.” - -“Oh, dear! Is it? If I could fake I’d make books. I’d like that even -better. Rosita, did you ever tell the newspapers about that time I -coached you for your first appearance on any stage, and the great hit -you made?” - -“What is that?” asked Miss Merrien, sharply. - -“I never thought of it. Patita, you tell the story.” - -This Patience did, while Miss Merrien wrote rapidly in shorthand, -pausing occasionally to exclaim with rapture. - -“Oh, my good angel sent me here this morning,” she said when Patience -had finished. “I won’t mention your name, of course, but you won’t mind -my saying that you are one of the Four Hundred.” - -“I don’t suppose there is any objection. I am such an obscure member of -it that no one will suspect me. Only don’t give any details.” - -“Oh, I won’t, indeed I won’t.” She slipped her book into her muff and -rose to go. “You don’t know how much obliged I am. I’ll do as much for -you some day. If ever you want to be written up, let me know.” - -“I never should want to be in the newspapers.” - -“Oh, there’s no telling. You haven’t had a taste of it yet. Well, -good-morning,” and she went out. - -Patience leaned back in her luxurious chair, and watched the old woman -polish the pretty nails. Rosita babbled, and Patience watched her face -closely. Its colouring was as fresh, its contours as perfect as ever, -but there was a faint touch of hardness somewhere, and the eyes held -more secrets than they had two years ago. They were the eyes of the -wanton. For a moment Patience forgot her surroundings. Her mind flew -back to the old days, to the rickety buggy with the two contented -innocent little girls, then, by a natural deflection, to her tower and -her dreams. She longed passionately for the old Mission, and wondered if -Solomon were still alive. Then she thought of Bourke, and came back to -the present with a shudder. The woman had gone. - -“What is the matter?” asked Rosita. “Is it true—what the men say—that -you are not happy with your husband?” - -“I hate him,” said Patience. - -“Why don’t you get a divorce?” - -“I have no grounds.” - -“No grounds? Fancy a wife having no grounds!” - -“I have not the slightest doubt of his faith.” - -“Send him to me.” - -“Oh, Rosita! How can you be so coarse?” - -“No-o-o-o! You are my old friend. I would do anything for you. Think it -over, Patita _mia_.” - -“I do not need to think it over. I would never do so vile a thing as -that. Have you no refinement left?” - -“What earthly use would I have for refinement? Patita, you are such a -baby, and you always had ideals and things. Have you got them yet?” - -“No,” said Patience, rising abruptly. “I haven’t. Good-bye.” - -“Good-bye, Patita dear,” said Rosita, with unruffled good humour, “and -if ever you are in trouble come here and I will take you in. I would -even lend you money, and if you knew me you would know how much I loved -you to do that. There is not another person living I would give a five -cent piece to.” - - * * * * * - -When Patience reached the sidewalk she filled her lungs with fresh air, -then looked at her watch. It was only a half after twelve, and she -decided to call on Mary Gallatin. She had never yet paid that charming -young fashionette the promised morning call, although she had attended -one or two of her afternoon receptions. - -She told the coachman to drive to the house in Fifty-seventh Street, -then threw herself back on the seat and laughed, a long unpleasant -laugh. She tapped first one foot and then the other, with increasing -nervousness. - -“What fools we mortals be to cry for the unattainable,” she said, -addressing the little mirror opposite. “Probably that young newspaper -woman envies me bitterly. So, doubtless, do many others. Why on earth am -I longing for what I’ll never find, instead of making the best of a bad -bargain and the most of my position? I think I’ll find my way out of the -difficulty with the average woman’s solution: I’ll take a lover.” - -The carriage stopped before a house with the breadth of stoop which in -New York means plentiful wealth. She waited in the drawing-room while -the cautious butler went up to see if his mistress would receive this -stranger. He returned in a moment and conducted her up to a door at the -front of the house. Patience entered a large room whose light was so -subdued that for a moment she could see only vaguely outlined forms. - -“Oh, Mrs. Beverly, how dear of you,” cried a sweet voice, and Patience -groped her way round the angle of a large bed and saw Mrs. Gallatin -sitting against a mass of pillows. “I’m so glad you came this morning. -I’m feeling so blue. I’ve twisted my foot, you know, and my friends are -so kind to me. Mr. Rutger, give Mrs. Peele a chair. Mrs. Beverly, you -know Mr. Rutger and Mr. Maitland and Mr. Owen, do you not? There is -Leontine.” - -The three young men, who had risen as she entered, bowed and resumed -their seats. Mrs. Lafarge threw her a kiss from the depths of a chair by -the fire. - -Patience sat down and glanced about her while Mrs. Lafarge finished an -anecdote she had been telling. Her eyes became accustomed to the light, -and in a moment she saw things quite distinctly. The large room was -furnished in Empire style, the walls and windows and the great mahogany -and brass bedstead covered with crimson satin damask. There were only a -few pieces of heavy furniture, in the room, but like the bed they were -magnificent. Each brass carving told a different story. - -Mrs. Gallatin, smiling, exquisite, wore a cambric gown, less elaborate -than Rosita’s but more dainty. Her shining hair was drawn modishly to -the top of her head and confined with a pink porcelain comb, carved into -semblance of wild roses. A pink silk shawl slipped from her shoulders. -Another wild rose was at her throat. On her hands she wore rubies only. - -The story Mrs. Lafarge told was slightly naughty, and all laughed -heartily at its conclusion. Patience had heard too many naughty stories -in the last two years to be shocked; but when one of the young men began -another he was promptly hissed down. - -“You are not going to tell that before Mrs. Beverly,” said Mary -Gallatin. “She is quite too frightfully proper. But we’re awfully fond -of her all the same,” and she patted Patience’s hand while her lovely -young face contracted in a charming scowl. Patience wondered if she had -a lover—Mr. Gallatin was a dapper little man—and if that was why she -looked so happy. She glanced speculatively at the men, and wondered if -she could fall in love with one of them. But they were very ordinary New -York youths of fashion, high of shoulder, slow of speech, large of -epiglottis, vacuous of expression. She shook her head unconsciously. - -“Why, what on earth are you thinking about?” cried Mrs. Gallatin, with -her silvery laugh. “That wasn’t a shake of disapproval, was it?” - -“Oh, no, no!” said Patience, hastily. “Something occurred to me, and I -forgot I was not alone. You see, I am so much alone that I’ve even -gotten into the habit of thinking out loud.” She felt that she was a -restraint—the suppressed young man had relapsed into moody -silence—and, as soon as she reasonably could, rose to go. Mrs. Gallatin -kissed her warmly and Mrs. Lafarge came forward and kissed her also; but -Patience detected a faint note of relief in their voices, and went -downstairs feeling more depressed than ever. “There seems to be no place -for me,” she thought. “I must be out of tune with everything.” - -She went to her father-in-law’s house in Eleventh Street and found Mrs. -Peele and Honora gowned for expected luncheon guests. The former -apologised coldly for not being able to ask her to join them, but “there -was only room in the dining-room for eight.” Honora rippled regret, and -Patience felt that she should disgrace herself with tears if she did not -get out of the house. She went directly to the station, intending to -return home, but as the train approached Peele Manor she turned her back -squarely on the old house and decided to go on to Mariaville and see -Miss Beale. She remembered with satisfaction that she knew at least one -wholesome thoroughly sincere woman, however misguided. - -When she reached the station she concluded to walk to the house. She -felt nervous and excited. Her cheeks burned and her temples ached a -little. She had taken no nourishment that day but a cup of coffee and a -roll, and her head felt light. It was now two o’clock. - -When she had gone a little more than half way she lifted her eyes and -saw Miss Beale coming toward her with beaming face, one hand ready to -wave. - -“Why, Patience!” she cried, as they met. “I’m so glad to see you. I’m -just going to kiss you if it is on the street. I can’t say I thought -you’d forgotten me, for you’ve sent me money for my poor every time I -begged for it; but I did think you’d never come to see me.” - - * * * * * - -Patience had no excuse to offer, so wisely attempted none, but returned -Miss Beale’s embrace heartily. The older woman’s face was brilliant with -pleasure. - -“Dear me, how pretty you have grown! What a colour! I’m so glad to see -you looking so well. How happy dear Miss Tremont would be to see you -now. She was always afraid you would be delicate. But we can’t wish her -back, can we, Patience?” - -“There’s no use wishing anything undone. Where are you going?” - -“Where I am going to take you. Now, don’t ask any questions, but just -come along.” - -Patience, hoping that the destination was a fair where she could get -luncheon, followed submissively, and evaded Miss Beale’s personal -inquiries as best she could. - -“How does the Temperance Cause get on?” she asked at length. - -“Oh, just the same! Just the same!” said Miss Beale, with a cheerful -sigh. “One makes slow progress in this wicked world; all we can do is to -trust in the Lord and do our humble best. Mariaville has three new -saloons, and the father of one of my scholars beat him nearly to death -the other day for coming to the Loyal Legion class; but we’ll win in the -end.” - -“Meanwhile are you as much interested as ever?” asked Patience, -curiously. - -“Oh, my!” Miss Beale gave an almost hilarious laugh. “Well, I should -think so. How could I ever lose interest in the Lord’s work? Why, I -never even get discouraged.” - -“It has occurred to me, sometimes—since I have been away and met all -sorts of people—that if you really were Temperance you might have more -chance of success.” - -“If we were what?” - -“Temperance in the actual meaning of the word. You’re not, you know; -you’re teetotalists. That is the reason you antagonise so many thousands -of men who might be glad to help you with their vote otherwise. The -average gentleman—and there are thousands upon thousands of him—never -gets drunk, and enjoys his wine at dinner and even his whiskey and -water. He doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t have it, and there -isn’t any. It adds to the pleasures of life. Those are the people that -really represent Temperance, and naturally they have no sympathy with a -movement that they consider narrow-minded and an unwarrantable -intrusion.” - -Miss Beale shook her head vigorously. “It is a sin to touch it!” she -exclaimed, “and sooner or later they will all be drunkards, every one of -them. The blessing of God is not on alcohol, and it should be banished -from the face of the earth.” - -Patience was in a perverse and almost ugly mood. “Tell me,” she said, -“how do you reconcile your animosity to alcohol with the story of -Christ’s turning the water into wine at the wedding feast?” - -“It wasn’t wine,” said Miss Beale, triumphantly; “it was grape juice. -Wine takes days to ferment, so the water couldn’t possibly have become -wine all in a minute.” - -Patience burst into laughter. “But, Miss Beale, it was a miracle anyhow, -wasn’t it? If he could perform a miracle at all it would have been as -easy to make wine out of water as grape juice.” - -Miss Beale shook her head emphatically and set her lips. “I _know_ that -the Lord never would have offered wine to anybody; but grape juice is -delightful, and he probably knew it, and they called it wine. That is -all there is to it.” - -“Oh,” exclaimed Patience, forgetting the Temperance question, as Miss -Beale turned into a path and walked toward the side entrance of the -First Presbyterian Church, “are we going here?” - -“Yes, this is just where we are going. There is a special meeting of the -Y’s and Christian Endeavourers of Mariaville and White Plains and two or -three other places. Ah! I’ve caught you now, you naughty girl.” - -Patience turned away her face and frowned heavily. All her old dislike -of religion, almost forgotten during the past two years, surged up above -the impulsion of her fermenting spirit. She felt the old impatience, the -old intolerance. - -“Do you want me to go in there?” she asked. “I came to see you.” - -“Oh, you’re not going to get out of it,” cried Miss Beale, gayly. “And I -know you better than you know yourself. I know you always wanted to give -yourself to the Lord, only you are too proud.” - -Patience stared at her, wondering if she had so far forgotten herself as -to indulge in a little joke at the expense of her idols; but Miss Beale -was looking at her with kind, earnest eyes. Patience laughed, and -shrugged her shoulders. - -“Well, I’ll go in to please you; but I hope it won’t be too long, for -I’m horribly hungry.” - -“Dear, dear! Why didn’t you come a little earlier? But it won’t be more -than two hours, and then I’ll have a hot luncheon prepared for you.” - -She led Patience through the large church parlour and straight up to a -table, lifting a chair as she passed the front row of seats. - -“I don’t want to sit here,” whispered Patience, hurriedly; but Miss -Beale pushed her into the chair, and seated herself beside her, at the -back of the table. - -“I am going to preside, and you are the guest of honour,” she said. -“Young ladies,” she continued, smiling at the rows of bright and serious -faces, “I am sure you will all be glad to see Patience again. I know she -is glad to see you.” - -Patience arose and bowed awkwardly, then sat down and tapped the floor -with her foot. The young women looked surprised and pleased. One and all -smiled encouragingly, sure that she had been converted at last. Many of -the faces were bright with youth and even mischief; others were careworn -and aging. Not one of them but looked happy. - -Patience under her calm exterior began to seethe and mutter once more. -Once she almost laughed aloud as she thought of the effect upon these -simple-minded girls if the hell within her were suddenly made manifest. - -The meeting opened at once. Miss Beale offered a prayer, in which she -implored that they all might love the Lord the more. Hymns were sung, -the Bible read, and reports by the various secretaries and treasurers. -Then one serious and not unintelligent-looking woman of thirty read a -platitudinous paper beginning: “Some one has said, ‘The time will come -when it will be the proudest boast of every man and woman to say “I am -an American.”’ I say that the time will come when it will be the -proudest boast of every man and woman to say, ‘I am a Christian.’” - -All regarded the reader with eyes of affection and approval. Each word -Patience, in her abnormal state of mind, took as a personal insult to -Intellect. She felt furiously resentful that in this Nineteenth Century -with its educational facilities, its libraries full of the achievements -of great masters of thought, there should be so low a standard of -intellectuality in the middle classes. Even the fashionable women, -frivolous as they were, were brighter, and keener to pierce outworn -traditions. They might not be thinkers, but they had a species of -lightning in their brain which rent superstition and gave them -flashlight glimpses of life in its true proportions. - -The girls began to give experiences. One had just joined the Y’s, and -she related with tears the story of her struggle between the World and -the Church, and her thankfulness that at last she had been permitted to -decide in favour of the Lord. Patience remembered her as the vapid -daughter of rather wealthy parents who in her own day had been devoted -to society and young men. She was very faded. Many of the girls wept in -sympathy, and Miss Beale mopped her eyes several times. - -An extremely pretty girl stood up, a girl with black hair and pale blue -eyes and rich pink colour. Patience regarded her satirically, thinking -what a beauty she would be if properly gowned. Miss Beale, noting her -interest, patted her hand and smiled. - -“I just want to say,” began the girl, with deep earnestness, “that every -day of my life I have greater confidence that the Lord loves me and -hears what I ask Him. You know that I write the reports of the Y. W. C. -T. U., and of course I have to get them printed for nothing. So when I -sit down to write them I just ask the Lord to tell me what to say and -how to say it, and all the way to the office I keep asking Him to tell -me what to say to the editor so that he will print it and help our great -cause along. And, girls, he prints it every time, and only yesterday he -said to me: ‘I like your stuff because it’s direct and to the point, no -gush, no rhetoric—it’s plain horse sense.’ Now, girls, you need not -think I say that to compliment myself. I just say it to prove that the -Lord writes those newspaper articles, not I.” - -Patience put her handkerchief to her face and shook convulsively. She -bit her lips to keep from laughing aloud; she wanted to scream. - -Suddenly she became conscious of a deep murmur. Supposing it to be of -disapproval, she straightened her mouth and dropped her handkerchief; -but her face was scarlet, her eyes full of tears. The girls were leaning -forward, regarding her earnestly. Miss Beale leaned over and placed her -arm about her. - -“Speak,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid.” - -“What on earth are you thinking about?” gasped Patience. - -“Tell us what is in your heart,” said Miss Beale, in a tremulous voice. - -And, “Tell us! Tell us!” came from the girls. - -“You don’t know what you are saying,” said Patience, freeing herself -angrily. “Let me go.” She was trembling with excitement. Her head felt -very light. The blood was pounding in her ears. She started to her feet, -meaning to rush to the door; but Miss Beale was too quick for her. She -caught her firmly by the waist and led her to the middle of the space at -the head of the room. - -“I know she will speak,” said Miss Beale. “Patience, we all feel our -awful responsibility. If you speak out now, you will be saved. If your -timidity overcomes you, you may go hence and never hear His knock -again.” - -“Speak! Speak!” came with solemn emphasis from the Y’s. - -“Oh, well, I’ll speak,” cried Patience. “And suppose you hear me out. It -will be only polite, since you have forced me to speak. You have always -misunderstood me. I am by no means indifferent to the God you worship. I -have the most exalted respect and admiration for this tremendous -creative force behind the Universe, a respect so great that I should -never presume to address him as you do in your funny little egoism. Do -you realise that this magnificent Being of whose essence you have not -the most approximate idea, is the Creator, not only of this but of -countless other worlds and systems, and furthermore of the psychic and -physical laws that govern them and of the extraordinary mystery of which -we are a part, and which has its most subtle expression in the Space -surrounding us? And yet you, atoms, pigmies, tiny individual -manifestations of a great correlative force called human nature, you -presume to address this stupendous Being, and stand up and kneel down -and talk to It, to imagine that It listens to your insignificant -wants,—that It writes newspaper articles! Is it Christianity that has -destroyed the sense of humour in its disciples? - -“In each of you is a shaft from the great dominating Force—that is -quite true, and it is for you to develop that force—character—and rely -upon it, not upon a spiritual lover, as weak women do upon some -unfortunate man. What good does all this religious sentimentality do -you? Your brains are rotting. You have nothing to talk about to -intelligent men. No wonder the men of small towns get away as soon as -they can, and seek the intelligent women of lower strata. Men are -naturally brighter than women, and girls of your sort deliberately make -yourselves as limited and colourless as you can. Go, make yourselves -companions for men, if you would make the world better, if you must -improve the human race. Study the subjects that interest them, that fill -their life; study politics and the great questions of the day, that you -may lead them to the higher ethical plane on which nature has placed -you. Quit this erotic sentimentalising over an abstract being to whom -you must be the profoundest joke of his civilisation—” - -“Hush!” shrieked Miss Beale. For some moments Patience had been obliged -to raise her voice above the angry mutterings of her audience. One or -two were sobbing hysterically. Miss Beale’s cry was the signal for the -explosion of pent-up excitement. - -“Go! Go!” cried the girls. “Go out of this church! Blasphemer! Shame! -Shame!” - -Patience looked out undaunted upon the sea of flushed angry faces, which -a few moments before had been all peace and love. She shrugged her -shoulders, bowed to Miss Beale, who was staring at her with horrified -eyes in a livid face, and walked toward the door. The girls pressed her -forward, lest she should speak again. - -“We have a right as churchwomen to hate you,” cried one, “for we are -told to hate the devil, and you are he incarnate.” - -Patience refused to accelerate her steps, but reached the door in a -moment. As she was about to pass out a joyous face was uplifted to hers. -It belonged to a girl still sitting. Her lap was piled with loose sheets -of paper. There was an excited smirch of lead on her cheek. Even as she -raised her head and spoke she continued writing. “That was a corker,” -she whispered, “the biggest story I’ve had in weeks.” It was Miss -Merrien. - - - XVII - -Patience was an early riser, and had usually read the “Day” through -before Beverly lounged downstairs, sleepy and cross and masculine. On -the morning after her day of varied experience she took the newspaper -into the library and read the first page leisurely, as was her habit. -The news of the world still interested her profoundly. Then she read the -editorials, and, later, glanced idly at the headlines of the “stories.” -The following arrested her startled eye: - - AN EARTHQUAKE IN MARIAVILLE! - THE GOOD PEOPLE ARE OUTRAGED! - A SENSATION BY THE BEAUTIFUL AND BRILLIANT - MRS. BEVERLY PEELE! - -The story covered two thirds of a column. Patience read it three times -in succession without stopping to comment. It was graphically told, much -exaggerated, and as carefully climaxed as dramatic fiction. And it was -interesting reading. Patience decided that if it had not been about -herself she should have given it more than passing attention. Her beauty -and grace and elegance, her grand air, were described with enthusiasm. -Every possible point of contrast was made to the serious and -unfashionable Y’s. - -At first Patience was horrified. She wondered what Mr. and Mrs. Peele -would say. Beverly’s comments were not within the limitations of doubt. - -“I’m in for it,” she thought. Then she smiled. She felt the same thrill -she had experienced when the men looked askance at her after her assault -upon her mother. The Ego ever lifts its head at the first caress, and -quickly becomes as insatiable as a child for sweets. Patience glanced at -the article to note how many times her name—in small capitals—sprang -forth to meet her eyes. She imagined Bourke reading it, and Mrs. -Gallatin, and Mrs. Lafarge, and many others, and wondered if strangers -would find it interesting; then, suddenly, she threw back her head and -laughed aloud. - -“What fools we mortals be!” she thought. “And the President of the -United States has dozens of paragraphs written about him every day. And -actors and writers are paragraphed _ad nauseam_. If a woman is run over -in the street she has a column, and if she goes to a hotel and commits -suicide, she has two, and is a raving beauty. Rosita is persecuted for -stories. The Ego ought to have its ears boxed every morning, as some -old-fashioned people switch their children. Well, here comes Beverly.” - -Her husband entered, and for the first time in many months she sprang to -her feet and gave him a little peck on his cheek. He was so surprised -that he forgot to pick up the newspaper, and followed her at once into -the dining-room. During the meal she talked of his horses and his farm, -and even offered to take a drive with him. He was going to White Plains -to look at some blooded stock which was to be sold at auction, and -promptly invited her to accompany him; but her diplomacy had its limits, -and she declined. However, he went from the table in high good humour. -When she left him in the library, a few moments later, he was arranging -the scattered sheets of the “Day,” without his accustomed comments upon -“the infernal manner in which a woman always left a newspaper.” - -Patience went up to her room and wrote a note of apology to Miss Beale. -She was half way through a long letter to Hal when she heard Beverly -bounding up the stair three steps at a time. - -“The cyclone struck Peele Manor at 10.25,” she said, looking at the -clock. “Sections of the fair—” - -Beverly burst in without ceremony. - -“What the hell does this mean?” he cried, brandishing the newspaper. His -dilating nostrils were livid. The rest of his face was almost black. - -“Beverly, you will certainly have apoplexy or burst a blood vessel,” -said his wife, solicitously. “Think of those that love you and preserve -yourself—” - -“Those that love me be damned! The idea of my wife—_my wife_—being the -heroine of a vulgar newspaper story! Her name out in a headline! Mrs. -Beverly Peele! My God!” - -“God was the cause of the whole trouble,” said Patience, flippantly. “I -thought the young women were entirely too intimate with him. The -spectacle conjured of The Almighty with his sleeves rolled up grinding -out copy at five dollars per column was too much for me. I have the most -profound admiration and respect for the Deity, and felt called upon to -defend him—the others seemed so unconscious of insult—” - -“This is no subject for a joke,” cried Beverly, who had sworn steadily -through these remarks. “I don’t care a hang if you had a reason or not -for making a public speech—Christ!—it’s enough that you made it, that -your name’s in the paper—my wife’s name! What will my father and mother -say?” - -“They will not swear. A few of the Peeles are decently well bred.” - -“No one ever gave them cause to swear before. You’ve turned this family -upside down since you came into it. You’ve been the ruin of my life. I -wish to God I’d never seen you.” - -“I sincerely wish you hadn’t. What had you intended to make of your life -that I have interfered with?” - -“If I’d married a woman who loved me I’d have been a better man.” - -“I wonder how many weak men have said that since the world began! You -were twenty-six when I married you, and I cannot see that there has been -any change in kind since, although there certainly is in degree. If you -had married the ordinary little domestic woman, you would have been -happier, but you would not have been better, for you possess neither -soul nor intelligence. But I am perfectly willing to give you a chance -for happiness. Give me my freedom, and look about you for a doll—” - -“Do you mean to say that you want a divorce?” - -“I think you know just how much I do.” - -“Well, you won’t get it—by God! Do you understand that? You’ve no -cause, and you’ll not get any.” - -“There should be a law made for women who—who—well, like myself.” - -Her husband was incapable of understanding her. “Well, you just remember -that,” he said. “You don’t get a divorce, and you keep out of the -newspapers, or you’ll be sorry,” and he slammed the door and strode -away. - -A quarter of an hour after Patience heard the wheels of his cart. At the -same time the train stopped below the slope. A few moments later she saw -Miss Merrien come up the walk. The maid brought up the visitor’s card, -and with it a note from Mr. Field. - - DEAR MRS. BEVERLY [it read],—Forgive me—but you are a woman of - destiny, or I haven’t studied people sixty years for nothing. I - chose to be the first—the scent of the old war-horse for news, - you know. Peele will be furious, but I can’t bother about a - trifle like that. Just give this young woman an interview, and - oblige your old friend - - J. E. F. - -Patience started to go downstairs, then turned to the mirror and -regarded herself attentively. She looked very pretty, remarkably so, as -she always did when the pink was in her cheeks; but her morning gown was -plain and not particularly becoming. She changed it, after some -deliberation, for a house-robe of pearl grey silk with a front of pale -pink chiffon hanging straight from a collar of cut steel. The maid had -brought her some pink roses from the greenhouse; she fastened one in the -coil of her soft pale hair. Then she smiled at her reflection, shook out -her train, and rustled softly down the stair. - -Miss Merrien exclaimed with feminine enthusiasm as she entered the -library. - -“Oh, you are the loveliest woman to write about,” she said. “I do a lot -of society work; and I am so tired of describing the conventional -beauty. And that gown! I’m going to describe every bit of it. Did it -come from Paris?” - -“Yes,” said Patience, amused at her immediate success. “My mother-in-law -brought it to me last summer—but perhaps you had better not mention -Mrs. Peele in your story.” - -“Well, I won’t, of course, if you don’t want me to. I have written the -story about La Rosita for the Sunday ‘Day,’ and I did not hint at your -identity. It made a good story, but not as good as the one about you. -Mr. Field wrote me a note this morning, complimenting me, and told me to -come up here and interview you. I hope you don’t mind very much.” - -“I haven’t the faintest idea whether I do or not. How do you do it?” - -“Well, you see, I’ll just ask you questions and you answer them, and -I’ll put it all down in shorthand, and then when I go to the office I’ll -thresh it into shape. You can be sure that I won’t say anything that -isn’t pleasant, for I really never admired any one half so much.” - -“Very well, you interview me, and then I’ll interview you. I have some -questions to ask also.” - -“I’ll tell you anything you like. This story, by the way, is to be in -the Sunday issue on the Woman’s Page. Now we’ll begin. Were you always -an unbeliever? Tell me exactly what are your religious opinions.” - -“Oh, dear me! You are not going to write a serious analysis of me?” - -“Yes, but I’ll give it the light touch so that it won’t bore anybody. It -is to be called ‘A Society Woman Who Thinks,’ and will be read with -interest all over America.” - -“But I am not a society woman.” - -“Well, you’re a swell, and that’s the same thing, for this purpose -anyhow. The Gardiner Peeles are out of sight, and I have heard lots of -times how beautifully you entertain in summer and how charmingly you -gown yourself. Tell me first—what do you think of this everlasting -woman question? I hate the very echo of the thing, but we’ll have to -touch on it.” - -“Oh, I haven’t given much thought to it, except as a phase of current -history. One thing is positive, I think: we must adjust our individual -lives without reference to any of the problems of the moment,—Womanism, -Socialism, the Ethical Question, the Marriage Question, and all the -others that are everlasting raging. He that would be happy must deal -with the great primal facts of life—and these facts will endure until -human nature is no more. Moreover, however much she may reason, nothing -can eradicate the strongest instinct in woman—that she can find -happiness only through some man.” - -“Good,” said Miss Merrien. “I’d have thought the same thing if I’d ever -had time. Now tell me if you have any religion at all.” - -“I suppose I should be called an anarchist. Don’t be alarmed: I mean the -philosophical or spiritual anarchist, not these poor maniarchists that -are merely an objectionable variety of lunatics. The religious situation -is this, I think: Jesus Christ does not satisfy the intellectual needs -of the Nineteenth Century. And yet, indisputably, the religionists are -happier than the multiplying scores that could no more continue in the -old delusion than they could worship idols or torture the flesh. -Civilisation needs a new prophet, and he must be an anarchist,—one who -will teach the government of self by self, the government of man’s -nature by will, which in its turn is subservient to the far seeing -brain. Human nature is anarchic in its essence. The child never was born -that was brought to bend to authority without effort. We are still -children, or we should not need laws and governments.” - -“Wait till I get that down.” - -“Of course these are only individual opinions. I don’t claim any value -for them, and should never have thought of airing them if you hadn’t -asked me. For my part I’m glad I live in this imperfect chaotic age. -When we can all do exactly as we please and won’t even remember how to -want to do anything wrong—Awful!” - -“But you said the advanced thinkers needed this new religion to make -them happy.” - -“Their happiness will consist in the tremendous effort to reach the -difficult goal. That will take centuries, just as the spiritualised -socialism of Jesus Christ has taken twenty centuries, and only -imperfectly possessed one third of the globe. When anarchy is a cold -hard fact—well, I suspect the anarchists will suddenly discover that -_ennui_ is in their vitals, and will gently yawn each other to death. -Then the tadpoles will begin over again; or perhaps there will then be -mental and moral developments that we in our present limitations cannot -conceive. Haven’t you had enough?” - -“No, no. I’ve a dozen questions more.” - -Miss Merrien, like all good newspaper reporters, was an amateur lawyer -and a harmless hypnotist. In an hour she had extracted Patience’s views -of society, books, dress, public questions, and the actors in the great -national theatre, the Capitol at Washington. - -“Oh, this is magnificent,” she announced, when the pages had been -folded. “Now can I look at the house?” - -“We will have luncheon first. No, don’t protest. I am delighted. Mr. -Peele is away for the day, otherwise I fear you would not have had this -interview.” - -“Oh, you don’t believe in the submission of wives, then?” - -“I’ve never thought much about it,” said Patience, indifferently. “There -is too much fuss made about it all. When a man commands his wife to do a -thing she does not care to do, and when a woman does what she knows will -displease her husband, it is time for them to separate.” - -“Oh, that is too simple. It wouldn’t do to reduce the woman question to -a rule of three. What would all the reformers do? And the poor polemical -novelists! Oh, these are the famous portraits, I suppose?” - -“You can look at them if the luncheon is bad,” said Patience, as they -took their seats at table. “I’m not a very good housekeeper, although I -actually did take some lessons of Miss Mairs. And sometimes I forget to -order luncheon. I did to-day.” - -But the luncheon proved to be a very good one, and Miss Merrien did it -justice, while Patience explained the portraits. Afterward she showed -her guest over the lower part of the house. Then they went back to the -library, and Patience had her interview. - -“Tell me exactly how does a woman begin on a newspaper?” she asked. - -“Oh, different ones have different experiences,” said Miss Merrien, -vaguely. “Sometimes you have letters, and are put on as a fashion or -society reporter, or to get interviews with famous women, or to go and -ask prominent people their opinion on a certain subject—for a -symposium, you know; like ‘What Would You do if You Knew that the World -was to End in Three Days?’ or, ‘Is Society Society?’ I have written -dozens of symposiums. Sometimes you do free-lance work, just pick up -what you can and trust to luck to catch on. But of course you must have -the nose for news. I was at a matinée one day and sat in front of two -society women. Between the acts they talked about a prominent woman of -their set who was getting a divorce from her husband so quietly that no -newspaper had suspected it. They also joked about the fact that her -lawyer was an old lover. I knew this was a tip, and a big one. I wrote -all the names on my cuff, and before the matinée was over I was down at -the ‘Day’ and had turned in my tip to the City editor. He sent a -reporter to the lawyer to bluff him into admitting the truth. The next -day we had a big story, and after that the editor gave me work -regularly.” - -“How much do you make a week?” - -“Sometimes forty, sometimes not twenty; but I average pretty well and -get along. Still, when you have to lay by for sickness and vacations, -and put about one half on your back it doesn’t amount to much. You see, -a newspaper woman must dress well, must make a big bluff. If she doesn’t -look successful she won’t be, to say nothing of the fact that she -couldn’t get inside a smart house if she looked shabby. And then she’s -got to eat good nourishing food, or she never could stand the work. Of -course there’s got to be economy somewhere, so I live in a hall bedroom -and make my own coffee in the morning. Still, I don’t complain, for I do -like the work. If I had to go back home I’d ruin the happiness of the -entire family.” - -“What do you look forward to?—I mean what ultimate? You don’t want to -be a reporter always, I suppose. Everybody is striving for some top -notch.” - -“Oh, maybe I’ll become Sunday editor, or I might fall in with somebody -that wanted to start a woman’s newspaper, or magazine—you never can -tell. There aren’t many good berths for women. Of course there are a -good many very bright newspaper women, and it’s a toss up who goes to -the top.” - -“You don’t seem to take matrimony into consideration.” - -“Oh, I don’t deny I get so tired sometimes that I’d be only too glad to -have a man take care of me. I guess we all look forward to that, more or -less. I think I’d always work, but not so hard. It would make all the -difference in the world if you knew some one else was paying the bills. -And then, you see, we go to pieces in eight or ten years. A man is good -for hard newspaper work until he’s forty, but we women are made to be -taken care of, and that’s a fact. We take turns having nervous -prostration. I haven’t had it yet, but I’m looking cheerfully forward to -it.” - -“Now I want to tell you,” said Patience, “that I am going to be a -newspaper woman.” - -“Oh, nonsense, Mrs. Peele! Excuse me, but you belong here. Your rôle is -that of the châtelaine in exquisite French gowns and an air half of -languor, half of pride. You were not made for work.” - -“That is very pretty, but I suspect you don’t want to lose me for copy.” - -“Well, I don’t deny it. I wish you’d keep the ball rolling, and give me -a story a month.” - -“I’m afraid I’ve given you my last. In a week or two I shall be a -châtelaine in a pink and grey gown no longer, but a humble applicant for -work in Mr. Field’s office.” - -“Is it possible that you mean it?” - -“Do I look as if I were joking?” - -“You don’t look unhappy—Pardon me—but—but—does he beat you?” - -“Oh, no,” said Patience, laughing outright, “he doesn’t beat me. I have -better grounds for desertion than that. Do you think you would do me a -favour? I shall have to slip away. He would never let me go with a -trunk. I am going to ask you to let me send you a box of things every -few days. That will excite no comment among the servants, as we are -always sending clothes to the poor. May I?” - -“Of course you may. I’ll do everything I can to help you. But—I can’t -imagine you out of this environment. Don’t you hate to give it up,—all -this luxury, this ease, this atmosphere?” - -“Yes, I like it all. I’m a sybarite, fast enough. But I’ve weighed it -all in the balance, and Peele Manor stays up. I have a hundred dollars -or so, and that will last me for a time. I’ll give it to you to take -care of for me. I never was wealthy, but I have no idea of economy. I -don’t think I should like a hall room though. Are the others so very -expensive?” - -“They are if you have a good address, and that’s very important. And you -want to be in a house with a handsome parlour.” - -“I have no friends,—none that will come to see me.” - -“Oh, you’ll make friends. You’re an awfully sweet woman. I can’t bear to -think—Well, there’s no use saying any more about it. I expect you’re -the sort that knows your own mind. I should like to keep on seeing you a -great lady, but if you can’t be a happy one I suppose you are right. -Well, I’ll stand by you through thick and thin, and I’ll show you the -ropes. Now I must get back to the office and work up my story. Here’s my -address. There’s a spare room on the floor above mine. If you’re in dead -earnest I’d better take it right away; then I can unpack your things and -hang them up. But—but—do you really mean it?” - -“Of course I do.” - -“You know Mr. Field personally, don’t you?” - -“Very well, indeed; and he told me when I was sixteen that he should -make a newspaper woman of me.” - -“Oh, well, then, you’ll have a lot of push, and your road won’t be as -hard as some—not by a long shot. About six out of every ten newspaper -women either go to the wall or to the bad. It is a mixture of knack and -pluck as much as brains that carries the favoured minority through. You -have brains and pluck, and you’ll have push, so you ought to get there. -About the knack of course I can’t tell. Good-bye.” - - - XVIII - -The evening mail brought from Mrs. Peele to her son a note which he read -with a rumbling accompaniment, then tossed to Patience. - - “Do you intend to permit your wife to disgrace your family?” it - read. “If I had my way that abominable paper, the ‘Day,’ should - never enter this house—nor any other paper that dealt in - personalities. I literally writhe every time I see my name—your - father’s honoured name—in the society columns. You may, then, - perhaps, imagine my feelings when your father handed me the - ‘Day’ this morning with his finger on that outrageous column. He - was speechless with wrath, and will personally call Mr. Field to - account. I am in bed with a violent headache, in consequence, - and dictating this letter to Honora. But although I deeply feel - for you, my beloved son, I must _insist_ that you assert your - authority with your wrong-headed wife and command her to refrain - from disgracing this family. I don’t wish to reproach you, but I - cannot help saying that it is _always_ a dangerous experiment to - marry beneath one. This girl is not one of us, she never can be; - for, not to mention that we know nothing whatever of her family, - she comes from that dreadful savage _new_ Western country. In - spite of the fact that she has been clever enough to - superficially adapt herself to our ways, I always knew that she - would break out somewhere—I always said so to Honora. But I - don’t wish to add to your own sorrow. I know how you, with all - your proud Peele reserve, must feel. Only, my son, use your - authority in the future.” - -Patience finished this letter with a disagreeable lowering of the brows. -She made no comment, however, but opened a book and refused to converse -with her husband. - -On Sunday morning she found three columns on the Woman’s Page of the -“Day” devoted to her beauty, her intellect, her gowns, and her opinions. -It was embellished with a photograph of Peele Manor and a sketch of -herself, which Miss Merrien had evidently made from memory. When Beverly -came down she handed the newspaper to him at once, to read the story -with the raw temper of early morning. She hoped that Mrs. Peele would -read it in similar conditions. - -After he had gone through the headlines he let the newspaper fall to the -floor, and stared at her with a face so livid that for a moment she felt -as if looking upon the risen dead. Then gradually it blackened, only the -nostrils remaining white. - -“So you deliberately defy me?” he articulated. - -“Yes,” she said, watching him narrowly. She thought that he might strike -her. - -“You did it on purpose to drive me crazy?” - -“I had no object whatever, except that it pleased me to be interviewed. -Understand at once that I shall do exactly as I please in all things. -This is not the country for petty household tyrants. I don’t doubt there -are many men in this world whom I should be glad to treat with deference -and respect if I happened to be married to one of them; but with men -like you there is only one course to take. I have asked you to let me -live abroad. If you consent to this, it may save you a great deal of -trouble in the future; for, I repeat, I shall in all things do exactly -as I choose.” - -“We’ll see whether you will or not,” he roared. “You’ll do as I say, or -I’ll lock you up.” - -“Oh, you will not lock me up. You are way behind your times, Beverly. -There is no law in the United States to compel me to obey you.” - -“I’ll stop your allowance. You’ll never get another cent from me.” - -“That has nothing whatever to do with it. Now, I ask you for the last -time, Will you let me travel?” - -“No!” he shouted, and he rushed from the room. - - - - - BOOK IV - - - I - -Miss Merrien lived in West Forty-fourth Street, near Broadway. Ten days -after her visit to Peele Manor Patience rang the door-bell of the house -that was to be her new home, one of a long impersonal row. - -The maid that answered her ring handed her a note from Miss Merrien, and -conducted her up to a hall room on the third floor. Patience closed the -door, and looked about her with the sensation of the shipwrecked. For a -moment she was strongly tempted to flee back to Peele Manor. The room -was about eight feet square, and furnished with a folding-bed, which was -likewise a bureau, and with a washstand, a table, and two chairs. The -furniture and carpet were new, and there were pretty blue and white -curtains on the window. Nevertheless the tiny room with its modern -contrivances was the symbol of poverty and struggle and an entirely new -existence. Her second impulse was to sit down on a chair and cry; but -she set her teeth, and read Miss Merrien’s note instead. - - I am so sorry not to be able to meet you [it read]; but I am a - slave, you know. Before I was out of bed this morning I received - an assignment to go to a woman’s club meeting at eleven. But - I’ll get back in time to go down to the shop with you. Don’t get - blue—if you can help it. Remember that every woman feels the - same way when she first makes the break for self-support; and - that your chances are better than those of most. There’s a - little restaurant round the corner—the maid will show - you—where you can get your luncheon. _Au revoir._ I’m so glad - the sun is out. - - ANNA CHETWYNDE MERRIEN. - - P. S. Your clothes are in the closet in the hall. The key is in - the washstand drawer. - -Patience felt in better cheer after reading Miss Merrien’s kindly -greeting, but the day dragged along very heavily. She went out and -bought all the newspapers, and studied them attentively for hints; but -they did not tell her inexperience anything, and after a time she let -them fall to the floor and sat staring at the blank windows opposite. -For the first time doubts assailed her. She had been so full of young -confidence, and pride in her brains and health and courage, that she had -not regarded the issue of her struggle with the world in the light of a -problem; but face to face with the practical details, she felt short of -breath and weak in the knees. - -At two o’clock Miss Merrien came in, looking very tired. There were -black scoops under her eyes, and the lines about her mouth were strongly -accentuated. But she smiled brightly as Patience rose to greet her. - -“Well, you are here,” she said. “I changed my mind fifty times about -your coming, but on the whole I thought you would. Fortunately I have -nothing on hand for this afternoon. I’ll rest, and then go down with you -to the shop. Oh, I am so tired, my dear. Can I lie down on your bed -awhile?” - -“I shall be delighted to learn how to open it,” said Patience, who was -wondering if her fair face was to become scooped and lined. - -Miss Merrien deftly manipulated the bed, loosened her frock, and flung -herself full length. - -“I spent all day yesterday and half the night tramping over Brooklyn -hunting up facts in the case of that girl who was found dead in a -tenement-house bed in a grand ball gown. A great story that, but it has -done me up. Tell me—how do you feel?” - -“Oh, I’m glad I’m here, but I wish it was six months from now.” - -“Of course you do. That’s the way we all feel. But you’ll soon swing -into place, and be too busy to think. I do wish you could get work in -the office, so that you could keep regular hours and meals, and not lose -your good looks; but there’s no berth of that sort. I tell you it is a -sad day when a girl under twenty-five sees the lines coming. The -Revolting Sisterhood say that the next century is to be ours; but I -doubt it. Men lighten our burdens a little now, but I’m afraid they’ll -hate us if we worry and supplant them any further. Well, I’m going to -take a nap. Wake me promptly at 3.10.” - -She closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately. The lines grew fainter -as she slept, and the hair fell softly about her face. Patience -reflected gratefully that three months of absolute leisure and peace of -mind would give back to the girl all her freshness and rounded contours. -At ten minutes past three she awakened her. Miss Merrien sat up with a -sigh. - -“I feel better, though. Cultivate those cat-naps. They refresh you -wonderfully. Now, we’ll go.” - - - II - -They went down town on the Elevated, leaving it at Park Row. Patience -was so much interested in the great irregular mass of buildings -surrounding City Hall Square, at the dense throngs packing the crooked -side streets, at the fakirs with their nonsensical wares, at the -bewildering array of gilt newspaper names on the rows and stories of -polished windows, that she forgot her errand for the moment, and was -nearly run over. - -“Yes, this is the heart of New York, sure enough,” assented Miss -Merrien. “All those big buildings over there are on the famous Newspaper -Row. Brooklyn Bridge is just behind. This is the Post Office on the -right, and that flat building in the square is the City Hall. I tell you -when you get down here, the rest of New York, including all the smart -folk, seems pretty insignificant.” - -“Oh,” exclaimed Patience, with a sudden sinking of the heart, “there is -the ‘Day’ building.” - -“That is our shop. Now, brace up.” - -Patience needed the admonition. She forgot City Hall Park. All her -doubts returned, with others in their wake. She knew something of the -snobbery of the world. As Mrs. Beverly Peele she had been an object of -respectful interest to Mr. Field. What would she be as an applicant for -work? True, he had been kind to her when she was a small nobody, but -that might have been merely a caprice. - -They climbed up two narrow stairs in an ugly old building, and entered a -large gas-lit room full of desks. Many young men were writing or moving -about; several were in their shirt sleeves. - -“This is the City room,” said Miss Merrien, “and these are the -reporters. Those men in that little room there are the editors and -editorial writers. Mr. Field’s room is just beyond. Now send your card -in by this boy. The Chief’s harder to see than the President of the -United States, but I guess he’ll see you.” - -Patience gave the boy her card, and at the end of half an hour, during -which she was much stared at by some of the men and totally ignored by -others, the boy returned and conducted her to Mr. Field’s office. - -It was a typical editor’s den of the old-fashioned type. A big desk -covered with papers, a revolving chair, and one other chair completed -the furniture. A large cat was walking about, switching its tail. The -floor was bare. The light straggled down between the tall buildings -surrounding, and entered through small windows. It was Mr. Field’s pride -to have the greatest newspaper and the most unpretentious “shop” in the -United States. - -He rose as Patience entered, his eyes twinkling. - -“Well,” he said, as he handed her the extra chair, “there’s a mighty row -on, isn’t there? Peele has been here, and now we do not speak as we pass -by. But we hadn’t had a good woman sensation for a month. I tried to -explain that to Peele, but it didn’t seem to impress him. I suppose -you’ve come to beg for mercy.” - -“No—I haven’t come for that.” - -“Why, what is the matter? I never saw you look the least bit rattled -before. You are always the young queen with a court of us old fellows at -your feet. But tell me; you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” - -Patience drew a long breath of relief. - -“Oh, you make it easier—I’ve been horribly frightened. But I’ll get to -the point—I suppose you’re very busy down here. Can I have ten -minutes?” - -He laughed. “We are usually what you might call busy in this office, but -you may have twenty minutes. Take your time.” - -“Well, it’s this: I’ve left Peele Manor for good and all, and I want to -be a newspaper woman.” - -Mr. Field’s shaggy white brows rushed up his forehead. His black eyes -expanded. - -“My God! What did you make such a break as that for?” - -“There are many reasons. I can’t give them all. But all the same I’ve -left, and I’m not going back.” - -“Well, your reasons must be good, for you had a delightful position, and -you became it. Are you sure you are not acting rashly?” - -“I’ve thought and thought and thought about it. I can’t understand why I -didn’t leave before. I suppose my ideas and intentions didn’t -crystallise until I met Miss Merrien. She has been very kind. I sent my -clothes to her by degrees; she engaged a room for me in her house; we -are going to cook together; and I have given her what money I have to -take care of.” - -“Well, well, you have acted deliberately. I don’t know that I am so much -surprised, after all, and I’ll say nothing to persuade you to go back. I -respect your courage and independence, and I’ll do all I can. I haven’t -the slightest idea what you can do, but we’ll find out.” He leaned -forward and patted her hand. Patience had one moment of painful -misgiving, but again she had misjudged him. “If you get discouraged, -just remember that the old man at the helm is your friend and won’t let -you go under.” - -“I’m sure you’re awfully good,” said Patience, tears of contrition and -gratitude in her eyes. “I knew you would.” - -Mr. Field touched a bell. A boy entered. - -“If Mr. Steele is still in the office ask him to step here,” said the -chief. - -“Steele is the editor of the Evening ‘Day,’” he explained, “and has a -remarkable faculty for discovering other people’s abilities.” - -Patience expected to see a man of middle years and business-like -demeanour. She stared in amazement as a young man under thirty entered -and was presented. He was closely built, but held himself carelessly. -His smooth rather square face was very pale, and despite the -irregularity of feature, bore an odd resemblance to the Greek fauns. The -mouth was large and full, the eyes large, dark blue, and very cold. His -fashionable attire accentuated the antiquity of his face and head. - -“Mr. Steele,” said Mr. Field, “this is Mrs. Beverly Peele, of whom you -have heard so much lately. She has made up her mind to support herself. -When she was a little girl I told her that I should one day make a -newspaper woman of her, and she has come to hold me to my word—much to -my satisfaction. I put her in your hands, and feel confident you will -make a success of her.” - -Patience expected to see a look of blank surprise cross the young -editor’s face, but she did not know the modern newspaper youth. Mr. -Steele could not have displayed less emotion had the new-comer been a -young woman with letters from Posy County, Illinois. He merely bowed to -her, then to his chief. Patience rose at once. - -“I won’t keep you,” she said to Mr. Field. “I’ll only thank you again, -and promise to work as hard as Miss Merrien.” - -“I haven’t the slightest doubt of your success. Always remember that,” -said Mr. Field. Patience saw Mr. Steele’s eyebrow give a slight -involuntary jerk; but it was immediately controlled, and he bowed her -through the door. - -“We had better go upstairs to the evening room,” he said. “There is no -one there at present.” - -Patience followed him up a precipitous stairway into a walled-off -section of the composing-room. - -“Sit down,” he said politely, but Patience for the first time in her -life felt terrified and humble. This young man, of whom she had never -heard before, had the air of a superior being, omnipotent in her -destiny. His manner conveyed that he was not one whit impressed by the -fact that she had stepped down from the Sacred Reservation, took not the -faintest interest in her as a pretty woman. She was merely a young -person particularly recommended by his chief, and as such it was his -duty to give her consideration. - -He took a chair opposite her own, and she felt as if those classic -guileless eyes were exploring her innermost brain. - -“What can you do?” he asked coldly. - -“Oh, nothing,” she said desperately, “absolutely nothing. I suppose you -feel like remarking that the ‘Day’ is not a kindergarten.” - -“Well, it certainly is not. Nevertheless, as Mr. Field thinks that you -have ability, and wishes you to write for his paper, I, of course, shall -do all I can to abet him. I shall begin by giving you a few words of -advice. Have you a good memory; or should you prefer to write them -down?” - -He spoke very slowly, as if he had a deep respect for the value of -words. - -“I have read a great deal,” said Patience, proudly, “and my memory is -very good indeed.” - -There was a faint twitching of one corner of Mr. Steele’s mouth, but he -continued in the same business-like tone:— - -“Read the ‘Day’ through carefully, morning and evening. Observe the -style in which facts are presented, and the general tone and atmosphere -of the paper. Cultivate that general style, not your own. Remember that -you are not on this newspaper to make an individual reputation, but to -become, if possible, a unit of a harmonious whole, and to give the -public the best news in the style to which this newspaper has accustomed -it. When you are sent on an assignment remember that you are to gather -facts—facts. Keep your eyes open, and cultivate the faculty of -observation for all it is worth. When you have gathered these facts put -them into as picturesque a shape as you choose—or as you can. But no -rhetoric, no rhapsodies, no flights, no theories. If the facts admit of -being treated humorously, treat them in that way, by all means,—that -is, if you can imitate a man’s humour, not a woman’s flippancy. A good -many women can. And never forget that it must not be your humour but the -inherent humour of the subject. Be concise. When you feel disposed to -say a thing in ten words say it in five. That is all I can think of at -present. Be here at eight o’clock to-morrow, and I will give you an -assignment.” - -He rose, and Patience felt herself dismissed. She sat for a minute -looking at him with angry eyes. Not even in the early days of her -married life had she been so patronised as by this unknown young man. -She felt as if he had plucked her individuality out with his thumb and -finger and contemptuously tossed it aside. - -“Is anything the matter?” he asked indifferently, although one corner of -his mouth twitched again. - -“No!” Patience sprang to her feet and ran down the stair, at the -imminent risk of breaking her neck. Miss Merrien was waiting for her. - -“Why, what on earth is the matter?” she exclaimed. - -“Oh, let us get out into the air! Come, and then I’ll tell you.” - -But they were not able to converse until seated in the Elevated Train. -Then Patience exclaimed with an accent of cutting sarcasm,— - -“Who, _who_ is Mr. Steele?” - -Miss Merrien smiled broadly. “Oh, I see. Did he patronise you? You must -get used to editors. Remember they are monarchs in a small way, and love -their power—the more because their dominion is confined within four -walls. But Morgan Steele is one of the kindest men in the office. I’d -rather work for him than for any one. He puts on an extra amount of side -on account of his youth, but the reporters all adore him. He won’t keep -an incompetent man two days, and during those two days the man’s life is -a burden; but he is always doing good turns to the boys he likes. When -you know him you’ll like him.” - -“I think him an insolent young cub, and if I didn’t hate to bother Mr. -Field I’d refuses to write for him. What on earth is a youngster like -that in such a responsible position for?” - -“Oh, my dear, this is the young man’s epoch. Just cast your eyes over -the United States and even England, and think of the men under thirty -that are editors and authors and special writers and famous artists and -leaders of enterprises. They are burnt out at forty, but they begin to -play a brilliant part in their early twenties. I heard a man say the -other day of another man who is only twenty-six and supposed to be -ambitious: ‘Well, he’d better hump himself. He’s no chicken.’ A man -feels a failure nowadays if he hasn’t distinguished himself before -thirty.” - -“They are certainly distinguished for conceit.” - -“Oh, when you get used to newspaper men you’ll like them better than any -men you’ve known. What is objectionable is counteracted by their brains -and their intimate and wonderfully varied knowledge of life. A newspaper -man who is at the same time a gentleman, is charming. It is true they -have no respect for anybody nor anything. They believe in no woman’s -virtue and no man’s honesty—under stress. Their kindness—like Morgan -Steele’s—is half cynical, and they look upon life as a thing to be -lived out in twenty years—and then dry rot or suicide. But no men know -so well how to enjoy life, know so thoroughly its resources, or have all -their senses so keenly developed, particularly the sense of humour, -which keeps them from making fools of themselves. No man can feel so -strongly for a day, and that after all is the philosophy of life. All -this makes them very interesting, although, I must confess, I should -hate to marry one. It seems to be a point of honour among them to be -unfaithful to their wives; however, I imagine, the real reason is that -no one woman has sufficient variety in her to satisfy a man who sees -life from so many points of view daily that he becomes a creature of -seven heads and seven hearts and seven ideals. Now, tell me all about -your interviews with Mr. Field and Morgan Steele.” - -Patience told the tale, and Miss Merrien raised her eyebrows at its -conclusion. “Well, you need not lie awake nights trembling for the -future. You are in for push and no mistake. If the Chief has taken you -under his wing in that fashion you can be sure that Morgan Steele will -work you for all that is in you, whether he wants to or not.” Suddenly -she laughed, and leaning over looked quizzically at Patience. “You vain -girl,” she said, “you are piqued because Morgan Steele did not succumb -as other men—including Mr. Field—have done to your beauty and charm. -But I’ll tell you this, by way of consolation: it is a point of -etiquette—or prudence—among editors never to pay the most commonplace -attentions to, or manifest the slightest interest in the women of the -office. It would not only lead to endless complications, but would -impair the lordlings’ dignity: in other words, they would be guyed. So -cheer up. You haven’t gone off since this morning. I see three men -staring at you in true Elevated style.” - -Patience laughed. “Well, I will admit that I have no respect whatever -for a man that is unappreciative of the charms of woman. I’d like to -give Mr. Steele a lesson, but I won’t. I wouldn’t condescend. I’ll be as -business-like as he is. He knew why I was angry to-day, I am afraid, but -he won’t see me angry again. Why is Mr. Field so much nicer?” - -“Oh, he owns the paper.” - - - III - -Patience’s indignation had worn itself out by bedtime. When Miss Merrien -left her for the night she locked her door and spread her arms out with -an exultant sense of freedom. She seemed to feel the ugly weight of the -past two years fall from her, and to hear it go clattering down the -quiet streets. Her sense of humour and the liveliness of her mind had -saved her from morbidity at any time, although she had not escaped -cynicism. She now felt that she could turn her back squarely on the -past, that she was not a woman whose mistakes and dark experiences would -corrode the brain and spirit, ruining present and future. She could not -make the same mistake again; and it was better to have made it in early -youth when the etchery of experience eats the copper of the ego more -lightly. The future seemed to her to be full of infinite possibilities. -She could be her own fastidious dreaming idealising self again. New -friends dotted the dusk like stars. She felt ten years away from the man -to whom she had nodded a careless good-bye that morning. A vague -pleasurable loneliness assailed her, the instinct of plurality. Then she -laughed suddenly and went to bed. - -The next morning, at eight o’clock, after a cup of black coffee to -stiffen her nerves, she presented herself in the evening room of the -“Day.” Two men and a woman were writing at little tables. Mr. Steele in -his shirt sleeves was at his desk, reading copy. She sat down, priding -herself that her face was as impassive as his own. In a few moments he -called her to his desk. - -“You have read in the newspapers, I suppose, of this crusade of Dr. -Broadhead, the fashionable Presbyterian clergyman, against the voting of -Immigrants?” he asked. - -“Of course.” - -“Well, he is doing his best to get the women of New York to help him, -and is holding his first meeting this morning in Cooper -Union—eleven-thirty. One of our best men will go to report the -addresses, but I want you to go and sit in the audience, and observe how -many fashionable women are there, what they wear, and what degree of -interest they appear to take in the proceedings. Above all, I want you -to keep your eyes and ears open for any significant fact which may or -may not appear. It usually does. That is all.—Well, what do you want?” -This to the office boy. - -Patience went slowly downstairs, feeling as if she had been sent out to -discover the North Pole with a chart and a row-boat. When she reached -Cooper Union, two hours later, and found herself for the moment an -integer of one of the many phases of current history, she forgot the -agonising travail of the “news sense,” and became so deeply interested -that she observed the many familiar faces abstractedly, and, later, -“faked” their costumes. - -She hurried to her room before the meeting was over and wrote her -“story.” It concluded thus:— - - “Some four hundred women were present, at half-past eleven in - the morning; the hour indicating that they were women of - leisure, which in its turn presupposes the large measure of - education and refinement, and a general superiority over the - toiling millions. They were very enthusiastic. When Dr. - Broadhead entered the applause was deafening. They interrupted - him every few minutes. When he sat down, and Mr. Lionel Chambers - came forward he, too, was warmly welcomed, for his popularity is - well established. He smiled, and began something like this:— - - “‘Ladies: Dr. Broadhead has left me little to say. I being - somewhat versed in politics, however, in other words, in hard - fighting with the enemy, he believes that I may be able to give - you a little useful advice.’ (Applause and cries of ‘Yes! Yes!’) - ‘Now, ladies, there are several points upon which I must ask - your attention.’ (No man ever had more serious attention.) ‘I - will check them off in detail. First of all, ladies, my advice - to you is to—’ (every ear went forward)—‘is—to—pray.’ - - “He paused. There was an intense and disgusted silence, with the - exception of one or two muttered exclamations of impatience. - _There were just four hundred women in the city of New York who - were beyond that sort of thing._ He saw his mistake at once, - blundered on confusedly, recovered himself, and gave them much - sound, practical advice which they received with every mark of - gratitude.” - -She hastened down to the office, her eyes shining with the proud delight -of authorship. Steele looked busier than any one she had ever seen, but -he asked sharply: - -“Got anything?” - -“Yes.” - -“Let me see it. Skip the descriptive part.” - -She handed him the latter part of her story, and he ran his eye hastily -over it. A gleam shot from his eyes, but he compressed his lips. - -“That’s not bad—but I don’t know that I dare print it. The religious -hypocrisy of this country beats that of England, strange as it may -appear. However, I’ll think it over. Come down to-morrow morning.” - -The article was printed, and the result was a shower of protesting -letters from clergymen and religious women. Patience was sent to -interview a number of representative women, of various spheres of life, -on the subject, and found herself fairly launched. She hardly had time -to realise whether she liked the work or not, but when she was not too -tired, concluded that she did. As this phase wore off, she developed -considerable enthusiasm, and felt her bump of curiosity enlarge. - -She practically forgot the past, except to wonder occasionally that she -heard nothing from the Peeles. Upon her arrival in New York, on the -morning of her departure from Peele Manor, she had mailed a note to -Beverly, which merely announced that she had left him, never to return. -He was the sort of a man to put the matter in the hands of a detective, -but so far—and the weeks were growing into a month—he had given no -sign of any kind. She cared little for the cause of his silence, -however; she was too thankful for the fact. Occasionally Steele gave her -a brief word of praise, and she was more delighted than she had ever -been at the admiration of man. - - - IV - -Patience sprang out of bed, full of the mere joy of living. She felt as -happy as a wild creature of the woods, and for no reason whatever. She -longed for Rosita’s voice that she might carol, and wondered if it were -possible that she had ever thought herself the most miserable of women. -The small room would not hold her, and she went out and took a long walk -in the sharp white air; it was Sunday, and she was not obliged to go to -the office. - -When she returned, the servant told her that a gentleman awaited her in -the parlour. She turned cold, but went defiantly in. The visitor was Mr. -Field, and the revulsion of feeling was so great, and her exuberance of -spirits so undiminished, that she ran forward, threw her arms about his -neck, and kissed him. - -“I am so happy I must kiss some one,” she said, “and after all you are -the right person, for it is owing to you that I am happy.” - -“Well! well!” he said laughing, “I am delighted; and also relieved that -you did not take it into your head to do that down at the office. I’ve -just dropped in to ask after your health and to say good-bye. How do you -stand it?” - -“Oh, I am well. I never felt so well. I get tired, but I sleep it off. I -made twenty-five dollars last week, and I celebrated the occasion by -coming home in a cab. Oh, I can tell you I feel all made over, and Peele -Manor seems prehistoric.” - -“You always did live at a galloping rate mentally. You are doing first -rate—not but what you’ll do better a year from now. There’s pulse in -your stuff. Keep your enthusiasm as long as you can. Nothing takes its -place. Here’s something for you.” - -A messenger boy had entered with a note. - -“For me?” - -“For Mrs. Beverly Peele.” - -“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, “it has come. This is from Mr. Peele. Do let -me read it—I can’t wait.” - -She tore the envelope open and read hastily:— - - DEAR PATIENCE,—On the night of the day of your departure from - Peele Manor, my son came up to us in a distracted condition. He - had also contracted the grippe. The combination of disorders - produced delirium and serious illness. For that reason and - others we have not endeavoured to communicate with you. In fact, - I only ascertained yesterday that you were working for Mr. - Field, who I consider has further betrayed my friendship in - associating himself with you in your insubordination. - - Of course you are at liberty to act as you choose. The laws of - this country are wretchedly inadequate regarding the authority - of the husband. But one thing I insist upon: that you call upon - us and make a definite statement of what you purpose to do. If - you have repented and wish to return to us, we will overlook - this wretched mistake. If you intend definitely to leave your - husband and to follow the disgraceful life of a reporter on a - sensational newspaper, you owe it to us to come here in person - and define your position. The family with which you have allied - yourself, my dear young woman, is not one to be dismissed with a - note of three lines. - - I particularly request that you call at three o’clock this - afternoon. - - Yours truly - GARDINER PEELE. - -Patience handed the note to Mr. Field, who read it with much interest. - -“Go by all means,” he said; “otherwise they will annoy you with petty -persecutions, and Beverly will haunt the ‘Day.’ Keep up all your pluck, -and remember that this is a free country, and that they can compel you -to do nothing you do not wish to do. You are mistress of the situation, -and can call upon me for proof that you are supporting yourself -adequately.” - -“Oh, I don’t want to go. I never want to look at one of them again. I’d -just managed to forget them all.” - -“But you must go. It would look cowardly if you didn’t; and, when you -come to think of it, you certainly do owe them some sort of explanation. -Poor Peele! he must have actually suffered at being treated in such -cavalier fashion.” - -“Oh, well, I’ll go! I’ll go! But I wish I’d never seen them.” - -“You don’t look at all pretty with that face, and I shall run. By the -way, I came to tell you that I start for Paris to-morrow to join my -wife, who has been on the other side for some months. Otherwise she -would have called before this. Steele will take care of you.” - - - V - -When Patience went up to her room she slammed the door, closed the -window violently, then sat down and beat a tattoo on the floor with her -heels. Her spirits were still high, but cyclonic. She would willingly -have smashed things, and felt no disposition to sing. - -Nevertheless she rang the bell of the house in Eleventh Street at three -o’clock. The butler bowed solemnly, and announced that the family -awaited her in the library. Patience, piqued that they were assured of -her coming, was half inclined to turn back, then shrugged her shoulders, -walked down the hall, and through the dining-room to the library in the -annex. - -The afternoon sun irradiated the cheerful room, but Beverly, with sunken -eyes and pallid face, sat huddled by the fire. He sprang to his feet as -Patience entered, then turned away with a scowl and sank back in his -chair. His mother sat opposite. She merely bent her head to Patience, -then turned her solicitous eyes to her son’s face. Honora came forward -and kissed her sweetly. Mr. Peele did not shake hands with her, but -offered her a chair by the long table. Patience took it, and experienced -a desire to laugh immoderately. They had the air of a Court of Inquiry, -and appeared to regard her as a delinquent at the bar. - -Mr. Peele sat in his revolving chair, tipped a little back. He had -crossed his legs and leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair, -pressing his finger tips lightly together. - -“Now,” he said coldly, “we are ready to hear you.” - -“I have nothing in particular to say. I gave you fair warning, and you -refused to listen, or to let me go abroad and so avoid publicity. I -therefore took the matter in my own hands and went.” - -“You ignore your duty to your husband; your marriage vows?” - -“There is only one law for a woman to acknowledge, and that is her self -respect.” - -“The husband that loves you is entitled to no consideration?” - -“Not when he exercises none himself. I refuse to admit that any human -being has the right to control me unless I voluntarily submit myself to -that control.” - -“Are you aware that you are uttering the principles of anarchy?” - -“Well, the true anarchists of this world are not the bomb throwers. When -a man and woman are properly married there is no question of authority -or disobedience; but a woman is a common harlot who lives with a man -that makes her curse the whole scheme of creation.” - -Honora lifted a screen and hid her face. Beverly muttered inaudible -remarks. Mrs. Peele lifted her eyebrows and curled her mouth. Mr. Peele -moved his head slowly back and forth. - -“I shall not attempt to contradict any of your remarkable theories,” he -said. “It is apparent that you are imbued with all the pernicious -thought of the time. I am thankful that it is not my destiny to live -among the next generation of women. Will you kindly tell me how you -should have acted in this matter if you had had children?” - -“Oh, I don’t know! I have thought of that. No woman should have a child -until she has been married three years. By that time she would know -whether or not she had made a mistake.” - -“And what shall you do if you are unable to support yourself?” - -“Starve. No one has a right to live that the world has no use for, that -can give the world nothing. Man’s chief end is not bread and butter. If -I can give the world anything it will be glad to give me a living in -return. If I am a failure I’ll walk out of existence as quietly as I -altered my life. But I haven’t the slightest doubt of my ability to take -care of myself.” - -Mr. Peele pressed his lips together. The old man and the young woman -regarded each other steadily, the one with malevolence in his eye, the -other with defiance in hers. In that moment Mr. Peele hated her, and she -knew it. She had made him feel old and a component part of the decaying -order of things, while she represented the insolent confidence of youth -in the future. - -“Women make too much fuss,” continued Patience. “If they don’t like -their life why don’t they alter it quietly, without taking it to the -lecture platform or the polemical novel? If they don’t like the way man -governs why don’t they educate their sons differently? They can do -anything with the plastic mind. I am sure it could be proved that most -corrupt politicians and bad husbands had weak or careless mothers. If -the men of a country are bad you can be sure the women are worse—” - -Beverly sprang to his feet, overturning his chair. “Damn it!” he cried. -“You can talk all you like, but you are mine and I’ll have you.” - -Patience turned and fixed her angry eyes on his face. “Oh, no, you will -not. Your father will tell you that I am quite free.” - -Mr. Peele gave a short dry laugh. “She has the best of it,” he said. -“You cannot compel her to return to you, and she has the air of one who -has tasted of the independence of making money—” - -“Then I’ll dog her steps. I’ll make life hell for her—” - -“You will do nothing of the sort, sir. Much as I disapprove of this -young woman’s course, she has in me an unwilling abettor. I shall not -have my domestic affairs made food for the newspapers and their hordes -of vulgar readers. Field would take up her cause and hound me to my -grave. You will keep quiet, and in the course of time get a divorce of -which no one will be the wiser until you marry again. If the gossip does -not get into the papers it will not rise above a murmur. If you add to -my annoyance I shall turn you out of Peele Manor and cut you off without -a cent. You will not pretend that you can support yourself.” - -Patience rose. “If you have nothing more to ask I shall go,” she said. -“Beverly can bring his suit as soon as he chooses. It will go by -default.” - -Beverly flung off his mother’s restraining arm and rushed forward. “You -shall not go!” he cried. - -“Don’t touch me!” cried Patience; but before she could reach the door -Beverly had caught her in his arms. Excitement gave him strength. He -held her with hard muscles and kissed her many times. - -The ugly temper she had kept under control broke loose. She lifted her -hand and struck him violently on the mouth. Her face too was convulsed, -but with another passion. She felt as if the past month had been -annihilated. - -“Will you let me go?” she gasped. “Oh, how I hate you!” Then as he -kissed her again, “I could kill you! I could kill you!” She flung -herself free, and shaking with passion faced the scandalised family. - -“You had better keep him out of the way,” she said. “Do you know that -once I nearly killed my own mother?” - - - VI - -Patience slept little that night. Her head ached violently. When she -presented herself at the office Steele sent her to report a morning -lecture. It was dull, and she fell asleep. When she returned to the -office Steele happened to be alone. - -“I have no report,” she said. “I fell asleep. That is all I have to -say.” - -For a few seconds he stared at her, then turned on his heel. In a moment -he came back. “The next time you do that,” he said, “hunt up the -reporter of some other newspaper and get points from him. First-class -reporters always stand in together. Here’s a good story badly written -that has come up from Honduras. Take it home and revamp it, and let me -have it to-morrow.” - -“You are awfully good. I thought you would tell me to go, and I -certainly deserve to.” - -“You certainly do, but we won’t discuss the matter further.” - -That was an unhappy week for Patience, and she lost faith in her star. A -great foreign actress, whom she was sent to interview, haughtily refused -to be seen, and the next morning capriciously sent for a reporter of the -“Eye,” the hated rival of the “Day.” She was put on the trail of a -fashionable scandal and failed to gather any facts. She was sent to -interview a strange old woman, supposed to have a history, who lived on -a canal boat, and became so interested in the creature that she forgot -all about the “Day,” and did not appear at Mr. Steele’s desk for three -days. When she did he looked sternly at her guilty face, although the -corners of his mouth twitched. - -“I’m delighted to see you have not forsaken us,” he said sarcastically. -“May I ask if the canal boat woman quite slipped your memory?” - -“N-o-o. I have been there ever since.” - -“Indeed?” His ears visibly twitched. “That alters the case. Did you get -the story out of her?” - -Patience looked at him steadily for a moment, then dropped her eyes. - -“There is nothing to tell,” she answered. - -Steele sprang to his feet. - -“Come out here,” he said. He led her into a corner of the -composing-room, and they sat down on a bench. - -“Now tell me,” he said peremptorily. “What have you heard? You have news -in your eye. I see it.” - -“I have nothing to tell.” - -“Suppose you tell the truth. You have the story, and you won’t give it -up. Why not?” - -“Well—you see—she confided in me—she said I was the only woman who -had given her a decent word in twenty years; and if I told the story she -would be in jail to-morrow night. Do you think I’d be so low as to tell -it?” - -“Sentimentality, my dear young woman, is fatal to a newspaper reporter. -Suppose the entire staff should go silly; where would the ‘Day’ be?” - -“It might possibly be a good deal more admirable than it is now.” - -“We won’t go into a discussion of theory _v._ practice. I want that -story.” - -“You won’t get it.” - -“Indeed.” He looked at her with cold angry eyes. “The trouble is that -you have not been made to feel what the discipline of a newspaper office -is—” - -Patience leaned forward and smiled up audaciously into his face. “You -would do exactly the same thing yourself,” she said; “so don’t scold any -more. I admit that you frighten me half to death, but all the same I -know that you would never send a poor old woman to prison—not to be -made editor-in-chief.” - -He reddened, and looked anything but pleased at the compliment. “Do you -know that you have just said that I am a jay newspaper man?” he asked. - -But Patience only continued to smile, and in a moment he smiled back at -her, then, with an impatient exclamation, left her and returned to his -desk. - - - VII - -Two months later Steele asked her to come to the office at six o’clock, -an hour at which the evening room was empty, and suggested that she -should give up reporting, and start a column of paragraphs. - -“I should like it better, of course,” said Patience, after he had fully -explained the requirements of the new department. “I was going to tell -you that I _would not_ go to that Morgue again.” - -“Oh, you wouldn’t? Well, you stood it rather longer than I thought you -would.” - -“And I’m tired of interviewing insolent conceited people. Oh, by the -way, I should thank you for all these nice things you’ve just said to -me.” - -He dropped his business-like manner suddenly. “How do you stand it?” he -asked. Then in reply to her look of surprise: “Oh, you know, the Chief, -when he went away, told me to look out for you.” - -Patience immediately became the charming woman accustomed to the homage -of man. Steele’s pre-eminence was gone from that moment. - -“I am remarkably well, thank you, considering how you have bullied -me—and I can tell you that I did not fancy at all being ordered about -by such an infant.” - -“Oh! Thanks! But when a man’s too polite he doesn’t get anything done -for him—not in this business. And is it a crime to be an editor before -you are thirty?” - -“Oh, you have reason to be proud of yourself.” - -“You mean that I have the big head. Well, that is the disease of the -age, you know. It would never do for a newspaper man to get a reputation -for eccentricity. You’ll have it yourself inside of six months if these -paragraphs are a success.” - -“Never! I scorn to be so unoriginal.” - -“Well, we’ll encourage your sentiments, and keep you as the office -curio; but I didn’t really bully you, did I?” - -“Oh, I’ll admit that you were kinder than I deserved, once in a while: -when I fell asleep at the lecture, for instance.” - -He laughed heartily. “That was the richest joke. There was absolutely -nothing to say to you. If you only stood at the end of a long -perspective of this business and could fully appreciate the humour of -that situation! An experienced reporter, if he couldn’t have lied out of -it, or borrowed news, would never have shown up. You looked like a -naughty child expecting to have its ears boxed.” - -“Oh, yes, Miss Merrien guyed me for a whole week; I know all about that -now. And now that you’ve come down off your pedestal I’ll thank you for -all your patience and good training. If I’ve learned to write I owe it -to your blue pencil; and I don’t need to be told by Miss Merrien that -you’ve saved me from a great deal of hard work.” - -He smiled charmingly. There were times when he looked like an old man -with the mask of youth; to-day he looked a mere boy. “Oh, any one would -do as much for you, even if the Chief hadn’t given orders. You are an -unusual woman, you know. You proved that—but, of course, I have no -right to speak to you of that.” He stood up suddenly and held out his -hand. “Well, be good to yourself,” he said. “If you feel yourself -breaking, take a rest.” - -“I wonder,” she thought, as she went downstairs, “if that young man -knows he betrayed the fact that he has been thinking a good deal about -me? He certainly is an interesting youth, and I should like to know him -better.” - -Patience did not find her paragraphs as easy as she expected. It was one -thing to work on a given idea, and another to supply idea and execution -both; but after a time her sharpened brain grew more magnetic and life -fuller of ideas than of lay figures. The men in the office frequently -gave her tips, and one clever young reporter, who worshipped her from -afar, fell into the daily habit of presenting her with a slip of -suggestions. - -Her choicest paragraphs were usually edited by Steele’s ruthless hand, -and now and again she was moved to wrath. Upon such occasions Mr. Steele -merely smiled, and she was forced to smile in return or retire with the -sulks. - - - VIII - -Patience was writing busily in her little bedroom. The March winds were -howling down the street. Her door opened, and a very elegant young woman -entered. - -“Hal!” cried Patience. - -“You dear bad girl!” - -They kissed a half dozen times, then sat down and looked at each other. -Hal had quite the young married woman air, and held herself with a mien -of conscious importance, entirely removed from conceit: she was _grande -dame_, and the late object of attentions from smart folks abroad. - -“Well, how are you?” asked Patience. “Oh, but I am glad to see you. Tell -me all about yourself. When did you get back?” - -“Day before yesterday. I’ve returned with thirty-two trunks, the -loveliest jewels you ever saw, and quite a slave of a husband. I must -say I never thought Latimer would keep up such a prolonged bluff, but he -fills the rôle as if he’d been husbanding all his life. Oh, no. Don’t -look at me like that. I’ve forgotten it, and I’ve no regrets. _Mon -Dieu!_ To think that I might be in Boston on four hundred a month! I -shall be a leader, my dear. You can do as much with a hundred and fifty -thousand a year as you can with a million, for you can only spend just -so much money anyhow. All that the big millionaires get out of their -wealth is notoriety. Nobody’d remember about them if it wasn’t for the -newspapers. But you bad bad girl! What have you been and gone and done? -Why didn’t you wait for me? I would have rescued you.” - -“Oh, you couldn’t, Hal dear. I didn’t want to be rescued for a day or a -month. I’ve run away for good and all.” - -“But, Patience, what an alternative! Do you mean to say you live in this -cubby-hole?” - -“I’m mighty happy in this cubby-hole, I can tell you; happier than I -ever was at Peele Manor.” - -“That certainly was the mistake of my life. However, you’ve solved the -problem more promptly than most women do. The celerity with which you -untied that knot when you set about it moved me to admiration. By the -way, do you know that Bev is ill?” - -“Is he? What is the matter?” - -“I don’t know exactly,—one of those organic afflictions that men are -always getting. How uninteresting men are when their interior -decorations get out of gear. And they always will talk about them. -Latimer is ever groaning with his liver; but no wonder. I’ve had to eat -so much rich stuff to keep him from feeling lonesome that I’ve actually -grown fat. Well, we don’t know what is the matter with Bev, yet. The -doctor says it’s a result of the influenza. He has some pain, and makes -an awful fuss, like all men.” - -“Where are you going to stay, now?” - -“I am at the Holland, but will spend the summer at the Manor and the -fall at Newport. Our house on the Avenue—opposite the park, you -know—will be finished by winter. That house will be a jewel. I got the -most beautiful things abroad for it. Then you will come and live with -me.” - -Patience shook her head. - -“It wouldn’t do, and you will see it. I belong to another sphere now; -but I can see you sometimes.” - -“Well, put up that stuff, and come to the Holland and dine with me. You -can finish up to-night. I have yards and yards to talk to you about. -I’ll never give you up,—remember that.” - - - IX - -When the hot days and nights of summer came Patience did not find -routine and the hunt as fascinating sport as when the electric thrill of -cooler seasons was in the air. Her paragraphs acquired some reputation, -and her mind grew tense in the effort to keep them up to a high -standard, and to prepare at least one surprise a day. She grew thin and -nervous, and began to wonder what life and herself would be like five -years hence. Mr. Field and Steele helped her as much as they dared, and -she managed to make about fifty dollars a week: her success gave Mr. -Field the excuse to pay her special rates. It never occurred to her to -give up, and she assured Hal that she would have nervous prostration -four times a year before she would return to Peele Manor. - -There were times when she passionately longed for the isolation of a -mountain top. Nature had been part of her very individuality for all the -years of her life until this last, and a forested mountain top alone was -the antithesis of Park Row. She sometimes had a whimsical idea that her -grey matter was becoming slowly modelled into a semblance of that famous -precinct. She loved it loyally; but the isolation of high altitudes sent -their magnetism to another side of her nature. She was getting farther -and farther away from herself in the jealous absorption of her -work,—the skurrying practical details of her life. She felt that she -could no longer forecast what she should do under given circumstances, -that something in her was slowly changing. What the result would be she -could not predict; and she craved solitude and the opportunity to study -herself out. - -In August Mrs. Field took her to her house in the Berkshire hills. -Although she had no solitude there, she returned much refreshed, and did -good work all winter. Steele she never saw outside of the office, but he -managed to treat her with a certain knightliness, and she lay awake, -occasionally, thinking about him. Hard work and the practical side of -life had disposed of a good deal of her romance, but she was still given -to vagaries. Steele’s modernity fascinated her. No other epoch but this -extraordinary last quarter of the nineteenth century could have produced -him. - -She was a great favourite in the office. Again a thaw had succeeded a -second glacier period, induced by entire change of environment, and she -liked nearly everybody she knew, and became a most genial and expansive -young woman. She often laughed at herself, and concluded that she would -never strike the proper balance until she fell in love (if she ever -did), when the large and restless currents of her nature would unite and -find their proper destination. She had no “weird experiences.” Her -abounding feminity appealed to the chivalry of the gentlemen among whom -she was thrown, and she was clever enough not to flirt with them, to -treat them impartially as good comrades. The second-class men detested -her, and were not conciliated: the underbred newspaper man touches a -lower notch of vulgarity than any person of similar social degree the -world over. - - * * * * * - -One morning she awoke about four o’clock,—that is, her mind awoke; her -body was still too full of sleep to move to the right or left. It was -one of her favourite sensations, and she lay for a time meditating upon -the various pleasures, great and small, which are part of man’s -inheritance. - -Suddenly she became conscious that it was raining. She had moved into a -back room on the second floor. Beside one window was a tin roof upon -which the rain poured with heavy reiterance. In the back yard was a -large ailanthus tree which lifted itself past her windows to the floor -above. A light wind rustled it. The rain pattered monotonously upon its -wide leaves, producing a certain sweet volume of sound. - -It was long since she had listened to rain in the night. It was -associated in her mind with the vague sweet dreams of girlhood and with -her life in Carmel Valley. She had loved to wander through the pine -woods when the winter rains were beating through the uplifted arms, -swirling and splashing in the dark fragrant depths. It said something to -her then, she hardly knew what, nor when it roared upon the roof of the -old farmhouse, or flung itself through the windows of Carmel tower, as -she and Solomon huddled close to the wall. - -But when it had beaten upon the roof of her little room in Miss -Tremont’s house it had sung the loneliness of youth into her soul, -murmured of the great joy to which every woman looks forward as her -birthright. Hard worked and absorbed as she may have been during the -day, if the rain awoke her in the night, it was to dreams of love and of -nothing else, and of the time when she should no longer be alone. - -This morning she listened to the rain for a time, then moved suddenly to -her side, her eyes opening more widely in the dark. The rain said -nothing to her. She listened to it without a thrill, with no longing, -with no loneliness of soul, and no vague tremor of passion. - -Nothing in her unhappy experience had so forcibly brought home to her -the changes which her inner self had undergone in the last few years. -Life was a hard clear-cut fact; she could no longer dream. Imagination -had taken itself out of her and gone elsewhere, into some brain whose -dear privilege it was to have a long future and a brief past. - -The tears scalded her eyes. She cursed Beverly Peele. She wished she had -remained in Monterey. There, at least, she would never have married any -one, for there was no one to marry. - -“Even if my life had been a success,” she thought, “if Beverly Peele had -been less objectionable, or had died, and I had had the world at my -feet, it would be too high a price to pay. Not even to care that one is -alone when the rain is sweeping about with that hollow song! To think -and dream of nothing beyond the moment! To have accepted life with -cynical philosophy, and feel no desire to shake the Universe with a -great passion! To be beyond the spell of the rain is to be a thousand -years old, and a thousand centuries away from the cosmic sense. I wish I -were dead.” - -And there were other moods. Sometimes the devil which is an integral -part of all strong natures—of woman’s as well as of man’s, and no -matter what her creed—awoke and clamoured. There were four or five men -in the office whom she liked well enough when absent, and in whom the -lightning of her glance would have changed friendship to passion. Why -she resisted the temptation which so fiercely assailed her at times she -never knew. Conventions did not exist for her impatient mind excepting -in so far as they made life more comfortable; she had in full measure -youth’s power to know and to give joy, and she owed no one loyalty. And -at this time she imaged no future: she had lost faith in ideals. It was -only at brief intervals that there came a sudden passionate -desire—almost a flash of prophetic insight—for the one man who must -exist for her among the millions of men. And this, if anything, took the -place of her lost ideals and conquered the primal impulses of her -nature. Or was it a mere matter of destiny? Woman is a strange and -complex instrument. She is as she was made, and it is not well to -condemn her even after elaborate analysis. - - - X - -One morning in May, Hal came in before Patience was out of bed. She sat -down on a chair and tapped the floor with her foot. - -“I come charged with a message, a special mission, as it were,” she -said. “I hardly know where to begin.” - -“Well?” - -“Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll never have the courage to go on. -Bev is desperately ill,—not in bed, but he has the most frightful -pains: his disease, which has been threatening for a year, has -developed. It may or may not be fatal. The doctor says it certainly will -be unless he has peace of mind, and he is fretting after you like a big -baby. The grippe seems to have broken the back of his temper, and he is -simply a great calf bleating for its parent. It would be ridiculous if -it were not serious. You’d better come back to us, Patience.” - -“I won’t.” - -“I knew you would say exactly that; but when you think it over you will -come. Remember that the doctor practically says that you can either save -or prolong his life. Mamma is simply distracted. You know she adores -Bev, and she broke down completely last night and told me to come and -beg you to return. You know what that means: you’ll have nothing to fear -from her.” - -“Oh, I can’t go back! I can’t! I think I should die if I went back.” - -“We don’t die so easily, my dear. Now, I’ll go and let you think it -over,” and the diplomat kissed Patience and retired. - -Patience endeavoured to put the matter out of her mind, but it harassed -her through her day’s duties, and her work was bad. Steele told her as -much the next afternoon when she came into the office late, intending to -write there instead of at home. Her room was haunted by Beverly’s pallid -face and sunken eyes. - -“Oh, well,” she said, flinging herself down before a table, “perhaps -it’s the last, so it doesn’t matter.” - -“Why? What do you mean? You do look pale. Are you ill?” - -Patience hesitated a moment, then told him of the complication. He -listened, without comment, looking down upon the skurrying throngs. - -“I suppose I must go,” she said in conclusion. “Anyway I feel that I -shall go, whether I want to or not.” - -He came over to the table and regarded her with his preternatural -seriousness. - -“Yes,” he said, “you will go. It will be like you.” - -“Oh, I am no angel. It’s not that—please! It’s—don’t you know there -are some good acts you can’t help? Not only do traditions and -conventions drive you into them, but your own selfishness—I haven’t the -courage to be lashed by my conscience. If I could give that morphine, do -you think I’d go?” - -He smiled. “Do you analyse everything like that? However, I choose to -keep to my illusions. I think that you have magnificent theories, but -act very much like other people. Can I go up and see you sometimes? I -may have a chance to know you, now.” - -She put up her hand and took his impulsively. “Yes, come,” she said. -“That is the only thing that will make life supportable.” - - - XI - -She went home and wrote the following letter to Beverly Peele:— - - “I will return to Peele Manor and remain while you are seriously - ill, under the following conditions: (1) That you pay me what - you would be obliged to pay a trained nurse; (2) That you will - treat me on that basis absolutely. My feeling toward you has - undergone no change. I am not your wife. But as your physician - holds me responsible for your life, I will be your nurse on the - terms stated above.” - -The next day she received this telegram:— - - Come. Terms agreed to. - - BEVERLY PEELE. - -She was received by the various members of the household with infinite -tact. Mrs. Peele’s cold blue eyes sheltered an angry spark, but she -behaved to her errant daughter-in-law exactly as if matrimonial -vacations were orthodox and inevitable. Honora kissed her sweetly, and -asked her if the roses were not beautiful. When Mr. Peele came home he -said, “Ah, good-evening.” Beverly, who had evidently been coached, did -not offer to kiss her, but immediately explained every detail of his -disease. Hal and her husband were in the North Carolina mountains. - -Beverly was not a good actor, and his eyes followed his wife with -kaleidoscopic expression. She frequently encountered hungry admiration -and angry resentment; and if he had made up his mind to abide by her -decree he as clearly evidenced that he considered her his salaried -property: he demanded her constant attendance. He looked so wan and -hopeless that Patience was moved to pity, and even to tenderness, and -devoted herself to his care. - -For the first two weeks she felt hourly as if she must pack her trunk -and flit back to the “Day.” She longed for a very glimpse of the grimy -men in the composing-room, and felt that the sight of Morgan Steele in -his shirt sleeves would give more spiritual satisfaction than the green -and grey of the Palisades. - -The life at Peele Manor seemed doubly flat after her emancipation. At -the breakfast table, Mrs. Peele and Honora discussed their small -interests. At luncheon, Beverly—who arose late—gave the details of his -night. At dinner there was little conversation of any sort. The -mornings, and the afternoons from four to six—when Beverly drove with -his mother and Honora—were Patience’s own. Although discontented, she -was by no means unhappy: she was out of bondage forever. If Beverly grew -better she could return to the “Day” after a reasonable time had -elapsed. - -She spent most of her leisure rambling over the hills in idle reverie or -meditating upon her checkered life. She gave a good deal of thought to -the many phases of life which had flashed before her startled eyes in -the last year, but was too young not to be more interested in herself -than in problems, however momentous. Still, she did not feel much more -intimate with herself than she had felt in Park Row. - -She frequently wondered with some pique and much disapproval that she -heard nothing from Morgan Steele. The few glimpses she had caught of the -nature behind the mask tempted her to idealise him, and she finally -succumbed. One night she awoke to the fact that she had been walking the -stars with him, discussing the mysteries of the Universe. She pictured -the smile with which he would regard the workings of her imagination, -were they revealed to him, and recalled his business-like demeanour, his -shirt sleeves, his Park Row vocabulary, and his impatient scorn of -“damned slush.” - -It happened to be midnight when these later thoughts arrived, and she -laughed aloud. - -“What are you laughing at?” demanded a querulous voice from the next -room. - -“Nothing.” - -“Nothing? Do you suppose I’m an idiot? Tell me what you were laughing -at.” - -“Go to sleep, go to sleep.” - -“I can’t go to sleep. You lie there and laugh while I lie here and -suffer.” - -“Why didn’t you say you were suffering? Do you want the morphine?” - -“No, I don’t.” - -An hour later Patience was roused from her first heavy sleep. - -“Patience! Patience! Oh, my God! My God! My God!” - -Patience stumbled out of bed and into her dressing-gown and slippers, -shaking her head vigorously to dispel the vapours in her brain. - -“Yes, yes!” she said. “I’m coming. Do please don’t make such a fuss. -You’ll wake up everybody—” - -“Not make a fuss! Oh, I wish you had it for a minute—” - -Patience ran into the lavatory and turned up the gas. The night was very -warm, and the door leading into Honora’s room stood wide. The light fell -full on her face. Patience saw that her eyes were open. - -“I hope Beverly didn’t wake you up,” she said. “He does make such a -noise.” - -“I was awake. I never sleep well in warm weather. I don’t envy you, -though.” - -“Oh, I don’t mind if only I don’t make a terrible mistake some night and -give him an overdose. He takes particular pains to wait until I am in my -first sleep and then I hardly know what I am doing. There! this is the -third time I have dropped the wretched stuff. What is the good of drop -bottles, anyway?” - -“Why don’t you use the hypodermic?” - -“I can’t. It would make me ill to puncture people. And this does him as -much good.” She set the bottle down impatiently, drew a basin full of -cold water, dashed it over her face, then dropped the dose and took it -to Beverly. - -“Stay with me,” he commanded. “You know it doesn’t take effect at once, -and I feel better if I hold your hand.” She sat down beside him and -nodded sleepily until the morphine did its work. - - - XII - -The next afternoon, a few moments after Beverly had gone for his drive, -Morgan Steele’s card was brought up to Patience. She had imagined that -this first call would induce a mild thrill of nerve, but she merely -remarked to the butler: “Tell him I will be down in a moment,” walked to -the long mirror in the corner, and shook out her violet and white -organdie skirts. Her long hair was braided and tied with a lavender -ribbon. - -“I look very well,” she thought, and went downstairs. - -Steele awaited her in the drawing-room, and, as she entered, was -standing with his head thrown back, regarding the medallion of Whyte -Peele. She noted anew how well he dressed and carried his clothes. He -looked quite at home in the drawing-room of Peele Manor. Her first -remark followed in natural sequence,— - -“How odd not to see you in your shirt sleeves.” - -He turned with a start and a sudden warmth in his face. - -“Oh, well, I hope you’ll never see me that way again. How charming you -look in that frock and with your hair in that braid! _I_ always imagine -_you_ in prim tailor things, with your hair tucked out of sight under a -stiff turban. This is lovely. You look like a little girl. Those awful -dress reformers should see you.” - -“It’s a comfort to think that the She-males cannot exterminate the -artistic sense. Let us go into the library.” - -“Is there a large comfortable chair there? These are impressive but -unpleasant. Perhaps you would not suspect it, but I love a comfortable -chair and a cigar better than anything in life.” - -“One thing I do suspect—that we shall have to become acquainted all -over again. You are not exactly like a fallen angel outside of the -office, but you certainly have not patronised me for five minutes.” - -“Oh, you can take your revenge now and patronise me. Hang the shop! I -don’t want to think about it.” - -In the library he critically inspected every chair, selected one that -pleased him, and drawing it to the open window sank into it with a deep -sigh of content. Patience gave him permission to smoke, and a moment -later he looked so happy that she laughed aloud. - -“You may laugh,” he said plaintively, “but you have less imagination -than I thought if you don’t understand what this is to a man after Park -Row. After an hour of that water and your muslin frock, I shall go back -as refreshed as if my brain had taken a cold bath.” - -“I’d fly back to the office this minute if I could. I’ve felt like a -bottle of over-charged champagne for two weeks.” - -“You have the enthusiasm of youth. When you are my age—sixty-five—you -will be thankful for the _dolce far niente_ of a colonial manor. This -sort of life suits you—you are a born châtelaine. You have lost your -tired expression, and are actually stouter. Besides, I want to come up -here to see you.” - -“Will you come often?” - -“As often as you will let me. I am free every afternoon, you know, and -if I followed my tactless inclination I’d come seven times a week. -However, don’t look alarmed; I’m only coming once a week—” He sat up -suddenly, his eyes sparkling. “By Jove!” he exclaimed. “What a beauty!” - -Patience followed his eyes, which were directed ardently upon a -sail-boat skimming up the river. - -“Are you fond of sailing?” she asked. - -“Am I? I could live in a boat. I’d rather be in a boat than—than even -talking to you.” - -“Well, you shall be inside of a boat in five minutes,” she said -good-naturedly. “Wait until I get my hat and gloves!” - -“Being only the nurse,” she said, as they walked down the wooded slope -to the boathouse, “I don’t know that I have any right to take liberties, -but I will, all the same. I feel that it is an act of charity.” - -“It certainly is, and you really are an angel.—She’s a good boat,” he -said approvingly, a few moments later, as he unreefed the sail. - -Patience arranged the cushions and made herself comfortable, and they -shot up the river in a stiff breeze. She watched Steele curiously. He -looked as happy as a schoolboy. His hat was on the back of his head, his -eyes shone. Once as he threw back his head and laughed, he bore an -extraordinary resemblance to the Laughing Faun. - -“I’ve lived in a boat for a whole summer,” he said, “and never seen a -woman nor wanted to, nor a man neither, for that matter. There are three -months in the year when I want nothing better in life than this.” His -large cool eyes moved slowly to hers. “Still,” he added, “I do believe -it’s an improvement to have you here. What fun if we had a little yacht -and could sail like this all summer! I think we’d hit it off, don’t you? -We shouldn’t either of us talk too much.” - -Patience laughed. It was impossible to coquet with Steele. He took no -notice of it. “I should be afraid you’d tip me over if you got tired of -me.” - -“I shouldn’t get tired of you,” he said seriously. “I never met a woman -I liked half as much. You’re lovely to look at, and your mind is so -interesting to study. Guess I’d better come about.” - -They sailed for two hours. The wind fell, and they talked in a desultory -fashion. They discovered that they had the same literary gods, and -occasionally Steele waxed enthusiastic. He had read more than most men -of forty; nor was there anything youthful about the fixity of his -opinions. - -“Oh, dear!” said Patience, suddenly, “why did we never meet before? I -like you better than any one I ever knew. I’ve been hunting all my life -for a mental companion.” - -“So have I,” he said, smiling at her in his half cynical way, “and now -I’ve found you I don’t propose to let you go; not even next winter.” - -He confided to her that he had written a good deal, although he had -published nothing. Patience wondered where he had found time to -accomplish so much. - -“I’m going to bring up some of my stuff and read it to you,” he said. -“You can take that as a compliment if you like, for I’ve only shown it -to one other person—a man.” - -“Now, I know why you like me! You are going to study me.” - -“Well, it’s partly that,” he replied coolly. “You are a new type—to me -at any rate, and I shall probably know a good deal more after I have -known you a year or so than I do now. Who is that? What an -amiable-looking person!” - -Patience followed his glance. Beverly stood at the foot of the slope, -with distorted face. - -“Oh, dear,” she said, “that is Mr. Peele. I am afraid he is going to be -disagreeable. Of course I am not obliged to stay—but in a way I am.” - -Steele ran the boat into the dock, handed her out, and reefed the sail -before he spoke. Then he turned and looked at her squarely. - -“Would you rather I did not come?” he asked. - -“No! No! I want you to come. I’ll think it over and write you—or—I -wonder if you are horrid like most men and would misunderstand me if I -asked you always to come on a certain day and meet me in that wood up -there, instead of going to the house?” - -“Look here,” he said in his old business-like tone, “just let me set -your mind at rest. I haven’t the slightest intention of making love to -you. In the first place I am just now tired and sick of that sort of -thing—a state a man does get into occasionally, although a woman will -never believe it. In the second place I like to think of you as _sui -generis_; a woman on a pedestal. It is very refreshing. A week from -to-day I’ll be in that wood, and I’ll stay there from four to six -whether you come or not. There comes my train.” - -“You must flag it. Hurry. I’ll expect you Thursday.” - - - XIII - -“Who is that man?” thundered Beverly, as she crossed the track behind -the train. - -Patience raised her eyebrows. “What have you to do with my visitors?” - -“You sha’n’t receive men, and you sha’n’t sail in my boat.” - -“Of course the boat is yours. I shall not use it again.” - -“You are my nurse.” - -“Your nurse is always ready to be dismissed,” and she walked up the -slope, taking no further notice of him. - -Hal returned the following week; and, as Beverly improved steadily, the -house was filled with company once more. Whenever Patience hinted that -she was no longer required, Beverly immediately went to bed and rent the -air; but as a matter of fact his attacks were growing less and less -frequent. - -Patience, in the circumstances, was not impatient to return to work -until the hot weather was over. Her position was very pleasant, Hal was -ever her loyal friend, and she saw Morgan Steele once a week. - -The wood was a wild place on a slope of the bluff some distance above -the house. Its underbrush made it unpopular with the guests of Peele -Manor. Steele left the train at the regular station a mile up the road -and walked back without encounter. In the heart of the dark cool little -wood Patience swung two hammocks and filled them with pillows. Steele -lay full length in his and looked comfortable and happy, a cigar ever -between his lips. Patience, in hers, sat in as dignified an attitude as -she could assume. - -“Does it make you feel romantic?” he said one day, looking at her -quizzically. - -“What do you mean?” she asked, flushing a little. - -“Oh, I think you have a queer romantic sentimental streak through your -modernity—or had. I’ve been wondering if there was any of it left.” - -“I never told you.” - -“No, but you suggest it. Tell me: didn’t you once have ideals and that -sort of thing?” - -“I don’t see how you can even guess it, for I have none now.” - -“Oh, yes, you have. You won’t when you’re thirty, but you have all sorts -of kiddish notions stored away yet in that brain of yours.” He had seen -Peele a few days before in the train, and knew the history of their -courtship quite as well as if she had related it to him, but he was -curious to know what she had been before. He drew her on until she told -him the story of the tower and the owl. - -That little picture pleased his artistic sense, but when she described -her girlish ideals and dreams he threw back his head and laughed loud -and long. - -“What would I have done with you if I had met you then?” he said, -looking with intense amusement at her half angry face. “I should have -run, I expect. You are a thousand times more interesting now.” - -“Not to myself.” - -“Of course not, because you are less of an egoist, and draw a larger -measure of your individuality from your environment. But you are real -now, where before you were unreal—you were a sort of waxwork with -numerous dents. The two extremes in this world are nature and -civilisation. Children belong by right to nature, and she holds on to -them as long as possible. When civilisation gets hold of them she -proceeds to pick out with a pair of tweezers all but the primal -passions; and the result is the only human variety capable of enjoying -life.” - -“Don’t you believe in ideals?” asked Patience, rather wistfully. - -“Of course not,” he said contemptuously. “Life is what it is, and you -can’t alter it. And as we are only just so big and have only just so -many years in which to get over a limited surface of this mighty -complication called Life, all we can do is to keep our eyes open, and -pick out here and there what appeals to our taste most strongly, -swallowing the disagreeable majority as philosophically as possible. -When you know the world—and yourself—you can’t have ideals, and the -sooner you quit wasting time thinking about them the sooner you begin to -enjoy life. And remember that we live but from day to day—we may be a -cold cadaver to-morrow. Life is a game of chance. To set up ideals is as -purposeless as to waste this life preparing for an impossible next. Omar -expressed it better than I can when he said:— - - “‘To-morrow? Why, to-morrow I myself may be - With yesterday’s seven thousand years.’” - -“You have certain ideals though,” said Patience. “You are intellectually -ambitious; and you say that you never run after a merely pretty face, -and never wasted time on any sort of woman unless she had brains; and -the men at the office say that you are scrupulously square in money -matters. So that I can’t see that you are altogether without ideals.” - -“Those are mere matters of taste and worldly sense. I aim for nothing -that is impossible. When I think I want a thing I set about to -accomplish it. If I find that it is impossible I quit without further -loss of time. You don’t suppose I have an ideal woman, do you? How can -any man that knows women?—although he may often succumb to a happy -combination. When I was exactly twelve my Sunday School teacher -forestalled any inclination I might have developed to idealise woman. I -met her once after I was grown, by the way, and it did me good to tell -her what I thought of her. That is where you women have the advantage of -us. It is so long before you know man at all that after you do it is -hard work making him over as he is. The woman never lived that -understood man by intuition. That is the reason a woman so seldom has -any fascination but that of mere youth until she’s pretty well on to -thirty. You, of course, have had an exceptional experience, but you are -a good deal of a kid yet.” - - - XIV - -Morgan Steele was a type of the precocious young United States newspaper -man which only this end of the century has evolved: Preternaturally wise -in the way of the world and the nature of woman; with young blood and -cold judgment; wary, deliberate, calculating; full of kind impulses; -generous with his money, yet careful of it; ready to make cold-blooded -use of a man to-day and offer him a free lodging to-morrow; possessed of -more self-control than the Club man of forty; without sentimentality, -yet with a certain limited power of loving; having a thorough -appreciation of the finer as of the coarser shades of woman; incapable -of a blind supreme rush of feeling, through the habit of eternal -analysis; placidly and philosophically content with the present, and -fully expecting to be laid away in the past at forty; _blasé_, yet full -of boyish delight in outdoor sport; having faith in no woman, yet -treating the lowest with a cynical kindness and consideration which was -part of his philosophy. - -One night he faced the question of his relationship to Patience with his -usual deliberation. - -He lay on a divan in his bachelor quarters: a long room with bedroom and -bath attached. The walls of the living-room were covered with red paper, -the doors and windows hung with Smyrna cloth. A rug half covered the -stained floor. Between the windows was a large desk covered with papers. -A long table was strewn thick with magazines. Small bookcases were -filled with the works of Omar, Whitman, Emerson, Hugo, Heine, Dumas, -Maupassant, Bourget, Pater, Dobson, Herrick, Ibsen, Zola, Landor, -Rabelais, Stevenson, Kipling. On the mantel there was a number of -photographs and a notable absence of legs. The walls were covered with -artists’ sketches. - -“The summer will pass harmlessly enough,” he thought. “I only see her -once a week, and her husband is likely to be hidden in the brush; but -when she returns to town in the winter I shall find myself calling on -her every night. I’m not stuck on matrimony, but I certainly should like -her for a companion in a little house or double apartment where there -would be plenty of elbow room and some chance of keeping up the -illusions. I think it would be some years before I should tire of her, -and I think I could love her a good deal. Why in thunder doesn’t the man -die? She’s too good for anything else. It would be a terrible pity—the -details smirch so. A novelist would remark at this point, ‘And yet he -never thought of sparing her.’ No, my dear fictionist, we don’t, nor if -she loved me would she thank me for sparing her. And yet it would be a -pity. She is like some delicate wild-flower that has been transplanted. -I should like to offer her the best one can, instead of practically -remarking: ‘My dear, this brain racket is worked out for the present. -We’ll return to it later, or not at all.’ - -“It is often a clever thing for those that love and cannot marry to part -when the shock comes: they coddle the misery and have a glorious time -suffering. But that would not do for us. We live in the thick and rush -of life, and have no time to sit down with memories, hardly time enough -to realise an ache. We must have our day in fact or not at all; and -afterward, thank God, there is again no time for memories. Well, this is -only the eighth of July. By winter that intolerable nuisance may be in -the family vault.” - - - XV - -People remarked that summer that Patience looked unusually well. At -times her eyes had a certain liquid softness, at others they sparkled -wickedly. Her colour was beautiful and her manner and conversation full -of animation. - -It was on a hot August afternoon that Patience and Steele, in the green -shades of their wood, suddenly met each other’s eyes and burst out -laughing. - -“We are in love,” said Patience. - -“Well—yes—I suppose we are.” - -“I feel very light-minded over this unexpected _dénouement_. I had -imagined all sorts of dramatic climaxes; but the unexpected always will -happen in this life—more’s the pity.” - -“Did you expect we should not fall in love?” - -“I did not think about it at all for a time—just drifted. But as the -situation is so serious it is as well to take it humourously. What are -we going to do about it?” - -He had removed his cigar, and was regarding her with his contemplative -stare. “I have thanked your complicated ancestors more than once for -your large variety of moods. I am glad and sorry that you have spoken: -sorry, because this was very pleasant; glad that the discussion of ways -and means should take place here instead of in town. I shall be brutally -frank. How long is your husband likely to live?” - -“He may live for twenty years. I heard the doctors—they have a -consultation every once in a while—tell Mrs. Peele so the other day. He -is much better. On the other hand, he might take a turn for the worse -any day.” - -“Then you must persuade him to give you a divorce.” - -“Oh, dear, I am afraid that is out of the question. I’ve thought of it; -but—you don’t know him.” - -“You are a clever woman: now look up your resources. Enlist the family -on your side. Tell them that you are about to leave, never to return, -and that you are on the road to become a famous newspaper woman; that if -they will persuade your husband to give you a divorce you will drop -their name; otherwise that it will be dinned in their ears for the next -twenty years. Tell them that we intend to let you sign hereafter. That -ought to fetch them, as they appear to look upon the newspaper business -with shuddering horror. And persuade them that Beverly needs a good -domestic little wife who would gladden his declining years.” - -“I’m sorry I feel in this mood,” said Patience, abruptly. “I should far -rather it had been the other way—the usual way. I suppose I am -possessed with what Poe calls The Imp of the Perverse.” - -“My dear girl, I need not remind you that it is just as well and a good -deal better. You need a shaking to wake you up, though. You imagine that -you are awake already, but you are not—not by a long sight. You have -buried your nature five fathoms deep. Well, time is up. I must be off. -Think over what I have said. Good-bye.” - - - XVI - -On the following Thursday morning Patience walked slowly over to where -Beverly sat under a tree on one of the lawns, reading a newspaper. She -had made up her mind to adopt Steele’s advice, but had deferred the evil -moment as long as possible. - -“Beverly,” she said abruptly, sitting down in front of him, “I want to -speak to you.” - -He laid down the newspaper and regarded her with eager admiration. She -had carefully selected the most unbecoming frock she possessed, a sickly -green, and twisted her hair in a fashion to distort the fine lines of -her head. Nevertheless, she looked as fresh as the morning, and her eyes -sparkled with excitement. - -“What is it?” he asked. “Oh, why—why—” - -“Never mind! I am going to have a business talk with you, and please -don’t get excited. If you do, you’ll be sure to have a pain, you know.” - -“Well, what is it? It doesn’t do a fellow any good to keep him in -suspense.” - -“On the first of November I am going away—” - -“You are not!” - -“And I shall not come back—not in any circumstances. You have proved -that your attacks are more or less under your own control. A sojourn at -some foreign baths will probably cure you. I have given you all of my -life that I intend to give you. I know that self-sacrifice is the ideal -of happiness of some women, but it is not mine. When I leave here on the -first of November it will be forever. There is no inducement, material -nor sentimental, that will bring me back. Do you understand that much -clearly?” - -He burst into a volley of oaths, and beat his knees with his fists. -Patience continued as soon as she could be heard:— - -“Now, it can do you no possible good to retain a legal hold on me, nor -can you care to hear of your name becoming familiar in Park Row. Give me -my freedom, and I will take my own name—” - -“You’ll get no divorce,” he roared, “now nor ever. Do you understand -that? I’ll brace up and live until I’m ninety—by God I will! I’ll go -abroad and live at a water cure. You’ll never be the wife of any other -man. Do you understand that?” - -“Oh, Beverly,” she said, breaking suddenly, “don’t be cruel,—don’t! -What good can it do you? Give me my freedom.” - -He grasped her wrists. His eyes were full of rage and malevolence. “Do -you want to marry some one else?” he asked. “Some damned newspaper man, -I suppose.” - -Patience stood up and shook him off. “If ever I do marry another man,” -she said cuttingly, “you may be sure he will have brains this time, and -that he will also be a gentleman. The most vulgar persons I have ever -known have been socially the most highly placed.” - -As she moved away he sprang after her and caught her arm. “Now look -here,” he said hoarsely, “you’ll neither marry, nor will you have a -lover, unless you want all New York to know it. The moment you leave -this place a detective goes after you. You’ll do nothing that I don’t -know. I may not have brains, but I’ll get the best of you all the same.” - -Patience flung him off and went straight to Mrs. Peele. Her -mother-in-law watched her with narrowed eyes until she had finished, -then remarked unexpectedly: “I shall do my best to make my son divorce -you. If you intend to leave us I prefer that the rupture should be -complete. As you suggest, I have no desire to see the name of Peele -signed to newspaper articles. Moreover, I believe I can persuade my son -to marry again,—a woman of his own station, who will not desecrate the -name of wife; and who,” with sudden violence, “will give this house an -heir.” She paused a moment to recover herself, then continued more -calmly: “I have talked the matter over with my husband, and he agrees -with me. Of course, you will expect no alimony.” - -“I don’t want alimony. I make more with my pen than Beverly ever allowed -me.” - -The red came into Mrs. Peele’s face. “My son was quite as generous as -was to be expected. Moreover, he had the right to demand that his wife -should not come to him empty handed. I shall speak to Beverly.” - -An hour later Patience met Mrs. Peele in the side hall. The older woman -looked flushed and excited. “I have had a most terrible interview with -Beverly,” she exclaimed. “I can do nothing with him. You little fool, -why didn’t you swear that you did not want to marry another man? Heaven -knows I should prefer to have you take another name as soon as possible; -but you have ruined your chances by letting Beverly suspect the truth.” - -Patience sank upon a chair, and sat for a long while staring straight -before her. She felt the incarnation of rage and hate. Her lovely face -was set and repellent. She came to herself with a start, and wondered if -she had ever had any womanly impulses. - -She had never wanted anything in her life as much as she wanted to marry -Morgan Steele. His very unlikeness to all her old ideals fascinated her, -and she was convinced that she was profoundly in love. She could hardly -imagine what life with him would be like, and was the more curious to -ascertain; and the obstacles enraged her impatient spirit. - -The butler left the dining-room to announce luncheon. - -“Send mine up to my room,” she said. As she reached the first landing of -the stair she turned to him suddenly. “Tell John to go to New York this -afternoon, and have Mr. Beverly’s morphine bottle filled. He took the -last last night and he may need it again before I go down myself. Don’t -fail to tell him. The bottle is in the lavatory.” - -That afternoon she met Steele at the edge of the wood. - -“I could not keep still,” she said. “My brain feels on fire.” - -He drew her hand through his arm and held it tenderly. “What is it?” he -asked. “Did you speak, and was it disagreeable?” - -“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just now it is enough to feel you here.” - -“I can only stay an hour. I should not have come at all, but I could not -stay away.” - -When they reached the hammocks Patience flung herself into hers and told -the story of the morning with dramatic indignation. Then, insensibly, -she drifted into the story of her married life, and described her -intense hatred and loathing of her husband. - -“It was all my own fault,” she said in conclusion. “I married him with -my eyes open; but all the same I hate him. Sometimes I felt, and feel -yet, fairly murderous. I seem to have a terrible nature—does it make -you hate me?” - -He laughed. “No, I don’t hate you, and you know it quite as well as I -do. You have wonderful possibilities—but I can’t quite make up my mind -that I am the man—” - -“Oh, yes, you are. I could love you as much as I hate Beverly Peele.” - -“Well, if you think so it amounts to the same thing, for a while at -least. I shall come again in a few days. I’ll write you. If your husband -cannot be induced to change his mind I’ll talk to you about a paper that -has been offered to me in Texas; but if you prefer it the other way, -I’ll leave you alone without a word.” - -“Oh, I don’t know! There are some words I hate,—the words free-love and -adultery. I don’t want to be exploited in the newspapers, and I don’t -want to be insulted by my landlord. After all, expediency is the source -of all morality. My life with you would be a thousand times better than -it was with Beverly Peele; but I suspect that we can’t violate certain -moral laws that heredity has made part of our brain fibre, without -ultimate regret, even when we keep the world in ignorance. I suffered -horribly once, although I had not defied the conventions. But I think we -must have everything, or the large share of herself that Nature has -given each of us rebels,—in other words, the ideal is not complete.” - -“When you are very much in love,” he said dryly, “you won’t analyse.” - -Contrary to her habit, she remained in the wood for some time after he -left her. Suddenly she was aroused from her reverie by a peculiar heavy -sound, as of a man crawling. She listened intently, her hair stiffening: -the house was a quarter of a mile away. The sound continued steadily. -She sprang to her feet and fled from the wood. As she ran up the hill -beyond, she glanced fearfully over her shoulder. A man shot from the -lower edge of the wood and ran toward the stables. - - - XVII - -An hour after midnight Patience ran into Honora’s room and shook her -violently. - -“Honora! Honora!” she cried, “something is the matter with Beverly. I -can’t wake him up.” - -Honora stretched herself languidly. Her eyelids fluttered a moment, then -lifted. She said sleepily: - -“What is it, Patience?” - -“Beverly! Go to him—quick—while I wake up Mr. and Mrs. Peele, and send -for the doctor. He dropped his own morphine to-night, and he must have -taken too much.” - -A few moments later there was an alarmed group of people at Beverly -Peele’s bedside, and the butler could be heard at the telephone -demanding the doctor. - -Mr. Peele was in his pyjamas, and Patience struggled with an importunate -desire to tell him that his hair stood on end. Mrs. Peele’s back hair -was in a scant braid; the front locks were on pins. Her skin looked -pallid and old. Honora, as usual, looked like a vision from heaven. Hal -and her husband were in Newport, and there were no guests at Peele -Manor. - -“Are you sure,” asked Mr. Peele, as precisely as if his hair was parted -in the middle and plastered on each side, “that anything is the matter? -Does not the morphine always put him to sleep?” - -“Not at once. You see he takes it internally, and it’s twenty minutes or -half an hour before it takes effect. During that time he always groans, -for he never takes it until the last minute. I heard him get up and -return to bed; and then I knew something must be the matter because he -was so quiet—” - -“How could you let him drop it himself?” exclaimed Mrs. Peele, -passionately. “How could you? What are you here for?” - -“I offered to drop it for him, but he wouldn’t let me. I didn’t insist, -as he always put it off—and we had had a quarrel—” - -“My poor son!” - -“Well, something’s got to be done,” said Mr. Peele. “I don’t like the -way he’s beginning to breathe. There are one or two things we can do -until the doctor comes.” - -He raised Beverly’s arms above the head, brought them down and pressed -them into the chest, repeating the act twenty or thirty times. Beverly -meanwhile was breathing stertorously. - -“Can’t I do something?” cried his mother, distractedly. - -“I think we had better walk him,” said Mr. Peele, whose mouth was -tightening. “Call Hickman.” - -The butler was waiting in the hall, and came at once. He helped Mr. -Peele to lift the young man from the bed. The stalwart figure hung -limply between them: he was as collapsed as the new dead. Mr. Peele and -Hickman walked him up and down the long line of rooms, shaking him -vigorously from time to time; but they would have produced as much -effect upon the bolster. Mrs. Peele had sunk into a chair. She sat with -compressed lips, and dilating eyes fixed upon Patience. Honora knelt -beside her, patting her hand. After a time she arose, liberated Mrs. -Peele’s hair from its braid and steels, and arranged it with deft hands, -fetching some of her own amber pins. - -Patience sat on the edge of the bed. She was beginning to feel -hopelessly sleepy. The day’s excitement had sapped her nerves. It was -now nearly two o’clock, and she had not slept. Beverly had been ill the -night before and given her little rest. She felt bitterly ashamed of -herself; but every few moments she was obliged to cover her face with -her handkerchief to conceal a yawn. Once or twice her head dropped -suddenly. - -The last time she sat up with a gasp. Mrs. Peele groaned. The two men -had entered with their burden. Beverly’s face was blue, and he breathed -infrequently. - -“His body is bathed in a cold perspiration,” said Mr. Peele. “Will that -doctor never come?” - -“O my God!” murmured Mrs. Peele. - -Patience left the bed and sat on the sill of the window. The night was -very hot and still. A shuddering horror took possession of her. A -palpable presence seemed skimming the dark gulf under the window. She -sat with distended eyes, half expecting to see a long arm reach past her -and pluck the soul from the unconscious man on the bed. She closed her -eyes and put her fingers in her ears. When she removed them she drew a -long breath. - -“The doctor is coming,” she said. “I hear the wheels.” - -“Did you make him understand what was the matter?” asked Mr. Peele of -the butler. - -“Yes, sir. He said he would bring everything necessary.” - -When the doctor came in he bent over the sick man and lifted his -eyelids. - -“It is morphine poisoning, sure enough,” he said. “Have some black -coffee made. I shall use the electricity meanwhile. Better telegraph to -New York. I don’t like this case, and don’t want it alone.” - -Patience watched them mechanically for an hour, then slipped into her -own room and into her bed. Nature had conquered her. Another moment, and -she would have fallen to the floor in sleep. - -Four hours later she was awakened by a vigorous shaking of her shoulder. - -She sat upright and glanced about wildly. “What is it? What is the -matter?” she cried. “I had such a horrible dream. I thought Beverly was -drowning me—holding me down under the water—” - -“Your husband is dead,” said the doctor. “Do you wish to go to him?” - -Patience shrank under the bedclothes, pulling them about her head. After -the doctor had gone she ran over to a spare room, opened all the windows -to admit light, then went to bed and slept until late in the day. - - - - - BOOK V - - - I - -The editor-in-chief of the New York “Eye” sat in the large -revolving-chair in his private room, dictating to a typewriter answers -to the great pile of letters on the desk before him. He opened one -letter after another with expert swiftness, glanced over it, gave it a -few lines of response, or tossed it, half read, into a wastebasket. But -although his heed to duty was alert, his brow was contracted, and he was -carrying on a double train of thought. The subconsciousness was not -pleasant. - -Arnold Sturges was one of the most remarkable men in New York. Not -thirty-three, he had been editor-in-chief of one of the great newspapers -of the United States for a year and a half. He had elected journalism as -the safety-valve for a superabundant nervous energy and a means to -gratify ambition and love of power. Although possessed of a little -fortune he had begun his career on the city staff. As a reporter he had -worked as hard as if twenty-five dollars a week stood between him and -starvation. He had risen rapidly from one editorship to another, and -still no half naked man down in the printing-rooms worked more lustily. -His rushing career was by no means due to work alone, nor yet to his -superlative cleverness: it was said of him that he could smell news a -week off, and not only ahead but backward; by which was meant that he -knew the subtle and valuable relation that old news occasionally holds -to that of the moment. Naturally, he had made many brilliant and -memorable coups. - -When friends had blocked his way he had thrust them aside as lightly as -he seemed to spurn less material obstacles. Body and brain he was the -dauntless servant of the “Eye;” its personality was his; his very nerves -were tuned to its sensational policy. He lived for it, and would have -died for it. He hardly regarded himself as an individual, although his -fine intellect, his bold executive ability, his splendid suggestions, -had been large factors in the success of the paper. - -Cold, cruel, charming, calculating, enthusiastic, audacious, -unscrupulous, fearless, relentless, brilliant, executive, had he been a -factor in the French Revolution his name would have become infamously -immortal. As it was, he was supreme in the field he had deliberately -chosen ten years before, immediately after graduating from Harvard with -such honours that the faculty had sent for and severally congratulated -him upon his future. - -He lived with a soubrette with whom he spent his evenings, playing -_parchisi_. - -To-day he was in a serious quandary. Three days before he had paid -fifteen hundred dollars for a scandalous story relative to one of the -most fashionable families in Westchester County,—a story which bore -truth on the face of it, but which he had not yet published, as it was -necessary to go through the form of verification. The family meanwhile -had heard of the sale, and brought tremendous pressure to bear upon him -to suppress the story: the owner of the “Eye” was travelling in Europe. -Lawyers had called and harangued. A woman had gone to his apartment and -wept at his feet. A man had flourished a pistol. For tears and threats -he cared nothing, but it had occurred to him when too late that the -owner of the “Eye” purposed to build in Westchester County and had -aspirations to the Country Club. Despite the fact that the story would -make the sensation of the day, the owner might be moved to fury. On the -other hand, he had paid fifteen hundred dollars for the facts, and must -justify himself. It was the first time in his career that he had made a -serious mistake, and he was in a cold rage. - -The man would have given pleasure to a physiognomist; he was a type so -marked, so essentially modern, that an amateur could not have misplaced -him, as one easily could so commonplace a type as Beverly Peele. His -forehead was full and wide, his grey eyes piercing, restless, hard as -ice. The nose was finely cut, the mouth licentious, the face thin and -sallow. At each extremity of the jaw was an abnormal development of -muscle. His small thin figure was as lithe as a panther, and so crowded -with pure nerve force that it seemed to shed electricity. His attire was -fashionable and elegant. In flannel shirt and overalls he would still -have looked a product of the higher civilisation. - -The door opened. He wheeled about with a frown, then smiled pleasantly. - -“Oh, it’s you, Van,” he said. “I’ll be through in a minute. Sit down.” - -The man that had entered bore so striking a resemblance to Sturges that -the two men might have been twins. He was, in fact, three years younger -than his brother. Yet there were some points of difference. Van -Cortlandt Sturges’ mouth was a straight line, his hair was many shades -lighter, almost flaxen, and he was several inches taller. But the -expression of the upper part of the two faces was identical. He, too, -had left Harvard with high honours, and ambition devoured him. Although -only thirty he was District Attorney of Westchester County. But as yet -his fame had not gone beyond its borders, although within them his dry -incisive bitter eloquence had carried many juries. Criminals in their -cells thought on him with terror. He had sent several men to the chair, -but no man that had been defended by Garan Bourke. People said of him -lightly that he would not go out of his way to be President of the -United States until he had thrashed Bourke on his own ground. - -“I’d like ten minutes as soon as possible,” he said. “I have an -important communication to make.” - -“I’ll hear it now.” To the typewriter: “You can go. Don’t return until I -ring, and tell Tom to stand in front of the door and admit no -one.—Well, what is it?” - -“Have you made up your mind to publish that Westchester County scandal?” - -“How do you know anything about that?” - -“They sent for me yesterday and besought me to use my influence with -you. I am engaged to the woman’s sister.” - -“The devil you are! This is bad—bad. But I can’t do anything. I paid -fifteen hundred dollars for that story.” - -“I know you did. If I could give you a better, would you let that go?” - -“Wouldn’t I? It’s a white elephant. I thought you didn’t know me so -little as to come here with sentiment. Fire away.” - -“Of course you remember the Gardiner Peeles, although you never go -anywhere. You went to one or two children’s parties there when you were -a kid. Well, Beverly Peele died suddenly night before last, supposedly -of an overdose of morphine administered by himself. Now, old Lewis, the -family physician, is a great friend of mine, and likely to be -communicative in his cups. Last night he dined with me, and after he was -pretty well loaded told me a remarkable yarn. It seems that Mrs. Beverly -had not been on good terms with her husband since the early days of -their marriage, and had threatened to leave him from time to time. He -treated her well, and was desperately in love with her. She, as far as -is known, had nothing against him but personal dislike. She is said to -have frequently expressed hatred of him in violent terms. Well, winter -before last she left him, came to New York, and went to work on the -‘Day.’ The Peeles did everything to induce her to return, but she only -consented to go back temporarily this summer to nurse her husband, who -had been attacked with a chronic but not immediately fatal complaint. -Meanwhile it seems she had fallen in love with some one, and she met him -every Thursday in a wood. Jim, a stable boy, who had been brought up on -the place and was devoted to Beverly Peele, watched her, but said -nothing to his master, as he was cautiously waiting for some proof of -criminality. On the afternoon of Peele’s death there was a tremendous -scene between the lovers: young Mrs. Peele telling a furious story of -her husband’s refusal to give her divorce, of his threat to have her -watched, to expose her if she took a lover, and to live until ninety if -he had to go abroad and live at a foreign spa. She reiterated that she -hated him, and had frequently had the impulse to murder him. The lover -invited her to go to Texas, and she demurred, as she disliked scandal. -Jim told this story to Lewis when driving him home from the -death-bed,—his own horse had cast a shoe,—and the doctor advised him -to keep quiet. - -“The night after the interview between the lovers—or rather the -following morning—Peele died of an overdose of morphine. She says he -took it himself; but it is a remarkable fact that never before—not in a -single instance—had he dropped the morphine himself. He had had a nurse -from the first, and when the pain was on he shook like a leaf. And -yet she asserts that she did not drop it that particular night, and -adds—by way of explanation—that they had had a violent quarrel and -he had refused to let her wait on him. While he was dying and the -others were working over him, she behaved in the most heartless -manner,—deliberately went to bed in the next room and went to sleep. -When Lewis awakened her, however, and told her that Peele was dead, she -displayed symptoms of abject terror, and tore across the hall and locked -herself in another room. Now, what do you think of it?” - -Sturges’ eyes were glittering like smoked diamonds. “My God!” he cried. -“That’s a grand story! a corker! I’ll have Bart Tripp, the best -detective reporter in New York, up there inside of two hours. Between -whiskey and gold he’ll get every fact out of the servants they’ve got. -It’s worth two of the other. A young, beautiful, swagger woman accused -of murdering her husband, and that husband a Peele of Peele Manor! The -‘Eye’ will be read in the very bowels of the earth.” - -“And I shall conduct the case for the prosecution.” - -“The ‘Eye’ will let people know it. Don’t worry about that. Does Lewis -remember that he told you?” - -“Not a word.” - - - II - -On the following Sunday Patience arose early. Beverly had been in the -family vault down in the hollow for a week. She had wished to leave -immediately after the funeral, but had remained at the insistence of -Hal, who had returned at once, and was doubly depressed by her brother’s -death and the gloomy house. Mrs. Peele had gone to bed with a violent -attack of neuralgia some days ago, and had not risen since. Honora was -in constant attendance. Mr. Peele never opened his lips except to ask -for what he wanted. Burr, as a matter of course, spent the days in New -York or at a private club house in the neighbourhood. - -Patience had moved into a room adjoining Hal’s. She kept the light -burning all night. - -“I’ll be all right when I get back to New York,” she said, “but I have a -horror of death. I can’t help it.” - -“Who hasn’t?” asked Hal. “I wish I were a man—or could be as selfish as -one.” - -On this Sunday morning Patience rose after a restless night, and went -downstairs as soon as she was dressed. The “Day” and the “Eye”—Burr’s -favorite newspaper—lay on a table in the hall. She carried them into -the library and turned them over listlessly, then remembered that a -great Westchester County scandal had been promised for the Sunday “Eye” -by the issue of the day before, and that Hal and Burr were on the alert, -suspecting that they half knew the story already. - -She opened the “Eye” and glanced at the headlines of the first page. In -the place of honour, the extreme left hand column, she found her story: - - WAS IT MURDER? - AN OLD MANOR HOUSE IN WESTCHESTER COUNTY MAY - HAVE BEEN THE THEATRE OF A GREAT CRIME! - A YOUNG WIFE SUSPECTED OF THE FOUL DEED! - -Patience read ten lines. Then she stumbled to her feet, spilling the -papers to the floor. Her skin felt cold and wet, her knees trembled, her -hands moved spasmodically. Something within her seemed disintegrating. - -She got to the door and up to her room. Aside from the horror which sat -in each nerve centre and jabbered, she was conscious of but one idea: -she must fly. She flung off her robe and put on the black frock she had -bought out of deference to the family’s grief. She scratched herself and -thrust the buttons into the wrong holes, but she could call no one to -her assistance. She was thankful it was so early; she could get away -without encountering any of the family. She was about to put on her -black bonnet when her muddled consciousness emitted another flash and -bade her disguise herself; detectives would have orders to search for a -woman in weeds. She tore off the mourning frock, dropping it to the -floor, and got herself into a grey one, then pinned on a grey hat -trimmed with pink flowers. She thrust a few things into a bag, and ran -down the stair. She reached the station in time to flag the 8.30 train -for New York. Some one else boarded the same train, but she did not see -him. - -Having accomplished her flight, her thoughts travelled to the objective -point. Inevitably her woman’s instinct turned to the man whose duty it -was to protect her. She convinced herself femininely that if she could -reach him all would be well; he not only loved her, but he was so -amazingly clever. - -At the station in New York she walked deliberately to a cab and gave the -man Morgan Steele’s address. She looked neither to the right nor to the -left, consequently did not see that the man who had boarded the train at -Peele Manor stood at her elbow when she gave the order, and followed her -immediately. - -When the cab reached the house in which Morgan Steele lived, she -dismissed it and ran up the steps. She rang again and again, pacing the -narrow stoop in an agony of fear and impatience. At the end of ten -minutes an irritable half dressed Frenchman came shuffling down the -stairs. There were no curtains on the door, and the man’s expression -struck new terror to her heart. - -“What is it?” he asked surlily, as he opened the door. - -“I—I—must see Mr. Steele.” - -“Mr. Steele is asleep. He does not receive visitors at this hour.” - -“I must see him.” Her cheeks were flaming under the man’s scrutiny. -“Here,” she opened her purse and gave him a bill, then pushed him aside -and ran upstairs. She remembered that Steele had told her that his rooms -were on the second floor, front. The halls were as dark as midnight. She -had to feel with her hands for a door. There was one at the end facing -the hall. She knocked so loudly that Steele sprang out of bed. - -“What is it?” he cried. - -“It is I. Open the door—quick!” - -Steele made no reply until he opened a door at the side of the hall. He -had tied himself into a bath robe. - -“Good heavens!” he said, “why have you come here? Are you mad?” - -“Oh, I think I am. Lock the door—quick. Oh, haven’t you heard? Didn’t -you know about it before? The ‘Day’ is right next door to the ‘Eye.’ Why -didn’t you warn me?” - -“What on earth are you talking about? What has happened? Do sit down and -calm yourself.” - -“The ‘Eye’ is out with a big story that I murdered Beverly Peele. That -is what is the matter.” - -“What? Oh, you poor child! The damned rascals! But you shouldn’t have -come here. Don’t you know that the ‘Eye’ will watch every move you make? -It takes the clever woman to do the wrong thing, every time!” - -He went to the window and peered out, then clenched his teeth, and -raising his arm brought it down violently. - -“They can’t put me in prison, can they?” - -He pressed his finger to a bell. “I must read what they have to say. -They are very wary, and never would have printed such a story unless -they had had a good deal of circumstantial evidence. But they will need -a terrible lot to convict you. Don’t worry.” - -“Oh, how can you be so cool?” - -“Some one has to be cool, my dear girl. If you cannot think I must think -for you.” A man has not much sentiment at that hour of the morning; -still, Steele had sympathy in his nature, and was profoundly disturbed. - -The servant came up with the newspapers, and Steele ordered coffee and -rolls from the restaurant below. He threw himself into a chair, opened -the “Eye,” and read the story through deliberately, word for word, while -Patience walked nervously up and down the room. When he had finished he -laid the newspaper on the table. - -“It’s a damned bad case,” he said. - -“You don’t believe I did it, do you?” - -He looked at her for a moment with his peculiarly searching gaze. “No,” -he said, “you didn’t do it. You’d be even more interesting if you had. -But that’s not the question. We’ve got to make others believe you didn’t -do it. The first thing for you to do is to go directly back to Peele -Manor. Tell them you came up to see Miss Merrien and to engage rooms. -Anything you like—only go back there and wait. If you are arrested, it -must be from there, and there must be no suggestion of fear on your -part—you must brace up and carry it off.” - -The waiter entered with the coffee and rolls, and Steele made her drink -and eat. - -“It is 9.45,” he said. “You can catch a train that goes between ten and -eleven.” - -When Patience had finished she drew on her gloves. “I’ll go,” she said, -“and I’ll try to do as you say. I’ve made a fool of myself, but I won’t -again—I promise. I can be as cold as stone, you know. That’s the New -England part of me. And so long as I know that you care I sha’n’t break -down—in public at least.” - -“Oh, I care fast enough—poor little woman. Here, leave that bag, for -heaven’s sake. You mustn’t go back with that.” - - - III - -When Patience arrived at Peele Manor she knew before she reached the -house that her story had been read and told. The gardener turned on his -heel as she passed him and walked hastily away. A new stable boy stared -at her until she thought his eyes would fly from their sockets. - -As she entered the front door, Hal ran forward and threw her arms about -her. - -“Oh, Patience! Patience!” she sobbed hysterically. “That brutal paper! -How could they do such a thing? Have they no heart nor soul?” - -“You don’t believe it then?” said Patience, gratefully. - -“Of course I don’t believe it—believe such a thing of _you_! Oh, I’m so -glad you’ve come back. They were all sure you’d run away; but I knew you -hadn’t. It is only the guilty that hide—But why on earth did you put on -that grey frock?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. How can one know what one’s doing—What does your -father say?” - -The girls were in one of the small reception-rooms. Hal removed -Patience’s hat and gloves. - -“Oh, this has been the most terrible day of my life,” she said -evasively. “But you must be prudent, Patience dear. You must wear -black—What is it?” - -A servant had entered the room. - -“Mr. Peele would like to see Mrs. Beverly in the library!” - -Patience rose and shook herself a little, as if she would shake her -nerves into place. Hal’s face flushed, and she turned away. - -As Patience crossed the hall she met Latimer Burr. He held out his hand -and pressed hers warmly. - -“This is terrible, Patience,” he said; “but remember that Hal and I are -always your friends. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll send you my -attorney. Remember that, and don’t engage any one else, for he’s one of -the ablest criminal lawyers in the country.” - -“Oh, you are good!” she said. She smiled even through the grateful tears -which sprang to her eyes. Burr had grown a visible inch. His chest and -lips were slightly extended. - -Mr. Peele sat in a large chair, his elbows on the arms, his finger-tips -lightly pressed together. As Patience stood before him she felt as if -transfixed by two steel lances. - -“You murdered my son.” - -“I did not.” Her courage came back to her under the overt attack. - -“You murdered my son. The evidence is conclusive to me as a lawyer—and -to my knowledge of you. My error was that I regarded your threats as -feminine ravings. I wish you to leave my house at once—within the hour. -I shall not have you arrested, but if you are I shall appear against -you; and I have some evidence, as you will admit. You have dishonoured -an ancient house,” he continued with cold passion, “and you have left it -without an heir. Its name, after nearly three hundred years in this -country alone, must die with me. If you had borne a son I should move -heaven and earth to get you out of the country, but now I hope to heaven -you’ll go to the chair.” - -Patience shuddered and chilled, but she answered: “You despised your -son, and you should be thankful that he left no second edition of -himself.” - -“He was my son, and the last of his name. Now, kindly leave this house.” - -Patience went up to her room and began to pack her trunk. Hal followed, -and when she heard what her father had said cried bitterly. She helped -Patience to pack, assisted her into the black clothes, then walked to -the station with her and stood conspicuously on the platform, waving her -hand as the train moved off. - - - IV - -Patience went directly to her old quarters in Forty-Fourth Street. She -told the cabman not to lift her trunk down until she ascertained if -there was a vacant room in the house. The bell was answered by a maid -that had been there in her time. The girl stifled a scream and fled. -Patience shut the door behind her with a hand that trembled again, and -went slowly upstairs to Miss Merrien’s room. A solemn voice answered her -knock. When she opened the door Miss Merrien sprang up and came forward. -Her face was drawn, her eyes were red. - -“Oh, Mrs. Peele!” she cried. - -“Do you believe it? If you do, I’ll go at once.” - -“Of course I don’t believe it! How can you ask me? Sit down. How good of -you to come here. Tell me—are you terribly frightened?” - -“No, I don’t think I am now. Why should I be? If I am so unlucky as to -have been tossed up in the news hat of the ‘Eye,’ I cannot help it; and -I suppose this is only the beginning. If I have to go to jail I have to, -and that is the end of it; but they cannot possibly convict me, for I am -innocent.” - -“Oh, you always were the bravest woman I ever knew. It is like -you—Come.” - -The door opened, and the landlady entered and closed it carefully behind -her. She was a tall thin elderly woman with a refined face stamped with -commercial unquiet. Her grey hair was piled high. Her voice was low, and -well modulated. She looked at Patience out of faded blue eyes in which -there was a faint sparkle of resentment. - -“I see that you have a trunk on your cab, Mrs. Peele,” she said, “I am -very sorry that I have no room.” - -“I had no intention of asking you for a room,” said Patience, haughtily. -“I merely came to call on Miss Merrien; and as I have only a few moments -to spare, I should be obliged if you would leave us alone.” - -The landlady retired in disorder, and Miss Merrien exhausted her -vocabulary of invective. - -“What is the use?” said Patience. “She is right. In the struggle for -bread and butter it must be self first, last, and always. If it were -known—as it would be—that I had been arrested from her house every -other lodger would leave. Well, I must go roof-hunting.” She laughed -suddenly. “If I do go to jail I suppose you’ll come to interview me. I -hope so. Good-bye.” - -Miss Merrien, although not a demonstrative girl, kissed her -affectionately. “The ‘Day’ will defend you for all it’s worth—you know -that. And I needn’t say anything about myself.” - -Patience told her cabman to drive to the Holland House, but when he -stopped there she did not get out. Reflection had convinced her that no -hotel in New York would take her in. She dared not give a false name -lest her motive should be misconstrued. She put her head out of the -window and gave the man Rosita’s address. - -“There is no other way,” she thought. “I cannot live in a cab. Mrs. -Field would take me in, but I have no right to make such a test of -friendship as that.” - -Rosita received her with open arms. She was looking very beautiful in -flowing nainsook and lace, and exhaled a new and delicious perfume. - -“Patita! Patita _mia_!” she purred. “_Pobrecita!_ Who would have thought -that this would happen to my _lili_.” (Her accent was more pronounced -than ever.) - -“Can I stay with you until they arrest me, or this blows over?” - -“You shall stay with me forever. ‘Are we not bound by the ties of -childhood?’ That is a line in my new opera. Isn’t it funny? Ay, Patita, -I am so sorry.” And she sent down for the trunk and removed Patience’s -hat. - - - V - -The next morning Patience was awakened by Rosita’s ecstatic voice. She -opened her eyes to see her hostess standing at the bedside, the “Eye” in -her hand, her face radiant. - -“Patita!” she cried. “Read it—there is a whole column about you and -me.” - -Patience sat up in bed. “Is that why you were so glad to have me come -here?” she asked. - -“Patita! Do not look at me like that. Oh, if I could only look that way -when I am stage mad!—but they always say I look like an angry baby. Of -course, that was not the reason, Patita _mia_; but it is heavenly to be -written about; do not you think so? And, of course, every new story -about me—and such a sensation as this—means a perfect rush—” - -“Give me the paper, please.” - -She read the column while Rosita pattered back to her room and ate her -dainty breakfast. Every move she had made on the day before was -chronicled. On another page an editorial commented on the facts of her -having visited a young man’s apartment, and finally taken refuge with -the notorious Spanish woman. - -She dressed herself hastily in her black garments, and locked and -strapped her trunk. “I’ll go straight down and give myself up,” she -thought. “It’s what I ought to have done yesterday. It’s eleven o’clock. -I wish it were nine. Come.” - -“Two gentlemen to see madame,” said the maid. - -“What—who—what do they look like?” - -“Like policemen, and yet not, madame.” - -Patience gasped. Her knees gave way. Again she experienced that horrible -feeling of disintegration. Her untasted breakfast stood on a table by -the bed. She hastily drank a cup of black coffee, then walked steadily -to the drawing-room. - -“You have come for me?” she asked of the men. - -“Yes, ma’am.” - -“Where am I to go?” - -“To the jail at White Plains, Westchester County. You are arrested on -charge of murder;” and he displayed the warrant. - -Patience touched the bell button. “Take my trunk downstairs to the cab,” -she said to the butler. Then she stepped to the portières and said -good-bye to Rosita. - -“She’s a cool one,” said one man to the other. “She done it.” - -They went down in the elevator. As they left it, one of the men preceded -her, the other followed close. Both entered the cab with her. She felt -that they were regarding her with the frank curiosity of their kind, and -kept her eyes fixed on the street with an expressionless stare. On the -train they gave her a seat to herself, each taking the outside of -another, one before and one behind. The passengers did not suspect the -meaning of the party. She saw no one she knew. It was not the line that -passed Peele Manor. For small mercies she was duly thankful. She -guessed, however, that a meagre wiry black-eyed young man on the -opposite side of the aisle, a man with a mean sharp common face, was -Bart Tripp. He stared at her until she thought she should scream aloud, -or, what would be almost as fatal, relax the proud calm of her face. It -was with a sigh of profound relief that she stepped from the train at -White Plains. - -“We won’t meet no one,” said one of the detectives, as they entered the -hack. “The sheriff’s got ready for you, I guess; he was wired yesterday; -but we took good care not to say what train we was coming on, so there -wouldn’t be no crowd. Feeling’s pretty high against you, I guess.” - -As they drove through the ugly little town, Patience wondered why it was -called White Plains. She had never seen a more undulating country. One -or two of the environing hills were almost perpendicular. She also -noticed with the minute observance of persons approaching crises, that -the court house was a big handsome building of grey stone, and decided -that she liked its architecture. The extension behind, one of the -keepers told her, was the jail. - -She was escorted before a police justice, who read the charge and -explained such privileges as the law allowed her; then to the sheriff’s -office, where she was registered. A crowd of men were in the office. -They watched her with deep but respectful attention, as she answered the -many questions put to her, but she managed to maintain her impassive -demeanour. There was a buzz of excitement by this time all through the -court house, and a little of it began to communicate itself to her. The -few that are sustained through life’s trials by public interest are -immeasurably fortunate. Before the sheriff—who could not have treated -her with more consideration were she a dethroned queen—had finished, -word had gone up into the court room, and a sudden trampling on the back -stair indicated that the case in hand had lost its interest. - -“That’s all,” said the sheriff, hurriedly. “Guess you’d better get -along.—Tarbox,” he called. - -A short stout man with a ruddy kind face came forward, offered Patience -his arm, pushed his way through the crowd of men in the hall, and led -her out of a back door and down a long yard beside the jail. At the end -of the building he inserted a key in a lock. - -“Go right up, ma’am,” he said politely, and she ascended a narrow flight -of stairs. At its head he unlocked another door, and again they -ascended, again a door was unlocked. Then Patience stepped into a long -low clean well-lighted room. In the middle of its length was a stove -over which a kettle boiled. On a bench sat four women. At each end and -on one side were low grated windows. On the other side were a number of -grated doors. - -The man led Patience to the upper end of the room and swung open the -door of the corner cell. It was a large cell, and had it not been for -the low window with its iron bars would have been in no wise different -from any room of simple comfort. A red carpet covered the floor. The bed -in the corner was fresh and spotless. The rest of the furniture was new -and convenient. There were even a large rocker and a student’s lamp. -Over the door a curtain had been hung. - -“Why!” exclaimed Patience, “are all prison cells like this?” - -“No, ma’am, they’re not; but you see when we have a lady—which isn’t -often—we do what we can to make her feel at home. We can’t afford to -forget that this is the swell county of New York, you know. And of -course you’re the finest person we’ve ever had. You’ll be treated well -here,—you needn’t worry about that. I’ll order one of them girls -outside to wait on you.” - -“You are very good.” For the first time tears threatened. - -“Well, I’ll try to be to you, ma’am. I’m John Tarbox, deputy sheriff, -jailor, warden, and all the rest of it. I shall look after you. I’ll -call twice a day, and anything you want you’ll get. If any of them -hussies out there get to fighting just sing out the window, and I’ll -lock them up.” - -“You won’t lock me in?” - -“Oh, no—there’s no need for that. This cell’s no stronger than the -whole place. Well, make yourself comfortable. I’ll send over to the -hotel to get a lunch for you. You must be hungry. Keep a stiff upper -lip.” - -Patience, when she was alone, drew a long breath and looked about her. -The cheerful room, the unexpected kindness of the sheriffs, had raised -her spirits. She took off her hat and tossed it on the bed. - -“I may as well take the situation humourously,” she thought. “It helps -more than anything else in life, I’ve discovered. This can’t last -forever, and they can’t convict me. The serious people of this world -have always struck me as being the most farcical. So here goes my ninth -or tenth lesson in philosophy. Such is life.” - -After luncheon Mag, the improvised maid, unpacked the trunk and shook -out the pretty garments with many expressions of rapture. Patience gave -her a red frock, and the girl was her slave thenceforth. - -The afternoon hours revolved like a clogged wheel in a muddy stream. -Excitement and novelty kept horror at bay, but she knew that it lurked, -biding its time. - -When night came she lit the lamp and tried to read a magazine that -Tarbox had brought her; but it fell from her hands again and again. Her -ears acted independently of her will. She had never known so terrible a -stillness. The women had gone to bed at half past seven. No voice came -from the distant street. The silence of eternity seemed to have -descended upon those massive walls. - -She was in jail! - -She sprang to her feet, shuddering; then set her teeth and knelt by the -window. - -The heat waves of August hid the stars. Beyond the jail-yard was a mass -of buildings, but no light in any window. Now and again a tramp came -forth from his quarters on the ground floor and strolled about the yard, -smoking his pipe; but he made no sound, and in his grey dilapidation -looked like a parodied ghost. One of the women cursed loudly in her -sleep, then collapsed into silence. An engine whistle shrieked, -hilarious with freedom, but the rattle of the train was too distant to -carry to straining ears. - -She clutched the bars and shook them, then crouched, trembling and -gasping. She dropped forward, resting her face on her arms. Her fine -courage retreated, and mocked her. She had no wish to recall it. She -longed passionately for the strong arm and the strong soul of a man. The -independence and self-reliance which Circumstance had implanted, seemed -to fade out of her; she was woman symbolised. No shipwrecked mariner was -ever so desolate; for nothing in all life is so tragic as a woman forced -to stand and do battle alone. - -It was only when she arose, shivering and exhausted, and groped her way -to bed, that it occurred to her that in those appalling moments she had -not thought of Morgan Steele. - - - VI - -In the morning she awoke with a start and a chill, and sprang out of -bed, governed by an impulse to fling herself against the bars. But sleep -had refreshed her, and she sat down and reasoned herself into courage -and hope once more. The tussle with the world develops the iron in a -woman’s blood, and Patience’s experiences of the last year and a half -stood her in good stead now. When the girl came in to arrange her room -and Tarbox brought her breakfast, the commonplace details completed her -poise. The morning mail brought her letters from Steele and Hal. - - DEAR GIRL [Steele’s ran],—You are blue and frightened and - lonesome. I wish I were there to cheer you up. But the first day - will be the worst. Remember that liberty is not far off. They - cannot convict you. I shall see you a few hours after you get - this. - - M. S. - - Oh, Patience dear [Hal had written], it has come! I wish I could - tell you how terribly I feel. But cheer up, old girl. It will - come out all right—I know it will. Latimer is hustling me out - of the country so I cannot appear as a witness—he says I would - do you more harm than good. But he will stay and see you - through. His attorney will call on you at once. I send you a box - to cheer you up a little. Do write to me, and always remember - that I am your sister - - HAL. - -The box arrived an hour later. It contained her silver toilet-set, and -all the paraphernalia of a well-groomed and pretty woman, a bottle of -cologne, a box of candy, eight French novels, a large box of handsome -writing paper, and a bolt of black satin ribbon. Patience arranged the -toilet-set on the bureau, halved the candy with the women, then sat down -with a volume of Bourget. When Tarbox came up an hour later with a card -she was still reading, and quite herself. - -“Well,” he said, “I’m glad, I am, to see you so contented and so cool,” -he added, mopping his brow. “This gent is below. He says he’s one of the -lawyers in the case. I hoped you’d have Bourke. He’s the smartest man in -Westchester County! Shall I tell him to come up, or would you like to -see him down in the sheriffs office? Anything to please you.” - -“Oh, here, by all means, if he doesn’t mind the stairs.” - -Tarbox gazed at her admiringly. “Well, ma’am,” he ejaculated, “you are -cool, but I for one believe it’s the coolness of innocence. You never -did murder!” and he walked hastily away as if ashamed of his enthusiasm. - -The lawyer’s card bore the name of Eugene A. Simms. He came up at once, -a short thick-set man of thirty, with a square shrewd dogged face, a low -brow, a snub nose, and black brilliant hard eyes. He came in with a -bustling aggressive business-like air, scanning Patience as if he -expected to find all the points of the case written upon her. Patience -conceived an immediate and violent dislike to him. - -“Will you sit down?” she said stiffly. “You are Mr. Burr’s lawyer, I -believe.” - -“Oh, no. That’s Bourke. He has charge of the case. I’m getting it up. I -shall attend the coroner’s inquest and get the case in shape for Mr. -Bourke to conduct.” - -The blood rose to Patience’s hair and receded to her heart, which -changed its time; but she asked no questions. - -Simms leaned forward and fixed her with his unpleasant eyes. “Be -perfectly frank with me,” he said, abruptly. “It’s best. We can’t work -in the dark. We’ll pull you through; that’s what we are here for.” - -“You take it for granted that I am guilty, I suppose?” - -“I’m bound to say that all the revealed facts point that way. But of -course that makes no difference to us. In fact, the harder a case is the -better Bourke likes it—” - -“Does Mr. Bourke believe that I am guilty?” - -“I haven’t discussed it with him. He merely called me in, put the facts -in my hands, and told me to go to work. I haven’t seen him since.” - -“I will be perfectly frank with you,” said Patience, who had recovered -herself. “I did not murder Mr. Peele. I am not wholly an idiot. If I had -wished to poison him do you suppose I would have selected the drug I was -known to administer?” - -“You might have done it in a moment of passion. You had had a quarrel -with him that night.” - -“So much the more reason why I would not make such a fatal mistake. It -is quite true that when in a passion I frequently expressed the wish to -kill him. I will also tell you that one night when dropping the morphine -I was seized with an uncontrollable impulse to give him a double dose. I -dropped twenty-six drops. But fortunately it takes some time to do that, -and meanwhile the impulse weakened, and I anathematised myself as a -fool. No man nor woman of respectable brains ever made a mistake like -that.” - -“What is your own theory?” - -“I hardly believe that he committed suicide. I think that he was wild -with pain, and did not count the drops. He was probably half blind. On -the other hand, he was capable of anything when in a rage.” - -Mr. Simms scraped the floor with his boot-heels and beat a tattoo on his -knee with his fingers. “Very well,” he said at last. “We take your word, -of course. Now tell me as nearly as you can, every circumstance of that -night, and give me a general idea of your relations with him and your -reasons for leaving him. It is going to be one of the biggest fights -this State has ever seen, and we want all the help you can give us.” - -After he had gone Patience fell into a rage. Why had not Bourke come -himself instead of sending his underling? If he hesitated to meet her -after the abominable words he had used that second night at Peele Manor -why had he undertaken her case at all? Her pride revolted at the thought -of being defended by him, of owing her life to him. Once she was at the -point of writing him a haughty note declining to accept his services; -but Latimer Burr’s kindness deserved a more gracious acknowledgment. -Again, she took up her pen to inform him that unless he apologised he -must understand that she could have no relations with him; but her -lively fear of making herself ridiculous came to the rescue, and she -threw the pen aside. She resumed her novel, but it had lost its flavour. -Bourke’s face was on every page. The interview in the elm walk wrote -itself between the French lines; and the subsequent conversation in the -library danced in letters of red. She hated Bourke the more bitterly -because he had once been something more to her than any other man had -been. She worked herself into such a bad humour that she almost snubbed -Miss Merrien and a “Day” artist who came to interview and sketch her; -and when Morgan Steele arrived, late in the afternoon, she was as -perverse and unreasonable as if the widowed châtelaine of Peele Manor -with the world at her feet. He understood her mood perfectly, although -not the cause of it, and guyed her into good humour and her native sense -of the ridiculous. - -“Oh, I do like you,” she said. “You understand me so. Any other man -would go off in a huff. And I won’t always be like this. I suppose I am -nervous and upset and all the rest of it. Who wouldn’t be? And you know -I am tremendously fond of you.” - -“I know you are,” he said dryly. “As you will have ample time for -reflection and meditation in the next few months, you will find out just -how fond. But I am more glad than I can say to find you in this mood. It -is as healthy as irritability in illness. I am even willing to be -sacrificed.” - -Patience put out her hand and patted his soft hair with a spasm of -genuine affection. “You are the dearest boy in the world,” she said, -“and I do love you. For all your uncanny wisdom and cold-blooded -philosophy you are just a big lovable good-natured boy.” - -“Just the kind of fellow a woman would like to have for a brother, in -short.” - -“No! No! I think it will be the most charming thing in the world to be -married to you. You are such a compound. You will interest me forever. -Most people are such bores after a little.” - -“If you hadn’t started out in life with ideas upside-down, you would -really love me in loving me no more than you do now. But ideals and the -fixed idea have got to be worked out to the bitter end, as you are fond -of remarking. In reality, happiness means a comfortable state of affairs -between a man and a woman with plenty of brains, philosophy, and -passion, who are wholly congenial in these three matters, and have -chucked their illusions overboard. However, we won’t discuss the matter -any further at present. How do you like being the sensation of the day?” - -“Am I?” - -“Are you? Every newspaper in town had a big story this morning, and of -course the news has gone all over the country. Nothing else is to be -heard in the trains or in Park Row. Oh, you will have plenty to sustain -you. Lots of women would give their heads to be in your place.” - -He dined with her and remained until eight o’clock. After he had gone, -Patience sat for some time lost in a pleasurable reverie. He always left -her in a good humour, and she unquestionably loved him. Few women could -help loving Morgan Steele. She sighed once as she reflected that love -was not the tremendous passion she had once imagined it to be; in all -her dreams she had never pictured it as a restful and tranquillising -element; but she conceded that Steele’s philosophy was correct. - -And if he did not inspire her with a mightier passion it was her fault, -not his. Miss Merrien had told her of one brilliant newspaper woman who -had made a wilful idiot of herself on his behalf, and of a popular and -gifted actress who at one time had taken to haunting the “Day” office, -much to the enjoyment of his fellow editors and to his own futile wrath. - -“No,” she thought, “I made a mistake once, and the shock was so great -that it either benumbed or stunted me; or else the imaginary me was -killed and the real developed. And after such a marriage I doubt if -there are depths or heights left in one’s nature.” - -Then her mind drifted to her predicament, and she wondered that the -workings of fear had so wholly ceased. “I suppose it is because that man -is going to defend me,” she said, ruthlessly, at last. “They say he -could save a man that had been caught driving a knife into another man’s -heart with a hammer; so it is quite natural that I should feel safe.” - - - VII - -The next day a box of books and periodicals arrived from Steele. Rosita -thoughtfully subscribed to a clipping bureau, and sent Patience daily a -heavy package of “stories,” editorials, and telegrams of which she was -the heroine. Patience became so bewildered over the contradictory -descriptions of her personal appearance, the various versions of her -marital drama, the hundred and one theories for the murder and defence, -the ingenious analyses of her character, and the conflicting information -regarding her girlhood, that she wondered sometimes if a person could -come forth from the hands of so many creators and retain any original -birthmarks. The “Eye” telegraphed to its correspondent in San Francisco -to investigate her childhood, and the correspondent evidently -interviewed all her old enemies. Her mother’s happy career was detailed -with glee, and her own “sulky, moody, eccentric, murderous propensities” -were brilliantly epitomised. The story was entitled “She Tried To Murder -Her Mother,” and the “Eye’s” perfervid joy at this discovery throbbed in -an editorial. - -The story was copied the length and breadth of the United States; but it -is only fair to add that Mr. Field’s eloquent leaders in her defence -were as widely quoted. - -Miss Beale came to see her at once, and after a few tears and an -emphatic warning that “this terrible ordeal was the logical punishment -of her blasphemy of and disrespect to the Lord,” announced her intention -to sit by her during the trial, and let the jury see what a president of -the W. C. T. U. thought of a prisoner whose life was in their hands. -Patience told her that she loved her, and indeed was deeply grateful. - -She spent her mornings reading the newspapers and attending to her -correspondence. Tarbox always paid her a short call, and usually -discoursed of Garan Bourke, whom he admired extravagantly. For a half -hour before luncheon she permitted her fellow prisoners to sit before -her in a wondering semi-circle while she manicured her nails and drew -vivid word-pictures of the superior comforts incident upon the -resignation of alcohol. With the exception of Mag they were -weather-beaten creatures, with hollow eyes and weak pathetic mouths. -They admired Patience superlatively. She was touched by their devotion, -and occasionally read them the funny stories in the illustrated -weeklies. They listened with open mouth and voiceless laughter, which, -however, expressed itself vocally when the stories were told in Irish or -German dialect. Patience gave them the papers, and they pasted the -pictures on the walls of the corridor. Never before had the female ward -of the White Plains Jail presented so festive an appearance. When the W. -C. T. U. ladies came to sing to the prisoners they were inclined to be -horrified; but Patience assured them that love of art, however -manifested, was a hopeful sign. - -She was very comfortable. She had saved a thousand dollars,—to be -exact, Miss Merrien had saved them for her,—and she could command all -the small luxuries of prison life. The ugly walls of her cell had been -draped with red cloth, and a low bookcase was rapidly filling with the -literature of the moment. She would never have consented to save those -thousand dollars had not Miss Merrien represented that by judicious -economy she could manage to spend every third year abroad. They did her -good service now; she could accept great favours, but not small ones. -Graceful tributes were to be expected by every charming woman; but if -she had been dependent upon friends for the small comforts of her daily -life she would have gone without them. - -The W’s and Y’s of Mariaville forgave her, and brought her flowers, -tracts, and spiritual admonitions. She received the former with -gratitude and the latter with grace. Miss Merrien came as often as her -duties permitted, and so did all the other newspaper women she had ever -known or heard of. She was interviewed for nearly every newspaper in the -Union, and in most cases treated with sensational kindness. Many -strangers and a few old friends called. - -Steele came regularly once a week. He dared not come oftener. The “lover -in the case” was still a mystery, and it was as well that he should -remain so. Five other newspaper men lived in his house; therefore -Patience’s visit had told Bart Tripp nothing beyond the fact that she -had indubitably called on a young man at his apartments at a quarter -past nine in the morning. - -But despite the fact that much of her time was occupied Patience grew -very restless and nervous, after the novelty wore off. She spent hours -pacing up and down the corridor, and every evening after dark Tarbox -took her out in the jail-yard for a walk; but she had been used to long -walks and hours in the open air all her life, and no woman ever lived -less suited to routine and restraint of any sort. Fear did not return, -although the coroner’s jury had pronounced her guilty and she had been -indicted by the Grand Jury. - - - VIII - -When the dark days of winter came little light struggled through the low -grating, and she was obliged to keep her lamp burning most of the time. -Steele sent her one with a rose-coloured shade which shed a cheerful -light but hurt her eyes. When the storms began visitors came -infrequently. Moreover, as public interest cannot be kept at concert -pitch for any length of time, there was less and less about her in the -newspapers. Steele, who understood the intimate relationship between -public interest and the resignation of a prisoner, assured her that when -her trial came off in March she would once more be the popular news of -the day. - -At first the monotony of the long silent winter days was intolerable. -But gradually, by such short degrees, that she hardly realised the -change taking place within her, she grew to love her solitude and to be -grateful for it. For the first time since she had left Monterey her -hours were absolutely her own. She had longed for the solitude of a -forested mountain top. From her prison window she could see the naked -tops of a clump of trees above the buildings opposite, and even her -obedient imagination could not expand them to primeval heights; but at -least she had solitude and not a petty detail to annoy her. - -She sometimes wondered if it mattered where one spent the few years of -this unsatisfactory life. Nothing was of permanent satisfaction. -Strongly as she had been infatuated with newspaper work the interest -would have lasted only just so long. She found her modernity slipping -from her, herself relapsing into the dreaming child of the tower with -vague desire for something her varied experience of the world had not -helped her to find. Inevitably she came to know herself and the large -demands of her nature, and as inevitably she said to Morgan Steele one -day,— - -“I think you have known all along that it was a mistake.” - -“Yes,” he said, “I have known it.” - -“You have everything—everything,—good looks and distinction, brains -and modernity, magnetism of a queer cold sort, knowledge of women and -kindness of heart—I cannot understand. But the spark, the response, the -exaltation is not there,—the splendid rush of emotion. I love you, but -not in the way that makes matrimony marriage.” - -He looked at her with his peculiar smile, an expansion of one corner of -his mouth which gave him something of the expression of a satyr. “You -were badly in need of a companion, and you found one in me. You wanted -to be understood, and I understood you. You wanted sympathy, and I -sympathised with you; but I am not the man, and I have never for one -moment deluded myself.” - -“Then why would you have allowed me to drift into matrimony with -you?—as I should have done if I had not come here.” - -“Because the experiment would have been no more dangerous than most -matrimonial experiments. And it would have been very delightful for a -time.” - -“I should have loved you a good deal,” she said musingly, “and habit is -a tremendous force. And I should never have permitted myself to -recognise a mistake again—if the decisive step had been taken. Tell -me—” she added abruptly, “do you believe that if I had married you that -you would always have loved me?” - -“I certainly should never have been so unwise as to promise to, for that -is something no man can foretell. The chances are that I should not. All -phases of feeling are temporary,—all emotions, all desires, all -fulfilment. Life itself is temporary.” - -“Should you have been true to me?” - -“O-h-h, how in thunder can a man answer a question like that? That is -something he never knows till the time comes. If he is sensible he -wastes no time making resolutions, and if he is honest he makes no -promises.” - -“You do not love me,” she exclaimed triumphantly. - -“I am merely more honest, perhaps more analytical than most men,—that -is all. The man who swears he will love forever the woman that pleases -him most is simply talking from the depths of ignorance straight up -through his hat. No man knows anything—what he will do or feel -to-morrow. He knows nothing of himself until his time comes to die, and -then he knows blamed little.” - -Patience shook her head. “I don’t know. You may be right in the -analysis, but I think you lose a good deal. Love may be a species of -insanity, but the man whose brain is crystal is not to be envied by the -man whose brain can scorch reason and thought at times. You may save -yourself heartbreak, but you miss heaven. If you are a type of the -future, woman will change too. Man has been at woman’s feet throughout -the centuries. You and your kind will place her on an exact level with -yourselves and teach her that love means a comfortable coupling of -personalities. Something primitive has gone out of you. You have every -ingredient in your make-up except love. Liking and passion don’t make -love. When it fades out of man altogether chivalry and homage will go -with it. You would do a great deal for me, but you are incapable of any -splendid self-sacrifice. You are entirely selfish, although in the most -charming way.” - -“You are quite right,” he said smiling, “I have not much love in me; -just enough to make life a comfortable and pleasant sojourn, but not -enough to induce a regret were I obliged to toss it over to-morrow—” - -“Nor to make it a life of bitter misery did I leave it.” - -“No—to be perfectly frank I should not be bitterly miserable. I should -regret—but I should work and readjust myself. I have never yet given a -glance to the past. I give few to the future. No man gets more out of -the present—” - -“I won’t be loved like that,” said Patience, passionately. - -He leaned forward and took her hand, patting it gently. “You have depths -and heights in your nature which I fully appreciate but which I could -never stir nor satisfy,” he said. “Some man will. It won’t be all that -you expect—you have too much imagination—but you will have your day. -With your nature that is inevitable. I am sorry to give you up. You are -the most delightful woman I shall ever know. And if you had married me -things would probably have gone along satisfactorily enough. I should -have kept your mind occupied and talked to you about yourself—those are -the secrets of success in matrimony.” - -“Marriage with you would be like playing at matrimony. I want a home and -husband and children. I have seen enough to know that unless one is a -fanatic like Miss Tremont or Miss Beale, or the temporary result of a -new and forced civilisation like Hal, or a mercenary wanton like -Rosita—in short, if one is woman _par excellence_, and most of us, -clever or otherwise, even gifted, usually are, nothing else is worth the -toil and perplexity of being alive. But you mustn’t leave me,” she added -hurriedly; “I can’t stand it here if you don’t come to see me.” - -“I shall come exactly as I have done. Why not? Our love-making has -barely progressed beyond friendship: we shall hardly recognise any -change. I should feel lost if I could not have a talk with you once in a -while. I intend to have that for the rest of my life. It isn’t usually -the man that proposes the brother racket, but I merely define the basis -upon which we have really stood all along.” - -After he had gone Patience drew a long sigh of relief. The first -terrible mistake of her life was buried with Beverly Peele. A second had -been averted. Something seemed rebuilding within her: the undeflected -continuation of the little girl in the tower. For the first time she -understood herself as absolutely as mortal can; and she paid a tribute -to the zigzag of life which had helped her to that final understanding. - - - IX - -On the third of February she received a letter, the handwriting of whose -address made her change colour: she had seen it once on Mrs. Peele’s -desk. It was the first communication of any sort that she had received -from the man who was to defend her life. She opened the letter with -angry curiosity. - - MY DEAR MRS. PEELE, [it read],—You will pardon me I am sure for - not having called before this when I tell you that I have had a - rush of civil cases which have hardly given me time for sleep - and have kept me constantly in New York. And of course you have - understood that there was really nothing I could do until my - able confederate, Mr. Simms, had gathered in and digested all - the facts in the case. Now, however, I am free, and the time has - come when I shall be obliged to see you twice a week until the - first of March. I have worked the harder in order to be at - liberty to devote myself wholly to your case. Need I add how - absolute that devotion will be, my dear Mrs. Peele, or how - entirely every resource I possess shall be at your service? - - At two o’clock on Monday I shall be in the sheriff’s private - office with Mr. Simms and my assistant, Mr. Lansing. Will you - kindly meet us there? - - With highest regard, I am, dear Mrs. Peele, - - Yours faithfully, - GARAN BOURKE. - -Patience read this carefully worded epistle twice, then laughed and -shrugged her shoulders. - -“I am glad he has declared himself,” she thought. “Of course I should -have ignored the past, but it is a relief to think that there will be no -awkwardness.” - - - X - -On Monday at two o’clock Tarbox came up to her cell to escort her down -to the sheriff’s office. - -“Bourke’s there, and I never saw him looking better,” he said, rubbing -his hands. “Oh, he’ll pull you through. Don’t you worry.” - -Patience was very nervous, but her years of self-repression and her -experience at Peele Manor had forged a key with which she could at times -lock nerve and muscle into subjection. As she entered the sheriff’s -office she smiled upon Mr. Bourke as graciously as any young and -beautiful woman would be expected to smile upon a great lawyer enlisted -in her service. - -Bourke came forward with the same ballast, although the red was in his -face. - -“It was better for you to come down here,” he said. “There could be no -privacy in your cell, and we must have absolute privacy for these -meetings. Of course you know that we are going to rehearse you. Mrs. -Peele, this is my assistant, Mr. Lansing.” He indicated a good-looking -well-dressed young fellow, with boyish blue eyes and a tilted nose. She -liked him at once and gave him her hand. Mr. Simms had risen as she -entered, and they had nodded distantly. - -“Take this chair, Mrs. Peele,” continued Bourke. “Yes. This is the first -of many rehearsals. We shall keep them up until the trial. You will -imagine yourself on the witness stand. Mr. Simms, whom, fortunately, you -don’t like, is the district attorney, Lansing is the judge, I am the -counsel for the defence. I shall make the direct examination, and then -Mr. Simms will cross-examine you with all the subtlety, the venom, and -the irritating minutiæ of a district attorney determined to make himself -immortal. I think we have outlined with reasonable completeness all that -will or can be asked you, so that you can hardly be taken off your -guard: you must be prepared to give direct answers without suspicious -promptness, and avoid saying anything that could be misconstrued.” - -“Must I go on the stand?” asked Patience, fearfully. “I thought one was -not obliged to, and I shall be so nervous.” - -Bourke shook his head emphatically. “The judge might reiterate a hundred -times to the jury that your failure to go on the witness stand should -not be counted against you, and still it would count—more than -anything. It is something a jury never overlooks. These rehearsals are -to keep you from being nervous, as much as anything else.” - -“Do you believe I am innocent?” asked Patience, giving way to an -uncontrollable impulse. - -“I do—both personally and professionally.” - -Simms laughed. “Bourke is so enthusiastic,” he said, “that if he had -made up his professional mind that you were innocent, the personal would -follow suit.” - -“No, but I do,” said Bourke, laughing, and looking at Patience with eyes -which for the moment were more kind than keen. “Now, here goes.” - -When the two hours’ rehearsal were over she was very pale. “I did not -know the case could look so black,” she said. - -“It is a black case,” said Simms. - -“Do you really take so much interest?” she asked Bourke, curiously. “You -make me feel as if the issue were yours and not mine. Or is that only -your professional pride?” - -“Bourke is the most ambitious man at the New York bar,” said Simms. - -“And the most human,” added Lansing. - -Patience smiled at the young man and turned to Bourke, whose eyes were -twinkling. “I take a very deep personal interest in your case,” he said -gallantly. - -“Bourke is an Irishman,” said Simms, with sarcasm. - -“We’ll excuse you,” said Bourke. “You know you have business with -Sturges,” and Simms gathered up his papers and retired, followed by -Lansing. As the door closed Bourke’s face changed. He became serious at -once. - -“Mrs. Peele,” he said, “it would be foolish and unkind to conceal from -you the fact that you are in a very grave position. I have never known a -more damaging chain of circumstantial evidence. The only jury we can -possibly get together, the only men in Westchester County who will know -nothing about the case, will be farmers and small tradespeople. These -men are narrow minded, unworldly, religious, bigoted people who will -look with horror upon a woman accused of murder; who will be surlily -prejudiced against you because you did not love your husband, and -because you left him; and above all they are likely to think you should -be executed if for no other reason than because,”—He hesitated. The -blood came into his face. “Tell me, is it true? I don’t believe it. I -can’t believe it—” - -“That I had a lover? No, I did not have a lover. If that spy reports -exactly what he heard, he must himself prove that I did not. I liked—I -do like—a man, a former editor of mine, immensely. At that time I -believed myself in love with him; but I was as mistaken as I suppose all -impulsive and mentally lonely people are once or oftener in their -lifetimes. Although he visits me now we have come to a complete -understanding. I shall not marry him.” - -Bourke looked at the floor for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “Yes. -That is a great point, of course. Well—as a rule I can do anything I -like with a jury in Westchester County; I know and have known for twenty -years almost every man within forty miles; but we shall have to go out -into the highways and byways for talesmen: your case has attracted -almost universal attention. It is just possible, therefore, that the -jury may convict you—Don’t be frightened—Don’t look like -that—please!—If that happens I shall take the case to the General -Term, and failing that, to the Court of Appeals. One way or another I -shall get you off—I pledge you my life on that,” he added vehemently. -“Will you put your faith in me and keep up?” - -“I am sure no woman could help it,” said Patience, smiling graciously. - -That night, somewhat to her amusement, she thought on Bourke with a -certain sweet tremor until she fell asleep. She did not yet love him, -but he satisfied her imagination; and he was the first man that ever -had. - - - XI - -Patience was rehearsed eight or ten times, Mr. Simms cross-examining by -a different method upon each occasion, racking his brain for new points -with which to confound her. She began to feel quite at ease on the -witness stand, and equal to the coming tilt with the district attorney. -Aside from a natural nervousness she felt no fear of the approaching -crisis, rather an excited interest. The papers were booming her again, -and she would have been less than American had she not appreciated her -position as heroine of the most sensational drama of the day. - -In the last week of February, however, she received information which -induced her first misgiving: Miss Beale was down with pneumonia. That -superlatively healthy person loved fresh air only less than she loved -the Lord, and slept with her windows open in mid-winter. Despite habit -she invariably caught cold when travelling, as the one window of a small -sleeping-room was likely to be at the head of her bed. She had defied -Nature once too often. - -When Patience told Mr. Bourke of Miss Beale’s illness, the red streaked -his face, as it had a habit of doing when he was disturbed. They were -alone in the office. - -“Will it make much difference?” she asked anxiously. - -“Oh, no, I hope not; only she would have been a great card. She is known -and respected throughout the county, and I should have dinned her in the -ears of the jury. But you should have some woman with you. Is there no -one else?” - -Patience shook her head. “No one that would be of use. I have few women -friends. Women don’t like me much, I think. Mrs. Burr was my most -intimate friend, but her husband naturally wanted to keep her out of the -affair, and sent her off to Europe.” - -“It is odd. I cannot think of you as friendless. You attract and -antagonise more strongly than any one I ever saw.” - -He was staring hard at her, and she turned her head away, colouring -slightly. It was the first time they had been alone since the initial -rehearsal, although he and the other lawyers had often lingered, after -business was over, to talk with her. Apparently she and he were the best -of friends, and their former acquaintance had not been recognised by a -glance. - -“I wonder if we really are friends,” he said abruptly, then shook his -shoulders slightly, as if, having made the plunge, he would not retreat. - -Patience beat her fingers lightly on the desk, but did not turn her face -to him. - -“Our relationship is very agreeable,” she said coolly. “I am delighted -that Mr. Simms, for instance, is not my counsel.” - -There was a moment’s suggestive silence, and then he said: “I -understand. I can be nothing but counsel to you until I apologise. I -have not done so before because there is no excuse to offer. I can only -explain: you had deceived and outwitted and made a fool of me, and I was -furious. Moreover, I was horribly disappointed. I am perfectly well -aware that all that is no excuse. I was bitterly ashamed afterwards, and -far more furious with myself than I had been with you. I have never -ceased to deplore it. We might at least have been friends—” - -“Ah, you forgave me then?” asked Patience, looking at his flushed face -with a smile. He had never looked more awkward nor more attractive. - -“Oh, yes; my offence was so much worse, you see, I had to.” - -“Well,” she said, giving him her hand gracefully, “we will forgive each -other.” - -He accepted her hand promptly and evinced no disposition to relinquish -it. “You are so cold, though,” he said ruefully. “Your forgiveness is -merely indifference. But of course,” hastily, “you are absorbed in much -weightier matters than friendship. I can imagine how insignificant all -other episodes of your past must seem—” - -“Oh, if it were not for you I might have been here before to-day, and in -a much worse predicament. I doubt if I should have left him as soon as I -did if it had not been for your unpleasant truths. I was drifting, and -also drifting toward morbidity, where I might have been capable of -anything. If I had really killed him and been arrested I should have -said so, and even you could not have saved me.” - -“Oh, it would have been easier: I could have got you off on the plea of -insanity. But am I really a link in the chain? I am egoistical—and -interested—enough to be—pleased.” - -“Oh, yes,” she said, laughing a little. “You have had a good deal more -to do with forging some of the links than you imagine.” - -His hand was beginning to tremble, and she withdrew her own. He did not -attempt to recapture it, and for a moment they regarded each other -defensively. He had avoided the mistake of mistakes for thirty-six -years, and the very flavour of romance about his experience with this -woman made him wary. She had been mistaken twice and had ordered her -imagination to sleep. Something within him pulled her, but none knew -better than she the independent activity of sex. Still, like all women, -fire was dear to her fingers. His eyes had a gleam in them which made -her experience keenly the pleasurable sensation of danger. - -“Did you know that night that I had forgotten our conversation in the -tower?” he said, laughing uneasily. “Well, I will admit that I had, but -I certainly remember the conversation in the elm walk—every word of it. -It was a singular conversation,” he continued hurriedly. “I have not -found her yet, by the way. What is love, anyhow? Something always seems -to be lacking. I have wanted a good many women, but there were shallows -somewhere.” - -Patience had taken a chair and was fanning herself slowly. She answered -with a judicial air, as of one deciding some abstract point to which she -had given exhaustive study: “The lack is spiritual emotion. People of -strong natures who are really in love are shaken by a passion that for -the time being demands no physical expression. It is only when it -subsides, in fact, that the other manifests itself. On the other hand, -the unimpassioned, the physically meagre, are incapable of even -imagining such an exaltation of emotion. It is the supreme convulsion of -mystery. And it must be impossible to feel it more than once in a -lifetime—for more than one person, I mean.” - -“Have you ever felt it?” he asked abruptly. He was sitting opposite her, -his brows drawn together, regarding her intently. Her cool impersonality -nonplussed him. - -“No.” - -“Then how do you know?” - -“From the organ. If one wants to read the riddle of human nature let him -listen to the organ for ten minutes. It lashes the soul—the emotional -nature—up to its utmost possibilities. One knows instinctively—that -is, if one is given to reasoning at all; for instincts are dead letters -without analysis—that only one other force can cause a mightier tumult, -a greater exaltation. Those that do not reason mistake it for a desire -to spread their wings and fly to the throne of grace.” - -Bourke set his lips and looked at the floor. “Of course you are right,” -he said. “A man would never know that until he had felt it. It takes a -woman to divine it. Perhaps it is as well he doesn’t know it—there is -one disappointment the less in life if such moments never come to him; -and I doubt if they come to many. Either the savage is too strong in -most of us, or we never come within range of the responsive spark. I -have held that if there is any meaning at all in the progress of man out -of barbarism it is that he shall become a brain with a refinement and -intensity of passion which shall give happiness without disgust. But you -go beyond me.” - -“Oh, we are both right,” said Patience, rising. “We are much better off -than our ancestors. I like so much to talk to you. When I am free you -must come to see me often.” - -“I shall, indeed. How gracefully you fan yourself. I never saw any one -use the fan in exactly the same way.” - -“I learned how from the old Spanish women in Monterey. They hold the -thumb outwards, you know. That makes all the difference in the world. -_Au revoir._” - - - XII - -The trial began on the eighth of March. Patience slept ill the night -before, and arose early. She looked forward to the day’s ordeal with -mingled nervousness and curiosity. Her faith in Bourke was complete, and -her mind was of the order that craves experience. She could not divest -herself of the idea that she was about to play the part of heroine in a -great human drama. And assuredly there has been no such theatre as the -court room since the world began. - -She dressed herself with extreme care, in a tailor frock and toque of -black and white. The costume was becoming, but she shook her head at her -reflection in the mirror: hers was not the type of beauty to appeal to -the class of men in whose hands her life would be; rather they would -resent its cold pride, its manifest of race and civilisation. She -remembered her youthful satisfaction in the fact that “common men did -not like her.” Rosita or Honora would carry a jury by storm, but she was -too subtle to appeal to men outside of her own social sphere. Tarbox -liked her because she was game and dependent on him for comfort: it was -doubtful if he thought her pretty. He came up at ten minutes to ten. He -wore a new suit of clothes, and looked excited and impatient. - -“There’s a lot of swells come,” he said without preliminary; “some from -New York and some from the county. We’ve got ’em up in the gallery, and -they look fine in their new spring clothes, I tell you. First time I -ever seen swells in this court house. I rather thought they didn’t go in -for that kind of thing.” - -“They go in for fads, and you can as easily tell where lightning will -strike next as what will be the next fad to possess fashionable women. -Where is Mr. Bourke?” - -“Up in the court room, I guess. Ready?” - -A few moments later he led her up the stair at the back of the court -room. A crowd of men at the door parted to let her enter, staring at her -with eager curiosity. As she walked down the room to her seat beside her -counsel she was conscious of a deep level of men’s faces below and a -tier of high-bred faces and bright spring gowns in the gallery above. -She felt as if she were being shot upon a battery of eyes, and an -impulse to turn and run; she looked like a black and white effigy of -pride. - -The large handsome room was tinted a pale blue and stencilled about the -mouldings. The Bench and panelling behind it, the desks and tables, were -of black walnut. Four long windows on each side of the room revealed the -naked trees of March and the cheerless landscape. On the right of -Patience’s chair was the empty jury box, before her the Bench. In the -space thus formed—flanked on the other side by the talesmen summoned -for the trial and at the back by the audience—was a right angle of long -study tables, three or four round tables, and many chairs. Every chair -was occupied. Writing pads lay on the smaller tables. Patience -recognised several of the reporters. By one of the long tables before -the jury box sat Bourke, Simms, and Lansing. The former whispered to her -that many of the men within the rail were eminent lawyers who had come -to hear the case tried. - -The judge sat alone on the Bench: an old man with pink face and head and -neck, a close band of silver hair at the base of his skull. His face was -narrow, his upper lip long. On either side of his mouth was a deep rut. -The nose was coarse and strong, the eyes behind the spectacles -humourous, severe, and a little sly. His silver chin-tuft was shaped -like the queen of hearts. - -Just below the Bench, beside one of the long tables, sat a man whom -Patience did not notice at once, but to whom, as the judge called the -court to order, she turned suddenly, conscious of a fixed gaze. He sat -with one arm along the table, the other hand absently rolling a piece of -paper. His narrowed eyes were regarding her with cold speculation. -Patience shuddered. She knew that he was Sturges, the district attorney. -Tarbox had told and retold the history of his jealousy of Bourke, and -his registered vow to win one of the great legal battles of which they -were occasionally chief combatants. And this was the greatest! The man’s -face was set. He looked like a fate. - -The clerk called a name. A man shuffled into the jury box. Sturges stood -up and put the usual questions. He spoke with exaggerated courtesy. -Occasionally he smiled: a mechanical smile, as if an invisible string -connected each corner of his mouth with a manipulator at the back of his -head. His voice was soothing and cultivated, his manner almost -deferential to the humble man in the box. Patience followed every motion -and word with fascinated attention. When he asked the talesman if he had -“any conscientious scruples regarding capital punishment as practised in -this State,” she felt the touch of icy fingers and her feet slipping -into an open grave. Bourke, who divined her sensations, smiled -encouragingly; and after she had heard the question some fifty times, -she ceased to attach any personal meaning to it. - -They were four days impannelling the jury. The first time Patience stood -up to face an accepted juror she regarded the hairy and ill-kept farmer -with such haughty and disdainful eyes that Bourke whispered hurriedly: -“For God’s sake don’t look at them like that or they’ll send you up out -of spite. Remember that this class of people is always at war with its -betters.” - -“I can’t help it,” said Patience. “It’s humiliating to think of being at -the mercy of men like that.” - -When the box was filled at last she regarded the occupants attentively. -They were hard-featured men of middle age, with long bare upper lip and -compressed mouth. Their grey skin was furrowed with lines of care and -hardship, their chin whiskers grizzled and scant. Their eyebrows stood -out over faded eyes in wrinkled sockets. But what excited Patience’s -wonder was the small size of the heads. She had never seen twelve heads -so little. They were hardly an advance upon their hairy ancestors. -Throughout the trial she furtively watched the twelve faces of those -twelve meagre heads. Never once did their expression, stolid and set, -change. At night they haunted her. She awoke in the morning with a -violent start, seeing them for a moment in a row on the foot board of -her bed. She speculated, at times, upon the lives of those men, those -pinched grubbing lives, and felt for them a sort of terrified pity. What -a mere glimpse of the world she had had, after all, and what ugly strata -it had! What was the matter with civilisation? - - - XIII - -On the fourth day the district attorney opened the case with an address -to the jury which was a masterpiece of temperate statement and damning -suggestion. He dwelt long upon the remarkable points of the case: the -youth and beauty and intelligence and social position of the defendant, -the distinguished family which had been plunged into sorrow and disgrace -by her crime, the extraordinary interest the crime had excited -throughout the civilised world. He then gave a running account, clear -and straightforward and decisive, of what the prosecution would prove, -and concluded with a cold, terse, but reiterated warning that the -prisoner at the bar was entitled to no sympathy because of her sex and -position; that he and the jury were there for one purpose only: to -consider the facts of the case and to do their plain duty, utterly -regardless of consequences to the individual. Every word was chosen and -weighed, and told like the ring of a steel hammer on a steel plate. - -Dr. Lewis was then called to prove the fact of Beverly Peele’s death, -and his vigorous story weighed heavily in the scales against the -defence. The moment the district attorney sat down Bourke was on his -feet. For a moment he stood lifting and shaking the loose cloth of the -table beside him; then asked one or two random questions which put the -witness for the prosecution quite at his ease. In the course of a moment -the witness began to writhe, and at the end of five minutes manifested -his consciousness of the fact that he was a small country practitioner, -to be regarded by any intelligent jury with contempt. Nevertheless, it -was impossible to shake his testimony. - -He was followed by the New York physician, a man of eminence, who had -assisted at the death-bed, then by the coroner. The fact of young -Peele’s death being firmly established in the jury box, a chemist was -put upon the stand to testify that he had found morphine in the stomach -of the deceased. He was worried and badgered and ridiculed and derided -by Bourke, who temporarily infected everybody in the court room with his -scorn of the exercise of chemistry as applied to morphine in the stomach -of a dead man, but held his ground, having been maltreated in a like -manner many times before. Following, came a civil engineer, who -described the grounds and general position of Peele Manor to the jury; -and the testimony for the day was over. - -The next morning the prosecution passed on to the motive. Honora was the -first witness called. She wore a black frock and hat, and looked -dignified and sad. In her clear childlike voice she described to the -jury her moment of confusion and horror when awakened from a profound -sleep by the prisoner; told the mournful story of the unavailing -attempts at resuscitation; and hesitatingly admitted, in full detail, -the unmistakable indifference of the wife. To the latter testimony Mr. -Bourke “objected,” as he had done to similar testimony by the doctors, -but the objection was over-ruled by the judge. She also admitted having -seen from her window the defendant returning from town after her early -visit on the morning of the “Eye” story, inappropriately attired in grey -and pink, and having discovered the newspapers in confusion on the -library floor before any other member of the household except the -prisoner had arisen. She related Patience’s previous complaint that her -husband always waited until she was in her first heavy sleep before -demanding the morphine, and her fear lest she should some night give him -an overdose. The jury must have been small headed indeed, to fail to -understand the district attorney’s insinuations regarding the prisoner’s -deep-laid scheme to avert suspicion. - -As Honora gave her testimony Patience saw Mr. Bourke’s eyes sparkle. She -knew that some pregnant idea had flashed into that lightning-like brain. -As the district attorney took his seat he rose slowly and smiled -sociably at Honora. She bent her head slightly; she had always liked -him. - -“Miss Mairs,” he said haltingly, his eyes wandering to the judge, as if -in search of inspiration, his hand flirting the loose cloth of the -table, “you are sure that Mrs. Peele wore a gray gown to New York that -morning?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“And the condition of the newspapers seemed to you to indicate great -agitation of mind?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Yes, yes. And she returned in an hour or two, you say?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Miss Mairs!” he thundered, turning suddenly upon her and pointing a -rigid finger straight at her startled face, “are you sure that you were -asleep when Mrs. Peele awakened you on the night of Beverly Peele’s -death?” - -Patience drew her breath sharply. She closed her eyes. Honora had not -been asleep that night! The certainty came to her as suddenly and as -positively as it had come to Bourke. - -For the fraction of a moment Honora hesitated. Every man and woman in -the court room was breathless. Several had started to their feet. - -“Quite sure,” she replied finally, and that silver shallow voice did not -falter. - -“You are _sure_ that you heard no one go to the lavatory that night, -before Mrs. Peele spoke to you?” He hurled the words at her as the Great -Judge might hurl the final sentence on Judgment Day. - -“Sure.” - -“Was your door open that night?” - -“I don’t remember.” - -Patience leaned over and whispered to Lansing, who sprang forward and -whispered to Bourke. - -“The night was hot,” continued Bourke. “Were you not in the habit of -leaving your door open on hot nights?” - -“Sometimes.” - -“Was it not always your custom?” - -“Not always. When I thought of it I opened the door, but I frequently -forgot it.” - -“Yes! Yes! You are quite sure you cannot remember whether or not it was -open on that night?” - -“I cannot remember.” - -“Do you remember any other nights on which Mrs. Peele went to the -lavatory to drop the morphine?” - -“Yes, sir; a great many.” - -“But of this all important night you remember nothing?” - -“No, sir.” - -“Yes! Mrs. Peele never was called upon to drop the morphine until after -twelve o’clock. Were you in the habit of lying awake until late?” - -“Yes.” - -“But on this night you went to sleep early?” - -“Yes.” - -“You heard or saw—you are on your oath, remember—nothing whatever -until Mrs. Peele called you?” - -“Nothing.” - -“You can go.—She is lying,” he whispered to Patience. “Damn her, I’ll -make her speak yet if I have to throttle it out of her.” - -Mr. Peele was the witness next called. He was treated with extreme -diffidence by the district attorney, and even the judge gave him a -fraternal smile. He told the story of the momentous night with parental -indignation finally controlled, then, in spite of repeated “objections” -and constant nagging, the significant tale of wifely indifference and -desertion, and read to the jury “that cruel letter written to a dying -man” the day before the defendant returned to nurse her husband. He -repeated with the dramatic effect of the legal actor those dark -insinuations of the prisoner: “You had better let me go! I feel that I -shall kill him if I stay!” And later in the town house when she had -struck her husband in the face: “You had better keep him out of my way. -Do you know that once I tried to kill my own mother?” - -He told of her eager interest in untraceable poisons one night when the -subject of murder had come up at the dinner-table, her cold-blooded -analysis of human motives. - -Then he passed on to the painfully significant history of the day before -the death: her demand for a divorce; her fury at her husband’s refusal; -her acknowledgment that she had quarrelled violently with the deceased a -short time before calling the family to his death-bed. - -As he spoke Patience’s blood congealed. The woman he depicted was enough -to inspire any jury with horror. It was herself and not herself, a -Galatea manufactured by a clever lawyer. - -But it was Mr. Bourke’s privilege to give the Galatea a soul. Despite -the older man’s greater legal experience, his superior wariness and -subtlety, he was forced to admit that his son was a fool; that his son’s -wife was a woman of brilliant intellect driven to desperation at being -tied down to a fool; that so long as she had lived with him she had done -her duty; that when she had returned as his nurse she had fulfilled her -part of the contract to the letter; that never had she given her husband -cause for real jealousy; that the witness himself had made a companion -of her, and that he had been bitterly disappointed in his son. - -The terrible facts could not be stricken out, but Mr. Peele, -nevertheless, was made to pass the most uncomfortable hours of his life. -“And in spite of these threats,” exclaimed Bourke, with the accentuation -of one addressing an idiot at large, “in spite of the precision with -which you remembered them, you permitted your family to implore her to -return and become your son’s nurse; you permitted her to sleep in a room -communicating with his, where, in a fit of passion—if she is the woman -you profess to believe her to be—she could have murdered him in the -dead of night with a carving knife or a hatchet, before any one—even -the lightly sleeping Miss Mairs—could have flown to the rescue; you -permitted her—” he turned suddenly and faced the jury, then wheeled -about and regarded Mr. Peele with scornful inquiry—“you permitted her -to drop morphine for your son, and to have unrestrained access to the -drug, knowing that he in his agony would swallow whatever she gave him -without question. Will you kindly explain to the jury whether this mode -of proceeding was ingenuousness on your part, or criminal connivance?” - -Mr. Peele’s under lip pressed the upper almost to the septum of his -nose. His eyes half closed and glittered unpleasantly; but he controlled -himself and answered,— - -“I paid no attention to her threats at the time.” - -“Ah! You did not believe in them? You admit that?” - -“I classed them with the usual hysterical ravings of women. That was my -error.” - -“State, if you please, your specific reasons for your change of mind. -You will hardly, as a lawyer, claim to have been converted to the -defendant’s capacity for crime by the mere fact that your son died of an -overdose of morphine?” - -And throughout the long day Mr. Bourke hectored him, fighting him, point -by point, smashing to bits his testimony relative to the events of the -day preceding the death, evidence to which he was not an eye-witness, -which he had received at second hand from his wife and son. The “cruel -letter written to a dying man” was disposed of in a similar manner. - -“You believed your son to be in a precarious condition when you -counselled them to send for your son’s wife?” - -“I did.” - -“But you believed with the doctors that if she returned, thereby -bringing him peace of mind as well as tender care, he had excellent -chances for life?” - -“I did.” - -“And Mrs. Burr was instructed to present that phase of the question to -the defendant, with all the force of which she was capable?” - -“Yes.” - -“And the defendant so understood it?” - -“I suppose she did.” - -“And yet you assert that this purely business-like letter, written by a -self-respecting woman, was addressed to a dying man, while at the same -time you assert that this man could be cured by the gratification of a -whim, and that you had taken particular pains to make the defendant -aware of the fact!” - -When Mr. Peele finally left the stand, he looked battered and limp. - - - XIV - -As soon as the court had opened on the following morning, Mrs. Peele was -called. She looked haughtily askance at the worn Bible as the clerk -rattled off the oath, bent her head as would she whiff upon what -plebeian lips had touched so often and so evidently, and took the -witness chair as were she mounting a throne. She was apparelled in -crape. Only her intimate friends could have told whether the backward -bend of her head was due to the weight of her veil or the weight of her -ancestors. At first she stared at the district attorney with haughty -resentment, as, for the benefit of the humble jury, he curtly asked her -several direct questions; but remembering that he was “a Sturges,” and -also recalling her husband’s admonitions, she unbent, and even -condescended to address the jury. Her tale of the night in no wise -differed from her husband’s; but her accentuation of Patience’s dark -threats and marital deficiencies was all her own. Her suggestion of a -lover in the case caused a sudden movement in the jury box, although the -stolid faces did not relax. Under cross-examination much of her -testimony was as effectually demolished as her husband’s had been. - -Two maid servants followed. They testified to violent quarrels between -the young couple. Then the butler testified to the reiterant and -emphatic command of the prisoner on the day before the death to send to -New York for morphine. - -The prosecution produced its trump card: the stable boy who had spied -upon the interviews between the prisoner and the mysterious lover. The -man had evidently been carefully rehearsed—as Bourke later on pointed -out to the jury—for his memory of the eight or ten interviews he had -witnessed needed little refreshing. His “best recollection” was given -glibly and ungrammatically. He dilated upon the young man’s remarkable -personal beauty, and observed that it far outshone his beloved Mr. -Beverly’s. They had talked principally of books in all but the last two -interviews, but had looked perfectly happy. His account of the last two -interviews created a profound impression in the court room, even the -jury leaning forward slightly. The judge frowned and wheeled his chair -sharply when the man gave the gist of the prisoner’s matter-of-fact -objection to living with a man who was not her husband. - -Mr. Bourke’s rich voice had never rung with deeper indignation and -disgust, never shaped itself to more cutting sarcasm than when he made -the man see himself and the jury see him as a coward, a cur, a spy, a -liar, an eager schemer for an innocent woman’s life. “You felt it your -duty,” he concluded, “to spy upon a woman of irreproachable reputation -who met a friend in an open wood in broad daylight—Yes, yes,” with all -the lingering scornful emphasis which only he could give that simple -word. “You never felt yourself a cowardly scoundrel meddling in what was -none of your business—No! No!” He turned to the jury with the passion -still upon his face, but when he took his seat he smiled encouragingly -to his admiring young client. - -“Wouldn’t he make an actor?” whispered Simms. “I never saw him do the -lofty indignation act with finer effect.” - -“Well, he would be a great actor, at least,” retorted Patience, “and I -am convinced that you would be a very small one.” - -“Just wait,” said Simms, angrily. “I’ve got to talk to this jury about -you in a day or two, and if you don’t forget I ever doubted you I’ll eat -my hat. The best lawyer’s the best fakir, and a few days from now you’ll -see what an ambitious man I am.” - -“Miss Rosita Thrailkill,” called the district attorney when the court -opened next morning. The audience stood up to a man. - -A plump willowy Spanish figure undulated behind the jury box, kissed the -Bible reverently, and ascended the witness stand. Rosita was clad in -black and yellow, a mantilla in place of a hat, and many diamonds. She -looked as pretty and as naughty as possible. As she met Patience’s eyes, -she wafted her a kiss, and the prisoner groaned in spirit. She gave her -name and birthplace with melodious caressing accent and her marked -precision of speech. Yes, the defendant had been her dear friend, her -best friend, her only intimate friend. Yes, with unaffected reluctance, -Mrs. Sparhawk had been disreputable, and Patience had once attempted her -life. Yes, she was the prima donna of light opera known as La Rosita. -Did she appear before the public in tights and scant attire? Yes, why -not? Had she not had a number of lovers? Objected to and sustained. -Flashing indignation of soft Spanish eyes. Did she not have the -reputation of being a woman of loose and lawless life? Objected to and -sustained. Angry rattle of fan. Was it not in her house that the -prisoner was arrested? Yes, it was! and she loved her Patita and would -always give her shelter. - -When the district attorney sat down with an ugly smile on his thin -mouth, Bourke, muttering anathema, rose to his feet. - -“Was there ever a whisper against your reputation when you were a -school-girl in Monterey and most intimate with the prisoner?” - -“No, _señor_!” cried Rosita, paying no attention to the objection. “I -was a child, and could not even endure boys.” - -“How many times have you seen the defendant since you left Monterey?” - -Rosita cast up her eyes, then tapped the sticks of her fan successively -as she spoke. - -“Once she came to see me just after—ah—WCTU died; then once just -before she left Mr. Peele; then that day the ‘Eye’ came out and said she -had done this so horrible thing. _Ay, dios!_” - -“She has called upon you three times only, then, since you were children -in Monterey, since you have been the Rosita of the public; in the last -five years, in short?” - -“_Si, señor_—yes, sir.” - -“How long did she remain upon her first visit?” - -“Oh, only a little while. I told her something that shocked her, for she -was always so proper.” - -“What did you tell her?” - -“Objected to,” cried the district attorney. - -“Objection sustained,” snapped the judge. - -“How long did she remain on her second visit?” - -“About a half hour. I never knew what she came at all for. She just -floated in and out.” Rosita waved her arm with enchanting grace. - -“Did she tell you why she came the third time?” - -“Because she had no other place to go to. She said no hotel would take -her in.” - -“She said that her old landlady had refused to admit her, did she not?” - -“_Si, señor._” - -“Yes, yes!—and that in her terrible extremity she naturally turned to -the friend of her childhood?” - -“_Si!_” and Rosita wept. - -“But that she should not have gone to your house if there had been any -possibility of obtaining entrance to a hotel, or if she had not been -turned out of her father-in-law’s house?” - -“_Ay, yi!_ yes.” - -“That is all. You can go.” - -During the rest of that day and the two following days the experts for -the prosecution had the stand. The innumerable questions asked by the -district attorney, the technical details of the cross-examinations, the -constant interruptions, and the minutiæ of the evidence emptied the -court room after the first hour, and even Patience became bored, and -fell to thinking of other things, not forgetting to pity those twelve -puzzled little heads in the jury box. - -The gist of the evidence was that there was enough morphine in Beverly -Peele’s stomach to kill two men. - - - XV - -“Our turn has come,” said Lansing to Patience on the morning after the -expert testimony was concluded. “We are confident of success now.” - -“But the facts are hideous, and they have painted me black.” - -“Mr. Bourke scraped off a good deal, and he’ll have the rest off before -he gets through. If he could only make that lying woman open her mouth! -You’ve borne yourself splendidly. Keep in good condition for the witness -stand. Are you frightened?” - -“No,” she said, smiling at Bourke gratefully. “Not a bit.” - -Simms opened the case for the defence. - -He had a harsh strident voice. He gesticulated as if practising for a -prize fight, doubling back and springing forward. He cleared his throat -with vicious emphasis and rasped his heels upon the floor. His -statements were dry and matter-of-fact, his language bald; but he made a -direct vigorous and enthusiastic speech. The jury was informed that it -was there to save the life of one of the most brilliant and high-minded -young women of the age,—a woman utterly incapable of murder or of any -violent act, a woman with the mild and meditative mind of the student. -That it would be proved not only that she was far too clever to take -life by such clumsy methods, but that she had no object, as she had -gained her liberty, and the lover was a myth. The whole prosecution was -a malignant and personal prosecution of an innocent but too gifted woman -by an absurdly conceited family that had resented her superior -intelligence. This and much more of fact and fancy. But Patience, with -perverse feminity, liked him none the better, and would not even look at -him when he sat down. - -Mr. Field was the first witness for the defence. Although compelled -under cross-examination to admit the prisoner’s interest in subtle -poisons, he managed to convey to the jury that it was merely the result -of an unusually brilliant and inquiring mind, a thought born of the -moment, of his suggestion. He gave the highest tribute to her -cleverness, her work on his paper, and to her reputation. - -Latimer Burr was called next, and spoke with enthusiasm of her -“unfailing submission to a man of abominable and savage temper until -submission ceased to be a virtue.” He had never heard her utter any -threats to kill. Yes, it was true that he had engaged counsel for -defence. He believed in her thoroughly. - -Miss Merrien, her landlady, and Mrs. Blair were put on the stand next -morning, and the good character they gave Patience was unshaken by the -nagging of the district attorney. Mr. Tarbox testified to her demeanour -of innocence during her imprisonment. - -“But the defence is weak all the same,” whispered Patience to Lansing. -“Not a word can be said in rebuttal. Only Mr. Bourke’s eloquence can -save me.” - -“Good character goes a long way,” replied Lansing. “You have no idea of -its weight with a jury, particularly with a jury of this kind.” - -Patience was put on the witness stand next. The supreme effort to -overcome nervousness gave her an icy and repellent demeanour. Never had -she held her back as erect, her head as high. She kept her eyelids half -lowered, and spoke with scarcely any change of inflection. She told the -story of the night as she had told it in rehearsal many times. There had -been a quarrel an hour before she heard the deceased get up and go to -the lavatory. She offered to drop his morphine, and he replied with an -oath that she should never do another thing for him as long as he lived, -that he hoped she would leave the house by the first train next morning. -His sudden silence upon his return to his bed excited her apprehension, -and she called the family. - -When Bourke sat down and the district attorney arose and confronted her -she shivered suddenly. Bourke’s rich strong voice and kind magnetic gaze -had given her courage, but this man with his eyes like grey ice, his -mechanical smile, and cold smooth voice conjured up a sudden awful -picture of the execution room at Sing Sing. Her insight appreciated with -exactitude the pitiless ambition of the man, knew that he stood pledged -to his future to send her to her death. He made her admit all the -damning facts of the evidence against her, the facts which stood out -like phosphorescent letters on a black wall, and to acknowledge her -abhorrence of the man that had been her husband. But all this had been -anticipated: at least he could not confuse her. - -Again two days and a part of a third were monopolised by experts. These -two illustrious chemists testified, through the same bewildering mass of -detail as that employed by their equally illustrious predecessors, that -there was not enough morphine in Beverly Peele’s stomach to kill a cat. - -There was a short interval, after the second expert had been permitted -to leave the stand, during which Bourke and Simms and Lansing conferred -together, preparatory to the summing up of the former. As Bourke was -about to rise, the district attorney stood up, cleared his throat, and -said: “One moment, please. Will Miss Honora Mairs kindly take the -stand?” - -Bourke was on the alert in an instant. “The case for the prosecution has -closed,” he said. - -“This is by special permission of the Court,” replied the district -attorney, coldly. - -As Honora ascended the stand there was a deep murmur of admiration. She -looked like an angel, nothing less. She wore a white lawn frock, girt -with a blue sash; a large white leghorn lined with azure velvet, against -which the baby gold of her hair shone softly. Her great blue eyes had -the clear calm serenity of a young child. Patience drew her breath in a -series of short gasps. Bourke sat with clenched hands. - -“We understand,” said the district attorney, severely, “that you did not -tell all you knew the other day, and that you have signified your -willingness to now tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the -truth. Is this true?” - -Honora bowed her head with an expression of deep humility, as a child -might that had been justly rebuked. - -“You had not slept at all upon that fatal night?” - -“No.” - -“Your door was open?” - -“Yes.” - -“You did see somebody enter the lavatory?” - -“Yes.” - -“Whom did you see?” - -There was a moment’s breathless silence, during which Patience wondered -if a clock had ever ticked so loudly, or if the sun had ever shone with -so vicious a glare. - -“Whom did you see?” repeated the district attorney. - -“The prisoner.” - -“What did she do?” - -“She dropped some thirty or forty drops of morphine, I should say, then -half filled the glass with water, as usual.” - -“You did not see the deceased go to the lavatory that night.” - -“No.” - -“Nor any one else until the defendant called you?” - -“No.” - -“That is all.” - -Mr. Bourke sprang to his feet, his nostrils dilating, his fine face -quivering with unassumed scorn and indignation. - -“You admit that you perjured yourself the other day?” - -“I could not make up my mind to—” - -“Never mind what you had not made up your mind to do. You admit that you -perjured yourself?” - -“Yes,” gently. - -“That in other words you lied.” - -“Yes, sir.” Her voice was like the quiver of a violin. - -“What proof are we to have that you are not lying now?” - -“I am not lying. My conscience gave me no rest.” - -“It will give you more, I suppose, if you will have succeeded in -swearing away the life of an innocent woman. Yes, yes!—Exactly how long -did Mrs. Peele remain in the lavatory?” - -“I cannot remember. Five or ten minutes.” - -“State the exact time.” - -“Perhaps five.” - -“And a few moments later when she ran into your room you pretended to be -asleep: Why did you assume sleep; what reason had you for lying at that -time?” - -“I had dropped off.” - -“You had been sufficiently wide awake five minutes before to note -precisely all these other things, and then had promptly fallen into a -sound sleep. Is that your usual habit?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Did you speak to the prisoner when she came into the lavatory?” - -“No.” - -“Were not you in the habit of holding a conversation with her upon such -occasions?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Why did you not address her on that night?” - -“I was very sleepy, and had nothing in particular to say.” - -“But you were not too sleepy to note carefully all the details in the -evidence you have just given. You can go,—and to the devil,” he -muttered. He thrust his hands into his pockets and wheeled about, -looking at Patience with such intensity of gaze that she moved suddenly -forward. Her face was pale, but her eyes blazed with rage. Bourke -glanced at the clock. - -“It is twenty minutes to one,” he said. “I would ask your honour to -adjourn until two. I must have time to digest this new testimony. Its -remarkable glibness prevented me from giving it the running deliberation -that it demanded.” - -The judge sulkily dismissed the court. As Patience passed out of the -room with Tarbox she heard the word “angel” more than once, and knew -that it did not refer to her. - -Patience was not conscious of fear as she ate her luncheon. Her heart -was black with rage. “I’d willingly murder _her_,” she thought, “and my -conscience wouldn’t trouble me the least little bit.” - - - XVI - -Immediately after recess Mr. Bourke began his summing up. He commenced -quietly, shaking the loose cloth of the table in an absent manner. His -language was colloquial as he spoke to the jury of its grave -responsibilities, and complimented it upon the “unusual intelligence -which it had so far made evident.” He passed naturally to the subject in -hand, and dwelt eloquently upon the character of the defendant, of her -lonely pathetic youth, her high ideals, her remarkable intelligence, her -ignorance of the world which had led her to fall in love with the first -handsome and attractive man that had addressed her. - -His voice rose to tragic pitch as he dwelt upon the terrible awakening -of such a woman, bound for life to such a man,—a sensual, ill-tempered, -selfish brute, who was a disgrace to the nineteenth century. - -He depicted two years of uncomplaining wifely devotion (until Patience -became lost in admiration of the defendant), the husband’s frantic rages -about nothing, his unrecognition of her superiority, his ignorant -determination to make her his slave—his plaything—she, a woman whom -such men as James E. Field and Gardiner Peele delighted to honour. - -Then he dropped again into pathos (which never for a moment degenerated -into bathos) and described the desolate life of such a woman in an empty -frivolous brainless society (faint murmur and indignant rustle in the -gallery), a society of idle people with neither soul nor intelligence, -but who squandered the money wrested from the People, the great People, -of whom the Gentlemen of the Jury were twelve worthy and doubtless long -suffering members. - -It was not until he had emphasised and recapitulated with every resource -of his splendid vocabulary, every modulation of his glorious voice, by -controlled and telling gesture, by sudden tremendous bursts of -indignation, the married life of the prisoner, that he passed to the day -and night of the tragedy. He began with the morning, and dwelt upon -every detail of the day. Before he reached midnight he had Beverly Peele -in a frame of mind for both suicide and murder. He sent him to bed with -black skin and white flecked nose and chaos in his heart. With a -magnificent burst of scorn he quoted his shameful language when his wife -had offered to get him the morphine, the oaths he had used to a “refined -and elegant and patient woman.” Then he took him to the lavatory, showed -him jerking the stopper from the morphine bottle, and recklessly pouring -a fourth of its contents into a glass. “He knew that he had to die -anyhow, and he could at least die happy in a hideous revenge.” In brief -and vivid phrase he cited several similar instances in legal history. - -Then he returned to Peele Manor and denounced the jealous woman who for -five years had nursed fury in her heart, and who, on the witness stand, -here, Gentlemen of the Jury, conceived, at the unfortunate suggestion of -the speaker, the frightful revenge upon a woman who had treated her with -unvarying kindness. She did not speak at once, partly because her lying -tale needed rehearsing, partly because she believed that the case for -the prosecution would win without her. But when she saw that the case -for the prosecution was wholly lost she arrayed herself like an angel, -that she might the better impose upon the unworldly Gentlemen of the -Jury, and swore away a woman’s life. - -The several assertions on the defendant’s part that she felt disposition -to murder he tore to rags and flung in the face of the jury. Had not -every high tempered person—could not the Gentlemen of the Jury recall -having exclaimed in bitter moments: “I wish you were dead! I could kill -you!” With deep regret and remorse he would confess that he had used -similar expressions many times. - -Then with consummate skill he dilated upon the impossibility of so -clever a woman as the defendant doing aught so stupid as to murder in -the manner of the accusation. When there was nothing left to say on this -subject he expatiated upon the lack of motive with a technical and -personal brilliancy which made even the cross-grained old judge lean -forward with a cynical smile. - -The interviews, even the final ones, with the mysterious stranger, he -treated with contempt, although the contempt was sufficiently long drawn -out to impress the jury with every most insignificant detail. It, was -the mere longing for companionship of a lonely woman: that was the -beginning and the end of it. The lover, the intention of either to -marry, he disposed of with a vehemence which made Simms twist about -suddenly and look at Lansing; but the young man was regarding his chief -with rapt admiration. - -Not so much as the scraping of a boot heel was heard in the court room. -Patience glanced at the district attorney. His face was set and sullen. - -After every possible point had been considered Bourke concluded with an -appeal so stirring, so ringing, so thrilling that every person in the -court room except the district attorney sat forward and held his breath. -No such burst of passion had ever been heard in that room before. -Patience covered her face with her hands. Her heart beat suffocatingly. -The blood pounded in her ears; but not one note of that wonderful voice, -not one phrase of fire, escaped her. - -Is there any possible condition in which a man can appear to such -supreme advantage as when pleading for the life of a fellow being, more -particularly of a young and beautiful woman? How paltry all the -time-worn rescues of woman from sinking ship and runaway horse and -burning house. A great criminal lawyer standing before the jury box with -a life in his hand has the unique opportunity to display all the best -gifts ever bestowed upon man: genius, brain, passion, heart, soul, -eloquence, a figure instinct with grace and virility, a face blazing -with determination to snatch a man or woman from the most awful of -dooms. - -And all in two short hours. - -If those in the court room for whom the case had no personal interest -were at Bourke’s feet, hanging upon his words, adoring him for the -moment, what were the feelings of the woman for whom he was making so -desperate and manly a fight? She forgot her danger, forgot everything -but the man, the reckless joy of loving, of being swept out of her calm -orbit at last. Her analytical brain was dulled, her arms ached, her -heart shook her body. - -As Bourke made a few supplementary remarks calculated to take the wind -out of the district attorney’s sails,—references to the young man’s -ambition, his youthful eagerness to become famous, what the winning of -such a great case would mean to him, and to his remarkable cleverness -and skill with a jury,—Patience heard Simms say to Lansing: “My God! -Bourke has surpassed even himself. Even he never got as high as that -before.” - -“He’s the greatest man in the country, God bless him!” said Lansing. - -As Bourke finally dropped upon his chair he turned to Patience. Their -eyes met and lingered; and in that moment each passed into the other’s -keeping. - - - XVII - -Sturges lost no time taking his stand before the jury box. It was the -hour of his life, but he was not nervous. His long thin figure leaning -toward the box as he rested his finger tips on the table, showed as fine -a repose of nerve as of brain. His clear-cut face with the cruel mouth -and pleasant smile was calm and unclouded. - -He began by defending himself against Mr. Bourke’s remarks, and asserted -with convincing emphasis that when he had taken the oath of office he -had left his personal ambition behind him with his personal interests, -and had given himself body and soul and brain to the People of -Westchester County. Then he made an equally earnest statement of the -grave responsibilities of a district attorney, his solemn duty to the -People, the necessity to smother all promptings of humanity that he -might do what was best for the People—“The greatest good of the -greatest number.” - -Then he painted Patience as black as Bourke had enamelled her white. -With masterly ingenuity he made each juror feel what an awful being a -bad woman was, an unloving undutiful wife; what a curse each man of them -would writhe under had Fate played him as scurvy a trick as it had -played poor Beverly Peele; that no unloved husband’s life would be safe -were not such women exploited and punished, that if the Gentlemen of the -Jury were weak enough to consider her sex they might be imperilling the -lives of countless thousands. For the matter of that, he reiterated, -crime had no sex. - -He took up each detail of the story, and in the light of his -interpretation Patience was the modern Lucretia Borgia and Beverly Peele -an injured, peaceable, affectionate husband, who had been sacrificed by -an abandoned woman to whom he had given his honoured name, his fortune, -and his love. - -He scarcely raised his voice. There was no passion in his utterance; but -he manufactured a mosaic, bit by bit, each fragment fitting so exactly -that the design was without crevice or crack. He demonstrated -mathematically that the tardy evidence of Miss Mairs had been -superfluous; that the chain of circumstantial evidence was symmetrical -and complete, and that no possible motive beyond duty to her conscience -could be attributed to her. With devilish adroitness, without a direct -phrase, he managed to filter into those twelve small brains the secret -of the inspired eloquence of the eminent counsel for the defence,—in -behalf of his young and beautiful client. - -While he was talking, the skeleton trees beyond the windows grew dim of -outline, the mass of colour in the gallery faded. An official came out -of the library behind the court room and lit the tall gas lamps on -either side of the bench. The judge looked like a bas-relief in pink and -silver against the dark panelling of the background. The rest of the -room was in shadow. The light of the near jet fell full upon Sturges’ -stern face. - -Patience’s life from “its fiendish childhood” was rehearsed with such -consecutive logic that crime at some point of such a woman’s career was -inevitable. The only wonder was that it had not been committed sooner. -The threats, he demonstrated, whether uttered in moments of passion or -not, were the significant output of a brooding mind. The “cruel letter -to a dying man” was read with slow and indignant emphasis. Then the -events of the fatal day and night, the quarrels, the prisoner’s fury at -being denied a divorce, the deceased’s threat to live twenty years to -spite her, her carefully rehearsed and absurd story that her husband had -dropped the morphine himself,—something he knew himself physically -incapable of doing,—the equal absurdity of his suicide when a greater -revenge lay in his hands, her brutal indifference while he lay dying, -were deliberately gone over with passionless and insidious effect. The -quiet half-lit room was oddly in keeping with the deadly methods of the -man. - -When he had made the most of her flight on the morning of the “Eye” -story, he paused a moment, during which the rising wind could be heard -in the trees. Within, there was no sound. No one seemed breathing. -Bourke and Patience were in deep shadow. With an instinct of protection -he clasped his hand suddenly about hers. - -Sturges resumed, with lowered and vibrating voice: - -“And—where—Gentlemen of the Jury,—was—this—woman—arrested?——_In -the house of a harlot!_” He paused another half moment. “In the house of -her oldest friend, La Rosita, one of the most abandoned women in -America.” - -Bourke’s hand twitched spasmodically. Simms twisted his neck, and shot -at Lansing an uneasy glance. Patience shuddered. For the moment she -forgot Bourke. She felt as if a cobra were folding her about,—very -slowly, and gently, and inexorably. - -When Sturges sat down the jury was told to rise. The judge stood under -one of the lamps and read them his charge. He explained that unless they -could find the prisoner guilty of murder in the first degree—of -deliberate premeditated murder—they must acquit her. As the final -quarrel had taken place an hour before the killing it was obviously -impossible that she could have dropped the morphine in a moment of -excitement; and a verdict of self-defence would be equally absurd. He -also charged them that they were to consider the law in the case and -nothing but the law,—that human sympathy must have no place in their -verdict. - -Bourke was too able a lawyer not to have the last word. As the judge sat -down, he arose with several sheets of manuscript, and for twenty minutes -asked the judge to charge the jury so and so, practically recapitulating -all the strong points of the defence. The judge answered mechanically, -“I so charge,” and at last the patient jury was conducted out of the -court room and locked up. Bourke was surrounded at once. - -As Tarbox, with Patience on his arm, left the court house and its crowd -behind him, he exclaimed, “By God, that was a great speech of Bourke’s! -There never has been a summing up like that in my time before, not even -by him. But he’s the smartest man in Westchester County! Hanged if I -don’t think he’s the smartest man in the State of New York. He’ll be in -the United States Senate yet.” - - - XVIII - -After dinner Patience went back to the court room to remain until ten -o’clock, at which time the jury, if it had not come to a decision, would -be locked up for the night. She sat surrounded by her counsel and the -lawyers that had taken so deep an interest in the case. Bourke sat very -close to her, and once or twice as she met his eyes she forgot the -terrible moment to come. Few people were in the court house. No one -expected a verdict that night. - -It was exactly at half-past nine that the jury filed solemnly in. -Patience’s knees jerked suddenly upward. She lost her breath for a -moment. Bourke leaned over her and took her hand, regardless of the -curious people surrounding them. - -“Be brave. Be brave,” he said hurriedly. “Now is the time for all your -pride and disdain.” - -When she was ordered to stand up and face the jury, she did so with an -air so collected and so haughty that even Simms murmured: “By Jove, she -is a thoroughbred.” - -There was a moment of horrible and vibrating silence, during which -Patience’s brain reiterated hilariously: “Twelve little Jurymen all in a -row. Twelve little heads all in a row.” Then the foreman was asked for -the verdict. He cleared his throat, and without moving a muscle of his -face, remarked,— - -“Guilty.” - -The district attorney sat down suddenly and hid his face with a -convulsive hand. Patience resumed her seat with a mien as stolid as that -of the twelve jurors. Bourke’s face blanched, but he sprang to his feet -and demanded that the jury be polled. Each solemn “Yes,” twelve and -unhesitating, sounded like a knell. Then Bourke demanded a Stay, which -was granted by the impassive judge, and Patience was led through the -silent crowd from the court room to her cell. Tarbox escorted her -mutely, his face turned away. At the door of her cell he attempted to -speak, but gave it up and retreated hastily. - -Patience threw off her hat and sat down on the edge of the bed. The -verdict, she knew now, had not been a surprise. But she thought little -of the verdict. She was waiting for something else. It came in a moment. -She heard a quick impatient step on the ground below, then a rapid -ascent of stair, a word or two at the door, Tarbox’s retreating step. - -Bourke was in the cell. His face was white, but that of Patience as she -rose and confronted him was not. - -“I don’t care!” she said. “I don’t care! I believe I am happier than any -woman alive.” - -The red sprang to his face. He took her outstretched hands and held them -to lips and eyes for a moment, then caught her in his arms and kissed -her until the rest of the world lay dull, and all life was in that quiet -cell. - - - XIX - -A year later they took her to Sing Sing. The General Term had refused -her a new trial, the Court of Appeals had sustained the lower court. -Bourke had won nothing but additional glory. - -He did not go with her to Sing Sing. She saw him alone for an hour -before Tarbox came to take her away. Her composure was greater than his. -He was torn with horror and defeat, and his surpassing love for the -woman. Not that he had given up hope by any means, nor the fight; but he -knew the fearful odds, and he cursed the law which he had outwitted and -played with so often and so brilliantly. - -“I wish we were back in the middle ages,” he said savagely, “when a man -took his rights and regulated justice by brute force. We are not half -men now that we are under the yoke of a thing that operates blindly, and -strikes by chance where it should strike, in nine cases out of ten. Good -God! Good God! it seems incredible that I can _let_ you go, that I shall -stand by and see Tarbox lead you away. Think of the combined intellect -of the world and the centuries having done no more for man than that. I -must stand aside and see you go to a hideous cell in the Death House—O -my God!” - -He had awakened the woman down to the depths; to-day he called to life -the maternal instinct in her. She put her arms about him with the -passionate strength of one who would transmit courage and hope through -physical pressure. - -“Listen,” she said; “I don’t mind one cell more than another—and I -know, I _know_, that you will save me. I feel it. I am not going to die. -You are a man of genius. Everybody says that—everybody—I know that you -will have an inspiration at the last minute. And I have been happy, -happy, happy! Don’t forget that—not ever. I would go through twenty -times what I have suffered in all my life for this past year. Don’t you -think I can live on that for a month or two? Why, I can feel your touch, -the pressure of your arms for hours after you leave me. I shall be with -you every minute—” - -He threw back his head, shaking it with a brief violent motion -characteristic of him. - -“Very well,” he said, “very well; it is not for me to be weak when you -are strong. Perhaps it is because the prize is so great that the fight -is so long and desperate. Oh, you wonderful woman! - -“Tell me,” he said after a moment, “that it has all been as perfect to -you as to me. I want to hear you say that, but I know it, I know it.” - -“Oh,—I—I—” - - * * * * * - -Tarbox came and took her away. He looked as if he had lost home and -friends and fortune, and did not speak from White Plains to Sing Sing. -The details of the trip interested her less than such details are -supposed to interest the condemned that look their last on sky and land; -her head ached, and the glare of the Hudson blinded her; but as the -train neared Sing Sing she opened her eyes suddenly, then sat forward -with a note of admiration. - -The river was covered with a dense rosy mist which half obscured the -opposite shore, giving it the effect of an irregular group of islands. -Above was a calm lake of yellow fire surrounded by heavy billows of -boiling gold; beyond, storm clouds, growing larger and darker. - -As they drove, a few moments later, to the prison, the great grey -battlemented pile was swimming in the same rosy glow. Patience murmured -satirically: - - “‘The splendour falls on castle walls.’” - -Tarbox looked at her in amazement. “Oh,” he said, “how do you manage -it?” - -“All hope is not gone,” she replied; “there is still the governor.” But -she knew how slender that hope was. The governor was on the eve of -re-election; public feeling was multiplied against her; the “Eye” was -clamouring for her life, and strutting like a turkey cock; the “Eye” and -Tammany Hall were one; the governor was the creature of Tammany Hall. - -The warden was in his office. He greeted her with elaborate politeness, -albeit puffed with alcohol and pride. She handed him what valuables she -had not presented to Tarbox, and answered his questions in a manner not -calculated to placate his Irish dignity. Then she turned to say good-bye -to Tarbox, but he had disappeared. The head-keeper, a big kindly man, -who pressed her arm in a paternal manner, led her down long echoing -corridors, past rows and tiers of cells, and yards full of Things in -striped garments, and talked to her in the manner one adopts to a -frightened child, until she said:— - -“I am not going to have hysterics; nor am I at all sure that I am to be -executed—but please don’t imagine that I don’t appreciate your -kindness.” - -“Well, I like that,” he said. “To tell the truth the prospect of having -a woman here has half scared me out of my wits. But if you won’t take -on, I’ll do everything I can to make you comfortable. We’ve put a woman -servant in there to wait on you. I hope myself it won’t be for long. The -evidence is pretty black, but some of us has our opinion all the same.” - -“Must I go into the Death House? I think I shouldn’t mind it so much if -they’d put me anywhere else.” - -“I’m afraid you must, ma’am. That’s the custom in these parts.” He -opened a door with a huge key, and Patience did not need to be told that -she was in the famous Death House. - -A long corridor with a high window at either end; on one side a row of -cells separated from the main corridor by an iron fence sufficiently -removed from the cells to make space for a narrow promenade. Where the -middle cell should have been was a dark arched stone passage terminated -by a stout oaken door. Patience knew that it led to the execution room. -Two guards walked up and down the corridor. At the end, a sullen-looking -woman stood over a stove, making tea. - -“You’ve got the house all to yourself,” said the keeper, with an attempt -at jocularity. “If there’d been any men here I guess you’d have been -sent to Dannemora, but it’s always Sing Sing for the swells, when it’s -possible, you know.” - -He opened the gate of the iron fence and led her down to the cell at the -extreme end. It was large and well lighted, but very different from the -cell at White Plains. - -“Are you going to lock me in?” she asked. - -“Yes, ma’am, I must. If everything ain’t comfortable, just let me know.” - -The key grated in the lock. The head-keeper with an encouraging smile -walked away. Patience crouched in a corner, for the first time fully -realising the awfulness of her position, her imagination leaping to the -room beyond the passage. What did it look like, that horrible chair? How -long—how long—the hideously practical details of electric -execution—the awful mystery of it—the new death to which imagination -had not yet become accustomed— - -There was no sound but the monotonous pacing of the death watch. The -world beyond those stone walls might have sprung away into space, -leaving the great beautiful prison alone on a whirling fragment. - -She sprang to her feet and clenched her hands. “I’ll not go mad and make -an everlasting fool of myself,” she thought. “If I have to die, I’ll die -with my head up and my eyes dry. If I have the blood of the aristocrat -in me I’ll prove it then, not die like a flabby woman of the people. The -people! O God, how I hate the people!” - - - XX - -A great petition was sent to the governor. It was signed uniformly by -men and women of the upper class. - -It is not the aristocrats that do the electing in the United States. The -lower classes were against her to a man. Her personality enraged them; -her unreligion, her disdainful bearing, her intellect, her position, -antagonised the superstitious and ambitious masses more than her crime. -Inevitable result: the governor refused to pardon. - -Honora returned to Peele Manor from town in April. Bourke’s attempts to -see her were frustrated by a bodyguard of servants. He took up his -residence in the little village adjoining the grounds. He hardly knew -what he hoped. But Honora Mairs was the last and only resource, and he -could not keep away from her vicinity. He did not go to Sing Sing. It -had been agreed between himself and Patience that he should stay away: -they had no desire to communicate through iron bars. - -The execution was set for the seventh of May. On the evening of the -sixth, while walking down the single street of the village Bourke came -face to face with the new priest of the district. - -“Tim Connor!” he exclaimed, forgetting for the moment, in the sudden -retrospect which this man’s face unrolled, the horror that held him. - -“Well, it’s me, sure enough, Garan, and I’ve been hunting for you these -two days. I heard you were here, but faith, I’ve been busy!—not to say -I’ve been away for two weeks.” - -“How long have you been here?” - -“Six months, come June, it is since I left old Ireland; and I’m wanting -to tell you that the creek we used to wade in is as tempting to the boys -as ever, and that the bog you pulled me out of has moved on a mile and -more. Twenty times I’ve been for going across the country to call on you -and have a good grip of the hand, and to bless you again for letting me -live to do good work; but I was caught in a net here—But what’s the -matter—Are you ill?—Oh, sure! sure! This terrible business! I -remember! Poor young thing!” - -He laid his arm about the shoulders of the other man and guided him to -his house. There, in his bare little study, he brewed an Irish toddy, -and the two men drank without a spoken toast to the old times when they -had punched each other’s head, fought each other’s battles, and shared -each other’s joys, two affectionate rollicking mischievous Irish lads. - -The priest spoke finally. - -“Nothing else is talked of here in the village,” he said; “but you don’t -hear a word of it mentioned over at the house.” - -“What house?” - -“Peele Manor, to be sure.” - -“Do you go there?” - -“Occasionally—to dine; or to talk with Miss Mairs. We are amiable -friends, although she doesn’t confess to me.” - -Bourke raised his head slowly. Something seemed to swirl through his -heavy heart. - -“Is Honora Mairs a Catholic?” he asked. - -“She is indeed, and, like all converts, full to the brim and running -over.” - -Bourke leaned forward, his hand clinching about his chin, his elbow -pressing his knee with such force that his arm vibrated. He had been -raised a Catholic—he knew its grip. His mind was trained to grasp -opportunities on the moment, to work with the nervous yet mathematical -rapidity of electric currents. And like all great lawyers he was a great -actor. - -“Tim,” he said meditatively, “I’m feeling terribly bad over that poor -girl I couldn’t save.” - -“Sure and I should think you would, Garan. My heart’s breaking for her -myself.” - -“Did you read the trial, Tim?” - -“No, faith, I didn’t. I’ve been too busy with these godless folk. Sure -they get away from us priests when they get into America. It’s only one -more drop to hell.” - -“You’re right, Tim, you’re right. You always saw things at a glance. But -I’ve got a great work for you to do,—a great work for you and for the -Church.” - -“You have, Garan? You have? Out with it, my boy.” - -“Do you remember the time when Paddy Flannagan was accused of murdering -his old grandmother for the sake of the money in her stocking?” -continued Bourke, in the same half absent tone, and lapsing gradually -into brogue. “He was convicted, you know, and the whole town was set on -him, and we two boys were the worst of the lot. Do you remember how we -used to hoot under his jail window at night? And then, quite by -accident, at the last minute, two days before he was going to be hanged, -you discovered the man that had committed the murder, and you ran as -fast as your legs could carry you to save Paddy, shouting all the -way,—and that it was the happiest day of your life?” - -“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the priest, his face aglow. Bourke had thrown -himself back in his chair, his eyes dwelling on his old friend with a -smile of affectionate satisfaction. - -“It’s a grand thing to save a human life, isn’t it, Tim?” - -“It is, indeed; the grandest, next to saving an immortal soul.” - -“I’m going to give you a chance to do both,—the soul of one woman and -the life of another.” - -“Garan, Garan, what do you mean?” - -“Just let me tell you a few things first, a few things you don’t know -already.” He gave a concise but picturesque and thrilling account of -Patience’s life and of her trial. As he repeated Honora’s testimony, the -priest, who had followed his recital with profound interest, leaned -forward with sombre brows. - -“That woman lied,” concluded Bourke, abruptly. - -“I’m afraid so. I’m afraid so.” - -“And if she doesn’t open her accursed perjured lips between now and -to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, that woman up there—” he caught -the priest’s shoulders suddenly, his face contracting with agony—“the -woman I love, Tim, will be murdered. My God, man, don’t you see what -you’ve got to do?” - - - XXI - -Honora was lying on a couch in her celestial bedroom. No incense burned. -The screen was folded closely about the altar. The windows were open. -The pure air of spring, the peaceful sounds of night,—disturbed now and -again by the hideous shriek of an engine,—the delicate perfume of -flowers, played upon her irritated senses. She held a bottle of smelling -salts in her hand. On the table beside her was a jolly looking bottle of -Benedictine. - -There was a tap at the door. Honora answered wearily. A maid entered. - -“It’s Father Connor, miss, and he wants to see you particular.” - -“Tell him I cannot see him—no, tell him to come up.” - -She rose hurriedly and smoothed her hair. Mr. and Mrs. Peele had gone -South. She was alone in the house, and welcomed the brief distraction of -the priest’s visit. - -“You will pardon me for asking you to come up here,” she said as he -entered. “But I am in dishabille, and I did not want to keep you -waiting. How kind of you to come!” - -“Sure it is always a pleasure to see you anywhere, Miss Mairs,” he said, -taking the seat she indicated. “What should I do without you in this -godless place?” - -Several candles burned. The moonlight wandered in, making a ghastly -combination. Honora lay back in her chair, looking very pale and -beautiful. The priest’s profile was toward her for a moment after he -ceased speaking, a strong lean determined profile. She watched it -warily. But he turned suddenly to her and smiled, and told her an absurd -episode of one of his village delinquents. - -“Faith, Miss Mairs,” he concluded, “you’ve got to help me. They’re too -much for one poor priest. I’m not one to flatter, but your face would be -enough to make a sinner think of heaven—sure it’s the face of an angel! -Between the two of us and with the Grace of God we’ll reform the village -and drive the dirty politicians into the Church or out of the country.” - -Honora smiled radiantly, and held out her hand. “I will work with you,” -she said. “I intend to devote my life to the Church.” - -He held her hand closely, in a strong masculine clasp. - -“I believed it of you. But why don’t you go to confession, my child?” - -The muscles under Honora’s fair skin contracted briefly, and she -attempted to withdraw her hand; but the priest held it closely. - -“I shall go to you next week.” - -“To-night,” he said with soft insistence; “to-night. Do you know it was -that brought me here to-night? I’ve been knowing ever since I came that -something troubled you—was eating your heart out—but I didn’t like to -speak. I thought every day you would come to me, and I didn’t like to -intrude. But to-night I said, ‘I will!’ I couldn’t get up my courage -when I first came in; but I’m glad I’ve spoken, for I know you’ll be -after confessing now. Poor girl! But remember, dear child, the comfort -and consolation our blessed Church has for every sinner. Come.” - -Honora turned her face away, and shook her head. - -The priest put out a long arm, and grasping the screen drew it away from -the altar. Then he leaned forward, and laying his hands on her shoulders -drew her slowly forward and pressed her to her knees. He laid his hand -on her head. - -“Confess,” he said, solemnly. - -And Honora suddenly burst into wild sobbing, and confessed that Beverly -Peele had dropped his own morphine that night, that his shaking hand had -refused to obey his will, and that, blind with pain, he had poured a -fourth of the contents into the glass, mixed it with water, and gulped -it down; that she had not gone to his assistance because she wished him -to die, and the responsibility to fall upon his wife. - -Then she sprang to her feet and smote her hands together. - -“I did not intend to confess until all was over, but—I—Oh—it has been -horrible here alone these two days—but I would not yield to -superstition and go away—and you found me in a weak moment.” - -She walked up and down the room, talking the more rapidly, the more -unreservedly, as the priest made no comment. And after all the years of -immobility it was joy to speak out everything in her crowded heart and -brain. - -“Oh, I am not a monster, I am not abnormal, I am merely a result. It -began—when did it begin? I was a child when I came here—I remember -little that happened before—it has always been the _rôle_ of the poor -cousin, I remember no other—no other! never! never! I had to learn -patience at an age when other children are clamouring for their little -desires. I had to learn humility when other children—while I watched my -cousins take all the goods and joys of childhood as their divine right. -While their little world was at their feet I was learning to cringe and -watch and wait and smile upon people I hated, and listen to people that -bored me to death, and suffer vicariously for all the shortcomings of -the Peele family when my aunt was in one of her cold rages. It was early -that I learned the lesson that if I would occupy a supportable position -in life I must ‘work’ people; I must cultivate will and tact—how I hate -the loathsome word—and study the natures of those about me, and play -upon them; that I must acquire absolute self repression, be a sort of -automaton, that, being once wound up properly, never makes a false move. -I believe that was one thing which drove me to the Catholic Church,—the -unspeakable relief that I should find in confession,—that and one other -thing—” - -She paused abruptly, and pressed her hands to her face, to which the -blood had sprung. - -“I loved Beverly Peele,” she continued violently. “I do not know when it -began; when I was old enough to fall in love, I suppose, and that is -young enough with a woman. When we were children we used to play at -being married. Even after he was grown and was rather wild, he used to -come back to me in the summer time and tell me that he cared for no one -else. I knew all his faults, his weaknesses, his limitations, mental and -moral and spiritual,—none better. But I loved him. I worshipped him. He -was not even a companion to me, for I was always intellectually -ambitious. Not a taste but music did we have in common. I have seen him -in raging tempers that would make any other woman despise him—when he -seemed an animal, a savage. But nothing made any difference to me. A -woman loves or she does not love—that is the beginning and the end. -There is no more relation between cause and effect in an infatuated -woman’s mind than—Oh, well, I can’t be finding similes. - -“One night he came in here. The next night I kissed the pillow his head -would lie on. For a year I was happy; for another I alternated between -joy and anguish, jealousy and peace, despair and hope. Then a year of -misery, during which he brutally cast me off. It was that which drove me -to the Catholic Church—not only the peace it promised, but the -knowledge that with baptism my sin would be washed away—for when -happiness went remorse began. I have not a brain of iron, like that -woman he married. She could snap her past in two and fling it behind -her. She could snap her fingers at moral laws, if it suited her purpose, -and know no regret, provided she had had nothing to regret meanwhile. -That was one reason why I hated her. - -“Oh, how I hated her! How I hated her! Beverly never had any reserve, -and he made love to her before my eyes. He was infatuated. His affection -for me was an incidental fancy compared to his mad passion for that -woman. And month after month! Month after month! And I loved him still! - -“I never dared say to myself that when the time came I should have -vengeance, for such a resolution I should be obliged to confess; and the -priest would make me promise to thrust it out, or refuse me absolution. -But down in my heart I knew that when the hour came the temptation would -conquer. It came first when I let him drink the morphine. And when I saw -her in court, when her lover gave me that sudden suggestion, when I knew -that I could send her to that horrible chair—” She threw out her arms -and laughed hysterically, “O God, I was almost happy again.” - -The priest rose and stood before her. There were tears in his eyes. - -“Poor woman!” he said. “Poor woman!” - -Honora’s face convulsed, but she shut her lips resolutely and tapped the -floor with her foot. - -“There is pardon and peace in the Church,” he continued softly; “and not -only for the sake of that poor girl at Sing Sing, battling to-night with -horror and terror, sleepless, listening to the solemn tramp of the death -watch, counting the hours that are marching her to that hideous death, -but for the future peace of your own soul, speak out and save her. Think -of the years of torment, of remorse, when you will not have the -excitement of the present, the pressure of your wrongs to sustain you. -Speak out, and I will give you absolution, and your soul shall know -peace.” - -But Honora threw back her head and laughed. - -“No! No!” she said. “I am not so weak as that. I have no intention of -going to pieces at the last moment. It is only her death that will give -me peace.” - -He bent his long body backward, drawing himself up to his full imposing -height. - -“And have you thought of what will be the penalty?” he said, in a low -voice, and with an intonation that was almost a chant. - -She shuddered, but dragged her eyes away. - -“I don’t care!” she said passionately. “I don’t care!” - -“You are sure?” he said, in the same voice. - -She drew two short breaths. “Oh, go away and leave me,” she said. “Why -did you come here? I did not intend to confess until all was over.” - -“And you expected absolution?” - -“I would have done any penance. I would have burnt my flesh with red-hot -irons—” - -He gave a short, scornful laugh. - -“The Church wants no such makeshift penances,” he said passionately. “It -has no use for the sinner that commits deliberate crime to-day and comes -cringing and triumphant to the confessional to-morrow. We have no use -for such as you,” he suddenly shouted, flinging out his arm and pointing -his index finger at her. “You are a disgrace to the Church, a pollution; -you are the lips of the leper upon the pure body of a Saint. We have no -place for such as you. We have only one method by which to deal with you -and such as you—” He curved his body, and his voice fell to a hollow -monotone: “Ex-commu-nica-tion.” - -The woman stared at him with pale distended eyes, no breath issuing from -her dry lips, then sank to the floor, a miserable, collapsed, quivering -heap. The priest went to the window and called to a man who stood on the -walk below. - - - XXII - -Bourke was pacing up and down among the trees, his eyes seldom absent -from the man standing motionless in front of the house, or from the -light in Honora Mairs’ window. He struck a match every few moments and -looked at his watch. He lit a cigar, then found himself biting rapidly -along its length with vicious energy. He flung it away and lit another, -puffed at it violently, then let it fall to the ground as he pressed his -hands suddenly to his eyes, shutting out the picture of Patience in her -cell. - -All the agony and doubt and despair of the past year were crowded into -this hour. Would the priest succeed? Was he clever enough to outwit a -clever and implacable woman? If he had only caught her in a moment of -weakness. But was there any weakness in that organisation of knit and -tempered steel? “He’ll blarney her,” he thought, with sudden hope,—“but -bah! you can’t blarney a snake. That will go so far with her and no -farther. Only acting can save us. If he can act well enough to fill the -stage on which this terrible tragedy is set, and conquer that woman’s -imagination, he can save my poor girl, but not otherwise.” - -His hands clutched the bushes as he passed. He kicked the gravel from -his feet. He cursed aloud, not knowing what he was saying. He felt an -intolerable thirst; his eyeballs burned; his heart hammered -spasmodically. - -He looked at his watch. It was twelve o’clock. His spinning brain -conceived the wild project of forcing himself up to that lighted room at -the corner of the house and putting the woman to the torture. And at -that moment he saw the priest lean out of the window and speak to the -notary public, who immediately entered the house. - -A half hour later the priest came out of the front door and toward him. -He held a paper in his hand. - -Bourke was waiting at the door. He took the affidavit from the priest, -glanced over it, and thrust it into his pocket. - -“Come,” he said. “I’ll get one of the men here to hitch up a team and -drive us to the One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street station. There we’ll -take the train for Forty-second Street, and at the Grand Central the -train for Albany. No south bound local will pass here for an hour. I -happen to know that the governor is in Albany to-night attending a -banquet.” - - - XXIII - -Patience had given up hope at last. Its death had been accompanied by -wonder rather than by despair. Her remarkable experience with Bourke had -led her to idealise him even beyond the habit of woman, and her faith in -his ability to save her had been absolute. Nevertheless, woman like, she -wove elaborate excuses for him, and loved him none the less. - -The day had dragged itself into twenty years. The chaplain had called -and been dismissed. The warden had visited her and uttered the -conventional words of sympathy, to which Patience had listened without -expression, loathing the coarse ungrammatical brute. The head-keeper she -liked, for she was the first to recognise true sympathy and nobility -within whatever bark. Miss Beale had come and wept and kissed her hands -through the bars. - -“Patience! Patience!” she sobbed. “If it could only be said that you -died like a Christian!” - -“It can be said that I died like an American gentlewoman of the -nineteenth century,” replied Patience. “I am quite satisfied to know -that they will be obliged to say that.” - -Miss Beale shook her head vigorously. “You will fail when the time -comes,” she said. “Only the Lord can sustain you. Please, Patience, let -me pray with you.” - -“Please let me die in peace,” said Patience, wearily, “and consistently. -I shall not make a spectacle of myself. Don’t worry.” - -After Miss Beale had gone the prison barber came and shaved a bald spot -on the back of her head. She kept her face in the shadow, her teeth set, -her skin thrilling with horror. - - * * * * * - -She sat on the edge of her bed until midnight. In the past two months, -despite her faith in Bourke, she had deliberately allowed her mind to -dwell upon the execution until fear had worn blunt. She was conscious of -none to-night. Moreover, she had the poise of one that has lived close -to the great mysteries of life. Were she free she might have a lifetime -of happiness with Bourke, but in degree there were many hours of the -past year that in mortal limitations could never be surpassed. The -people had won their fight, but she felt that she had cheated them at -every other point. For, after all, happiness is of kind, not of -quantity. They could strike from her many years of life, but had she not -lived? And a few years more or less—what mattered it? One must die at -the last. She had realised an ideal. She had known love in its -profoundest meaning, in its most delicate vibrations. A thousand years -could give her no more than that. - -Suddenly she lifted her head. The rain was dashing against her high -window and against the windows of the corridor. She flushed and trembled -and held her breath expectantly. In a moment she lay along the bed, and -in a moment more forgot her evil state. Memories without form trooped -through her brain: snatches and flashes of childhood and adolescence, -glimmers of dawn, and stirrings of deeps, vistas of enchanted future, -the rising and receding, rising and receding of Mystery, the vague -pleasurable loneliness—the protest of separateness. - -Then she pressed her face into the pillows, weeping wildly that she -should see Bourke no more. The rain gave him to her in terrible mockery. -Every part of her demanded him. She cared nothing for the morrow; she -had thought of no to-morrows when with him. Morrows were naught, for -there was always the last; but the present are always there to fulfil or -torment. She shuddered once. The rain had given her back the power to -long and dream; and to longing and dreaming there could be no -fulfilment, not in this world, now nor ever. - -She beat her clenched hand against the bed, not in fear, but in -passionate resentment that she with her magnificent endowment for -happiness should be snuffed out in her youth, and that there was no -power on earth to assuage her lover’s agony. She wondered where he was, -what he was doing. She knew that there was no sleep for him. - -Her philosophy deserted her, as philosophy will when the sun is under -the horizon. She ceased to be satisfied with what had been; the great -love in her soul cried out and demanded its eternal rights. And her -fainting courage demanded the man. . . . - -Her thoughts suddenly took a whimsical turn. What should she be like in -eternity shorn of her stronger part?—for assuredly in her case the man -and the woman were one. Was space full of those incomplete -shapes?—roaming—roaming—for what?—and whither? She recalled a -painting of Vedder’s called “Identity” and Aldrich’s verses beneath:— - - “Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space, - In Twilight land, in No-man’s land, - Two wandering shapes met face to face, - And bade each other stand. - - “‘And who are you?’ cried one, agape, - Shuddering in the gloaming light, - ‘I know not,’ said the second shape, - ‘I only died last night.’” - -The picture had fascinated her profoundly until she had suddenly noticed -that one of the shapes looked as if she had left her teeth on her -death-bed. She laughed aloud suddenly. . . . - -For the first time she felt curious about the hereafter. Poetry had -demonstrated to her that hereafter of some sort there must be: the poet -sees only the soul of his creations, makes the soul talk as it would if -untrammelled of flesh, and in unconscious forecast of its freedom. -Browning, alone, would have taught her this. His greater poems were -those of another and loftier world. No wonder poets were a mad unhappy -race with their brief awakenings of the cosmic sense, their long -contemplations of what should be, in awful contrast to what is. . . . - -Patience suddenly turned from the thoughts of the hereafter in -shuddering horror. Then, as now, she should be alone. Perhaps it would -be as well, if she were to look like that shape. . . . But she should -know soon enough! - -Whimsies deserted her as abruptly as they had come. She realised with -terrible vividness all that she was leaving, the sweetness of it, the -beauty of it—and the awful part allotted to the man. - -She had imagined that in her last night on earth—if it came to -that—her mind would dwell on the great problems of life; but she cried -herself to sleep. - - - XXIV - -Bourke and the priest arrived in Albany at two minutes past eight in the -morning. A hack carried them to the governor’s house in less than ten -minutes. - -Bourke’s ring was answered immediately. He had his card ready, also that -of the priest. - -“Take these to the governor,” he said to the butler. “We must see him at -once.” - -“The governor took the 8.13 express for New York.” - -Bourke uttered an oath which the priest did not rebuke. - -“Did he leave an answer to a telegram he received between two and five -this morning?” - -“No, sir; no telegrams are ever sent here—by special orders, sir. They -are all sent to the State House.” - -Bourke’s skin turned grey; his eyes dulled like those of a dying man. -But only for a moment. His brain worked with its customary rapidity. - -“Come,” he said to the priest. “There is only one thing to do.” - -To the hackman he said: “Twenty dollars if you get to the station in -five minutes.” - -He and the priest jumped into the hack. The driver lashed the horses. -They dashed down the steep hills of Albany. Two policemen rushed after -them, shouting angrily; but the horses galloped the faster, the driver -bounding on his seat. People darted shrieking out of their way. Other -teams pulled hastily aside, oaths flying. - -They reached the station in exactly four minutes and a half. Bourke had -little money with him, but he was well known, and known to be wealthy. -In less than five minutes the superintendent, in regard for a check for -two hundred and fifty dollars, had ordered out the fastest engine in the -shop. In ten minutes more it was ready, and the message had flashed -along the line to make way for “45.” - -By this time every man in the yard was surging about the engine in -excited sympathy. As the engineer gave the word and Bourke and the -priest climbed in, the men cheered lustily. Bourke raised his hat. -Father Connor waved them his blessing. The engine sprang down the road -in pursuit of the New York express. - -Despite the flying moments, the horror that seemed to sit grimacing upon -the hour of eleven every time that he looked at his watch, Bourke felt -the exhilaration of that ride, the enchantment of uncertainty. The -morning air was cool; the river flashed with gold; the earth was very -green. They seemed to cut the air as they raced through fields and -towns, dashed and whizzed round curve after curve. People ran after -them, some shouting with terror, thinking it was a runaway engine. - -Father Connor had bought some sandwiches at the station, and Bourke ate -mechanically. He wondered if he should ever recognise the fine flavour -of food again. - -The priest put his lips to Bourke’s ear and spoke for the first time. - -“Where do you expect to catch the train?” - -“At Poughkeepsie. It waits there ten minutes.” - -“And what shall you do if you don’t catch it?” - -“Go on to Sing Sing, and do the best I can. I have made one fatal -mistake: I should have telegraphed to Sing Sing. But I was mad, I think, -until I reached Albany, and there it is no wonder I forgot it. The -regular time for—that business is round eleven o’clock, about a quarter -past; but if the warden happens to be drunk there’s no telling what he -will take it into his head to do. But I dare not stop.” - -Suddenly they shot about a curve. The engineer shouted “There! There!” A -dark speck was just making another curve, far to the south. - -“The express!” cried the engineer. “We’ve side-tracked everything else. -We’ll catch her now.” - -An hour later they dashed into Poughkeepsie, the express only two -minutes ahead of them. Amidst a crowd of staring people, Bourke and the -priest, begrimed, dishevelled, leaped from the engine and boarded a -parlour car of the express. Alone, Bourke would probably have been -arrested as a madman, controlled as was his demeanour; but the priest’s -frock forbade interference. - -The governor was not in the parlour car, nor in the next, nor in the -next. - -Yes, he had been there, a porter replied, and would be there again; but -he had left the train as soon as it had stopped. No, he did not know in -what direction he had gone; nor did any one else. - -There was nothing to do but to wait. Bourke sent a telegram to Sing -Sing, but it relieved his anxiety little: he knew the languid methods of -the company’s officials in country towns. - -There were five of those remaining seven minutes when he thought he was -going mad. An immense crowd had gathered by this time about the station. -Nobody knew exactly what was the matter, and nobody dared ask the man -walking rapidly up and down the platform, watch in hand, gripping the -arm of a priest; but hints were flying, and no one doubted that this -sudden furious incursion of a flying engine and the extraordinary -appearance of Bourke had to do with the famous prisoner at Sing Sing. - -At exactly three minutes to starting time the governor came sauntering -down the street, a tooth-pick in his mouth, his features overspread with -the calm and good-will which bespeak a recently warmed interior. Bourke -reached him almost at a bound. He was a master of words, and in less -than a minute he had presented the governor with the facts in the case -and handed him the affidavit. - -“Good,” said the governor. “I’m glad enough to do this. It’s you that -will understand, Mr. Bourke, that I would have been violating a sacred -duty if I’d slapped public opinion in the face before.” - -He wrote rapidly on the back of the affidavit. - -“This will do for the present,” he said. “I’ll fix it up in style when I -go back. You’re a great man, Mr. Bourke.” - -But Bourke had gone. Whistles were sounding, train men were yelling. He -and the priest barely had time to jump on their engine when they were -ordered to clear the track. - -Bourke glanced at his watch as they sprang out of the station. The time -was twenty minutes past ten. It was barely possible to reach Sing Sing -in three quarters of an hour. Lead was in his veins. His head felt -light. The chances for his last and paramount success were very slim. - -But the great engine dashed along like an inspired thing, and seemed to -throb in sympathy. There was a note of triumphant encouragement in its -sudden piercing shrieks. It tossed a cow off the track as lightly as the -poor brute had lately whisked a fly from its hind-quarters. It whistled -merrily to the roaring air. It snorted disdainfully when Bourke, -refusing to heed its mighty lullaby, curved his hands about his mouth -and shouted to the engineer:— - -“For God’s sake, go faster!” - - - XXV - -The town of Sing Sing was awake at daylight. It was the most exciting -and important day of its history. The women, even the pitiful ones, -arose with a pleasurable flutter and donned their Sunday frocks. The -matrons dressed the children in their brightest and best, and laid the -gala cover on the baby carriage. The men of the village took a -half-holiday and made themselves as smart as their women. The saloon -keepers stocked their shelves and spread their counters with tempting -array of corned beef, cold ham, cheese, crackers, pickles, and pretzels. - -By ten o’clock a hundred teams had driven into the town, and were -hitched to every post, housed in every stable. A number stood along that -part of the road which commanded a view of the prison towers. - -The women sat about on the slope opposite the prison, pushing the baby -carriages absently back and forth, or gossiping with animation. Other -women crowded up the bluff, settling themselves comfortably to await, -with what patience they could muster, the elevation of the black flag. - -The reporters and witnesses of the execution sat on a railing near the -main entrance, smoking cigarettes and discussing probabilities. Inside -and out the atmosphere of intense and suppressed excitement was trying -to even the stout nerves of the head-keeper. The assistant keepers, in -bright new caps, moved about with an air of portentous solemnity. - -Never had Sing Sing seen a more beautiful day. The sky was a dome of -lapis-lazuli. The yellow sun sparkled down on the imposing mediæval pile -of towers and turrets, on the handsome grey buildings above the green -slopes near by, on the graveyard with its few dishonoured dead, on the -gayly dressed expectant people, as exhilaratingly as had death and -dishonour never been. The river and the wooded banks beyond were as -sweet and calm as if the great building with the men in the watch towers -were some feudal castle, in which, perchance, a captured princess pined. - -The head-keeper walked once or twice to the telegraph table in a corner -of the office, and asked the girl in charge if any message had come. - -“It’s the wish that’s father to the thought,” he said to the warden; -“but I can’t help hoping for a reprieve or a commutation or something. -Poor thing, I feel awful sorry for her.” - -“Damn her,” growled his chief. “She’s too high-toned for me. When I read -the death warrant to her this morning she turned her back on me square.” - -“She’s awful proud, and I guess she has a hard time keeping up; but it -ain’t no time for resentment. I must say I did think Mr. Bourke’d save -her, and I can’t help thinking he will yet.” - -“Time’s getting short,” said the warden, with a dry laugh. “It’s 10.40, -and the execution takes place at 11.12 sharp.” - -“Couldn’t you make some excuse to put it off a day or so? It ain’t like -Mr. Bourke.” - -“Not much. Off she goes at 11.12.” And he got up heavily and shuffled -out. - -The head-keeper took a decanter of brandy from the sideboard and placed -it, with a number of glasses, on the table. Then he called in the -newspaper men and other witnesses. - -He wandered about restlessly as the men entered and drank in silence. He -carried a stick of malacca topped with silver. One or two of the -newspaper men shuddered as it caught their eye. They knew its hideous -portent. - -“Guess we’d better go,” he said, after one more fruitless trip to the -telegraph table. “It takes time to go through those underground -passages.” - -As the great gates were about to close behind them he turned suddenly -and called a guard. - -“If it should so happen that Mr. Bourke should come, or telegraph, or -that anything should happen before—11.16—I can delay it that -long—just you be on hand to make a bolt. It ain’t like Mr. Bourke to -sit down and do nothing. I feel it in my bones that he’s moving heaven -and earth this minute.” - - - XXVI - -It was five minutes after eleven. Patience sat on the edge of her bed, -her hands clenched, her face grey. But she was calm. The horror and -sinking which had almost mastered her as the warden read the death -warrant, she had fought down and under. And she had drunk a quantity of -black coffee. She had but one thought, one desire left,—to die bravely. -Even Bourke was forgotten, and hope and regret. She was conscious of but -one passionate wish, not to quail, not for a second. Perhaps there was a -slight touch of the dramatic instinct, even in this last extremity, for -she imagined the scene and her attitude again and again. In consequence, -there was a sense of unreality in it all. She felt as if about to play -some great final act; she could not realise that the climax meant her -own annihilation. Physically she was very tired, and should have liked -to lie down for hours, although the coffee had routed sleep. Once she -half extended herself on the bed, then sat erect, her mouth contracting -spasmodically. - -Suddenly she heard the noise of many feet shuffling on a bare floor. She -knew that it came from the execution room. She shuddered and bit her -lips. Now and again, through the high windows, came the shrill note of a -woman’s voice, or a baby’s soft light laugh. - -A moment later she sprang to her feet, quivering in every nerve, her -hands clenched in a final and successful attempt at absolute -self-mastery. On the door separating the Death House from the main -building, resounded three loud raps, slow and deliberate. They -reverberated in the ears of the condemned like the blast of the last -trumpet. - -The door opened, and the head-keeper entered, walking slowly, and -stopping once to hold whispered converse with the death watch. Patience -controlled an impulse to call to him to hurry and have it over. - -He came forward at last, tapping his malacca stick on the floor, -unlocked the door of her cell, and offered her his arm. He bent to her -ear as if to whisper something, then evidently thought better of it, and -led her slowly to the passage facing the execution room. Again she -wanted to ask him to hurry, but dared not speak. The death watch turned -away his head. The lace of her low shoe untied, and she stooped -mechanically and fastened it. - -The head-keeper asked her if she would like some brandy,—he would send -and get it for her. She shook her head emphatically. The exaltation of -heroism was beginning to possess her, and she would give no newspaper -the chance to say that she owed her fortitude to alcohol. - -They walked down the narrow vaulted way through which so many had gone -to their last hideous moments. The head-keeper fumbled at the lock. The -door swung open. For a moment Patience closed her eyes; the big room of -yellow wood was a blaze of sunlight. Then she opened them and glanced -curiously about her. - -The execution room was large and high and square and cheerful. On the -left, many feet above the floor, was a row of windows. At the far end a -number of men that had been sitting on stools stood up hurriedly as the -prisoner entered, and doffed their hats. They were the newspaper men. -She recognised most of them, and bent her head. At the opposite end near -the door leading to the Death House was a chair. Patience regarded it -steadily in spite of its brilliancy. It was a solid chair of light -coloured oak, like the room, and supported on three legs. Two were at -the back; in front was one of curious construction, almost a foot in -breadth. This leg was divided in two at the extremity. Half way up there -was a cross piece which spread the full width of the chair. To this was -fastened the straps to hold the ankles of the condemned. The chair stood -on a rubber mat to ensure perfect insulation. It was studded with small -electric lamps, dazzling, white-hot. - -Behind the chair was a square cupboard in which stood the unknown, who, -at a given signal, would turn on the current. - -Two prison guards stood by the chair, one behind it and one on the -right. The State electrician, two surgeons, and a man in light blue -clothes stood near. - -Patience turned her eyes to the reporters. The young men were very pale. -They regarded her with deep sympathy, and perhaps a bitter resentment at -the impotence of their manhood. One looked as if he should faint, and -turning his back suddenly raised something to his lips. Even the “Eye” -man still held his hat in his hand, and had not resumed his seat. Only -one watched her with eager wolfish curiosity. He was the youngest of -them all, and it was his first great story. - -Patience wondered if she looked ugly after her long confinement, and -possibly ridiculous, as most women look when they have dressed without a -mirror. But there was no curve of amusement on the young men’s faces, -and they were shuffling their feet uneasily. Her hair hung in a long -braid. She looked very young. - -She dropped the head-keeper’s arm and walked deliberately to the chair; -but he caught her hand and held her back. - -“Wait a minute,” he said, with affected gruffness. He went to the chair -and examined it in detail. He asked a number of questions, which were -answered by the electrician with haughty surprise. In a moment the -reporters were staring, and like a lightning flash one brain informed -another that “something was in the wind.” - -When the head-keeper had lingered about the chair as long as he dared he -returned to Patience, who was standing rigidly where he had left her, -and drawing a short breath said,— - -“If you have any last words, ma’am, you are at liberty to speak.” - -“I have nothing to say,” replied Patience, wondering if her mouth or -brain were speaking. - -“Yes, yes, speak,” exclaimed several of the reporters. They had out -their pads in an instant; but, for once, it was not the news instinct -that was alert. The most quick-witted men in the world, they realised -that the head-keeper was endeavouring to gain time. Their stiff felt -hats dropped to the floor and bounced about. Their hands shook a little. -For perhaps the first time in their history they were more men than -journalists. - -“I don’t wish to speak,” said Patience, and again she walked toward the -chair. The newspaper men sprang forward with an uncontrollable movement, -but the guards waved them back. - -“Be careful, young men,” said the head-keeper with pompous severity. -“Any more of that, and you go out.” Taking advantage of the momentary -scraping of boots, he whispered in Patience’s ear, “For God’s sake -speak—and a good long one. You must have something to say; and it’s -your last chance on earth.” - -“I have nothing to say,” she replied, her brain closed to all -impressions but one. “Can’t you see that I need all my strength? If you -have any mercy in you put me in that chair and have done with it.” - -“Oh, you are not the kind to break down—my God!” - -The silence of the prison, the hush without the walls, was pierced by a -single shriek, a shriek which seemed shot from earth to heaven, a mighty -shriek of furious warning. - -Every man in the room jumped. The newspaper men drew their breath with a -hard sound. Only Patience gave no heed. - -“It’s an engine,” stuttered the head-keeper, “and there’s no train due -at this hour—” - -The outer door was flung violently open. The warden stamped heavily into -the room. His face was purple. - -“Why in hell hasn’t this execution taken place?” he roared. “Get to -work!” - -The head-keeper’s face turned very white. His hand shook a little. The -men stared at him with jumping nerves. Patience and the warden were the -only persons in the room unaffected by the inexplicable excitement which -had taken possession of the atmosphere. - -“Get to work,” repeated the warden. - -Patience walked to the chair and seated herself, extending her arms in -position. Once more her brain relaxed its grasp on every thought but the -determination not to scream nor quiver. She closed her eyes and set her -teeth. - -The guards began to fasten the straps, but slowly, under the significant -eyes of the head-keeper. The warden stamped up and down. The electrician -came forward. The surgeon went into an adjoining room and cast his eyes -over his instruments, laid out on a long table. - -The brain works eccentrically in such moments. Patience’s suddenly flung -upon her consciousness a picture of Carmel tower. She speculated upon -the fate of her owl. She recalled that the Mission had been restored, -and wondered if Solomon, that proud and elderly hermit, had turned his -haughty back upon civilisation to dwell alone in the black arbours of -the remote pine tops of the forest. She saw the spray toss itself into -scattering wraiths, as when she had knelt there—a thousand years ago—a -little lonely girl in copper-toed boots, dreaming dreams that were -pricked with no premonition of life’s tragic horrors. - -She frowned suddenly, recalling her long-lived determination to take -life as a spectacular drama. Life had gotten the best of her! Assuredly -there was nothing impersonal about this ignominious and possibly -excruciating death. The thought banished Carmel tower. Her mind was a -sudden blaze of light—white light she thought with a stifled shrink—in -which every detail of the room was sharply accentuated. She opened her -eyes, but only a trifle, lest these men see the horror in them. Her -blood was curdling, but she knew that she was making no sign. - -Her sensitised mind received the immediate impression that the -atmosphere of the room was vibrating with excitement. She saw the -head-keeper’s neck crane, his furtive glance at the outer door. He -expected some one. Bourke! - -She set her teeth. She had believed up to last night that he would save -her. Why had she doubted him for an instant? She understood now the -diplomacy of the head-keeper. Why had she not spoken when he had -implored her? - -It seemed to her that the men fastening the straps were racing each -other. She wanted to whisper to them to lag, but pride stayed her -tongue. - -The warden was striding about and swearing. The electricians and -surgeons were whispering in a group. - -She looked at the newspaper men. She met their gaze of excited sympathy, -understood at last the spirit that animated them, and bowed her head. -She dared not speak. - -But in a moment indignation routed gratitude. Why did they not rescue -her, these young vigorous men! They knew her to be innocent. They -outmatched in number the guards. Where was their manhood? What had -become of all the old traditions? Then her anger left as suddenly as it -had come. They were not knights with battle axes, but the most -exaggerated product of modern civilisation. It was almost a miracle that -they passionately wished to save her. - -Her head was drawn gently back, her eyes covered. Something leapt and -fought within her. Horror tore at her vitals, snarling like a -wolf-hound. But once more her will rose supreme. Then, as she realised -that her last moment had come, she became possessed by one mighty -desire, to compel her imagination to give her the phantasm, the voice, -the touch of her lover. - -The wrench with which she accomplished her object was so violent, the -mental concentration so overmastering, that all other consciousness was -extinguished. - -Suddenly her ears were pierced by a din which made her muscles leap -against the straps. Was she in hell, and was this her greeting? She felt -a second’s thankfulness that death had been painless. - -Then, out of the babel of sound she distinguished words which made her -sit erect and open her eyes, her pulses bound, her blood leap, hot and -stinging, her whole being rebound with gladness of life. - -The cap had been removed, the men were unbuckling the straps. The -head-keeper had flung his cap on the floor and run his hands through his -hair until it stood up straight. Round her chair the newspaper men were -pressing, shouting and cheering, trying to get at her hand to shake it. - -She smiled and held out her hand, but dared not speak to them. Pride -still lived, and she was afraid that she should cry. - -Then she forgot them. A sudden parting in the ranks showed her the open -door. At the same moment the men stopped shouting. Bourke had entered. -He had followed the guard mechanically, neither hoping nor fearing until -the far-reaching cheers sent the blood springing through his veins once -more. - -He was neither clean nor picturesque, but Patience saw only his eyes. He -walked forward rapidly, and lifting her in his arms carried her from the -room. - - - - - * * * * * - - - - -Transcriber’s note: - -A Table of Contents was added for the convenience of the reader. - -Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained as in the original. -Punctuation and type-setting errors have been corrected without note. -Other corrections are as noted below. - -page 301, not by a long short ==> not by a long shot - -page 343, and the diplomate kissed ==> and the diplomat kissed - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES*** - - -******* This file should be named 53009-0.txt or 53009-0.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/0/0/53009 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h2 { font-weight: bold; font-size: 1.3em; } - - h3,h4 { text-align: center; - clear: both; } - h1.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 190%; - margin-top: 0em; } - h2.pg { font-weight: bold; - font-size: 135%; } - hr.full { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Patience Sparhawk and Her Times, by Gertrude -Franklin Horn Atherton</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Patience Sparhawk and Her Times</p> -<p> A Novel</p> -<p>Author: Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton</p> -<p>Release Date: September 8, 2016 [eBook #53009]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by Mardi Desjardins<br /> - and the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdpcanada.net">http://www.pgdpcanada.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org/details/americana">https://archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive/American Libraries. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/sparhawkpatience00atherich"> - https://archive.org/details/sparhawkpatience00atherich</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:375px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>PATIENCE SPARHAWK</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>AND HER TIMES</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/anovel.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:200px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>BY</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;font-size:1.3em;font-weight:bold;'>GERTRUDE ATHERTON</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>AUTHOR OF “A WHIRL ASUNDER,” “THE DOOMSWOMAN,”</p> -<p class='line'>“BEFORE THE GRINGO CAME,” ETC.</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/logo.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0002' style='width:70px;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>JOHN LANE: THE BODLEY HEAD</p> -<p class='line'>LONDON AND NEW YORK</p> -<p class='line'>1897</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Copyright, 1895</span>,</p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>By Gertrude Atherton</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>Copyright, 1897</span>,</p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>By John Lane</span>.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'><span class='it'>All rights reserved.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>University Press:</p> -<p class='line'><span class='sc'>John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S.A.</span></p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-bottom:1.2em;font-size:1.3em;'>CONTENTS</p> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 1em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#book1'>Book I</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#book2'>Book II</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#book3'>Book III</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#book4'>Book IV</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'><a href='#book5'>Book V</a></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle0'> </td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'>TO</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1em;margin-bottom:1em;font-size:1.1em;'>M. PAUL BOURGET,</p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Who alone, of all foreigners, has detected, in its full significance, that -the motive power, the cohering force, the ultimate religion of that -strange composite known as “The American,” is Individual Will. -Leaving the ultra-religious element out of the question, the high, -the low, the rich, the poor, the man, the woman of this section of -the Western world, each, consciously or unconsciously, believes in, -relies on himself primarily. In the higher civilisation this amounts -to intellectual anarchy, and its tendency is to make Americans, or, -more exactly, United Statesians, a New Race in a sense far more -portentous than in any which has yet been recognised. As M. Bourget -prophesies, destruction, chaos, may eventuate. On the other hand, -the final result may be a race of harder fibre and larger faculties than -any in the history of civilisation. That this extraordinary self-dependence -and independence of certain traditions that govern older nations -make the quintessential part of the women as of the men of this race -I have endeavoured to illustrate in the following pages.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;margin-top:0.5em;'>G. A.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;font-size:1.5em;font-weight:bold;'>Patience Sparhawk and Her Times</p> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='book1'></a>BOOK I</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>I</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, git up! Git up! Did you ever see such an old -slug? Billy! <span class='it'>Will</span> you git up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the use of talking to him?” drawled a -soft, inactive voice. “You know he never goes one -bit faster. What’s the difference anyhow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Difference is my mother wants these groceries for -supper. We’re all out of sugar ’n flour ’n beans, and -the men’s got to eat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, as long as he won’t go, just be comfortable -and don’t bother.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I could be as easy-going as you are, Rosita, -but I can’t: I suppose it’s because I’m not Spanish. -Guess I’ve got some Yankee in me, if I am a Californian.” -The little girl leaned over the dash-board of -the rickety buggy, thumping with her whip-stump the -back of the aged nag. Billy was blind, uncertain in -the knees, and as languid as any <span class='it'>caballero</span> that once -had sighed at <span class='it'>doña’s</span> feet in these dim pine woods. -As far back as Patience could remember he had never -broken his record, and his record was two miles an -hour. In a few moments she set the whip in the socket -with an irritable thump, wound the reins about it, and -sat down on the floor beside her companion. For -some reason best known to themselves, the girls preferred -this method of disposition when Billy led the -way,—perhaps because he had an errant fondness for -the roughest spots of the rough road, making the high -seat as uneasy and precarious as thrones are still; perhaps -because Patience rebelled at habit, and in all her -divagations was blindly followed by her Spanish friend.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Billy ambled up and down the steep roads of the -fragrant pine woods on the hills behind Monterey, and -the girls gave him no further heed. Patience’s long -plait having been shaken loose in her wild lurches over -the dash-board, she swung about, dangled her legs out -of the buggy, and commanded Rosita to braid her hair. -The legs she kicked recklessly against the wheel were -not pretty. They were long and thin, clothed with -woollen stockings darned and wrinkled, and angled off -with copper-toed boots. She wore a frock of faded -gingham, and chewed the strings of a sunbonnet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t pull so, and do hurry,” she exclaimed as the -Spanish girl’s deft slow fingers moved in and out of the -scanty wisps.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not pulling, Patita, dear, and you know I can’t -hurry. And I’m just thinking that your hair is the -colour of ashes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know it,” said Patience, gloomily, “but maybe -it’ll be yellow when I grow up. Do you remember -Polly Collins? When she graduated she had hair the -colour of a wharf rat, and when she came back from -San Francisco the next year it was as yellow as the hills -in summer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care for yellow hair,” and Rosita moved -her dark head with the slow rotary motion which was -hers by divine right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’re pretty,” said Patience, sarcastically. -“You want to be told so, I suppose—There! you -pulled my hair on purpose, you know you did, Rosita -Thrailkill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t, Patita. Don’t fire up so.” And Rosita, -who was the most amiable of children, tied the end of -the braid with a piece of tape, rubbed her blooming -cheek against the pale one, and was forgiven.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience drew herself into the buggy and braced her -back against the seat. Her face had little more beauty -than her legs. It was colourless and freckled. The -mouth was firm, almost dogged, as if the contest with -life had already begun. Her brows and lashes were -several shades darker than her hair, but her eyes, wide -apart and very bright, were a light, rather cold grey. -The nose alone was a beautiful feature, straight and -fine; and the hands, although rough and sunburned, -were tapering and slender, and very flexible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In her red frock, the highly-coloured little Spanish -girl glowed like a cactus blossom beside a neglected -weed. Her plump face was full of blood; her large -dark eyes were indolent and soft. Patience’s eyes -comprehended everything within their radius in one -flashing glance; Rosita’s, even at the tender age of -fifteen, looked unswerving disapproval of all exertion, -mental or physical.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if your mother is drunk?” she asked in -her slow delicious voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Likely,” said Patience, with frowning resignation. -“But let’s talk of something more agreeable. Isn’t -this perfume heavenly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dark solemn woods were ravishing with the perfumes -of spring, the perfume of wild violet and lilac -and lily, and the faint sweet odour the damp earth gives -up as the sun goes down. From above came the strong -bracing scent of the pines. Now and again the wind -brought a salt whiff from the ocean. No birds carolled, -but the pines sang their eternal dirge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s your ideal?” demanded Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ideal? What ideal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, of man, of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, man!” contemptuously. “I haven’t thought -much about men. I don’t read novels like you do. I -wish somebody would die and leave me a thousand -dollars so I could live in San Francisco and have a new -dress every day and go to the theatre every night. -Miss Galpin says we mustn’t think about boys, and I -don’t—perhaps because the boys in Monterey are so -horrid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Boys? Who said anything about boys?” The -chrysalis elevated her patrician nose. “I mean -men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’re mean to turn up your nose at boys. -They like you a good deal better than they do me, and -a good many of the other girls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s funny, isn’t it? and I not pretty. But I -suppose it’s because I talk. You just sit still and look -pretty, and that’s not very entertaining. I read in a -novel that men like that; but boys have got to be -entertained. Goodness gracious! Don’t I know it? -When I was at Manuela’s party the other night in my -old washed muslin frock and plaid sash, didn’t I talk -my throat sore to make them forget that I was the -worst dressed girl in the room and had the most -freckles? Of course the girls didn’t forget—nor some -other things—” with a bitter lowering of the lids—“but -the boys did. Somehow I feel as if men would -always be my friends, if I’m not pretty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you know about men, anyhow? You’re -only fifteen, and you’ve never met any but old Mr. -Foord, and the farm hands and store keepers, who,” -aristocratically, “don’t count.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t I read novels? Haven’t I read Thackeray -and Dickens and Scott and ‘Jane Eyre’ and ‘Wuthering -Heights’ and Shakespeare and Plutarch’s Lives, and -the life of Napoleon and Macaulay’s ‘History of England’ -and Essays—those all ain’t novels, but they write -about men, real men, too. I’ve made my ideal out of -a lot of them put together, and I’ll never marry till I -find him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’d like to know where you’ll find him in -Monterey,” said the practical Rosita. “Miss Galpin -says you’re too romantic, and that it’s a pity, because -you’re the brightest girl in the school.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did Miss Galpin say that?” Patience took a brass -pin out of her frock and extracted a splinter from her -thumb with a fine air of indifference; but the pink -flooded her cheek. “She’s always reading Howells -and James, and says they’d keep anybody from being -romantic. But that’s about all I’ve got, so I think -I’ll hold on to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sun dropped below the horizon as they jolted -out of the woods and down the steep road toward -Carmel Valley. They reached a ledge, and Patience, -forgetful of hungry men and an irascible parent, called: -“Whoa!” to which Billy responded with an alacrity -reserved for such occasions only.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never get tired of this,” she said. “Do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s pretty,” said Rosita, indifferently. “Why are -you so fond of scenery—nature, as Miss Galpin calls -it—I wonder?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know,” said Patience, and at that age she -did not. She was responsive but dumb. She gazed -down and out and upward with a pleasure that never -grew old. A great bleak mountain loomed on the -other side of the valley. It was as steep as if the -ocean had gnawed it flat, but only the peaceful valley -lay under; out in the ocean it tapered to an immense -irregular mass of rock over which the breakers leapt -and fought. Carmel River sparkled peacefully beneath -its moving willows. The blue bay murmured to the -white sands with the peace of evening. Close to the -little beach the old Mission hung its dilapidated head. -Through its yawning arches dark objects flitted; mould -was on the yellow walls; from yawning crevice the -rank grass grew. Only the tower still defied elements -and vandals, although the wind whistled through its gaping -windows and the silver bells were no more. The -huts about the church had collapsed like old muscles, -but in their ruin still whispered the story of the past.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t it splendid to think that we have a ruin!” -exclaimed Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a ruin sure enough; but there’s uncle Jim. -He must think we’re dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A prolonged “Halloa!” came from the valley, and -Patience, with a sigh, bade Billy “Git up,” which he -did in the course of a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Halloa, you youngsters, why don’t you hurry?” -cried a nasal voice. “I’ve been waiting here an hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Coming,” said Patience. “It’s too bad he had -to wait.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he smoked and swore, so he’s all right,” said -Rosita, who had not taken the trouble to reply. None -of the girls was allowed to visit Patience at her house; -but Mrs. Thrailkill, who was fond of her daughter’s -chosen friend, and pitiful in her indolent way, often -allowed Patience to drive Rosita as far as the branching -of the roads, where the Kentucky uncle met his -niece and took her to his farm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the dusk below a wagon and two horses could be -seen, and a big man under a wide straw hat, sitting on -the upper rail of a fence, his heels hooked to the rail -below. Patience inferred that he was chewing tobacco -and expectorating upon the poppies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I reckon!” he exclaimed as the buggy -reached the foot of the hill. “You two do beat all. -Do you s’pose I’ve got nothing better to do than moon -round pikes waiting on kids like you? How’s your -ma, Rosita? Well, Patience, I won’t keep you—much -obliged for giving my lazy Spanish niece a lift. -Come on now; supper’s ready ’n after.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two little girls kissed each other affectionately. -Mr. Thrailkill lifted Rosita down, and Patience turned -Billy in the direction of a fiery eye and a dim column -of smoke under the mountain. The evening seemed -very quiet after the rattle of Mr. Thrailkill’s team had -become a part of the distance. Only the roar of the -surf, the moaning of the pines, the harsh music of the -frogs, the thousand vocal mysteries of night—not a -sound of man. Patience, after her fashion, rehabilitated -the Mission and peopled the valley with padres and -Indians; but when Billy came to a sudden halt, she -sprang prosaically to the ground and let down the bars -of her mother’s ranch. After she had replaced them -she took hold of Billy’s bridle, and endeavoured, by -jerks and expostulation, to induce him to move more -rapidly. The road now lay through a ploughed field -stretching gloomily on the east to the horizon, where -the stars seemed dropping into the dark. Cows -roamed at will, or lay heavily in their first sleep. Here -and there an oak thrust out its twisted arms, its trunk -bent backward by ocean winds. The house soon became -plainly outlined, a long unpainted wooden story-and-a-half -structure, the type of ranch house of the -second era. Castilian roses clambered up the unpainted -front. Clumps of gladiolus, pinks, and fuschias -struggled with weeds in the front garden. Beyond -was a number of out-buildings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience reached the porch she dropped -Billy’s bridle, lifted out the sugar, and stepping to the -kitchen window, looked through it for a moment before -opening the door. Her mother was very drunk.</p> - -<h2>II</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The room into which Patience frowned was a large -rough kitchen of the old familiar type. The rafters -were festooned with cobwebs, through which tin cans -and aged pails were visible, and an occasional bundle -of rags. The board walls were unplastered and unpainted. -Out of the uneven floor, knots had dropped -to the cellar below. The door of a cupboard, built -against the wall with primitive simplicity, stood open, -revealing a motley collection of cans, bottles, and -cracked dishes. Pots and pans were heaped on a shelf -traversing two sides of the room. A table was loaded -with odds and ends, in the midst of which place had -been made for a lamp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over a large stove a woman was frying bacon and -eggs. She wore a brown calico garment, torn and -smudged. Her fine black hair, sprinkled with ashes, -hung raggedly above magnificent dark eyes, blinking in -a crimson face. The thin nostrils and full mouth were -twitching. In her ruin she was still a beautiful woman, -and she moved her tall bloated form with the pride of -race, despite the alcohol in her veins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On a broken chair by the stove sat a young man in -the overalls and flannel shirt of a farm hand. His hair -was clipped to his skull with colourless result; his large -red under lip curved down into a yellow beard. In a -long low room adjoining the kitchen a half dozen other -men were seated on benches about a table covered with -white oilcloth and chipped crockery. They also wore -overalls and flannel shirts; and they were bearded and -seamed and brown. The Californian sun soon burns -the juices out of the flesh that defies it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience flung open the kitchen door and threw the -sugar on the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oscar,” she said peremptorily to the man by the -stove, “take Billy round to the barn and put him up, -and bring in the flour and the beans. They’re under -the seat.” The man went out, muttering angrily, and -she turned to her mother, who had begun a tirade of -abuse. “Keep quiet,” she said. “So you’re drunk -again? I thought you promised me that you wouldn’t -drink again for a week. Where did you get it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t help it,” muttered the woman, cowed by -the bitter contempt in her small daughter’s eyes, and -thrusting a long fork into the sputtering fat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where did you get it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience opened the package of sugar with a jerk, -and filling two bowls with the coarse brown stuff carried -them into the next room and set them at opposite ends -of the table. The men ceased talking as she entered, -and saluted her respectfully. They felt vaguely sorry -for her; but they were afraid of her, and she was not a -favourite with them. Her mother, “Madge,” as they -called her to a man, they worshipped, despite or -because of her peccability. They went down before -her deathless magnetism, her coarse good nature, her -spurious kind-heartedness. It was only when very drunk -that she became violent and vituperative, and even then -she fascinated them. Patience told herself proudly that -she had no attraction for “common men”—that she -repelled them. Not being a seer, she was saved the -foreknowledge of a fatal gift in operation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took the large coffee-pot from the back of the -stove and filled the men’s cups with its thick fluid. -Her mother’s rolling eyes followed her with a malignant -sparkle. She was afraid of her daughter, and resentment -had eaten deep into her perverted nature. -Patience filled a plate with bread and apple sauce, and -went into the parlour to eat her supper in solitude. She -took all her meals in this room, which with little difficulty -she appropriated to her exclusive use: it was very -small. She kept it in fairly good order: she was not -the tidiest of children. But the old brussels carpet was -clean, barring the corners, and the horsehair furniture -had been mended here and there with shoe thread. -As it still prickled, however, Patience had made a -cushion for the clumsy rocker out of an elderly gown -which she had found in a trunk in the garret with other -relics of finery. She occupied the rocker impartially -whether eating or reading. The marble-topped table -also served for dining and study.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a forlorn old bookcase were her only treasures, -the few books, mostly classics, which John Sparhawk -had reserved when a succession of failures had forced -him to sell his library to Mr. Foord. In one corner -was a large family Bible on a small table. It was old -and worn. Its gilt edges shone dimly through a cobweb -of infinite pains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the papered walls were two large coloured photographs -of Mr. and Mrs. Sparhawk, taken apparently -when each was close on thirty years. The woman’s -face bore traces of dissipation even then, and the red -mouth was very sensual. But the cheeks were still -delicate and there were no bags under the large flaming -eyes. The bare neck and arms and half revealed bust -were superb; the poise of the head, the curve of the -short upper lip, the fine arched nostril, were the delicate -insignia of race; the pride stamped on every -feature was that of birth, not of defiance. The man -had a slender upright figure and a finely modelled head -and face. The deeply set eyes were cold and piercing, -but between the stern curves of the mouth there was -much passion. Patience had studied these faces, but -she was as innocent as if she had been bred in a cloister, -and their mystery baffled while it allured her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ate her supper with a hearty appetite. Her -mother’s lapses, being accepted as part of the routine -of existence, rarely depressed her spirits. Nevertheless -she frowned heavily as turbulent sounds pierced the -thin partition, not so much at her mother’s iniquity, as -at the prospect of being obliged to wash the supper -dishes. The expected crash came, and she ran into the -kitchen. Her mother lay prone. Two of the men -lifted her immediately and carried her up the narrow -stair. Patience sullenly attacked the dishes. She -dumped them into a large pan of hot water, stirred them -gingerly with a cloth fastened to a stick, drained the -water off, poured in a fresh pailful, and dried them -hastily. She filled the frying-pan with water and set it -on the hottest part of the stove to cook itself clean. -Occasionally she coughed with angry significance: the -men in the next room were invisible behind a grey fog -of their own puffing. She spattered her clean pinafore, -blackened her hands, and devoutly wished herself alone -on a desert island where she could live on cocoanuts -and bananas. At such times she forgot the few compensations -of her unfortunate life and felt herself only -the poverty-stricken drudge, the daughter of Madge -Sparhawk.</p> - -<h2>III</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Who Madge Sparhawk was before she married the -Yankee rancher had at one time been an absorbing -topic for dispute in Monterey. One gossip averred -that she had been the dashing leader of the lower ten -thousand of San Francisco, another that she had come -from the Eastern States as the mistress of a wealthy -man who had wearied and cast her off; a third confidently -affirmed that she had been a brilliant New -York woman of fashion who had gone wrong through -love of drink, and been sent under an assumed -name to California by her afflicted family; a fourth -swore that she had been an actress, a fifth that she -had been the high-tempered queen of a gambling -house. On one point all agreed: she was disreputable, -and John Sparhawk was a fool to marry her. However, -they were somewhat disappointed that they saw -so little of her. They were not called upon to snub -nor tolerate her. She rarely came into the town; never -excepting on horseback with her husband, when her -splendid beauty drew masculine Monterey from its -perch on the fence tops,—where it sat and smoked -and murmured the hours away,—and gathered it about -her, stirring the diluted rill of <span class='it'>caballero</span> blood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As far as the little world of Monterey could learn -through the gossip of servants, she was a helpful wife -to a devoted husband who patiently strove with the -fiend that possessed her. When he was killed by the -accidental discharge of a gun her grief was so violent -that only a prolonged carouse could assuage it. Subsequently -she recovered, and with occasional advice -from Mr. Foord attempted to run the farm. As John -Sparhawk had made no will, she was her child’s legal -guardian, the absolute mistress for eight years of what -property her husband had left. There was a little -ready money, the dairy was remunerative, and the ranch -well stocked. But that was five years ago. Her habits -had grown upon her; the ranch was mortgaged and -run down, the stock decreased by half.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had rebelled heavily at her father’s death, -and wondered, with childish logic, why, if one parent -had to die, it could not have been her mother. Her -father’s manner had been cold, repellent, like her own; -but that his nature was deep and passionate even her -young mind had never doubted. She felt it in the -close clasp of his arms as he held her before him on his -horse when galloping about the ranch; in his sudden -infrequent caress; in the strong pressure of his hand as -they wandered through the woods or along the shore at -night, not a word spoken between them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not until after his death that she made acquaintance -with her social separateness. He had -begun her education himself. Her only girl companion -was Rosita Thrailkill, the niece of a neighbour, whom -her father would not permit her to visit in Monterey. -John Sparhawk’s only friends were the Thrailkill brothers -and Mr. Foord, an elderly gentleman, who had lived in -Monterey under the old régime, lost his fortune in the -great Bonanza time, and returned to the somnolent -town to end his days with his library, the memory of -his dead Spanish wife, and a few old friends, world-forgotten -like himself. He lived in the dilapidated -Custom House on the rocks at the edge of the town, -and Patience had ruled his establishment since her -baby days. It was the only house in Monterey she was -permitted to enter, and she entered it as often as she -could. A hundred times she had sat with the old -gentleman on the upper corridor and listened to the -story of the capture of Monterey by the United States -fleet in 1846; stared breathlessly at the crumbling fort—the -<span class='it'>castillo</span>—on the hill above Junipero Serra’s -cross, as Mr. Foord verbally restored its former impregnability.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He told her tales of the days of light and life and -joy when Monterey was the capital of the Californians, -and the Americans were not yet come,—stories of love -and revenge and the great free play of the primitive -passions, unpared by modern civilisation. For her -those old adobe houses in the town were alive once -more with dark-eyed <span class='it'>doñas</span> and magnificently attired -<span class='it'>caballeros</span>. Behind the high walls of the old gardens -fans fluttered among the Castilian roses and dueñas -stealthily prowled. The twisted streets were gay again -with the court life of the olden time, the grand parades -of the governors, the triumphant returns from the race -on the restless silver-trapped steeds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every house had its history, and Patience knew them -all. She wandered with Mr. Foord along the dusty -streets, lingered before the garden walls, over which she -could see and smell the nasturtiums and the sweet -Castilian roses. But gone were the <span class='it'>caballeros</span> and the -<span class='it'>doñas</span>. They lay in the little cemetery of the <span class='it'>padres</span> -on the hill, over beyond the yellow church which -marked a corner of the old <span class='it'>presidio</span>, and well on the -road to a great hotel whose typical life was vastly different -from that old romantic time. They lay under -their stones, forgotten. The thistles and wild oats -rioted under the gnarled old oaks. The new-comer -never paused to glance at the worn carvings on the -thick rough slabs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Behind the garden walls a few brown old women -lived alone, too practical to brood upon an enchanted -past. Cows nibbled in the <span class='it'>plaza</span> where once the bull -and the bear had fought while the gay jewelled people -screamed with delight. Gone was the tinkle of the -guitar, the flutter of fan, the graceful woman hastening -down the street half hidden in her mantilla, the -lovely face behind the grating. The screaming of the -sea-gulls, the moaning of the pines, the roar of the surf, -alone remained the same, careless of change or decay. -Wooden houses crowded between the old adobes. -Most of the Spanish families were half American: their -women had preferred the enterprising intruder to the -indolent <span class='it'>caballero</span>. Arcadia was no more. The old had -kissed the hand of the new, and spawned a hybrid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After John Sparhawk’s death, Mr. Foord persuaded -his widow to send Patience to the public school. The -little girl was delighted. She had looked with envious -longing at the stone building, painted a beautiful pink, -which stood well up on the hill at the right of the town -and was still known by the imposing name of Colton -Hall; it had been built by the first American <span class='it'>alcalde</span>, -and was a court house for a brief while.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But it was not long before Patience learned the -bitter lesson that she was not as other girls, despite -the fact that at that time she was well dressed and that -she drifted naturally to the head of her classes. School -girls are coarse and cruel. Children are the periodical -relapse of civilisation into savagery. These girls of -Monterey excluded Patience from their games and -recess conversations, and intimated broadly that her -mother was not respectable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first Patience gave them little heed. She loved -study, and was of a wild happy nature beneath her prim -exterior. Moreover, Rosita was her loyal friend; and -one of the older girls, Manuela Peralta, who had a kind -and independent heart, sheltered her as much as she -could. But Patience was too bright and observing to -remain long in ignorance of her hostile environment. -When the awakening came her young soul was filled -with rage and bitterness. The full meaning of their -innuendoes she was too ignorant to understand, but that -she was regarded as a pariah was sufficiently evident.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Little as she loved her mother, a natural impulse sent -her to her only remaining parent with the story of her -wrongs. Mrs. Sparhawk became violently indignant -and shortly after very drunk. The subject was never -mentioned between them again; nor did Patience -speak of it with any one but Rosita, whom she regarded -as a second, beloved, and somewhat inferior self. But -her soul cried out for the strength that only a man’s -strong soul can give to woman at any age; and the -man that had prayed to live and defend her lay with -the forgotten Californians on the hill.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Foord divined her trouble, and did what he -could to make her life endurable, although her shy -reserve forbade any intimacy beyond the old friendship. -Miss Galpin, her teacher, made no secret of -the fact that Patience was her favourite scholar, and -encouraged her to study and read and forget.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience indulged in no further outbreak, even to -herself. She cultivated a cold and impassive exterior, -an air of rigid indifference, and studied until her small -head ached. She was not old enough to analyse; it -was instinct only that made her assume callousness; -but in her young vague way she grappled with the -social problem. She did not approve of Mrs. Sparhawk -any more than others did; but Mrs. Sparhawk’s -daughter behaved herself, and stood at the -head of her classes, and had been assured again and -again that she “looked like a little lady:” therefore -she was at a loss to comprehend why Patience Sparhawk -was not as good as other girls. There was -Panchita McPherson, who lied profusely and whose -mother sat in the sun all day and baked herself like an -old crocodile, while her husband sat on the fence by -the Post Office and smoked a pipe from the first of -January until the thirty-first of December. Yet Panchita -was of the <span class='it'>haute noblesse</span>, and treated Patience as -she would a rag-picker. Francesca Montez never -knew a lesson and was so vulgar that she brought the -blush to Patience’s cheek; but she lived in an adobe -mansion which once had been the scene of princely -splendour, and gave two parties a year. The American -girls had not even the prestige of the past; they could -not reckon up a great-grandfather between them, much -less peeling portraits of <span class='it'>caballeros</span> and trunks of splendid -finery; but they were bright and aggressive, and made -themselves a power in the school.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Patience grew older she compelled the respect of -her mates, and they ceased to annoy her. The consciousness -of social supremacy never faded, not for an -instant; but even tying a tin can to a dog’s tail becomes -monotonous in time, and they had numberless little -interests to absorb them. If Patience had been a rollicking -emotional child she would doubtless have kissed -herself into popularity and been treated to much good-natured -patronage; but she scorned placation, and grew -more reserved as the years went by. She accepted her -fate, and discovered that there were times and hours -when her mother, schoolmates, and social problems -could be forgotten. Her spirits were naturally buoyant, -and her mind grew philosophical; but as Mr. Foord -once observed to Miss Galpin, “her start in life had -been all wrong, and it would matter more with her -than with some others.”</p> - -<h2>IV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>After Patience had put the kitchen in order she went -up to her room. She slept at one end of the house, -her mother at the opposite. Several of the hired men -occupied a dormitory between; the rest slept over the -dairy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lit her candle and began to undress, then extinguished -the flame suddenly and went down stairs -and out of the house. She felt sullen and heavy and -depressed, and knew the remedy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon was at the full; the great ploughed fields -were a sea of silver; the dark pines on the hills -opened their aisles to cataracts of crystal, splashing -through the green uplifted arms. Strange shadows -moved amidst the showers of cold light, twisting rhythmically -under the touch of the night wind.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience loved nature too passionately to fear her in -any mood or hour. She sped over the rough field, -climbed the fence, and walked hastily toward the Mission, -pausing now and again to inhale the rich perfumes -of Spring. The ruin looked like the skeleton of -a mammoth caught in a phantom iceberg. Even the -dark things that haunted it were touched to beauty by -the silver light pouring through the storm-beaten rose -window over the massive doors, into the abysms between -the arches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience skirted the long body of the church with -haste; mouldering skeletons lay under the floor, and -like all imaginative minds she had a lively horror of the -dead. She entered the open doorway and ascended -the steep spiral stair in the tower. The steps were cut -from solid stone and were worn by the trampling of -many feet. As she neared the top she called,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tu wit! Tu woo!” and was promptly answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As her chin appeared above the floor of the little -room, where the moonlight came through hollow casements, -an old grey owl, a large wise solemn owl, advanced -from the wall with slow and stately step; and -despite his massive dignity there was expectancy in -his mien.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor Solomon,” said Patience, contritely. “I forgot -your supper.” She climbed into the room and -attempted to pat his head; but when he saw that the -hand was empty, he flapped his wings, and turning his -back upon her, retired to the wall, blinking indignantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience laughed, then sighed, and sank on her knees -before the low window overlooking the ocean. The -blue bay still whispered to the white sands sparkling -like diamond dust in the moonlight, the yellow stars -winking in its clear depths. But the ocean was uneasy, -and hurtled reiterantly in great deep-throated waves -at the rocky shore as if its giant soul were in final rebellion -against this conventional war with a passive foe. -About Point Lobos its voice waxed trumpet-toned. It -shouldered itself into mighty waves and tossed the spray -into writhing shapes. Everything else was at rest. The -great forces of nature were the angry prisoners of the -tides. The moon grinned in his superior way. The little -stars seemed to say: “Up here we are quite composed, -and as vain as pretty women. If you would only keep -quiet you would make such a fine large looking-glass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Patience gazed out upon the beautiful scene, her -young mind shifted its impressions. She forgot her life, -and began to dream in a vague sweet way. Not of a -lover. Despite the fact that she had manufactured a -composite which occupied a pedestal in her imagination, -she thought little about love. Her reveries were -a wandering of her ego through the books she had read, -environed by the nature whom she knew only in lovely -profile. Had she lived her fifteen years on the sterile -plains of Soledad, she might perhaps have been as -harsh and bitter as its sands, her soul as grey, so susceptible -was she to the subtle influence of great externals. -But Monterey had saved her, and on nights like -this she felt as if she too were flooded with crystal light, -now and again clouded by something which perturbed, -yet vibrated like the music of the pines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When in a particularly romantic mood, she imagined -herself Mariana in the “Moated Grange,” or hummed -“The Long Long Weary Day,” and tried to feel sad, -but could not. She never felt sad in her tower, with -the owl on guard and the slighted dead in the church -below. Sometimes she took herself to task for not -having a proper amount of sentiment, but concluded -that no one could be unhappy when so high above the -world and all its hateful details. Occasionally she -looked longingly at the perpendicular mountain: it -was many times higher than her tower; but she was -a lazy little thing, and would not climb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she knelt, gazing out on the ocean, or up at the -spangled night, she was a very different-looking being -from the sharp practical child that had exhorted -old Billy and berated her mother. The loosened hair -clung softly about her pale face, whose freckles the kind -moon with his white brush painted out. Her mouth -had relaxed its stern lines. Her eyes were full of the -moon’s shimmer, and of something else,—the struggling -light of a developing soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience’s soul had taken care of itself and showed -virility in spite of the forces at war against it. What -the little battling spark strove for, puzzled Patience -even at that unanalytical age. Religion—Christianity, -to be more exact—said nothing to her; it appealed -to no want in her; even the instinct was lacking. John -Sparhawk had clung to the rigid faith of his fathers -with a desperation which Patience, child as she was, -had half divined. He had had prayers night and -morning, and compelled his daughter to learn her -catechism and many chapters of the Bible. After his -death Mr. Foord took her to church on Sunday mornings -and occasionally read her a little lecture. She -listened respectfully, but felt no interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nevertheless, when alone in her tower at night, -when she had set her foot on its lowest step with deliberate -intent to get as high above the earth as she -could, she was conscious of an upreaching of the spiritual -entity within her, a wordless demand for the something -higher and holier of which the supreme beauty of -the Universe is symbolical.</p> - -<h2>V</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning, Patience, after helping her convalescent -parent to get breakfast, stood on the porch -debating whether she should go over to Mr. Thrailkill’s -ranch and see Rosita or spend the day in Mr. Foord’s -library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The scholars of Colton Hall had a week’s vacation, -and how to make the most of seven long days of -freedom in exquisite spring weather was a serious -question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she hesitated she bethought herself of Solomon. -She ran to the safe, and gingerly extracting a piece of -raw meat wrapped it in a newspaper, and went over to -the Mission. The owl had not moved, apparently, from -the spot where he had taken his indignant stand the -night before. When he scented the meat, however, -he walked majestically forward, and taking no notice -whatever of Patience, began at once upon the meal she -spread at his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had decided in favour of the library, and -started leisurely for Monterey. The ocean rested -heavily after its labour of the night, swinging forward at -long intervals with deep murmur, or throwing an occasional -iridescent cloud of spray about Point Lobos. -The keen air sparkled under a flood of golden light. -The earth was green with the deep rich green of spring. -Great bunches of it sprang from even the ragged mountain -side, and long blades struggled to life between -the broken tiles of the old Mission. Patience crossed -the valley through beds of golden poppies and pale -blue baby-eyes struggling with infantile pertinacity to -raise themselves above the waving grass. She plucked -a poppy and held her nose in the great cup that -covered half her face. She liked the slight languor its -heavy perfume induced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She climbed the hill, and the woods shut out the -world. Patience forgot her destination and wandered -happily and aimlessly in the dim fragrance. She plucked -some pine needles, and rubbing their juices free pressed -her hands about her face. On the whole she preferred -their pungent freshness to the poppy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a time she began to skip over the carpet of -yellow violets and to sing in a high childish treble. She -was only a happy little girl with her lungs full of oxygen, -her veins warmed by the sun, her heart exhilarated with -the surpassing beauty of the morning. She threw pebbles -at the squirrels and laughed loudly when they scampered -up the stately trees. Spiritual problems did not trouble -her, and social trials were forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dawdled away the earlier hours of the morning in -the woods, then descending the hill on the town side, -regained her severe and elderly demeanour. The ocean -was not visible here, but a bay bluer than sapphire curved -into sands whiter than marble dust. The sun shone -down on the red-tiled white adobes, on the high garden -walls pink with Castilian roses, as gaily as in the old -Arcadian time. But alas! it shone also on cheap -wooden cottages and shops which had invaded even -the hill on the right, where once a few stately mansions -stood alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The town was very quiet. It was always quiet. -Some holy unheard voice seemed ever saying “Hush!” -As Patience walked down Alvarado Street to the Custom -House, she saw a slender brown woman watering the -roses behind her garden wall. She had been the belle -of Monterey in her time, “La Tulita,” and tradition -had it that she still watered a rose-bush which General -Sherman had planted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the next block several dark lads sat on a fence in -the approved Montereño style, smoking <span class='it'>cigaritos</span>. As -Patience passed they lifted their caps as gallantly as -ever <span class='it'>caballero</span> had done, although they did not fling -them at her feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She saw no one else until she reached the Custom -House. Mr. Foord stood on the corridor that overhung -the rocks. He was a large round-shouldered man, with -a benign face the colour of aging marble and a brow of -the old time intellectual type. The eyes behind his -spectacles were dim and kind. The lower part of his -face was humorous and stern. He wore a silk hat, a -well-brushed suit of broadcloth, and carried a gold-headed -cane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re going to town!” cried Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am,” he said smiling, “and I suppose you are -going to read your eyes out in the library. Well, I’ll -not be back until to-morrow, so you’ll have things all -your own way. Tell Lola to cook you some dinner. -I must be off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bring me a box of candy,” she commanded, as she -stood on tiptoe to give him the little peck she called a -kiss. It was her mark of supreme consideration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He promised, and she went into the library, a large -room opening on the corridor, where many a great ball -had been given in the days before and after the Americans -came. A half dozen old-fashioned bookcases, -crowded with books, stood against the walls of the -low room. The books were bound in spotted calf or -faded cloth, black cloth with peeling gilt letters. One -large case contained John Sparhawk’s library, and -Patience knew that it was practically hers. The floor -was covered with a thick red carpet. A large easy-chair -was drawn before the deep fire-place, in which a -huge log crackled: it was still winter within adobe -walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Altogether,” thought the philosopher of fifteen, as -she flung her sunbonnet on the floor, “I guess that so -long as I’ve got my tower and the woods and this room, -I’m not so badly off as some.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She roamed about the room, opening the doors of the -bookcases in turn. One case had been filled with -books selected for her especial use, but Mr. Foord had -not forbidden her the freedom of the others, being -wiser than many guardians. Nevertheless, certain books -were placed on top shelves, their titles concealed -beneath the moulding of the case, and Patience had -looked speculatively at them more than once. To-day -they exerted a peculiar fascination. And it was rarely -that she was alone in the library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She possessed an investigating and tentative mind, and -this forbidden territory appealed eloquently to her -unruly will. But to get them out was not an easy task. -They were tightly packed, and the moulding was like -unto a prison bar. But Patience was a person of -resource. She gave one of the books a smart thump, -and it slanted inward. She inserted her thumb under -its lifted edge and worried it out. It was a small -volume bound in black, its lettering worn away. She -opened it and glanced curiously at the titlepage. -“Boccaccio’s Decameron” winked invitingly. The -pages were spotted with yellow. The drawings looked -as if the stories might be reasonably interesting.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience curled herself in the deep window-seat, -quite sure that she had found a treasure. The book had -a furtive and apologetic air. “I have grown old, at -least,” it seemed to say. “I am but an elderly rake, -and can only mumble of the past.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She read a few stories, then put the book back in its -place with a resentful shove. Being wholly without the -knowledge for which Eve pined, the stories were stupid -and meaningless to her. She took down a thick volume -bound in ragged calf. On the back was one large word, -“Byron.” The leaves of this book were spotted too, -but on the leaves were poems, and she loved poetry. -Even when it was uninteresting she enjoyed the rhythm. -She returned to the window-seat, and child-like, looked -at the pictures first. The portrait of Byron she fell in -love with immediately, and knocking her composite off -its pedestal, lifted that proud passionate face to the -station of honour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was an immense-eyed picture of the Bride of -Abydos which she thought looked like Rosita, and one -of the Corsair dashing in upon his segregated love:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“My own Medora, sure thy song is sad!”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Francesca and Paola gazed at each other across a -table:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“That day no further leaf we did uncover.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>A castle which looked older than the book loomed -massively from the page:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Lake Leman lies by Chillon’s walls.”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Never having heard of Byron, she was unable to -enlarge her knowledge at once with his most celebrated -creations; but she liked the looks of Conrad and Medora, -and plunged into their fortunes. She read every line -of the poem, and when she had finished she read it -over again. Then she stared at the breakers booming -to the rocks on the opposite horn of the crescent, her -eyes expanded and filled with a wholly new light. She -might be unlettered in woman’s wisdom, but the transcendent -passion, the pounding vitality of the poet, -carried straight to intuition. The insidious elixir drifted -into the crystal stream. That incomparable objectivity -sang the song of songs as distinctly into her brain as -had it gathered the sounds of life for twenty years. -Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright. She -felt as if she were a musical instrument upon which -some divine unknown music were vibrating; and as -she was wont to feel in the tower—but with a substratum -of something quite different. She was filled -with a soft tumult which she did not in the least comprehend, -and happy. She looked almost beautiful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a time she read “The Bride of Abydos,” and -dreamed over that until she discovered that she was -hungry. She had forgotten to order dinner, and went -to the kitchen to beg a crust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lola, large, unwhaleboned, vibrating porcinely with -every motion, her brown coarsely moulded face beaming -with good nature, her little black eyes full of -temper and kindness, her black hair in a neat small -knot, an unspotted brown and yellow calico garment -secluding her person, stood at a sink in a kitchen as -brilliantly clean as a varnished boot. Even the corners -shone like glass, Patience often observed with a sigh. -The two tables were scrubbed daily. The stove was -black, the windows white. Not a pan nor a dish save -those in the sink was in sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience made a sudden dash, a leap, and alighted -on Lola’s back, encircling the yielding waist with her -supple legs. The woman emitted a hoarse shriek, then -laughed and pinched the legs. Patience plunged her -cold hands into the creases of Lola’s neck, gathering a -quantity into the palms. She was unrebuked. There -were a few persons that loved Patience, and Lola was -of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Pobrecita!</span>” she exclaimed. “You are cold, no?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Mucho frizo</span>,” murmured Patience, sliding the back -of her hands down the mountainous surface of Lola’s. -“And hungry, <span class='it'>madre de dios</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hungry? You no have the dinner? When you -coming?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hours ago, Lola. How cruel of you not to call me to -dinner! How mean and piggish to eat it all yourself!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, no call me the names. How I can know you -are here <span class='it'>si</span> you no tell? Why you no coming here -straight before going to the <span class='it'>librario</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I forgot, Lola <span class='it'>mia</span>; and then I became—interested. -But do give me something to eat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si.</span>” And with Patience still on her back Lola -waddled to the cupboard and lifted down the remains -of a corn cake rolled about olives and cheese and -peppers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An <span class='it'>enchilada</span>!” said Patience. “Good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Lola warmed the compound, and spread a napkin -on a corner of one of the tables; then, suddenly -unloosening Patience’s arms and legs, tumbled her -headlong into a chair, laughing sluggishly as she -ambled off. Patience ate the steaming <span class='it'>enchilada</span> as -heartily as had Byron never been. In a moment she -begged for a cup of chocolate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si</span>,” said Lola, “I have some scrape already;” and -she brewed chocolate in a little earthen pot, then beat -it to froth with her <span class='it'>molinillo</span>. Patience kicked her -heels together with delight, and sipped it daintily while -Lola stood by with fat hands on fat hips in reflex -enjoyment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like it, <span class='it'>niña</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet.” Then after a moment she asked -dreamily: “Lola, were you ever in love?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Que!</span> Sure. Was I not marry? Poor my Pedro! -How he lika the <span class='it'>enchilada</span> and the chocolaty; and -the lard cakes and the little pig cooking with onions. -And now the worms eating him. Ay, yi!” and Lola sat -herself upon a chair and wept.</p> - -<h2>VI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>As Patience walked home through the woods subsequently -to a long afternoon with Byron, she was hazily -sensible that she had stepped from one phase of girlhood -into another. She had an odd consciousness of -gazing through a veil of gauze upon an exquisite but -unfamiliar landscape over which was a dazzle of sunlight. -She by no means understood the mystery of her -nature as yet; she was technically too ignorant; but -instinct was awake, and she felt somewhat as when she -had drained the poppy cup for long. She was in that -transition state when for the first and last time passion -is poetry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She arrived home in time to get supper. Mrs. -Sparhawk was unexpectedly sober, and very cross.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My land, Patience Sparhawk!” she exclaimed, as -her daughter opened the door and untied her sunbonnet, -“seems to me you might help cook dinner in -vacation instead of being off all day reading books or -playing with that Spanish girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Seems to me,” said Patience, restored to her -practical self, “that as you’re twice as big as I am and -twice as strong, you’re pretty well able to get it yourself. -And as it’s your fault there ain’t any servant in -this house, I don’t see why I should make one of -myself for you. Seems to me you’re fixed up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sparhawk blushed, and smoothed her hair consciously. -The hair had been washed, and was decorated -with a red bow. She wore a garment of turkey -red calico with a bit of cheap lace at the throat and -wrists. Her face was plastered with a whitewash much -in vogue. She looked handsome, but evil, and Patience -stared at her with an uneasiness she was not able to -analyse. She turned away after a moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d put on an apron,” she remarked drily. “You -might get spots on that gorgeous window curtain dress -of yours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At that moment the man Oscar entered the room. -He uttered a note of admiration which made Patience -turn about sharply. He was gazing upon Mrs. Sparhawk’s -enhanced charms with an expression which -Patience did not understand, but which filled her -with sudden fury.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here!” she exclaimed roughly, “go into the -dining room until supper’s ready. This kitchen ain’t -big enough for three.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man moved his eyes and regarded her -angrily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s boss here?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s not your place to ask questions. You’re -hired to work outside, and when you come into this -house there’s only one place for you. Now go into -the other room.” Her eyes were flashing, and she -had drawn up her shoulders. The man backed away -from her much as dogs do when cats give warning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That girl gives me a chill. I hate her,” he muttered -to his mistress.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sparhawk gave a loud laugh which covered her -embarrassment, and slapped him heartily on the shoulder. -“Go in, go in,” she said. “What’s the use of -family quarrels?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man slunk away, and Patience went about her -work with vicious energy. She fried liver and baked -biscuits while her mother stirred the steaming cherries -and brewed tea. When supper was ready she filled -Oscar’s plate first and served him last, not hating herself -in the least for her spite and spleen. After Mrs. -Sparhawk had taken her place at the head of the table -even her exuberant beauty could not dispel the frown -on the hired man’s brow, until, to Patience’s disgust, she -divined the cause of his surliness, and deftly exchanged -her plate for his.</p> - -<h2>VII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>That night Patience did not go to her tower, but -wandered over the dark fields, a drooping forlorn -little figure in the crawling shadows. She felt dull -and tired and disheartened. By nine o’clock she -was asleep. She awoke as fresh as the morning. -When Mr. Foord returned from San Francisco in the -afternoon he found her curled in the easy-chair by -his fire. She started guiltily as he entered, then -tossed her head defiantly, let Byron slide to the floor, -and went forward to kiss him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he was about to take the chair she had occupied -he espied the fallen volume. He lifted it hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is this?” he demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience blushed furiously, but set her lips with -an expression he understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s Byron, and I’m going to read it all. I’ve -read a lot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He shifted the book from one hand to the other -for a moment, his face much perturbed. Finally he -laid it on the table, merely remarking: “Sooner or -later, sooner or later.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience offered him a piece of the candy he had -brought her; but he preferred his pipe, and she perched -herself on the arm of his chair and ate half the contents -of her box without pause. She had not yet -learned the subtle delights of the epicure, and to enjoy -until capacity was exhausted was typical of her enthusiastic -temperament. When she could no longer look -upon the candy without a shudder she climbed to the -old gentleman’s shoulder and scratched his bald pate -with her ragged nails. It was her emphatic way of -expressing gratitude, and beloved by Mr. Foord above -pipe and <span class='it'>enchilada</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience took Byron home with her that evening, -Mr. Foord merely shrugging his shoulders. After -supper she read until dark, then hid the book under -the bed and went over to the tower. She ran up -the twisted stair, and astonished the owl by clasping -him in her arms and kissing him passionately. He -manifested his disapproval by biting at her shoulder -fiercely. She shrieked and boxed his ears smartly. -He flapped his large wings wildly. A battle royal was -imminent in that sacred tower where once the silver -bells had called the holy men to prayer. But Patience -suddenly broke into a laugh and sank on her knees -by the window, while Solomon retreated to the wall, -and regarded her with a round unwinking stare, brooding -over problems which he did not in the least -understand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience brooded also, but her lids drooped, and -she barely saw the beauty of ocean and rock and -spray. The moon was not yet up, and the half revealed -intoning sea was full of mystery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was conscious that her mood was not quite what -it had been during her last visit. All of that was -there—but more. She felt higher above the earth -than ever before, but more conscious of its magnetism. -Something hummed along her nerves and stirred in -her veins. Her musings shaped to definite form, -inasmuch as they assumed the semblance of man. -Inevitably Byron was exhumed for duty; and if his -restless soul were prowling space and Carmel Valley, -his famous humour, desuetous in Eternity, must have -echoed in the dull ears of roaming shapes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beside the white face of the child was the solemn -and hebraic visage of the owl. Some outworn chord -of Solomon’s youth may have been stirred by his -friend’s tumultuous greeting, for he had stepped, with -the dignity of his years, to her side, and stood regarding, -with introspective stare, the reflection of the rising -moon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience did not see him. She was gazing upon -Byron, whose moody passionate face was distinctly -visible among the stars. Alas! her vision was suddenly -obscured by a hideous black object. A bat flew -straight at Carmel tower. Patience sprang to her feet, -tossed her skirt over her head, and fled down the stair. -The owl stepped to the stair’s head and gazed into the -winding darkness, his eyes full of unutterable nothing.</p> - -<h2>VIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On Monday school re-opened, and Patience was late -as usual. She loitered through the woods, conning -her lessons, having been too much occupied with her -poet to give them attention before. As she ascended -the steps of the schoolhouse the drone of the Lord’s -Prayer came through the open window, and she paused -for a moment on the landing, swinging her bag in one -hand and her tin lunch-pail in the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was not a picturesque figure. Her sunbonnet -was of faded blue calico dotted with white. The -meagre braid projecting beneath the cape was tied -with a shoe string. The calico frock was faded and -mended and much too short, although the hem and -tucks had been let out. The copper-toed boots were -of a greyish-green hue, and the coarse stockings -wrinkled above them. The nails of her pretty brown -hands looked as if they had been sawed off. But the -eyes under the old sunbonnet were dreamy and happy. -The brain behind was full of new sensations. In the -sparkling atmosphere was an electric thrill. The day -was as still as only the days of Monterey can be. -The pines, and the breakers had never intoned more -sweetly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A voluminous A—men! startled Patience from her -reverie. She went hastily within, hung her bonnet -and pail on a peg, and entered the schoolroom, smiling -half deprecatingly half confidently, at Miss Galpin. -The young teacher’s stern nod did not discompose her. -As she passed Rosita she received a friendly pinch, -and Manuela looked up and smiled; but while traversing -the width of the room to her desk she became -aware of something unfriendly in the atmosphere. As -she took her seat she glanced about and met the -malevolent eyes of a dozen turned heads. One girl’s -lip was curled; another’s brows were raised significantly, -as would their owner query: “What could -you expect?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience blushed until her face glowed like one of -the Castilian roses on the garden wall opposite the -window. “They’ve found out about Byron,” she -thought. “Horrors, how they’ll tease me!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>School girls have a traditional habit of “willing” each -other to “miss” when in aggressive mood. To-day -some twenty of the girls appeared to have concerted to -will that Patience should forget what little lore she had -gathered on her way to school. Patience, always sensitive -to impressions, was as taut as the strings of -an Æolian harp from her experience of the past week. -Such natures are responsive to the core to the psychological -power of the environment, and once or twice -this morning Patience felt as if she must jump to her -feet and scream. But even at that early age she divined -that the sweetest revenge is success, and she -strove as she had never striven before to acquit herself -with credit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All morning the silent battle went on. Miss Galpin, -who was beloved of her pupils because she was pretty -and dressed well, was a graduate of the San Francisco -High School, and an excellent teacher. Frankly -as she liked Patience she had never shown her any -partiality in the schoolroom; but to-day, noting the -antagonism that was brought to bear on the girl, she -exerted all her cleverness to assist her in such subtle -fashion that Patience alone should appreciate her effort. -In consequence, when the morning session -closed, Patience wore the doubtful laurels and the bad -blood was black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the girls trooped down into the yard Rosita laid -her arm about Patience and endeavoured to lead her -away. Manuela conferred in a low tone with the foe, -voice and gestures remonstrant. But there was blood -in the air, and Patience squared her shoulders and -awaited the onslaught. Incidentally she inspected her -nails and copper toes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Several of the girls walked rapidly up to her. They -were smiling disagreeably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t you keep her at home?” asked one of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Think she’ll marry him?” demanded another.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, completely taken aback, glanced helplessly -from one to the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, Patita,” murmured Rosita, on the verge -of tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Manuela exclaimed: “You are fiends, <span class='it'>fiends</span>!” and -walked away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mean? Do you mean to say she got off without -you knowing it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Knowing what?” A horrible presentiment assailed -Patience. Her fingers jerked and her breath -came fast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why,” said Panchita McPherson, brutally, “your -mother was in here Saturday night with her young man -and regularly turned the town upside down. They -were thrown out of three saloons. Can’t you keep her -at home?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stared dully at the girls, her dry lips parted. -She knew that they had spoken the truth. She had -gone to bed early on Saturday night. Shortly afterward -she had heard the sound of buggy wheels and -Billy’s uncertain gait. Many hours later she had been -awakened by the sound of her mother stumbling upstairs; -but she had thought nothing of either incident -at the time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Panchita continued relentlessly, memories of many -class defeats rushing forward to lash her spleen: “You’ll -please understand after this that we don’t care to have -you talk to us, for we don’t think you’re respectable.” -Whereupon the other girls, nodding sarcastically at -Patience, entwined their arms and walked away, led -by the haughty Miss McPherson.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a few moments Patience hardly realised how she -felt. She stood impassive; but a cyclone raged within. -All the blood in her body seemed to have rushed to -her head, to scorch her face and pound in her ears. -She wondered why her hands and feet were cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, Patita, don’t mind them,” said Rosita, putting -her arm round her comrade. “The mean hateful -nasty—<span class='it'>pigs!</span>” Never before had the indolent little -Californian been so vehement; but Patience slipped -from her hold, and running through a gate at the back -of the yard crouched down on a box. Rosita’s words -had broken the spell. She was filled with a volcano -of hate. She hated the girls, she hated Monterey, -she hated life; but above all she hated her -mother.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a time all the hate in her concentrated on the -woman who had made her young life so bitter. She -had never liked her, but not until the dreadful moments -just past had she realised the full measure of her -inheritance. The innuendoes she had not understood, -but it was enough to know that her mother had disgraced -her publicly and insulted her father’s memory. -Her schoolmates she dismissed from her mind with a -scornful jerk of the shoulders. She had beaten them -too easily and often in the schoolroom not to despise -them consummately. They could prick but not stab -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The bell rang; but she had an account to settle, and -bonnetless she started for home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sparhawk was sitting on the porch reading a -novel when Patience walked up to her, snatched the -book from her hand, and flung it into a rose-tree. -The woman was sober, and quailed as she met her -daughter’s eyes. Patience had walked rapidly under -a hot sun. Her face was scarlet, and she was trembling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate you!” she sobbed. “I hate you! It -doesn’t do any good to tell you so, but it does me -good to say it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl looked the incarnation of evil passions. -She was elemental Hate, a young Cain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you were dead,” she continued. “You’ve -ruined every bit of my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why—what—what—” mumbled the woman. -But the colour was coming to her face, and her eyes -were beginning to glitter unpleasantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know well enough what. You were in town -drunk on Saturday night, and were in saloons <span class='it'>with a -farm hand</span>. To make a brute of yourself was bad -enough—but to go about with a common man! Are -you going to marry him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sparhawk laughed. “Well, I guess not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience drew a quick breath of relief. “Well, -that’s what they’re saying—that you’re going to -marry him—a man that can’t read nor write. Now -look here, I want one thing understood—unless you -swear to me you’ll not set foot in that town again -I’ll have you put in the Home of the Inebriates—There! -I’ll not be disgraced again; I’ll do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Sparhawk sprang to her feet, her face blazing -with rage. “You will, will you?” she cried. She -caught the girl by the shoulders, and shaking her violently, -boxed first one ear, then the other, with her strong -rough hands. For an instant Patience was stunned, -then the blood boiled back to her brain. She screamed -harshly, and springing at her mother clutched her about -the throat. The lust to kill possessed her. A red curtain -blotted even the hated face from sight. Instinctively -she tripped her mother and went down on top -of her. The crash of the body brought two men to the -rescue, and Patience was dragged off and flung aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My land!” exclaimed one of the men, his face -white with horror. “Was you going to kill your ma?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, that she was,” spluttered Mrs. Sparhawk, -sitting up and pulling vaguely at the loose flesh of -her throat. “She’d have murdered me in another -minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience by this time was white and limp. She -crawled upstairs to her room and locked the door. -She sank on the floor and thought on herself with -horror.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never knew,” she reiterated, “that I was so bad. -Why, I’m fifteen, and I never wanted to kill even a bird -before. I wouldn’t learn to shoot. I’d never drown -a kitten. When the Chinaman stuck a red-hot poker -through the bars of the trap and burnt ridges in the -live rat I screamed and screamed. And now I’ve -nearly killed my mother, and wanted to. Who, who -would have thought it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she was wearied with the futile effort to solve -the new problem, she became suddenly conscious that -she felt no repentance, no remorse. She was horrified -at the sight of the black veins in her soul; but she felt -a certain satisfaction at having unbottled the wrath that -consumed her, at having given her mother the physical -equivalent of her own mental agony. Over this last -cognisance of her capacity for sin she sighed and shook -her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may as well give myself up,” she thought with -young philosophy. “I am what I am, and I suppose -I’ll do what I’m going to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went downstairs and out of the house. She -passed a group of men; they stared at her in horror. -Then another little seed from the vast garden of human -nature shot up to flower in Patience’s puzzled brain. -She lifted her head with an odd feeling of elation: she -was the sensation of the hour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went out on Point Lobos and listened to the -hungry roar of the waves, watched the tossing spray. -Nature took her to her heart as ever, and when the -day was done she was normal once more. She returned -to the house and helped to get supper, although she -refused to speak to her equally sullen parent.</p> - -<h2>IX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It was several days before the story reached Monterey. -When it did, the girls treated Patience to invective -and contumely, but delivered their remarks at -long range. The mother of Manuela said peremptorily -that Patience Sparhawk should never darken the doors -of the Peralta mansion again, and even Mrs. Thrailkill -told the weeping Rosita that the intimacy must end.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin was horrified. When school was over -she took Patience firmly by the hand and led her up -the hill to her boarding-place, the widow Thrailkill’s -ancestral home. The long low adobe house was traversed -from end to end by a pillared corridor. It was -whitewashed every year, and its red tiles were renewed -at intervals, but otherwise the march of civilisation had -passed it by. Mrs. Thrailkill, large and brown, with a -wart between her kind black eyes, and a handsome -beard, was rocking herself on the corridor. When she -recognised the teacher’s companion she arose with great -dignity and swung herself into the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin led Patience down the corridor to a -room at the end, and motioned her to a chair. Several -magazines lay on a table, and Patience reached her -hand to them involuntarily; but Miss Galpin took the -hand and drew the girl toward her. The young -teacher’s brown eyes wore a very puzzled expression. -Even her carefully regulated bang had been pushed upward -with a sudden dash of the hand. She was only -twenty-two, and her experience of human nature was -limited. Her ideas of life were accumulated largely -from the novels of Mr. Howells and Mr. James, whom -she revered; and neither of these gentlemen photographed -such characters as Patience. It had probably -never occurred to them that Patiences existed. She -experienced a sudden thrill of superiority, then craved -pardon of her idols.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, dear,” she said gently, “is this terrible -story true?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am,” said Patience, standing passively at -Miss Galpin’s knee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You actually tried to kill your mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin gasped. She waited a moment for a -torrent of excuse and explanation; but Patience was -mute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you are not sorry?” she faltered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patience!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry you feel so badly, ma’am. Please don’t -cry,” for the estimable young woman was in tears, and -mentally reviling her preceptors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How can I help feeling terribly, Patience? You -break my heart.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry, dear Miss Galpin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, don’t you love God?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am, not particularly. Leastways, I’ve -never thought much about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You little heathen!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am, I’m not. My father was very religious. -But please don’t talk religion to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, I don’t know what to make of you. I -am in despair. You’re not a bad girl. You give me -little trouble, and I’ve always said that you had finer -impulses than any girl I’ve ever known, and the best -brain. You ought to realise better than any girl of -your age the difference between right and wrong. And -yet you have done what not another girl in the school -would do, inferior as they are—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you know, ma’am? I never thought I -would. Neither did you think I would. You can’t -tell what you’ll do till you do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin was distracted. She resumed hurriedly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want you to be a good woman, Patience,—a good -as well as a clever woman. And how can you be good -if you don’t love God?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are all people good the same way?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it all comes to the same thing in the end.” -Miss Galpin blessed the evolution of verbiage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are all religious people good?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“These girls are religious, especially the Spanish -ones, and they’ve behaved to me like devils. So have -their mothers, and some of them go to five o’clock -mass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Girls are undisciplined, and mothers often have a -mistaken sense of duty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are good, and Mr. Foord is good,” pursued -the terrible child. “But you’d be just as good if you -weren’t religious. It’s born in you, and you’re refined -and kind-hearted. Those people are just naturally vulgar, -and religion won’t make them any better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin drew the girl suddenly to her lap and -kissed her. “I’m terribly sorry for you, dear,” she -said. “I wish I understood you better, and could help -you, but I don’t. I never knew any one in the least -like you. I worry so about your future. People that -are not like other people don’t get along nicely in this -world. And you have such impulses! But I love you, -Patience, and I’ll always be your friend. Will you remember -this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was undemonstrative, but she kissed Miss -Galpin warmly and arranged her bang.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, let’s talk about something else,” she said. -“Are you going to get up those private theatricals for -the night that school closes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin sighed and gave up the engagement. -“Yes,” she said. Then, hesitatingly: “Do you wish -to take part?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, of course I don’t. I’ll have nothing more to -do with those girls than I can help. You can bet your -life on that. But I can help drill Rosita. What’s the -play?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll read it to you.” Miss Galpin took a pamphlet -from a drawer and read aloud the average amateur concoction. -Rosita was to take the part of an indolent -girl with the habit of arousing herself unexpectedly. -In one act she would have to dash to the front of the -stage and dance a parlour breakdown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid Rosita cannot act,” said Miss Galpin, -in conclusion, “but she is so pretty I couldn’t leave -her out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Rosita can act,” said Patience, emphatically. “I’ve -seen her imitate every actress that has been here, and -take off pretty nearly every crank in Monterey. And -Mrs. Thrailkill can teach her one of the old Californian -dances—and a song. Rosita has a lovely voice, -almost as pretty as a lark’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really? Well, I’ll talk to Mrs. Thrailkill and persuade -her to forgive you, and then you can come here -every afternoon and drill Rosita. And now will you -promise me to be a good little girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am—leastways I’ll try. Good-bye,” and -Patience gave her a little peck, seized her sunbonnet, -and went hurriedly out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose,” she thought as she sauntered down the -hill, “I’d better go and have it out with Mr. Foord. -It’s got to come, and the sooner it’s over the better. -Poor man, I’ll make it as easy for him as I can. It’ll -be harder on him than on me, for I’m used to it -now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The old gentleman was walking up and down the -corridor as she turned the corner of the custom house. -He looked very yellow and feeble, and supported himself -with a stick.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patience!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time Patience felt inclined to cry, but -her aversion to display feeling controlled her. She -merely approached and stood before him, swinging her -sunbonnet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t let us talk about it,” he said hastily. “I -have something else to say to you. Sit down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sat down side by side on a bench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know,” the old gentleman continued, “I have -a half-sister in the east—Harriet Tremont, her name -is—in Mariaville-on-Hudson, New York. She is the -best woman in the world, the most sinless creature I -ever knew, yet full of human nature and never dull. -She is very religious, has given up her life to doing -good, and has some eccentric notions of her own. She -writes me dutifully twice a year, although we have not -met for thirty, and in her last letter she told me she -intended to adopt a child, rescue a soul as she called it, -and furthermore that she should adopt the child of the -most worthless parents she could discover in her work -among the worthless. Since—lately—I have been -thinking strongly of sending you to her. You must get -away from here. You must have a chance in life. If -you remain here you will grow up bitter and hard, and -the result with your brain and temperament may be -terrible. You are capable of becoming a very bad or -a very good woman. You are still young—but there -is no time to lose. Should you care to go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I should,” cried Patience, enchanted -with the idea of an excursion into unknown worlds. -Then her face fell. “But I shouldn’t like to be -adopted. That is too much like charity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the ranch entirely mortgaged?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience nodded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, let us look at it as a business proposition. -You will be little expense to her—she is fairly well off; -and one more in the household makes no appreciable -difference. You will attend the public schools with the -view to become a teacher, and when you are earning -a salary you can repay her for what little outlay she -may have made. Do you see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes. I don’t mind if you look at it that way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll see your mother in a day or two. You don’t -think she’ll object, do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Object? What has she got to say about it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A great deal, unfortunately. She is your legal -guardian. But she doesn’t love you, and I think can -be persuaded. I shall miss you, my dear. What shall -I do without my bright little girl?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience nestled up to him, and the two strangely -assorted companions remained silent for a time watching -the seagulls sweep over the blue bay. Then Mr. -Foord drifted naturally into the past, and Patience grew -romantic once more.</p> - -<h2>X</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>That night Patience felt no inclination for either bed -or tower. She wandered over the field, entered the -pine forest, and walked to the coast. The tall straight -trees grew close together; their aisles were very -gloomy. From the ground arose the ominous voices -of the night, and the wind in the treetops moaned -heavily. But Patience was not afraid. She revelled in -the vast dark silence, and felt that the world was all her -own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she left the forest she saw great clouds of spray -tossed high into the starry dark, heard the ocean rush -at the outlying rocks, breaking into mist or leaping to -the shore. The sea lions were talking loudly; the seagulls, -huddled on the high points of the coast, scolded -hoarsely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the edge of the forest was a cabin. Patience -walked toward it. She knew the old man that lived -there. He was evidently awake, for the open window -was yellow with light. As she passed it on her way to -the door she glanced within. Her skin turned cold; -her hair stiffened. A sheeted corpse lay on the bed. -Candles burned at head and foot. Patience, brave -as she was, abjectly feared the corpse. She believed -that she could survive a ghost, but she knew that if shut -up with a dead body for ten minutes she should go -mad. To-night she would have fled shrieking were it -not that the room had a living occupant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a chair beside the bed sat a man gazing at the -floor, his chin dropped to his chest. He wore rough -clothes, but they were the affectations of the gentleman, -not the garb of the dead man and his friends. Nor -had Patience ever seen so noble a head. The profile -was beautiful, the expression mild and intellectual, and -most melancholy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience forgot her terror as she wondered who the -stranger could be; but in a moment it was renewed -tenfold. Down the ocean road from Monterey came -a wild hideous yell. The man by the corpse raised his -head apprehensively, rose as if to flee, then sank -wearily to his chair again. The clatter of hoofs on the -hard road mounted above the thunder of the waves. -Patience staring into the dark suddenly saw the leaping -fire of torches, and a moment later tall figures riding -recklessly. The yelling was incessant and demoniac.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man murdered Jim and they’re lynchers,” -thought Patience. She glanced about wildly. A small -tree stood near. She scampered up the trunk like -a squirrel, and hid in the branches. None too soon. -In another moment those terrible figures were screaming -and gesticulating before the hut.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The smoky flames revealed an extraordinary sight to -Patience’s distended eyes. These men were bearded -like the men of modern civilisation, even their hair was -properly cut; but they wore the garments of Greece -and Japan, flowing robes of white and red; one dark -sinister-looking being upheld a glittering helmet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience rubbed her eyes. Did she dream over her -Byron? But no mortal, none but the sheeted dead, -could have slept and dreamed in that infernal clamour. -Only the man by the bed sat immobile. He did not -raise his head. Out of the pandemonium of sound -Patience at last distinguished one word: “Charley! -Charley!” If “Charley” were the man within the -hut he gave no sign; nor when they threw back their -heads and as from one throat gave forth a rattling -volume of ribald laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly Patience, who, seeing no rope, began to -recover her courage, noticed that one of the men had -ridden beneath her tree, taking no part in this singular -drama. Once he turned his head, and an aquiline -profile, fine and strong, with black hair falling above -it, was sharply revealed against the red glare. Impulsively -Patience leaned down and touched his -shoulder. He looked up with a start, and saw a small -white face among the leaves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth is this?” he asked. “Is it a -child?” His voice was rich and deep, with a gentle -hint of brogue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are they?” asked Patience. “Are they real -devils, or only men? And are they going to kill him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man laughed. “I certainly should ask the same -question if I had not happened to come with them. -Oh, they won’t do any murder, unless they happen to -frighten some one to death. They’re members of the -Bohemian Club of San Francisco—newspaper men and -artists—who are down here on a lark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who’s the man in there by him, and why do they -yell at him so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he is a solitary spirit, a man of genius. He -got tired of them and gave them the slip to-night. -This is revenge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They have the Estrada house on Alvarado Street,” -said Patience. “I heard they were here.” Then she -noticed that her companion wore the common garb of -American civilisation. “Why aren’t you rigged up, -too?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m hardly one of them. I’m only an Eastern -man—a New Yorker—and am staying at Del Monte for -a day or two. I rode over to see them this afternoon, and -they insisted upon my staying for dinner. What on earth -are you doing here by yourself at this time of night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience explained. Then she added wistfully, “I -shall be frightened to death going home through those -woods alone. I’ll imagine that that corpse and those -dreadful-looking men are behind me at every step.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just drop onto my horse and I’ll take you home. -I’m pretty tired of all this.” He raised his arms and -lifted her down, placing her in front of him. “Lucky -I had an English saddle,” he said, and as he bent his -head Patience could see that he was smiling. “Oh!” -he added abruptly, “I have seen you before. Now—tell -me where to go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience directed him, and they cantered away unobserved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where did you see me?” she asked, “and how -odd that you should remember <span class='it'>me</span>!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have wonderful eyes. Although I’m an Irishman -I won’t go so far as to say they are pretty, but -they look as if they had been born to see so much. It -would be difficult to forget them. Upon me soul you -are actually trembling. Did you never have a compliment -before?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never! And I guess I’ll remember it longer than -you remember my eyes. Where did you see me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was standing at the window of the house in Alvarado -Street when you came along from school with a -dozen or more of the girls. You all stopped to gaze at -a passing circus troupe, and—I noticed you first because -you stood a little apart from the others.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I usually do,” said Patience, drily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not add that, attracted by the eagerness of -her gaze and her rapid changes of expression, he had -asked who she was, and that a Montereño present had -related the family history and her own notable performances -in no measured terms. “She’s got bad -blood in her and the temper of Old Nick himself. -She’ll come to no good, homely as she is,” the man -had concluded. “Curious enough, the boys all like -her and would spark her if they got a show; but she’s -hell-set on gettin’ an education at present and doesn’t -notice them much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience made him talk on for the pleasure of hearing -his voice. “Are you a real Irishman?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ve been an American for twenty years, but -there’s a good deal of Irish left in me yet, especially in -me tongue.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d keep it, if I were you. It’s nicer even than -the Spanish. Do you think our voices are horrid?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think that if you’d pitch yours a little lower it -would be an improvement,” he said, smiling. And -Patience registered a vow which she kept. In after -years when great changes had come upon her, her voice -was envied and emulated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they left the forest and entered Carmel Valley -Patience pointed to her home, then suddenly took the -reins from his hand and directed the horse toward the -Mission. The waning moon hung over the ocean, and -the Mission stood out boldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come up to my tower,” said Patience; “the view -is <span class='it'>something</span>! That will be your reward. I never took -any one there before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right,” he said, “I may as well make a night of -it.” He tethered his horse and followed her up the -spiral stair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Solomon is not here,” she said regretfully. “He’s -out foraging. Now!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young man walked to the window and inspected -the view. Patience regarded him with rapt admiration. -He was tall and strong and well dressed. She had -never dreamed that anything romantic could really -happen to her; and as she was sure that it would be her -last experience as well as her first, she suddenly felt -depressed and miserable, her imagination leaping to -the finish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned and met her eyes. “What are you thinking -of?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience was too shy to tell him, and asked him -if he liked the view.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a jolly view and no mistake. You’re not a -happy child, are you?” he added, abruptly. With the -enthusiasm and spontaneous kindness of his Irish blood -he had conceived the idea of dropping a seed in this -plastic soil, and was feeling his way toward the right -spot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know that I am,” said Patience, haughtily. -“I suppose some of those people told you things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, they did, that’s a fact. But you mustn’t get -angry with me, please, for upon me word I like you -better than any one I’ve met in California.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you live here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My home is in New York, and I return to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! Well, I don’t see how I should interest you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do, though, and that’s all there is to it. I’m -neither as cautious as an Englishman nor as practical -as an American—though God rest the two of them; I -mean nothing to their detriment. But there’s a force -in you, and force doesn’t go to waste, although it’s -more often than not misdirected. I can feel yours -myself; and I’m told that you’re the cleverest girl in -the town as well as the proudest and most ambitious. -Now, what do you intend to do with yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I’ll be a teacher; and if Mrs. Sparhawk -has no objections I may go East soon and live with a -religious old lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, that’s not so bad; only I doubt if that life -will suit you any better than this.” He put his finger -under her chin and turned her face to the light. “I -am a lawyer, you know,” he added, “and features and -lines and curves mean a good deal to me. You’ve -got a good will, begad, and like all first-class American -women, you’ll keep your head up until you drop. And -you have all her faculty of beginning life over again -several times, if necessary. You’ll never rust nor mould, -nor write polemical novels if things don’t go your way. -You’ve got a good strong brain behind those eyes, and -although you’ll make mistakes of various sorts, you’ll -kick them behind you when you’re done with them, -begin over and be none the worse. Remember that -no mistake is irrevocable; that there are as many -to-morrows as yesterdays; that only the incapable has -a past. It is all a matter of will as far as the world is -concerned, and ideals as far as your own soul goes. -No matter how often circumstances and your own -weakness compel you to let go your own private ideals, -deliberately put them back on their pedestal the moment -you have recovered balance, and make for their attainment -as if nothing had happened. Then you’ll never -acquire an aged soul and never lose your grip. Can -you remember all that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You bet I can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed. “I believe you. I might add: Don’t -love the wrong man, but I’ll not throw away good -advice. You’ll not be wholly guided by reason in -those matters. I will merely say, Rub the first experience -in hard and let a long while elapse before your -second, or it will be the greater mistake of the two. -Your reactions will be very violent, I should say. Well, -I’ll be going now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d rather you’d stay and talk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you? Well, being a lawyer, I know where -to stop. Besides, I’ll have all those fellows after me if -I stay too long. We’ll doubtless meet again. The -world is small these days.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience followed him reluctantly down the stair, and -he walked beside her across the valley, leading his -horse. When they reached the farmhouse he shook -hands with her warmly, wished her good luck, and rode -away. She ran up to her room, and, lighting a candle, -transcribed his words into an old copybook.</p> - -<h2>XI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin expostulated with Mrs. Thrailkill to such -effect that Patience spent two hours each afternoon in -the family garret rehearsing Rosita while the astonished -rats took refuge in the chimney. Patience could not -act, but she had dramatic appreciation and an intellectual -conception of any part not beyond her years. -Rosita was not intellectual, but, as Patience had discerned, -the spirit of Thalia was in her. She quickly -became enamoured of her unsuspected resources and -at the prospect of exhibiting herself on a platform. Not -only did she rouse herself to something like exertion, -but she faithfully followed the instructions of her strenuous -teacher and discovered a talent for posing and -little tricks of manner all her own. Her mother taught -her the song and dance, which were to be the sensation -of the evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was on the fourth day that Patience, returning -home late in the afternoon, met Mr. Foord in the -woods. The old gentleman looked sad and perplexed, -and Patience sprang upon the step of his buggy and -demanded to know what was the matter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s very odd,” he said, “but she won’t let you -go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t let me go?” cried Patience, furiously. “Well, -I’ll go anyhow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t, my dear. The law won’t let you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to say that the law won’t protect me -from that woman?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid she has the best of it.” He recalled -the woman’s angry cunning face, as he had pleaded -with her, and shook his head. “You see she was never -in the town in that condition before. The men out -there are so devoted to her that—so she has informed -me—they would swear to a man that they had never -seen her drunk. And, you see, she’s never abused you—the -only time she struck you she had provocation—you -must admit that. You are under her control -until you are eighteen, and I don’t see that we can do -anything. I’m very sorry. I never felt so defeated in -my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But for gracious goodness sake why won’t she let -me go? I’m no good to speak of about the place, and -she certainly isn’t keeping me for love.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—I think it’s revenge. She remarked that she -had a chance to pay up and she’d do it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll just run away, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The law would bring you back, and arrest me for -abduction.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate the law,” said Patience, gloomily. “Seems -to me I’m always finding something new to hate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must not hate, my child,” and he quoted the -Bible dutifully, although in entire sympathy with her. -“That is what I am so afraid of—that you will become -hard and bitter. I want to save you from that. Well, -perhaps she’ll relent. I shall see her again and again. -I must go on, Patience.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kissed him and walked sullenly homeward. As -she entered the kitchen her mother looked up and -laughed. Her face was triumphant and malignant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t go,” she said. “Not much. I’ve got -the whip hand this time and I’ll keep it. Here you’ll -stay until you’re eighteen—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience turned abruptly and ran upstairs. As she -locked her door she thought with some satisfaction: -“Now that I know myself I can control myself. If I’d -jumped on her then she’d have fallen in the stove.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As her imagination had not dwelt at great length -upon the proposed change the disappointment was not -as keen as it might have been, much as she desired to -leave Monterey. Moreover, she was occupied with -Rosita and the coming examinations. And did she -not have her Byron? She rose at dawn and read him. -In the evening she went over to the tower and declaimed -him to the grey ocean whose passions were -eternal. The owl, who regarded Byron as a great bore, -closed his eyes when she began and went to sleep. -Sometimes—when the sun rode high—she sat upon -the rubbish over Junipero Serra’s bones, and with one -eye out for rats and snakes and tarantulas, conned a -new poem. She liked the contrast between the desolation -and death in the old ruin and the warm atmosphere -of the poetry. As often Byron was unheeded, and she -dreamed of the mysterious stranger who had so magnetised -her that she had forgotten to ask his name. She -had only to close her eyes to hear his voice, to recall -the words which seemed forever moving in one or -other chamber of her mind, to see the profile which she -admired quite as much as Byron’s. As for the voice, it -had a possessing quality which made her understand -the wherefore of the thrilling notes of the male bird in -spring-time. She invested her ambitious young lawyer -with all the dark sardonic melancholic fascinations of -Lara, Conrad, Manfred, and Don Juan. The wild sweet -sting of spring was in her veins. Her mind was full of -vague illusions, very lovely and very strange, shifting of -outline and wholly inexplicable.</p> - -<h2>XII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the afternoon of the last day of school several -of the girls decorated the hall with garlands and flags. -Carpenters erected a stage, and Patience arranged the -“properties.” When the great night arrived and -Monterey in its best attire crowded the room, no curtain -in the sleepy town had ever been regarded with -more complacent expectation. The Montereñas were -thoroughly satisfied with their offspring, and performances -of any sort were few.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The programme was opened by Manuela, who wore -an old pink satin frock of her mother’s cut short and -trimmed with a flounce of Spanish lace. Her brown -shining face looked good will upon all the world as she -recited “The Wreck of the Hesperus.” Then came a -dialogue in which all the little participants wore white -frocks and crimped hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Meanwhile, in the dressing-room, Rosita was limp in -Patience’s arms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patita!” she gasped, “I can’t! I can’t! -I’m frightened to death! What shall I do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do?” cried Patience, angrily, who was so excited -herself that she pumped Rosita’s arms up and down as -if the unfledged Thespian had just been rescued from -the bay. “Do? You must brace up. When you get -there you’ll be all right. And you <span class='it'>must not</span> get stage -fright. Rosita, you <span class='it'>must</span> make a success. Remember -you’ve got the star part. Don’t, <span class='it'>don’t</span> make a fool of -yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, if you could only hold my hand,” wailed -Rosita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I can’t, and that’s the end of it. Now! -brace up quick.” The prompter was calling in a loud -whisper,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Thrailkill, be ready when I say, ‘Life.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Ay, dios de mi alma</span>,” almost sobbed Rosita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience dragged her to the wings and held her -there. When the cue was spoken she gave her a hard -pinch, then a shove. Rosita gasped and disappeared.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience slipped round into the audience, her heart -in her throat, her eyes black with excitement. If -Rosita broke down she felt that she should have -hysterics.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first Rosita had nothing to say. Upon entering -she had merely to fling herself upon a divan in an -indolent attitude whilst the others carried on a spirited -dialogue. Patience saw that she had managed to get -to the sofa without falling prone, but also observed -that her bosom was heaving. Nevertheless, when her -time came she managed to drawl her lines, although -with as little expression as she told her rosary. -Patience stamped her foot audibly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But as the play progressed it was evident that Rosita -was recovering her poise. When she finally had to -come forward she moved with all the indolent grace of -her blood, and delivered her little speech with such -piquant fire that the audience applauded loudly. And -with that clatter of feet and hands a new light sprang -into the Spanish girl’s eyes, an expression half of surprise, -half of transport. From that time on she acted -in a manner which astonished even her instructor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked exquisitely pretty. Her white rounded -neck and arms were bare. Her black soft hair hung -to her knees, unbound, caught back above one little -ear with a pink rose. Her dress was of black Spanish -lace covered with natural roses. On her tiny feet she -wore a pair of black satin slippers which had belonged -to her grandmother and twinkled many a time to the -music of El Son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When, upon being twitted with her indolence, she -suddenly sprang to the front of the stage, and after -singing an old Spanish love-song to the music of her -own guitar, danced El Son with all the rhythmic grace -of the beautiful women of the old gay time, she was no -longer an actress but an impersonator. The more the -delighted audience applauded the more poetically she -danced, the more significantly her long eyes flamed. -Once when the applause deafened she swayed as if intoxicated. -As the dance finished, her red lips were -parted. She was panting slightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the curtain fell Patience rushed into the dressing-room -and embraced her rapturously. “Rosita!” -she cried, “you were simply, mag-<span class='it'>nif</span>-icent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita, who was trembling violently, hung about -Patience’s neck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patita!” she gasped. “I was in heaven. I -never was so happy. You don’t know what it is to -have a hundred people thinking of nothing but you -and applauding as if they were mad. Oh, I’m going -to act, act, act forever! I never want to do anything -else. And isn’t my skin white? I wish I had two -necks and four arms.”</p> - -<h2>XIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning prizes were distributed. Patience -took most of them, but Rosita was still the sensation of -the hour, although she had not passed an examination. -At noon she had a luncheon party. She sat at the -head of her table in a white dotted Swiss frock and -Roman sash, and talked faster than she had ever talked -in her life before. Altogether she was by no means -the Rosita of twenty-four hours ago.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Thrailkill had prepared a luncheon of old time -Spanish dishes, and hovered, large and brown and -placid, about a table loaded with chickens under -mounds of yellow rice, <span class='it'>tamales</span>, and <span class='it'>dulces</span>. Patience, -between Manuela and a young cousin of Rosita’s, was -not unhappy. Her prizes lay on the window seat, she -liked good things, and was infected with the gaiety of -the hour. True, she wore her old muslin frock and a -plaid sash made from an ancient gown of her mother’s, -and the rest of the girls looked like a bed of newly -blossomed flowers; but at fifteen the spirits rise high -above trifles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she started for home she was as light of heart -as her more favoured mates; but in the wood a dire -affliction smote her. One of her teeth began to ache. -She had seen her mother many times with head tied up -and distorted face, and had wondered scornfully how -any one could make a fuss about a mere tooth. Now, -however, when her own suddenly felt as if impaled on -a needle, she uttered a loud wail, and ran toward home -as fast as her legs could carry her. She found her -mother similarly afflicted, and a bottle of drops on the -kitchen table. Mrs. Sparhawk condescended to apply -the remedy, and the agony left as suddenly as it had -come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After supper Patience went over to her tower, and as -ever floated between Carmel Valley and the stars, enveloped -with warm ether, which swirled to towers and -turrets inhabited by a projection of herself which she -saw only as a lover. Unfortunately all this rapture was -enacted in a strong draught. Even Solomon uttered a -sound once or twice which resembled a sneeze. Again -Patience’s tooth was punctured by a red-hot needle. -Her castles vanished. She caught her cheek with her -hand, stumbled down the winding stair, and flew across -the valley, the needle developing into a screw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The house was quiet, the kitchen dark. She lit a -candle and searched frantically for the drops. They -were not to be found. Then it occurred to her that -her mother must have taken them to her room, and -she ran up the stair.</p> - -<h2>XIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>At dawn next morning Patience found herself on the -summit of the mountain behind the house. Her progress -thither had skimmed the surface of memory and -left no trace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The sea was grey, the sky was grey. A grey mist -moved in the valley. Beyond, the wood on the hill -loomed in faint black outline. The birds in the trees, -the seagulls on the rocks, the very ocean itself, were -locked in the heavy sleep of early morning. Once, -from the tower of the Mission, came the plaintive hooting -of the owl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a time Patience plucked a number of stickers -from her stockings, and wiped blood from her torn -hands with a large leaf wet with dew. She clasped -her hands inertly about her knees and stared down -upon the ocean. Horror was in her sunken eyes. -The skin of her face looked faded and old. Her nose -and chin were as pinched as the features of the dead. -She did not look like the same child. Nor was she.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes closed heavily, her head dropped. She -roused herself. She felt that she had no right to do -anything again so natural as to sleep. But suddenly -she toppled over and lay motionless; until the sun sent -its slanting rays under her eyelids. Then she stretched -herself lazily, rubbing her eyes, and smiling as children -do when waking. But the smile froze to a ghastly grin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She raised herself stiffly and descended the mountain, -clinging to the brush, the stones rolling from -beneath her feet. She ran across the valley and -plunged into the pine woods, but did not linger in -those fragrant aisles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she reached the edge of the town she paused -and half turned back; but there was one thing she -dreaded more than to meet the people of Monterey, -and she went on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She skirted the town and made her way toward the -Custom House by a roundabout path. She passed a -group of boys, and averted her head with a gesture of -loathing. One boy, a gallant admirer, ran after her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience!” he cried, “wait a minute.” But -Patience took to her heels and never paused until she -reached the Custom House. The perplexed knight -stood still and whistled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he exclaimed to his jeering comrades, “I -always knew Patience Sparhawk was a crank, but this -lets <span class='it'>me</span> out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stood for a few moments on the rocks, -then went slowly to the library and opened the door. -Mr. Foord sat by the fire. He looked up with a -smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, it’s you,” he said. “I’m very proud of you.—Why, -what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, her eyes fixed on the floor, took a chair -opposite him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Patience?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did not look up. She could not. Finally she -moved her face from him and stared at the mantel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve left home,” she said. “I’d like to stay here -for a while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, of course you can stay here. I’ll tell Lola -to put a cot in her room. But what is the matter? -Has your mother been drinking again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has she struck you again?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what is it, my dear child? You know that -you are always more than welcome here; but you -must have some excuse for leaving home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have an excuse. I can’t tell it. Please don’t -say anything more about it. I don’t think she’ll send -for me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, perhaps you’ll tell me after a time. -Meanwhile make yourself at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was much puzzled, but reflected that Patience -was not like other children; and he knew Mrs. Sparhawk’s -commanding talent for making herself disagreeable. -Still, he was shocked at her appearance; and -as the day wore on and she would not meet his eye, -but sat staring at the floor, his uneasy mind glimpsed -ugly possibilities. At dinner she ate little and did not -raise her eyes from her plate, although she made a -few commonplace remarks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At four o’clock Billy, the buggy, and a farm hand -stopped before the Custom House. The man handed -a note to Lola, asking her to give it to Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The note read:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>You come home—hear? If you don’t, I’ll see that -you do.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:17em;'><span class='sc'>M. Sparhawk.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience went out to the man, who still sat in the -buggy. “Tell her,” she said, looking at Billy, “that -I’m not going home,—not now nor at any other -time. Just make her understand that I mean it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man stared, but nodded and drove off.</p> - -<h2>XV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>At midnight Patience was awakened by a frantic clamour -in the street. “Those dreadful Bohemians,” she -thought sleepily, then sat up with thumping heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They say your name, <span class='it'>niña</span>, no?” said Lola, whose -sonorous slumbers had also been disturbed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience slipped to the floor and looked through the -window. The moon flooded the old town. The ruined -fort on the hill had never looked more picturesque, -the pines above more calm. In the hollow near the -blue waters the white arms of Junipero Serra’s cross -seemed extended in benediction. The old adobes -were young for the hour. One might fancy Isabel -Herrara walking down from the long house on the -hill, her <span class='it'>reboso</span> fluttering in the night wind, old Pio -Pico, glittering with jewels, beside her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And in the wide street before the Custom House, -surrounded by a hooting mob, the refuse of the saloons, -was a cursing gesticulating woman. Her black hair -was unbound, her garment torn. She flung her fists in -the face of those that sought to hold her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience Sparhawk!” she shrieked. “Patience -Sparhawk! Come down here to your mother. Come -down here this minute. Come, I say,” and a volley of -oaths followed, greeted with a loud cackling laugh by -the rabble.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience saw Mr. Foord, clad in his dressing-gown, -go forth. She flung on her clothes hastily and ran -down the stair. Her mother and Mr. Foord were in -the kitchen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she’ll come back,” Mrs. Sparhawk was saying. -“I’ll see to that. How do you like a row under your -windows? Well, I’ll come here every night unless she -comes home. You’ll put me in the Home of the -Inebriates, will you? Think she’ll like to have that -said of her mother when she’s grown up? Not -Patience Sparhawk. I know her weak point. She’s -as proud as hell, and I’m not afraid of going to any -Home of the Inebriates.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience pushed open the door. “I’m going with -you,” she said. “Now get out of this house as fast as -you can.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patience,” exclaimed Mr. Foord. His old -cheeks were splashed with tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” said Patience, -her hands clenching and quivering. “I didn’t think -she’d do this, or I wouldn’t have stayed. What a -return for all your kindness!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience,” said the old gentleman, “promise me -that you will come to see me to-morrow. Promise, or -I shall not let you go. She can do her worst.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ordered her mother to follow her out of the -back door that they might avoid the expectant mob. -Mrs. Sparhawk walked unsteadily, but received no assistance -from her daughter. If she had fallen, Patience -could not have forced herself to touch her. Had the -woman been a reeling mass of physical corruption, a -leper, a small-pox scab, the girl could not have -shrunken farther from her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They did not speak until they ascended the hill behind -the town and entered the woods. Patience never -recalled that night without inhaling the balsamic -odour of the pines, the heavy perfume of forest lilies, -without seeing the great yellow stars through the uplifted -arms of the trees. It was a night for love, and -its guest was hate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>No more terrible conversation ever took place between -mother and daughter. After that night they -never spoke again.</p> - -<h2>XVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning Patience, after breakfast, carried a -pair of tongs and a newspaper up to her room. She -spread the newspaper on the table, then with the -tongs extracted Byron from beneath the bed and laid -it on the paper. She wrapped it up and tied it securely -without letting her hands come in contact with -the cover. That same afternoon she carried the book -to the Custom House and threw it behind a row of tall -volumes in one of the cases. Long after, Mr. Foord -found it there and wondered. He was not at home -when she arrived. When he returned she was deep in -his arm-chair, reading Gibbon’s “Rome.” He was -not without tact, and determined at once to ignore the -events of the previous day and night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What!” he exclaimed, “are you really giving -poor old Gibbon a trial at last? And after all your -abuse? But perhaps you won’t find him so dry, after -all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish to read what is dry,” said Patience. “I’m -going to take a course in ancient history.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No more poetry and novels?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a line.” She spoke harshly, and compelled -herself to meet Mr. Foord’s eyes. Her own were as -hard and as cold as steel. All the soft dreaming light -of the past two months had gone out of them. They -were the eyes neither of a girl nor of a woman. They -looked the eyes of a sexless intellect.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had done the one thing which a girl of -fifteen can do when crushed with problems; she had -twitched her shoulders and flung them off. She comprehended -that her intellect was her best friend, and -plunged her racked head into the hard facts which required -utmost concentration of mind. The sweet -vague dreams of the past were turned from in loathing. -If she thought of them at all it was with fierce resentment -that she had become conscious of her womanhood. -The stranger was thrust out of memory. She -went no more to the tower. The owl hooted in his -loneliness, and she drew the bed-clothes over her ears. -When she walked through the woods, to and from the -town, she recited Gibbon in synopsis. She spent the -day in Mr. Foord’s library, returning home in time to -get supper. She did her household duties mechanically, -and the eyes of mother and daughter never met. -The man Oscar kept out of her way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Galpin had gone to San Francisco and would -return no more: she was to marry. Rosita was visiting -in Santa Barbara. Manuela, now a young lady, -was devoting the greater part of her time to the Hotel -Del Monte, where the flower and vegetables of San -Francisco gather in summer. She went up to the -tanks in the morning and to the dances in the evening; -and informed Patience, one day as they met on the -street, that she was having a perfectly gorgeous time, -and had met a man who was too lovely for words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The long hot days and the foggy nights wore slowly -away. Patience grew thinner, her face harder. Mr. -Foord did his best to divert her, but his resources -were limited. She peremptorily forbade him to allude -to the romance of Monterey, and he took her out in -his old buggy and talked of Gibbon’s “Rome.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once they drove through the grounds of Del Monte,—the -trim artificial grounds that are such an anomaly -in that valley of memories. On the long veranda of the -great hotel of airy architecture people sat in the bright -attire of summer. Matrons rocked and gossiped; -girls talked eagerly to languid youths that sat on the -railing. It was all as unreal to Patience as the fairy-land -of her childhood, when she had hunted for fays -and elves in the wood. She stared at the scene angrily, -for the first time feeling the sting of the social -bee.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A vain frivolous life those people lead,” remarked -Mr. Foord, who disapproved of The World. “A -waste of time and God’s best gifts, which makes them -selfish and heartless. Empty heads and hollow hearts.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience, gazing at those girls in their gay dainty -attire, the like of which she had never seen before, experienced -a sudden violent wish to be of them, empty -head, hollow heart, and all. They looked happy and -free of care. The very atmosphere of the veranda -seemed full of colour and music. Above all, they were -utterly different from Patience Sparhawk, blessed and -enviable beings. Even the frivolity of the scene appealed -to her, so sick unto death of serious things.</p> - -<h2>XVII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, late in September, Patience, as usual, left -Monterey at half past four in order to reach home in -time to cook the supper. Nature had smiled for so -many successive days that she wondered if the lips so -persistently set must not soon strain back and reveal -the teeth. The sun, poised behind the pine woods, -flooded them with yellow light. As Patience walked -through the soft radiance she set her teeth and recalled -the chapters of Thiers’ “French Revolution,” through -which she had that day plodded. But her head felt -dull. She realised with a quiver of terror that she was -beginning to feel less like an intellect and more like a -very helpless little girl. Once she discovered her -curved arm creeping to her eyes. She flung it down -and shook her head angrily. Was she like other -people?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mingling with the fragrance of the pines it seemed to -her that she smelt smoke. She hoped that her woods -were not on fire. She walked slowly, indisposed as -ever to return home, the more so to-day as she felt herself -breaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish the sun would not grin so,” she thought. -“I’ll be glad when winter comes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The smell of smoke grew stronger. She left the -woods. A moment later she stood, white and trembling, -looking down upon Carmel Valley. The Sparhawk -farmhouse was a blazing mass of timbers. A -volume of smoke, as straight and full as a waterspout, -stood directly above it. Men were running about. -Their shouts came faintly to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience pressed her hands convulsively to her eyes. -She clutched her head as if to tear out the terrible -hope clattering in her brain, then ran down the hill and -across the valley, feeling all the while as if possessed by -ten thousand devils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m bad, bad, bad!” she sobbed in terror. -“I don’t, I don’t!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she reached the scene the roof fell in. She -glanced hastily about. The men, withdrawn to a safe -distance, were gathered round the man Oscar. One -was binding his hands and face. As they saw Patience -they turned as if to run, then stood doggedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where is she?” Patience asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was an instant’s pause. The crackling of the -flames grew louder, as if it would answer. Then one -of the men blurted out: “Burnt up in her bed. She -was drunk. We was all in the field when the fire -broke out. When we got here Oscar tried to get at -her room with a ladder, but it was no go. Poor old -Madge.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience without another word turned and ran back -to the woods. She ran until she was exhausted, more -horrified at herself than she had been at any of her unhappy -experiences. After a time she fell among the -dry pine needles, her good, as she expressed it, still -trying to fight down her bad. She felt that the demon -possessing her would have sung aloud had she not held -it by the throat. She conjured up all the horrible details -of her mother’s death and ordered her soul to -pity; but her brain remarked coldly that her mother -had probably felt nothing. She imagined the charred -corpse, but it only offended her artistic sense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Finally she fell asleep. The day was far gone when -she awoke. She lay for a time staring at the dim -arches above her, listening to the night voices she had -once loved so passionately. At last she drew a deep -sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I might just as well face the truth,” she said aloud. -“I’m glad, and that’s the end of it. It’s wicked and -I’m sorry; but what is, is, and I can’t help it. We’re -not all made alike.”</p> - -<h2>XVIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was once more installed in Lola’s room. -Mr. Foord applied for letters of guardianship, which -were granted at once. But as he had feared, she was -left without a penny. He wrote to his half-sister, asking -her if she would take charge of his ward. Miss -Tremont replied in enthusiastic affirmation. Miss -Galpin invited Patience to spend two weeks with her -in San Francisco, offering to replenish the girl’s wardrobe -with several of her own old frocks made over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Those two weeks seemed to Patience the mad whirl -of excitement of which she had read in novels. She -had never seen a city before, and the very cable cars -fascinated her. To glide up and down the hills was to -her the poetry of science. The straggling city on its -hundred hills, the crowded streets and gay shop windows, -the theatres, the restaurants, China Town, the -beautiful bay with its bare colorous hills, surprised her -into admitting that life appeared to be quite well worth -living after all. When she returned to Monterey she -talked so fast that Mr. Foord clapped his hands to his -ears, and Rosita listened with expanded eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ay, if I could live in San Francisco!” she said, -plaintively. “I acted all summer, Patita, but I got -tired of the same people, and I want to go to the big -theatres and see the real ones do it. I’d like to hear -a great big house applauding, only I’d be so jealous of -the leading lady.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was to start, immediately after Christmas, -by steamer for New York. Mr. Foord spent the last -days giving her much good advice. He said little of -his own sorrow to part from her. Once he had been -tempted to keep her for the short time that remained -to him, but had put the temptation aside with the sad -resignation of old age. He knew Patience’s imperative -need of new impressions in these her plastic years.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day before she left she went over to Carmel to -say good-bye to Solomon. He flapped his wings with -delight, although he could not see her, and nestled -close to her side in a manner quite unlike his haughty -habit. Patience thought he looked older and greyer, -and his wings had a dejected droop. She took him -in her arms with an impulse of tenderness, and this -time he did not repulse her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor old Solomon,” she said, “I suppose you are -lonely and forlorn in your old age, but this old tower -wouldn’t be what it is without you. It’s too bad I -can’t write to you as I can to my two or three other -friends, and you’ll never know I haven’t forgotten you, -poor old Solomon. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I wonder -if owls do suffer too. You look so wise and venerable, -perhaps you are thinking that lonely old age is terrible—as -I know Mr. Foord does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Solomon pecked at her mildly. Her gaze wandered -out over the ocean. She wondered if a thousand years -had passed since she had dreamed her dreams. Their -very echoes came from the mountains of space.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she went away Solomon followed her to the -head of the stair. She looked upward once and saw -him standing there, with drooping wings and head a -little bent. The darkness of the stair gave him vision, -and he fluttered his wings expectantly, as she paused -and lifted her face to him. But when she did not -return he walked with great dignity to his accustomed -place against the wall, nor even lifted up his voice in -protest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning Rosita accompanied her to the -station and wept loudly as the train approached. But -Patience did not cry until she stood in her stateroom -with Mr. Foord.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='book2'></a>BOOK II</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>I</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience watched the dusty hills of San Francisco, the -sparkling bay alive with sail and spar, the pink mountains -of the far coast range, the brown hills opposite the -grey city, willowed and gulched and bare, the forts on -rock and points, until the wild lurching of the steamer -over the bar directed her attention to the unhappy -passengers. In a short while she had not even these -to amuse her, nothing but a grey plain and empty decks. -At first she felt a waif in space; but soon a delightful -sense of independence stole over her, of freedom from -all the ills and responsibilities of life. The land world -might have collapsed upon its fiery heart, so little could -it affect her while that waste of waters slid under the -horizon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The few passengers came forth restored in a day or -two. A husband and wife and several children did not -interest Patience; neither did the captain’s wife, in -whose charge she was. A young girl with a tangle of -yellow hair under a sailor hat was more inviting, but she -flirted industriously with the purser and took not the -slightest notice of Patience. Her invalid mother -reclined languidly in a steamer chair and read the -novels of E. P. Roe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The only other passenger was an elderly gentleman -who read books in white covers neatly lettered with -black which fascinated Patience. She was beginning to -long for books. The invalid lent her a Roe, but she -returned it half unread. As the old gentleman had -never addressed her, did not seem to be aware of her -existence, she could hardly expect a similar courtesy -from him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was glowering upon universal stupidity one -morning when he appeared on deck with a carpet bag, -from which, after comfortably establishing himself in -his steamer chair, he took little white volume after -little white volume. Patience’s curiosity overcame her. -She went forward slowly and stood before him. He -looked up sharply. His black eyes, piercing from their -shaggy arches, made her twitch her head as if to fling -aside some penetrative force. His very beard, silver -though it was, had a fierce sidewise twist. His nose -was full nostrilled and drooped scornfully. The spectacles -he wore served as a sort of lens for the fire of his -extraordinary eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” he said gruffly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please, sir,” said Patience, humbly, “will you lend -me a book?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Book? I don’t carry children’s literature round -with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t read children’s literature.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you don’t? Well, not ‘The Chatterbox,’ I suppose; -but I have nothing of Pansy’s nor yet of The -Duchess.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t read them if you had,” cried Patience, -angrily. “Perhaps I’ve read a good many books -that you haven’t re-read so long ago yourself. I’ve -read Dickens and Thackeray and Scott, and,” with -a shudder, “Gibbon’s ‘Rome’ and Thiers’ ‘French -Revolution.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you have? Well, I beg your pardon. Sit -down, and I’ll see if I can find something for a young -lady of your surprising attainments.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, too pleased to resent sarcasm, applied -herself to his elbow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why are they all bound alike?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is the Tauchnitz edition of notable English -and American books. How is this?” He handed her -a volume of Grace Aguilar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir! I’ve tried her, and she’s a greater bore -than Jane Austen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you want a love story, I suppose?” His accentuation -was fairly sardonic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t,” she said with an intonation which -made him turn and regard her with interest. Then -once more he explored his bag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will this suit you?” He held out a copy of -Carlyle’s “French Revolution.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience groaned. “Didn’t I tell you I’d just read -Thiers’?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This isn’t Thiers’. Try it.” And he took no -further notice of her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience opened the volume, and in a few moments -was absorbed. There was something in the storm and -blare of the style which struck a responsive chord. She -did not raise her head until dinner time. She scarcely -spoke until she had finished the volume, and then only -to ask for the second. For several days she felt as if -the atmosphere was charged with dynamite, and jumped -when any one addressed her. The owner of the Tauchnitz -watched her curiously. When she had finished the -second volume she told him that she did not care for -anything more at present. She leaned over the railing -most of the day, watching the waves. Toward sunset -the gentleman called peremptorily,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stood before his chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what do you think of it?” he demanded. -“Tell me exactly what your impressions are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel as if there was an earthquake in my skull -and all sorts of pictures flying about, and exploded -pieces of drums and trumpets, and kings and queens. -I think Carlyle must have been made on purpose to -write the French Revolution. It was—as if—there -was a great picture of it made on the atmosphere, and -when he was born it passed into him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Upon my word,” he said, “you are a degree or two -removed from the letters of bread and milk. You are -a very remarkable kid. Sit down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience took the chair beside him. “He made my -head ache,” she added. “I feel as if it had been -hammered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t wonder. Older heads have felt the same -way. What’s your name?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience Sparhawk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me all about yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, there isn’t much to tell,” and she frowned -heavily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t look so tragic—you alarm me. I’m convinced -there is a great deal. Come, I want to know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience gave a few inane particulars. The old -gentleman snorted. “It’s evident you’ve never been -interviewed,” he said grimly. “Now, I’ll tell you who -I am, and then you won’t mind talking about yourself. -There’s nothing so catching as egotism. My name is -James E. Field. I own one of the great newspapers of -New York, of which I am also editor-in-chief. Do -you know what that means? Well, if you don’t, let me -tell you. It is to be a man more powerful than the -President of the United States, for he can make -presidents, which is something the president himself -can’t do. He knows more about people’s private affairs -than any of intimate relationship; he has his finger on -the barometer of his readers’ brain; he can make -them sensational or sober, intellectually careless or -exacting; he can keep them in ignorance of all that is -best worth knowing of the world’s affairs, by snubbing -the great events and tendencies of the day and vitiating -their brain with local crimes and scandals, or he can -illumine their minds and widen their brain cells by not -only enlarging upon what every intelligent person should -wish to know, but by making such matter of profound -interest; he can ignore science, or enlighten several -hundred thousand people; he can add to the happiness -of the human race by exposing abuses and hidden -crime, or he can accept hush money and let the sore -fester; he can lash the unrest of the lower classes, or -chloroform it; he can use the sledge hammer, the -rapier, and the vitriol, or give over his editorial page to -windy nothings; he can demolish political bosses, or -prolong their career. In short, his power is greater than -Alexander’s was, for he is a general of minds instead of -brute force.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My goodness gracious!” exclaimed Patience. -“What sort of a paper have you got?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed. “Wait until you’ve lived in New -York awhile and you’ll find out. Its name is the -‘Day,’ and it has made a president or two, and made -one or two others wish they’d never been born. By -the way, I didn’t tell you much about myself, did -I? The auxiliary subject carried me away. I’m -married, and have several sons and daughters, and -am off for a rest—not from the family but from the -‘Day.’ I’ve been round the world. That will do for -the present. Tell me all about Monterey.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With consummate skill he extracted the history of -her sixteen years. On some points she fought him -so obstinately that he inferred what she would not -tell. He ended by becoming profoundly interested. -He was a man of enthusiasms, which sometimes wrote -themselves in vitriol, at others in the milk of human -kindness. His keen unerring brain, which Patience -fancied flashed electric search lights, comprehended -that it had stumbled upon a character waging perpetual -war with the pitiless Law of Circumstance, and that the -issue might serve as a plot for one of the mental -dramas of the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your experience and the bad blood in you, taken -in connection with your bright and essentially modern -mind, will make a sort of intellectual anarchist of you,” -he said. “I doubt if you take kindly to the domestic -life. You will probably go in for the social problems, -and ride some polemical hobby for eight or ten years, -at the end of which time you will be inclined to look -upon your sex as the soubrettes of history. Your -enthusiasm may make you a faddist, but your common -sense may aid you in the perception of several eternal -truths which the women of to-day in their blind bolt -have overlooked.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A moment later he repented his generalisations, for -Patience had demanded full particulars. Nevertheless, -he gave her many a graphic outline of the various -phases of current history, and was the most potent -educational force that she had yet encountered. She -preferred him to books and admired him without reserve, -trotting at his heels like a small dog. His -unique and virile personality, his brilliant and imperious -mind, magnetised the modern essence of which she -was made. There was nothing of the old-fashioned -intellectual type about him. He might have induced -the coining of the word “brainy,”—he certainly typed -it. Although he had the white hair and the accumulated -wisdom of his years, he had the eyes of youth and -the fist of vigour at any age. One day when two -natives looked too long upon Patience’s blondinity, -as she and Mr. Field were exploring a banana grove -during one of their brief excursions on shore, he -cracked their skulls together as if they had been two -cocoanuts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience laughed as the blacks dropped sullenly -behind. “How funny that they should admire me,” -she said. “I’m not pretty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’re white. Besides, there is one thing -more fascinating than beauty, and that is a strong -individuality. It radiates and magnetises.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have I all that?” Patience blushed with delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed good-naturedly. “Yes, I’ll stake a -good deal that you have. You may even be pretty -some day; that is, if you ever get those freckles off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Inherent as was her passion for nature, she enjoyed -the rich beauty of the tropics the more for the companionship -of a mind skilled in observation and interpretation. -It was her first mental comprehension of -the law of duality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they approached New York harbour Mr. Field said -to her: “I think I’ll have to make a newspaper -woman of you. When you have finished your education, -don’t think of settling down to any such humdrum -career as that of the school-teacher. Come -to me, and I’ll put you through your paces. If I’m -not more mistaken than I’ve been yet, I’ll turn out -a newspaper woman that will induce a mightier blast -of woman’s horn. Think you’d like it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d like to be with you,” said Patience, on the -verge of tears. “Sha’n’t I see you again till I’m -eighteen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t want to see or hear from you again -until you’ve kneaded that brain of yours into some -sort of shape by three years of hard study. Then -I’ll go to work on a good foundation. You haven’t -told me if you’ll take a try at it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I will. Do you think I want to be -a school-teacher? I should think it would be lovely -to be a newspaper woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it isn’t exactly lovely, but it is a good training -in the art of getting along without adjectives. -Now look round you and I’ll explain this harbour; -and don’t you brag any more about your San Francisco -harbour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They entered through The Narrows, between the two -toy forts. A few lone sentries paced the crisp snow -on the heights of Staten Island, and looked in imminent -danger of tumbling down the perpendicular lawns. -The little stone windows of the earthen redoubts -seemed to wink confidently at each other across the -water, and loomed superciliously above the forts on -the water’s edge. Long Island, had the repose of a -giant that had stretched his limbs in sleep, unmindful -of the temporary hamlets on his swelling front. Staten -Island curved and uplifted herself coquettishly under -her glittering garb and crystal woods. Far away the -faint line of the New Jersey shore, looking like one -unbroken city on a hundred altitudes, hovered faintly -under its mist. The river at its base was a silver -ribbon between a mirage and a stupendous castle of -seven different architectures surmounted by a golden -dome—which same was New York and the dome -of a newspaper. Then a faint fairy-like bridge, delicate -as a cobweb, sprang lightly across another river to -a city of walls with windows in them—which same -was Brooklyn. Under the shadow of the arches was -a baby island fortified with what appeared to be a large -Dutch cheese out of which the mice had gnawed -their way with much regularity. The great bay, blue -as liquid sapphire, was alive with craft of every -design: rowboats scuttled away from the big outgoing -steamers; sails, white as the snow on the heights, -bellied in the sharp wind; yellow and red ferry boats -gave back long symmetrical curves of white smoke; -gaunt ships with naked spars lay at rest. On Liberty -Island the big girl pointed solemnly upward as if -reminding the city on the waters of the many mansions -in the invisible stars. Snow clouds were scudding -upward from the east, but overhead there was plentiful -gold and blue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience gazed through Mr. Field’s glass, enraptured, -and promised not to brag. As they swung toward the -dock he laid his hand kindly on hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now don’t think I’m callous,” he said, “because -I part from you without any apparent regret. You are -going to be in good hands during the rest of your early -girlhood, and I could be of no assistance to you; and -I am a very busy man. Let me tell you that you have -made this month a good deal shorter than it would -otherwise have been; and when we meet again you -won’t have to introduce yourself. There are my folks, -and there goes the gang-plank. Good-bye, and God -bless you.”</p> - -<h2>II</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience leaned over the upper railing, looking at the -expectant crowd on the wharf, wondering when the -captain would remember her. She felt a strong inclination -to run after Mr. Field. As he receded up the -wharf, surrounded by his family, he turned and waved -his hand to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why couldn’t he have been Mr. Foord’s brother or -something?” she thought resentfully. “I think he -might have adopted me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the crowd thinned she noticed two elderly women -standing a few feet from the vessel, alternately inspecting -the landed passengers and the decks. One was a very -tall slender and graceful woman, possessed of that subtle -quality called style, despite her unfashionable attire. -In her dark regular face were the remains of beauty, -and although nervous and anxious, it wore the seal of -gentle blood. Her large black eyes expressed a curious -commingling of the spiritual and the human. She was -probably sixty years old. At her side was a woman -some ten years younger, of stouter and less elastic -figure, with a strong dark kind intelligent face and an -utter disregard of dress. She carried several bundles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, hasn’t she come?” cried the elder woman. -“Can she have died at sea? I am sure the dear Lord -wouldn’t let anything happen to her. Dear sister, <span class='it'>do</span> -you see her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The other woman, who was also looking everywhere -except at Patience, replied in a round cheerful voice: -“No, not yet, but I feel sure she is there. The captain -hasn’t had time to bring her on shore. The Lord -tells me that it is all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of those is Miss Tremont,” thought Patience, -“I may as well go down. They appear to be frightfully -religious, but they have nice faces.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ran down to the lower deck, then across the -gang-plank.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m Patience Sparhawk,” she said; “are you—” -The older woman uttered a little cry, caught her in her -arms, and kissed her. “Oh, you dear little thing!” -she exclaimed, and kissed her again. “How I’ve -prayed the dear Lord to bring you safely, and He has, -praise His holy name. Oh, I am so glad to see you. I -do love children so. We’ll be so happy together—you -and I and Him—and, oh, I’m so glad to see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, breathless, but much gratified, kissed her -warmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t forget me,” exclaimed the other lady. She -had a singularly hearty voice and a brilliant smile. -Patience turned to her dutifully, and received an emphatic -kiss.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is my dear friend, my dear sister in the Lord, -Miss Beale, Patience,” said Miss Tremont, flurriedly, -“and she wanted to see you almost as much as I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed I did,” said Miss Beale, breezily. “I too -love little girls.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure you’re both very kind,” said Patience, -helplessly. She hardly knew how to meet so much -effusion. But something cold and old within her seemed -to warm and thaw.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You dear little thing,” continued Miss Tremont. -“Are you cold? That is a very light coat you have on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was not dressed for an eastern winter, but -her young blood and curiosity kept her warm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here comes the captain,” she said. “Oh, no, I’m -all right. I like the cold.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The captain, satisfying himself that his charge was in -the proper hands, offered to send her trunk to Mariaville -by express, and Patience, wedged closely between -the two ladies, boarded a street car.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know,” exclaimed Miss Tremont, “I knew the -Lord would bring you to me safely in spite of the perils -of the ocean. Every night and every morning I prayed: -<span class='it'>Dear</span> Lord, don’t let anything happen to her,—and I -knew He wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does He always do what you tell Him?” asked -Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Almost everything I ask Him,—that is to say, when -He thinks best. Dear Patience, if you knew how He -looks out for me—and it is well He sees fit, for dear -knows I have a time taking care of myself. Why, He -even takes care of my purse. I’m always leaving it -round, and He always sends it back to me—from -counters and trains and restaurants and everywhere. -And when I start in the wrong direction He always -whispers in my ear in time. Why, once I had to catch -a certain train to Philadelphia, where I was to preside -at a convention, and I’d taken the wrong street car, and -when I jumped off and took the right one, the driver -said I couldn’t possibly get to the ferry in time. So I -just shut my eyes and prayed; and then I told the driver -that it would be all right, as I had asked the Lord to -see that I got there in time. The driver laughed, and -said: ‘W-a-a-l, I guess the Lord’ll go back on you -this time.’ But I caught that ferry-boat. <span class='it'>He</span>—the -Lord—made it five minutes late. And it’s always the -same. He takes care of me, praised be His name.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must feel as if He were your husband,” said -Patience, too gravely to be suspected of irreverence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, He is. Doesn’t the Bible say—” But the -car began to rattle over the badly paved streets, and the -quotation was lost.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience looked eagerly through the windows at -purlieus of indescribable ugliness; but it was New -York, a city greater than San Francisco, and she found -even its youthful old age picturesque. The dense -throng of people in Sixth Avenue and the immense -shop windows induced expressions of rapture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t live here, do you?” she said with a sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mariaville is much nicer than New York,” -replied Miss Beale, in her enthusiastic way. “I hate a -great crowded city. It baffles you so when you try to -do good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still they do say that reform work is more systematised -here, dear sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forty-second Street,” shouted the conductor, and -they changed cars. A few moments later they were -pulling out of the Grand Central Station for Mariaville.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale had asked the conductor to turn a seat, -and Patience faced her new friends. As they left the -tunnel she caught sight of a tiny bow of white ribbon -each wore on her coat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why do you wear that?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, we’re W. C. T. U’s,” replied Miss Beale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wctus?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Temperance cranks,” said Miss Tremont, smiling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Temperance cranks?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, have you never heard of the Woman’s Christian -Temperance Union?” asked Miss Beale, a chill -breathing over her cordial voice. “The movement -has reason to feel encouraged all through the West.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never heard of it. They don’t have it in -Monterey, and I’ve not been much in San Francisco.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s such a child,” said Miss Tremont. “How -could she know of it out there? But now I know she -is going to be one of our very best Y’s.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Y’s?” asked Patience, helplessly. She wondered -if this was the “fad” Mr. Field had predicted for her, -then recalled that he had alluded once to the “Temperance -movement,” but could not remember his explanation, -if he had made any. Doubtless she had -evaded a disagreeable topic. But now that it was -evidently to be a part of her new life she made no attempt -to stem Miss Tremont’s enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Y’s are the young women of the Union; we -are the W’s. It is our lifework, Patience, and I am -sure you will become as much interested in it as we -are, and be proud to wear the white ribbon. We have -done so much good, and expect to do much more, with -the dear Lord’s help. It is slow work, but we shall -conquer in the end, for He is with us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you do,—forbid people to sell liquor?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Both ladies laughed. They were not without humour, -and their experience had developed it. “No,” -said Miss Tremont, “we don’t waste our time like that.” -She gave an enthusiastic account of what the Union -had accomplished. Her face glowed; her fine head -was thrown back; her dark eyes sparkled. Patience -thought she must have been a beautiful girl. She had -a full voice with odd notes of protest and imperious -demand which puzzled her young charge. One would -have supposed that she was constantly imploring favours, -and yet her air suggested natural hauteur, unexterminated -by cultivated humility.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should think it was a good idea,” said Patience, -with perfect sincerity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, there’s dear Sister Watt,” cried Miss Tremont, -and she rose precipitately, and crossing the aisle sat -down beside a careworn anxious-eyed woman who -also wore the white ribbon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come over by me until Miss Tremont comes back,” -said Miss Beale, with her brilliant smile. “Tell me, -don’t you love her already? Oh, you have no idea -how good she is. She is heart and soul in her work, -and just lives for the Lord. She sometimes visits twenty -poor families a week, besides her Temperance class, -her sewing school, her Bible Readings, her Bible class, -and all the religious societies, of which she is the most -active worker. She is also the Mariaville agent for -the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and -trustee of the Bible Society. You should hear her pray. -I have heard all the great revivalists, but I have never -heard anything like Miss Tremont’s prayers. How I -envy you living with her! You’ll hear her twice a day, -and sometimes oftener. She has a nice house on -the outskirts of Mariaville. Her father left it to her -twenty years ago, and she dedicated it to the Lord at -once. It is headquarters for church meetings of all -sorts. She has a Bible reading one afternoon a week. -Any one can go, even a servant, for Miss Tremont, like -all true followers of the Lord, is humble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience reflected that she had never seen any one -look less humble than Miss Beale. In spite of her old -frock she conveyed with unmistakable if unconscious -emphasis that she possessed wealth and full knowledge -of its power.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look so happy,” Patience said, her curiosity -regarding Miss Tremont blunted for the present. “Are -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Happy? Of course I am. I’ve never known an -unhappy moment in my life. When my dear parents -died, I only envied them. And have I not perfect -health? Is not every moment of my time occupied?—why, -I only sleep six hours out of the twenty-four. And -Him. Do I not work for Him, and is He not always -with me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are so funny about God,” thought Patience. -“She talks as if He were her beau; and Miss Tremont -as if He were her old man she’d been jogging along -with for forty years or so.—Do you live alone?” she -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes—that is, I board.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And don’t you ever feel lonesome?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never. Is not He always with me?” Her strong -brown face was suddenly illuminated. “Is He not my -lover? Is He not always at my side, encouraging me -and whispering of His love, night and day? Why, -I can almost hear His voice, feel His hand. How -could I be lonesome even on a desert island with no -work to do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience gasped. The extraordinary simplicity of -this woman of fifty fascinated her whom life and -heredity had made so complex. But she moved restlessly, -and felt an impulse to thrust out her legs and -arms. She had a sensation of being swamped in -religion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shouldn’t think you’d like boarding,” she said -irrelevantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t like it particularly, but it gives me more -time for my work. I make myself comfortable, I can -tell you, for I have my own bed with two splendid -mattresses,—my landlady’s are the hardest things you -ever felt,—and all my own furniture and knick-knacks. -And I have my own tub, and every morning even in -dead of winter, I take a cold bath. And I don’t wear -corsets—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mariaville,” called the conductor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, here we are,” cried Miss Tremont. She made -a wild dive for her umbrella and bag, seized Patience -by the hand, and rushed up the aisle, followed leisurely -by Miss Beale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The snow was falling heavily. Patience had watched -it drift and swirl over the Hudson, and should have -liked to give it her undivided attention.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they left the station they were greeted by a -chorus of shrieks: “Have a sleigh? Have a sleigh?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you think, sister?” asked Miss Tremont, -dubiously. “Do you think Patience can walk two -miles in this snow? I don’t like to spend money on -luxuries that I should give to the Lord.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps the sleigh man needs it,” said Patience, -who had no desire to walk two miles in a driving storm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’d better have a sleigh,” said Miss Beale, decidedly. -“We will each pay half.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But why should you pay half,” said Miss Tremont, -in her protesting voice, “when there are three of -us?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will pay for myself,” said Patience. “Mr. Foord -gave me a twenty dollar gold piece, and I haven’t spent -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear child!” exclaimed Miss Tremont. “As -if I’d let you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come, get in,” said Miss Beale; “we’ll be snowed -under, here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And a few minutes later Patience, on the front seat, -was enjoying her first sleigh-ride. She slid down under -the fur robe, and winking the snow stars from her lashes, -looked out eagerly upon Mariaville. The town rose -from the Hudson in a succession of irregular precipitous -terraces. The trees were skeletons, the houses -old, but the effect was very picturesque; and the dancing -crystals, the faint music of bells from far and near, -the wide steep streets, delighted a mind magnetic for -novelty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They left Miss Beale before a pretty house, standing -in a frozen garden, then climbed to the top of a hill, -slid away to the edge of the town, and drew rein before -an old-fashioned white one-winged house, which stood -well back in a neglected yard behind walnut-trees and -hemlocks. Beyond, closing the town, were the stark -woods. Opposite was a prim little grove in which the -snow stars were dancing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Here we are,” said Miss Tremont, climbing out. -“Welcome home, Patience dear.” She paid the man, -and hurried down the path. The door was opened -by an elderly square-faced woman, who looked sharply -at Patience, then smiled graciously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, this is Ellen. She takes good care of -me. Come in. Come in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The narrow hall ran through the main building, and -was unfurnished but for a table and the stair. Miss -Tremont led the way into a large double room of comfortable -temperature, although no fire was visible. -Bright red curtains covered the windows, a neat black -carpet sprinkled with flowers the floor. The chairs -were stiffly arranged, but upholstered cheerfully, the -tables and mantels crowded with an odd assortment of -cheap and handsome ornaments. The papered walls -were a mosaic of family portraits. In the back parlour -were a bookcase, a piano piled high with hymn-books, -and a dozen or so queer little pulpit chairs. A door -opened from the front parlour into a faded but hospitable -dining-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience for the first time in her life experienced the -enfolding of the home atmosphere, an experience -denied to many for ever and ever. She turned impulsively, -and throwing her arms about Miss Tremont, -kissed and hugged her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Somehow I feel all made over,” she said apologetically, -and getting very red. “But it is so nice—and -you are so nice—and oh, it is all so different!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Miss Tremont, enraptured, first wished that this -forlorn homely little waif was her very own, then vowed -that neither should ever remember that she was not, -and half carried her up to the bedroom prepared for -her, a white fresh little room overlooking the shelving -town.</p> - -<h2>III</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next afternoon a sewing woman came and cut -down an old-fashioned but handsome fur-lined cloak -of Miss Tremont’s to Patience’s diminutive needs. -When Miss Tremont returned home, after a hard day’s -work, she brought with her a hood, a pair of woollen -gloves, and a pair of arctics; and Patience felt that she -could weather a New York winter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience gave little attention to her clothes. -When she was not watching the snow she was studying -the steady stream of people who called at all hours, and -invariably talked “church” and “temperance.” The -atmosphere was so charged with religion that she was -haunted by an uneasy prescience of a violent explosion -during which Miss Tremont and her friends would sail -upward, leaving her among the débris.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her coat finished, she went in town with Miss -Tremont to Temperance Hall. The snow had ceased -to fall. The sun rode solitary on a cold blue sky, the -ground was white and hard. The bare trees glittered -in their crystal garb, icicles jewelled the eaves of the -houses. The telegraph wires, studded with pendent -spheres, looked like a vast diamond necklace of many -strings which only Nature was mighty enough to wear. -The hills were snowdrifts. The Hudson, far below, -moved sluggishly under great blocks of ice. The -Palisades were black and white. Miss Tremont and -Patience walked rapidly, their frozen breath waving -before them in fantastic shapes. It was all very delightful -to Patience, who thrust her hands into her deep -pockets and would have scorned to ride. At times -she danced; new blood, charged with electricity, -seemed shooting through her veins. Miss Tremont’s -older teeth clattered occasionally. She bent forward -slightly, her brow contracted over eyes which seemed -ever seeking something, her long legs carrying her -swiftly and with surprising grace. Patience had solved -the enigma of her voice after hearing her pray, and -she supposed that her eyes were on loyal watch for -the miseries of the world.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After a time they descended an almost perpendicular -hill to the business part of the town. Beyond a few -level streets the ground rose again, wooded and thickly -built upon. On the left was another hill, which, Miss -Tremont informed her, was Hog Heights, the quarter -of the poor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The streets in the valley twisted and doubled like -the curves of an angry python. In the centre was a -square which might have been called Rome, since all -ways led to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Temperance Hall, a building of Christian-like humility, -stood on a back street flanked by many low-browed -shops. On the first floor were the parlour, reading-room, -and refectory, on the second a large hall, on the -third bedrooms. The hall was already half full of -boys and girls, kept in order by the matron, Mrs. -Blair, a middle-aged woman with the expression of one -who stands no nonsense.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Patience,” said Miss Tremont, “you listen -attentively, and next time you can take Mrs. Blair’s -place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The occasion was the weekly assemblage of the -Loyal Legion children, who were being educated in -the ways of temperance. Miss Tremont opened with -the Lord’s Prayer, which she invested with all its meaning; -then the children sang from a temperance hymn-book, -and the lesson began. Miss Tremont read a -series of questions appurtenant to the inevitable results -of unholy indulgence, to which Mrs. Blair read the -answers, which in turn were repeated by the children. -Then they sang “Down with King Alcohol,” a minister -came in and made a dramatic address, and the children, -some of whom were attentive and some extremely -naughty, filed out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I only come on alternate Fridays,” said Miss -Tremont, as they went downstairs; “Sister Beale takes -the other. Come and see our reading-room. These -are our boarders,” indicating several prim old maids -that sat in the front room by the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the dining-room a half dozen tramps were imbibing -free soup. The reading-room was empty.</p> - -<h2>IV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Before a week had passed Patience was so busy that -her old life slept as heavily as a bear in winter. She -passed her difficult examinations and entered the High -School, selecting the three years course, which included -French, German, mathematics, the sciences, literature, -and rhetoric.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The recesses and evenings were spent in study, the -afternoons in assisting Miss Tremont; occasionally she -snatched an hour to write to her friends in California. -Besides the temperance work, she had a class in the -church sewing school, kept the books of various societies, -and occasionally visited the poor on Hog -Heights. The work did not interest her, but she was -glad to satisfactorily repay Miss Tremont’s hospitality. -But had she wished to protest she would have realised -its uselessness: she was carried with the tide. It -might be said that Miss Tremont was the tide. Her -enthusiasm had no reflex action, and tore through -obstacles like a mill-race. When night came she was -so weary that more than once Patience offered to put -her to bed; but the offer was declined with a curious -mixture of religious fervour and hauteur. Miss Tremont -had none of the ordinary vanity of woman, but she -resented the imputation that she could not work for -the Lord as ardently at sixty as she had at forty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she prayed Patience listened with bated breath. -A torrent of eloquence boiled from her lips. All the -shortcomings and needs of unregenerate Mariaville, -individual and collective, were laid down with a vehement -precision which could leave the Lord little doubt -of His obligations. The Temperance Cause was rehearsed -with a passion which would have thrilled the -devil. Sounding through all was a wholly unselfconscious -note of command, as when one pleads with -the pocket of an intimate friend for some worthy -cause.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience saw so many disreputable people at this -time that her mother’s pre-eminence was extinguished. -They had a habit of commanding the hospitalities of -Miss Tremont’s barn, sure of two meals and a night’s -lodging. Miss Tremont insisted upon their attendance -at evening prayers, and Patience assumed the task of -persuading them to clean up. Her methods were less -gentle than Miss Tremont’s: when they refused to -wash she turned the hose on them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Projected suddenly into the dry bracing cold of an -eastern winter she quickly became robust. Before -spring had come, her back was straight and a faint -colour was in her rounding cheeks. If there had been -time to think about it, or any one to tell her, she would -have discovered that she was growing pretty. But at -this time, despite the distant advances of the High -School boys, Patience found no leisure for vanity. -Sometimes she paused long enough to wonder if she -had any individuality left; if environment was not -stronger than heredity after all; if immediate impressions -could not ever efface those of the past, no matter -how deeply the latter may have been etched into the -plastic mind. But she was quite conscious that she -was happy, despite the vague restlessness and longings -of youth. She loved Miss Tremont with all the sudden -expansion of a long repressed temperament endowed -with a tragic capacity for passionate affection. In -Monterey the iron mould of reserve into which circumstance -had forced her nature, had cramped and -warped what love she had felt for Mr. Foord and -Rosita; but in this novel atmosphere, where love -enfolded her, where everybody respected her, and -knew nothing of her past, where there was not a word -nor an occurrence to remind her of the ugly experiences -of her young life, she quickly became a normal -being, living, belatedly, along the large and generous -lines of her nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had no friends of her own age with whom to -discuss the problems dear to the heart of developing -woman. The girls at the High School rarely talked -during recess, and she left hurriedly the moment the -scholars were dismissed for the day. The “Y’s” she -persistently refused to join, as well as the young people’s -societies of Miss Tremont’s church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be your helper in everything,” she said to her -perplexed guardian; “but those girls bore me, and, -you know, I really haven’t time for them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Miss Tremont, despite the fact that Patience -gave no sign of spiritual thaw, was the most doting of -old maid parents. After the first few weeks she ceased -to dig in Patience’s soul for the stunted seeds of -Christianity, finding that she only irritated her, and -trusting to the daily sprinkling of habit and example to -promote their ultimate growth.</p> - -<h2>V</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>With summer came a cessation of school, Loyal -Legion, and sewing school duties; but the Poor took -no vacation and gave none. Nevertheless, Patience -had far more leisure, and borrowed many books from -the town library. She read much of Hugo and Balzac -and Goethe, and in the new intellectual delight forgot -herself more completely than in her work.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Moreover, the town was very beautiful in summer, -and she spent many hours rambling along the shadowy -streets whose venerable trees shut the sunlight from -the narrow side ways. The gardens too were full of -trees; and the town from a distance looked like a -densely wooded hillside, a riot of green, out of which -housetops showed like eggs in a nest. Over some of -the steep old streets the maples met, growing denser -and denser down in the perspective, until closed by -the flash of water.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woods on the slope of the Hudson were thick -with great trees dropping a leafy curtain before the -brilliant river, and full of isolated nooks where a girl -could read and dream, unsuspected of the chance -pedestrian.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After one long drowsy afternoon by a brook in a -hollow of the woods, Patience returned home to find a -carriage standing before the door. It was a turnout of -extreme elegance. The grey horses were thoroughbreds; -a coachman in livery sat on the box; a footman -stood on the sidewalk. She looked in wonder. Miss -Tremont had no time for the fine people of Mariaville, -and they had ceased to call on her long since. -Moreover, Patience knew every carriage in the town, -and this was not of them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went rapidly into the house, youthfully eager for -a new experience. Miss Tremont was seated on the -sofa in the front parlour, holding the hand of a tall -handsomely gowned woman. Patience thought, as she -stood for a moment unobserved, that she had never -seen so cold a face. It was the face of a woman of -fifty, oval and almost regular. The mouth was a -straight line. The clear pale eyes looked like the -reflection of the blue atmosphere on icicles. The -skin was as smooth as a girl’s, the brown hair parted -and waved, the tall figure slender and superbly carried. -She was smiling and patting Miss Tremont’s -hand, but there was little light in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Patience entered, she turned her head and -regarded her without surprise; she had evidently -heard of her. Miss Tremont’s face illumined, and she -held out her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is Patience,” she said triumphantly. “I -haven’t told you half about the dear child. Patience, -this is my cousin, Mrs. Gardiner Peele.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gardiner Peele bent her head patronisingly, and -Patience hated her violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad you have a companion,” said the lady, -coldly. “But how is it you haven’t the white ribbon -on her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont blushed. “Oh, I can’t control Patience -in all things,” she said, in half angry deprecation. -“She just won’t wear the ribbon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Peele smiled upon Patience for the first time. -It was a wintry light, but it bespoke approval. “I wish -she could make you take it off,” she said to her relative. -“That dreadful, dreadful <span class='it'>badge</span>. How can you -wear it?—you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, cousin,” said Miss Tremont, laughing good-naturedly, -“we won’t go over all that again. You -know I’m a hopeless crank. All I can do is to pray -for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you. I don’t doubt I need it, although I -attend church quite as regularly as you could wish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know you are good,” said Miss Tremont, with -enthusiasm, “and of course I don’t expect everybody -to be as interested in Temperance as I am. -But I do wish you loved the world less and the Lord -more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Peele gave a low, well modulated laugh. “Now, -Harriet, I want you to be worldly for a few minutes. I -have brought you back two new gowns from Paris, and -I want you, when you come to visit me next week, to -wear them. I have had them trimmed with white -ribbon bows so that no one will notice one more or -less—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not ashamed of my white ribbon,” flashed -out Miss Tremont, then relented. “You dear good -Honora. Yes, I’ll wear them if they’re not too -fashionable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I studied your style. And let me tell you, -Harriet Tremont, that fashionable gowns are what you -should be wearing. It does provoke me so to see -you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Miss Tremont leaned over and kissed her short. -“Now what’s the use of talking to an old crank -like me? I’m a humble servant of my dear Lord, -and I couldn’t be anything else if I had a million. -But you dear thing, I’m so glad to see you once -more. You do look so well. Tell me all about the -children.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, quite forgotten, listened to the conversation -with deep interest. There was a vague promise of -variety in this new advent. As she watched the woman, -who seemed to have brought with her something of the -atmosphere of all that splendid existence of which she -had longingly read, she was stirred with a certain dissatisfaction: -some dormant chord was struck—as on -the day she drove by Del Monte. When Mrs. Peele -arose to go, she thought that not Balzac himself had -ever looked upon a more elegant woman. Even -Patience’s untrained eye recognised that those long -simple folds, those so quiet textures, were of French -woof and make. And the woman’s carriage was -like unto that of the fictional queen. She nodded -carelessly to Patience, and swept out. When Miss -Tremont returned after watching her guest drive away, -Patience pounced upon her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Who</span> is she?” she demanded. “And <span class='it'>why</span> didn’t -you tell me you had such a swell for a cousin?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did I never tell you?” asked Miss Tremont, -wonderingly. “Why, I was sure I had often talked of -Honora. But I’m so busy I suppose I forgot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat down and fanned herself, smiling. “Honora -Tremont is my first cousin. We used to be great -friends until she married a rich man and became so -dreadfully fashionable. The Lord be praised, she has -always loved me; but she lives a great deal abroad, and -spends her winters, when she is here, in New York. -They have a beautiful place on the Hudson, Peele -Manor, that has been in the family for nearly three hundred -years. Mr. Peele is an eminent lawyer. I don’t -know him very well. He doesn’t talk much; I suppose -he has to talk so much in Court. I’ve not seen -the children for a year. I always thought them pretty -badly spoiled, particularly Beverly. May isn’t very -bright. But I always liked Hal—short for Harriet, -after me—better than any of them. She is about -nineteen now. May is eighteen and Beverly twenty-four.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then there is Honora, cousin Honora’s sister -Mary’s child, and the tallest woman I ever saw. Her -parents died when she was a little thing and left her -without a dollar. Honora took her, and has treated -her like her own children. Sometimes I think she is -very much under her influence. I don’t know why, -but I never liked her. She is Beverly’s age. Oh!” -she burst out, “just think! I have got to go to Peele -Manor for a week. I promised. I couldn’t help it. -And oh, I do dread it. They are all so different, and -they don’t sympathise with my work. Much as I love -them I’m always glad to get away. Wasn’t it kind -and good of her to bring me two dresses from Paris?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shrewdly interpreted the prompting of Mrs. -Peele’s generosity, but made no comment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont drew a great sigh: “My temperance -work—my poor—what will they do without me? -Maria Twist gets so mad when I don’t read the Bible -to her twice a week. Patience, you will have to stay -in Temperance Hall. I shouldn’t like to think of you -here alone. I do wish Honora had asked you too—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t go for worlds. When do you think -your dresses will come? I do so want to see a real -Paris dress.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She said they’d come to-morrow. Oh, to think of -wearing stiff tight things. Well, if they are uncomfortable -or too stylish I just won’t wear them, that’s all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You just will, auntie dear. You’ll not look any -less fine than those people, or I’ll not go near Hog -Heights.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont kissed her, grateful for the fondness -displayed. “Well, well, we’ll see,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the next day, when the two handsome black -gowns lay on the bed of the spare room, she shook her -head with flashing eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t wear those things,” she cried. “Why, they -were made for a society woman, not for an humble -follower of the Lord. I should be miserable in -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, who had been hovering over the gowns,—one -of silk grenadine trimmed with long loops of black -and white ribbon, the other of satin with a soft knot of -white ribbon on the shoulder and another at the back -of the high collar,—came forward and firmly divested -Miss Tremont of her alpaca. She lifted the heavy -satin gown with reverent hands and slipped it over -Miss Tremont’s head, then hooked it with deft fingers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There!” she exclaimed. “You look like a swell -at last. Just what you ought to look like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont glanced at the mirror with a brief spasm -of youthful vanity. The rich fashionable gown became -her long slender figure, her unconscious pride of carriage, -far better than did her old alpaca and merino -frocks. But she shook her head immediately, her -eyes flashing under a quick frown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The idea of perching a white bow like a butterfly -on my shoulder and another at the back of my neck, -as if I had a scar. It’s an insult to the white ribbon. -And this collar would choke me. I can’t breathe. -Take it off! Take it off!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not until I have admired you some more. You -look just grand. If the collar is too high, I’ll send for -Mrs. Best, and we’ll cut it off and sew some soft black -stuff in the neck—although I just hate to. Auntie -dear, don’t you think you could stand it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont shook her head with decision. “I -couldn’t. It hurts my old throat. And how could I -ever bend my head to get at my soup? And these -bows make me feel actually cross. If the dress can -be made comfortable I’ll wear it, for I’ve no right to -disgrace Honora, nor would I hurt her feelings by -scorning her gowns; but I’ll not stand any such mockery -as these flaunting white things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience exchanged the satin for the grenadine gown. -This met with more tolerance at first, as the throat was -finished with soft folds, and the white ribbon was less -demonstrative.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It floats so,” said Patience, ecstatically. “Oh, -auntie, you <span class='it'>are</span> a beauty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I a beauty with my ugly scowling old face? But -this thing is like a ball dress, Patience—this thin stuff! -I prefer the satin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will wear this on the hot evenings. All thin -things are not made for the ball-room. You needn’t -look at yourself like that. I only wish I’d ever be -half as pretty. Auntie, why didn’t you ever marry?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont’s face worked after all the years. -Memories could not die in so uniform a nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My youth was very sad,” she said, turning away -abruptly. “I only talk about it with the dear Lord.” -And Patience asked no more questions.</p> - -<h2>VI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The dressmaker was sent for, and the satin gown -divested of its collar. Miss Tremont ruthlessly clipped -off the beautiful French bows and sewed a tiny one of -narrow white ribbon in a conspicuous place on the left -chest. The grenadine was decorated in like manner. -Patience wailed, and then laughed as she thought of -Mrs. Gardiner Peele. She wished she might be there -to see that lady’s face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont changed her mind four times as to the -possibility of leaving Mariaville for a week of sinful -idleness, before she was finally assisted into the train by -Patience’s firm hand. Even then she abruptly left her -seat and started for the door. But the train was moving. -Patience saw her resume her seat with an impatient -twitch of her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor auntie,” she thought, as she walked up the -street; “but on the whole I think I pity Mrs. Peele -more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her bag had been sent to Temperance Hall, and she -went directly there, and to her own room. As the day -was very warm, she exchanged her frock for a print -wrapper, then extended herself on the bed with “’93.” -It was her duty to assuage the wrath of Maria Twist, -but she made up her mind that for twenty-four hours -she would shirk every duty on her calendar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she had failed to make allowance for the net of -circumstance. She had not turned ten pages when she -heard the sound of agitated footsteps in the hall. A -moment later Mrs. Blair opened the door unceremoniously. -Her usually placid face was much perturbed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Miss Patience,” she said, “I’m in such a way. -Late last night a poor man fell at the door, and I took -him in as there was no policeman around. I thought -he was only ill, but it seems he was drunk. He’s been -awake now for two hours, and is awful bad—not drunk, -but suffering.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you send for the doctor?” asked Patience, -lazily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have, but he’s gone to New York and won’t be -back till night. The man says he can doctor himself—that -all he wants is whisky; but of course I can’t give -him that. Do come over and talk to him. Miss Beale -is over at White Plains, and I don’t know what to -do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience rose reluctantly and followed the matron to -the side of the house reserved for men. As she went -down the hall she heard groans and sharp spasmodic -cries. Mrs. Blair opened a door, and Patience saw -an elderly man lying in the bed. His grey hair and -beard were ragged, his eyes dim and bleared, his long, -well-cut but ignoble face was greenishly pale. He was -very weak, and lay clutching at the bed clothes with -limp hairy hands. As he saw the matron his eyes lit -up with resentment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t come here to be murdered,” he ejaculated. -“It’s the last place I’d have come to if I’d -known what I was doing. But I tell you that if I don’t -have a drink of whisky I’ll be a dead man in an -hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t give you that,” said Mrs. Blair, desperately. -“And you know you only think you need it, anyhow. -We try to make men overcome their terrible weakness; -we don’t encourage them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all right, but you can’t reform a man when -his inside is on fire and feels as if it were dropping -out—but my God! I can’t argue with you, damn -you. Give it to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m of the opinion that he ought to have it,” -said Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man turned to her eagerly. “Bless you,” he -said. “It’s not the taste of it I’m craving, miss; it’s -relief from this awful agony. If you give it to me, I -swear I’ll try never to touch a drop again after I get -over this spree. It’ll be bad enough to break off then, -but it’s death now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Blair looked at him with pity, but shook her -head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been here seven years,” she said to Patience, -“and the ladies have yet to find one fault with me. -I don’t dare give it to him. Besides, I don’t believe -in it. How can what’s killing him cure him? And -it’s a sin. Even if the ladies excused me—which -they wouldn’t—I’d never forgive myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll take the responsibility,” said Patience. “I -believe that man will die if he doesn’t have whisky.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man groaned and tossed his arms. “Oh, my -God!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Blair shuddered. “Oh, I don’t know, miss. -If you will take the responsibility—I can’t give it -to him—where could you get it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At a drug store.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They won’t sell it to you—we’ve got a law -passed, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll go to a saloon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my! my!” cried Mrs. Blair, “you’d never -do that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man is in agony. Can’t you see? I’m going -this minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened, and Miss Beale entered. She -looked warm and tired, but came forward with active -step, and stood beside the bed. A spasm of disgust -crossed her face. “What is the matter, my man?” -she asked. “I am sorry to see you here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me whisky,” groaned the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale turned away with twitching mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The man is dying. Nothing but whisky can save -him,” said Patience. “If you called a doctor he -would tell you the same thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What?” said Miss Beale, coldly, “do you suppose -that he can have whisky in Temperance Hall? -Is that what we are here for? You must be crazy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you don’t want him to die on your hands, do -you?” exclaimed Patience, who was losing her temper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My God!” screeched the man, “I am in Hell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My good man,” said Miss Beale, gently, “it is for -us to save you from Hell, not to send you there.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” His voice died to an -inarticulate murmur; but he writhed, and doubled, and -twisted, as men may have done when fanatics tortured -in the name of religion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good heavens, Miss Beale,” cried Patience, excitedly, -“you can’t set yourself up in opposition to nature. -That man must have whisky. If he were younger and -stronger it wouldn’t matter so much; but can’t you see -he hasn’t strength to resist the terrible strain? The -torture is killing him, eating out his life—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it is terrible!” exclaimed the matron. “Perhaps -it is best—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Blair!” Miss Beale turned upon her in consternation. -Then she bent over the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t have whisky,” she said gently; “not if -I thought you were really dying would I give it to you. -If it is the Lord’s will that you are to die here you -must abide by it. I shall not permit you to further -imperil your soul. Nor could that which has not the -blessing of God on it be of benefit to you. Alcohol is a -destroyer, both of soul and of body—not a medicine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man’s knees suddenly shot up to his chest; -but he raised his head and darted at her a glance of -implacable hate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn you,” he stuttered. “Murderer—” Then -he extended rigid arms and clutched the bed clothes, -his body twitching uncontrollably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale looked upon him with deep compassion. -“Poor thing,” she exclaimed, “is not this enough to -warn all men from that fiend?” She laid her hand -on the man’s head, but he shook it off with an oath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whisky,” he cried. “O my God! Have these -women—<span class='it'>women!</span>—no pity?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going for whisky—” said Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale stepped swiftly to the door, locked it, and -slipped the key into her pocket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will buy no whisky,” she said sternly. “I -will save you from that sin.” Suddenly her face lit -up. “I will pray,” she said solemnly, “I will pray that -this poor lost creature may recover, and lead a better -life—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I swear I’ll never touch another drop after I’m -out of this if you’ll give it to me now—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it be the Lord’s will that you shall live you will -not die,” said Miss Beale. “I will pray, and in His -mercy He may let you live to repent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She fell upon her knees by the bed, and clasping her -hands, prayed aloud; while the man reared and plunged -and groaned and cursed, his voice and body momentarily -weaker. Miss Beale’s prayers were always very -long and very fervid. She was not eloquent, but her -deep tear-voiced earnestness was most impressive; and -never more so than to-day, when she flung herself -before the throne of Grace with a lost soul in her hand. -A light like a halo played upon her spiritualised face, -her voice became ineffably sweet. Gradually, in her -ecstatic communion with, her intimate nearness to her -God, she forgot the man on the bed, forgot the flesh -which prisoned her soaring soul, was conscious only of -the divine light pouring through her, the almost palpable -touch of her lover’s hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly Patience exclaimed brutally: “The man is -dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale arose with a start. She drew the sheet -gently over the distorted face. “It is the Lord’s will,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After Patience was in her own room and had relieved -her feelings by slamming the door, she sat for a -long time staring at the pattern of the carpet and pondering -upon the problem of Miss Beale.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” she thought finally, “<span class='it'>she’s</span> happy, so I -suppose it’s all right. No wonder she’s satisfied with -herself when she lives up to her ideals as consistently -as that. I think I’ll label all the different forms of -selfishness I come across. There seems to be a large -variety, but all put together don’t seem to be a patch -to having fun with your ideals. Miss Beale would be -the most wretched woman in Westchester county if -she’d given that man whisky and saved his life.”</p> - -<h2>VII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The man was buried with Christian service at Miss -Beale’s expense, and her serene face wore no shadow. -The following day she said to Patience: “I spent -nearly all of the last two nights in prayer, and I almost -heard the Lord’s voice as He told me I did right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ought to write a novel,” said Patience, drily, -but the sarcasm was lost. In a moment Patience forgot -Miss Beale: the postman handed her two letters, -and she went up to her room to read them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The first she opened was from Miss Tremont.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Peele Manor</span>, Friday.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Oh my dear darling little girl, how I wish, <span class='it'>how</span> I wish -I were with you and my work once more. I ought to be -happy because they are all so kind, but I’m not. I feel as -if I were throwing away one of the few precious weeks I -have left to give to the Lord (arrange for a prayer meeting -on Wednesday, the day of my return, and we’ll have a -regular feast of manna). Do you miss me? I think of -you every moment. You should have seen dear Cousin -Honora’s face when I came down to dinner in the black -satin. She didn’t say anything, she just <span class='it'>looked</span> at the -bow, and I felt sorry for her. But I know I am right. -Hal giggled and winked at me. (I do love Hal!) Honora -Mairs said so sweetly after Cousin Honora had left the -room: “Dear Cousin Harriet, I think you are so brave and -consistent to wear the little white bow of your cause. It -is so <span class='it'>like</span> you.” Was not that sweet of her? Beverly has -very heavy eyebrows, and he raised them at my ribbon, -and turned away his head as if it hurt his eyes. He is a -very elegant young gentleman, and his mother says he is -a great stickler for form, whatever that may mean. (They -speak a different language here anyway. I don’t understand -half what they say. Hal talks slang all the time.) -I don’t like Beverly as much as I did, although he’s quite -the handsomest young man I ever saw and very polite; but -he smokes cigarettes all the time and big black cigars. -When I told him that five hundred million dollars were spent -annually on tobacco, he got up and went off in a huff. May -is just a talkative child—I never heard any one talk so much -in my life,—and about nothing but gowns and young men -and balls and the opera. Beverly talks about horses all -the time, and Hal thinks a great deal of society, although -she listens to me very sweetly when I talk to her about my -work. Yesterday she said: “Why, Cousin Harriet, you’re -a regular steam engine. It must be jolly good fun to carry -a lot of sinners to heaven on an express train.” I told her -it was a freight train, and it certainly is, as you know, -Patience dear. She replied: “Well, if you get there all -the same, a century more or less doesn’t make any difference. -You must be right in it with the Lord.” That was -the only time I’d heard the dear Lord’s name mentioned -since I arrived, so I didn’t scold her. But Patience, dear, -I hope you’ll never use slang. I’ve talked to Hal about -you, and she says she’s coming to see you.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora doesn’t use slang. She is very stately and -dignified, and Cousin Honora (it’s very awkward when -you’re writing for two people to have the same name, isn’t -it?) holds her up as a model for the girls. Hal and -she <span class='it'>fight</span>. I can’t call it anything else, although Honora -doesn’t lose her temper and Hal does. Hal said to me (of -Honora) yesterday (I use her own words, although they’re -awful; but if I didn’t I couldn’t give you the same idea of -her): “She’s a d—— hypocrite: and she wants to marry -Beverly, but she won’t,—not if I have to turn matchmaker -and marry him to a variety actress. She makes me wild. -I wish she’d elope with the priest, but she’s too confoundedly -clever.” Isn’t it dreadful—Honora is a Catholic. -She became converted last year. Perhaps that’s the reason -I can’t like her. But even the Catholic religion teaches -charity, for she said to me this morning: “Poor Hal is -really a good-hearted child, but she’s worldly and just a -little superficial.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They haven’t any company this week—how kind of -Cousin Honora to ask me when they are alone! I wish you -were here to enjoy the library. It is a great big room overlooking -the river, and the walls are covered with books—three -or four generations of them. Mr. Peele is intellectual, -and so is Honora; but the others don’t read much, except -Hal, who reads dreadful-looking yellow paper books -written in the French language which she says are “corkers,” -whatever that may mean. I do wish the dear child would -read her Bible. I asked her if I gave her a copy if she’d -promise me to read a little every day, and she said she -would, as some of the stories were as good as a French -novel. So I shall buy her one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We sit in the library every evening. In the morning -we sit in the Tea House on the slope and Honora embroiders -Catholic Church things, Cousin Honora knits (she -says it’s all the fashion), May <span class='it'>talks</span>, and Hal reads her yellow -books and tells May to “let up.” I sew for my poor, -and they don’t seem to mind that as much as the white ribbon. -They say that they always sew for the poor in Lent. -Hal says it is the “swagger thing.” In the afternoon we -drive, and I do think it such a waste of time to be going, -going nowhere for two hours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, Patience, I shall be with you on Wednesday, praise -the Lord. Come to the train and meet me, and be sure to -write me about <span class='it'>everything</span>. How is Polly Jones, and old -Mrs. Murphy, and Belinda Greggs? Have you read to -Maria Twist, and taken the broth to old Jonas Hobb? -Give my love to dear sister Beale, and tell her I pray for -her. With a kiss from your old auntie, God bless you,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Harriet Tremont.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear old soul,” thought Patience. “I think I -know them better than she does, already. She is -worth the whole selfish crowd; but I should like to -know Hal. Beverly must be a chump.”</p> - -<h2>VIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The other letter was from Rosita. Patience had not -heard from her for a long while. Three months previously, -Mr. Foord had written of Mrs. Thrailkill’s -death, and mentioned that Rosita had gone to Sacramento -to visit Miss Galpin—now Mrs. Trent—until -her uncle, who had returned to Kentucky, should send -for her.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>Oh, Patita! Patita! [the letter began], what do you -think? <span class='it'>I am on the stage.</span> I had been crazy to go on ever -since <span class='it'>that night</span>. A theatrical man was in Monterey just before -mamma’s death, and he told me they were always wanting -pretty corus girls at the Tivoli; so after the funeral I -told everybody I was going to stay with Miss Galpin until -Uncle Jim sent for me—I hated to lie, but I had to—and -I went up to San Francisco and went right to the Tivoli. -He took me because he said I was pretty and had a fresh -voice. I had to ware tights. You should have seen me. -At first I felt all the time like stooping over to cover up my -legs with my arms. But after a while I got used to it, and -one night we had to dance, and everybody said I was the -most graceful. The manager said I was a born dancer and -actress. The other day what do you think happened? A -New York manager was here and heard me sing,—I had a -little part by that time,—and he told me that if I took lessons -I could be a prima donna in comic opera. He said I -not only was going to have a lovely voice, but that I had a -new style (Spanish) and would take in New York. He offered -to send me to Paris for a year and then bring me out -in New York if I’d give him my word—I’m too young to -sign a contract—that I wouldn’t go with any other manager. -At first my manager, who is a good old sole (I didn’t tell -you that I live with him and his wife, and that their awful -good to me and stand the fellers off), wouldn’t have it; but -after a while he gave in—said I’d have to go the pace -sooner or later (whatever that means), and I might as well -go it in first class style. His wife, the good old sole, cried. -She said I was the first corus girl she’d ever taken an interest -in, but somehow it would be on her conscience if -I went wrong. But I’m not going wrong. I don’t -care a bit for men. There was a bald-headed old -fool who used to come and sit in the front row every -night and throw kisses to me, and one night he threw -me a bouquet with a bracelet in it. I wore the bracelet, -for it was a beauty with a big diamond in it; but I never -looked at him or answered any of his notes, and Mr. Bell—the -manager—wrote him he’d punch his head if he came -near the stage door. No, all I want is to act, act, act, and -sing, sing, sing, and dance, dance, dance, and have beautiful -cloths and jewels and a carriage and two horses. Mr. -Soper has told me ten times since I’ve met him that “virtue -in an actress pays,” and he’s going to send a horrid old -woman with me to Paris, as if I’d bother with the fools anyhow. -I’m sure I can’t see what Mrs. Bell cries about if I’m -going to be famous and make a lot of money. Anyhow, I’m -going. I do so want to see you, Patita dear. Maybe you -can come up to the steamer and see me off. I wonder if -you have changed. I’m not so very tall; but they all say -my figure is good. Mr. Soper says it will be divine in a year -or two, but that I may be a cow at thirty, so I’d better not -lose any time. Good-bye. Good-bye. I want to give you -a hundred kisses. How different our lives are! Isn’t -yours dreadfully stupid with that old temprance work? -And just think it was you who taught me to act first! Mr. -Soper says I must cultivate the Spanish racket for all it’s -worth, and that he expects me to be more Spanish in New -York than I was in Monterey. He is going to get an opera -written for me with the part of a Spanish girl in it so I can -wear the costume. He says if I study and do everything -he tells me I’ll make a <span class='it'>furore</span>. <span class='it'>Hasta luego</span>—Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Rosita Elvira Francesca Thrailkill.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='pindent'>P. S.—I’m to have a Spanish stage name, “La Rosita,” -I guess. Mr. Soper says that Thrailkill is an “anti-climax,” -and would never “go down.”</p> - -</div> - -<h2>IX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience read this letter with some alarm. All that she -had heard and read of the stage made her apprehensive. -She feared that Rosita would become fast, would -drink and smoke, and not maintain a proper reserve -with men. Then the natural independence of her character -asserted itself, and she felt pride in Rosita’s courage -and promptness of action. She even envied her a -little: her life would be so full of variety.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And after all it’s fate,” she thought philosophically. -“She was cut out for the stage if ever a girl was. -You might as well try to keep a bird from using its -wings, or Miss Beale and auntie from being Temperance. -I wonder what my fate is. It’s not the stage, -but it’s not this, neither—not much. Shouldn’t wonder -if I made a break for Mr. Field some day. But I -couldn’t leave auntie. She’s the kind that gets a hold -on you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She did her duty by Hog Heights during Miss Tremont’s -brief holiday, but did it as concisely as was -practicable. She found it impossible to sympathise with -people that were content to let others support them, -giving nothing in return. Her strong independent -nature despised voluntary weakness. It was her private -opinion that these useless creatures with only the animal -instinct to live, and not an ounce of grey matter in -their skulls, encumbered the earth, and should be -quietly chloroformed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Despite her love for Miss Tremont, she breathed -more freely in her absence. She was surfeited with -religion, and at times possessed with a very flood of -revolt and the desire to let it loose upon every church -worker in Mariaville. But affection and gratitude -restrained her.</p> - -<h2>X</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont returned on Wednesday morning. -She stepped off the train with a bag under one arm, a -bundle under the other, and both arms full of flowers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you darling, you darling!” she cried as she -fell upon Patience. “How it does my heart good to -see you! These are for you. Hal picked them, and -sent her love. Aren’t they sweet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Lovely,” said Patience, crushing the flowers as she -hugged and kissed Miss Tremont. “Here, give me -the bag.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont would go to Temperance Hall first, -then to call upon Miss Beale, but was finally guided to -her home. The trunk had preceded them. Patience -unpacked the despised gowns, while listening to a passionate -dissertation upon the heavy trial they had been -to their owner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you had a good time all the same,” she -said. “You look as if you’d had, at any rate. You’ve -not looked so well since I came. That sort of thing -agrees with you better than tramping over Hog -Heights—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It does not!” cried Miss Tremont. “And I am -so glad to get back to my work and my little girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the Lord,” supplemented Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, He was with me even there. Only He didn’t -feel so near.” She sighed reminiscently. “But I’ve -brought pictures of the children to show you. Let us -go down to the parlour where it’s cooler, and then -we’ll stand them in a row on the mantel. They’re -the first pictures I’ve had of them in years.” She -caught a package from the tray of her trunk, in her -usual abrupt fashion, and hurried downstairs, Patience -at her heels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont seated herself in her favourite upright -chair, put on her spectacles, and opened the package. -“This is Hal,” she said, handing one of the photographs -to Patience. “I must show you her first, for -she’s my pet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience examined the photograph eagerly. It was -a half length of a girl with a straight tilted nose, a -small mouth with a downward droop at the corners, -large rather prominent eyes, and sleek hair which was -in keeping with her generally well-groomed appearance. -She wore a tailor frock. Her slender erect figure -was beautifully poised. In one hand she carried a -lorgnette. She was not pretty, but her expression -was frank and graceful, and she had much distinction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I like her. Any one could see she was a swell. -What colour hair has she?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, a kind of brown. Her eyes are a sort of -grey. Here is May. She always has her photographs -coloured.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she’s a beauty!” The girl even in photograph -showed an exquisite bit of flesh and blood. The -large blue eyes were young and appealing under soft -fall of lash. The mouth was small and red, the nose -small and straight. Chestnut hair curled about the -small head and oval face. The skin was like tinted -jade. It was the face of the American aftermath. She -wore a ball gown revealing a slender girlish neck and -a throat of tender curves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is a real beauty,” said Miss Tremont. “Poor -Hal says, ‘she can’t wear her neck because she hasn’t -got any.’ Did you ever hear such an expression?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal looks as if she had a good figure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont shook her head. “I don’t approve -of all Hal does—she pads. She doesn’t seem to care -much who knows it, for when the weather’s very warm -she takes them out, right before your eyes, so it isn’t so -bad as if she were deceitful about it. Here is Beverly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience looked long at the young man’s face. This -face too was oval, with a high intellectual forehead, -broad black brows, and very regular features. The -mouth appeared to pout beneath the drooping moustache. -The expression of the eyes was very sweet. It -was a strong handsome face, high-bred like the others, -but with a certain nobility lacking in the women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is said to be the handsomest young man in -Westchester County, and he’s quite dark,” said Miss -Tremont. “What do you think of him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He is rather handsome. Where is Honora?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She never has pictures taken. But, dear me, I must -go out and see Ellen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience disposed the photographs on the mantel, -then, leaning on her elbows, gazed upon Beverly Peele. -The Composite, Byron, the Stranger, rattled their bones -unheard. She concluded that no knight of olden -time could ever have been so wholly satisfactory as -this young man. Romance, who had been boxed -about the ears, and sent to sleep, crept to her old -throne with a sly and meaning smile. Patience began -at once to imagine her meeting with Beverly Peele. -She would be in a runaway carriage, and he would rescue -her. She would be skating and fall in a hole, and -he would pull her out. He would be riding to hounds -in his beautiful pink coat (which was red) and run -over her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She pictured his face with a variety of expressions. -She was sure that he had the courage of a lion and the -tenderness of some women. Unquestionably he had -read his ancestors’ entire library—“with that forehead,”—and -he probably had the high and mighty air -of her favourite heroes of fiction. In one of her letters -Miss Tremont had remarked that he loved children and -animals; therefore he had a beautiful character and a -kind heart. And she was glad to have heard that he -also had a temper: it saved him from being a prig. -Altogether, Patience, with the wisdom of sixteen and -three quarters, was quite convinced that she had found -her ideal, and overlooked its extreme unlikeness to the -Composite, which was the only ideal she had ever -created. A woman’s ideal is the man she is in love -with for the time being.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went up to her room, and for the first time in -her life critically examined herself in the mirror. With -May Peele and one or two beauties of the High School -in mind, she decided with a sigh that <span class='it'>she</span> was no -beauty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But who knows,” she thought with true insight, -“what I’d be with clothes? Who could be pretty in a -calico dress? My nose is as straight as May’s, anyhow, -and my upper lip as short. But to be a real beauty -you’ve got to have blue eyes and golden or chestnut -hair and a little mouth, or else black eyes and hair like -Rosita’s. My eyes are only grey, and my hair’s the -colour of ashes, as Rosita once remarked. There’s no -getting over that, although it certainly has grown a lot -since I came here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she remembered that Rosita had once decorated -her with red ribbons and assured her that they -were becoming. She ran down to the best spare room, -and, divesting a tidy of its scarlet bows, pinned them -upon herself before the mirror, which she discovered -was more becoming than her own. The brilliant colour -was undoubtedly improving—“And, my goodness!” -she exclaimed suddenly, “I do believe I haven’t -got a freckle left. It must be the climate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth are you doing?” said an abrupt -voice from the doorway.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience started guiltily, and restored the bows to the -tidy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you see,” she stammered, “May is so pretty -I wanted to see if I could be a little less homely.” -Patience was truthful by nature, but the woman does -not live that will not lie under purely feminine provocation. -Otherwise she would not be worthy to bear the -hallowed name of woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense,” said Miss Tremont, crossly, “I -thought you were above that kind of foolishness. You, -must remember that you are as the Lord made you, -and be thankful that you were not born a negro or a -Chinaman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am,” said Patience.</p> - -<h2>XI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Thereafter, Patience roamed the woods munching -chestnuts and dreaming of Beverly Peele. Hugo and -Balzac and Goethe were neglected. Her brain wove -thrilling romances of its own, especially in the night to -the sound of rain. She never emerged from the woods -without a shortening of the breath; but even Hal did -not pay the promised call; nor did Beverly dash -through the streets in a pink coat, a charger clasped -between his knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s fun to be in love, anyhow,” she thought. -“I’ll meet him some time, I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Much to her regret she was not permitted to go to -New York to see Rosita off. Miss Tremont had a -morbid horror of the stage, and after Patience’s exhibition -of vanity was convinced that “actress creatures” -would exert a pernicious influence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And, shortly after, Patience received news which -made her forget Rosita and even Beverly Peele for a -while. Mr. Foord was dead. Patience had hoarded -his twenty dollar gold piece because he had given it to -her. She bought a black hat and frock with it, and -felt as sad as she could at that age of shifting impressions. -A later mail brought word that he had left her -John Sparhawk’s library, which could stay in the Custom -House until she was able to send for it, and a few hundred -dollars which would remain in a savings bank until -she was eighteen. He had nothing else to leave -except his books, which went to found a town library. -All but those few hundreds had been sunken in an annuity. -Miss Tremont was quite content to be overlooked -in the girl’s favour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By the time Patience was ready to return to Beverly -Peele the new term opened, and the uncompromising -methods of the High School left no time for romance. -Once more her ambition to excel became paramount, -and she studied night and day. She had no temptation -to dissipate, for she was not popular with the young -people of Mariaville. The Y’s disapproved of her because -she would not don the white ribbon; and the -church girls, generally, felt that except when perfunctorily -assisting Miss Tremont she held herself aloof, -even at the frequent sociables. And they were scandalised -because she did not join the church, nor the -King’s Daughters, nor the Christian Endeavor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The High School scholars liked her because she was -“square,” and cordially admired her cleverness; but -there were no recesses in the ordinary sense, and after -school Miss Tremont claimed her. Even the boys -“had no show,” as they phrased it. Occasionally they -lent her a hand on the ice; but like all Californians, -she bitterly felt the cold of her second winter, and in -her few leisure hours preferred the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes she looked at Beverly Peele’s picture -with a sigh and some resentment. “But never mind,” -she would think philosophically, “I can fall in love -with him over again next summer.” When vacation -came she did in a measure take up the broken threads -of her romance, but they had somewhat rotted from -disuse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita wrote every few weeks, reporting hard work -and unbounded hope. “The <span class='it'>dueña</span>,” as she called -her companion, “was an old devil,” and never let her -go out alone, nor receive a man; but she “didn’t -care,” she had no time for nonsense, anyhow. She -was learning her part in the Spanish opera, which had -been written for her, and it was “lovely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It must be a delightful sensation to have your -future assured at seventeen,” thought Patience. -“Mine is as problematical as the outcome of the Temperance -cause. I have had one unexpected change, -and may have more. If it were not for Rosita’s letters -I should almost forget those sixteen years in California. -I certainly am not the same person. I haven’t lost -my temper for a year and a half, and I don’t seem to -be disturbed any more by vague yearnings. Life is too -practical, I suppose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont did not visit the Gardiner Peeles this -summer: they spent the season in travel. Late in the -fall Rosita returned to America. She wrote the day -before she sailed. That was the last letter Patience received -from her. Later she sent a large envelope full -of clippings descriptive of her triumphal début; thereafter -nothing whatever. Patience, supposing herself -forgotten, anathematised her old friend wrathfully, but -pride forbade her to write and demand an explanation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She noticed with spasms of terror that Miss Tremont -was failing. The rush and worry of a lifetime had -worn the blood white, and the nerve-force down like an -old wharf pile. But Miss Tremont would not admit -that she had lost an ounce of strength. She arose at -the same hour and toiled until late. When Patience -begged her to take care of herself, she became almost -querulous, and all Patience could do was to anticipate -her in every possible way. But when school reopened -she had little time for anything but study. She was -to finish in June, and the last year’s course was very -difficult.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She graduated with flying colours, and Miss Tremont -was so proud and excited that she took a day’s vacation. -A week later Patience hinted that she thought -she should be earning her own living; but Miss Tremont -would not even discuss the subject. She fell into a -rage every time it was broached, and Patience, who -would have rebelled, had Miss Tremont been younger -and stronger, submitted: she knew it would not be for -long.</p> - -<h2>XII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was languid all summer, and lay about in -the woods, when she could, reading little and thinking -much. Her school books put away forever, she felt -for the first time that she was a woman, but did not -take as much interest in herself as she had thought she -should. She speculated a good deal upon her future -career as a newspaper woman, and expended two cents -every morning upon the New York “Day.” But she -forgot to study it in the new interest it created: she had -just the order of mind to succumb to the fascination of -the newspaper, and she read the “Day’s” report of current -history with a keener pleasure than even the great -records of the past had induced. She longed for a -companion with whom to talk over the significant tendencies -of the age, and gazed upon Beverly Peele’s -dome-like brow with a sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Once, in the Sunday issue, she came upon a column -and a half devoted to Rosita, “The Sweetheart of -the Public,” “The Princess Royal of Opera Bouffe.” -The description of the young prima donna’s home -life, personal characteristics, and footlight triumphs, -was further embellished by a painfully <span class='it'>décolleté</span> portrait, -a lace night gown, a pair of wonderfully embroidered -stockings, and a rosary.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience read the article twice, wondering why fame -realised looked so different from the abstract quality -of her imagination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Somehow it seems a sort of tin halo,” she thought. -Then her thoughts drifted back to Monterey, and recalled -it with startling vividness. “Still even if I -haven’t forgotten it, it is like the memory of another -life. Its only lasting effect has been to make me -hate what is coarse and sinful; and dear auntie, even -if she hasn’t converted me, has developed all my -good.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if Rosita has been in love, and if that -is the reason she has forgotten me. But she hasn’t -married, so perhaps it’s only adulation that has driven -everything else out of her head.” And then with her -eyes on the river, which under the heavy sky looked -like a stream of wrinkling lead from which a coating of -silver had worn off in places, she fell to dreaming of -Beverly Peele and an ideal existence in which they -travelled and read and assured each other of respectful -and rarefied affection.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Early in the winter the influenza descended upon -America. Mr. Peele, his wife wrote, was one of the -first victims, and the entire family took him to Florida. -One night, a month later, Miss Tremont returned from -Hog Heights and staggered through her door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she moaned, as Patience rushed forward -and caught her in her arms, “I feel so strangely. -I have pains all over me, and the queerest feeling -in my knees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the grippe,” said Patience, who had read its -history in the “Day.” She put Miss Tremont to bed, -and sent for the doctor. The old lady was too weak -to protest, and swallowed the medicines submissively. -She recovered in due course, and one day slipped out -and plodded through the snow to Hog Heights. She -was brought home unconscious, and that night was -gasping with pneumonia.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no lack of nurses. Miss Beale and Mrs. -Watt, who had helped to care for her during the less -serious attack, returned at once, and many others -called at intervals during the day and night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sat constantly by the bed, staring at the -face so soon to be covered from all sight. She wanted -to cry and scream, but could not. Her heart was like -lead in her breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At one o’clock on the second night, she and Miss -Beale were alone in the sick room. Mrs. Watt was -walking softly up and down the hall without.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Tremont was breathing irregularly, and Patience -bent over her with white face. Miss Beale began to sob.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it not terrible, terrible,” she ejaculated, “that -she should die like this, she whose deathbed should -have been so beautiful,—unconscious, drugged—morphine, -which is as accursed as whisky—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad of it. It would be more horrible to see -her suffer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to see her suffer—dear, dear Miss -Tremont. But she should have died in the full knowledge -that she was going to God. Oh! Oh!” she -burst out afresh. “How I envy her! It’s my only, -only sin, but I can’t help envying those who are going -to heaven. I can’t wait. I do so want to see the -beautiful green pastures and the still waters—and oh, -how I want to talk with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience flung her head into her lap and burst into -a fit of laughter.</p> - -<h2>XIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour later she went downstairs and turned up -all the lights. Mrs. Watt had gone to the next house -to telephone for the undertakers. When she returned -she went upstairs to Miss Beale. Patience could hear -the two women praying. That was the only sound in -the terrible stillness. She paced up and down, wringing -her hands and gasping occasionally. Her sense of -desolation was appalling, although as yet she but half -realised her bereavement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she heard the sound of runners on the -crisp snow. They stopped before the gate. She ran -shuddering to the window. The moon flooded the -white earth. Two tall black shadows came down the -path. They trod as if on velvet. Even on the steps -and porch they made no sound. They knocked as -death may knock on a human soul, lightly, meaningly. -Patience dragged herself to the door and opened it. -The long narrow black men entered and bent their -heads solemnly. Patience raised her shaking hand, -and pointed to the floor above. The men of death -bowed again, and stole upward like black ghosts. In a -few moments they stole down again and out and away. -Patience rushed frantically through the rooms to the -kitchen, where she fell upon Ellen, dozing by the fire, -and screamed and laughed until the terrified woman -flung a pitcher of water on her, then carried her upstairs -and put her to bed.</p> - -<h2>XIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A week later Patience wandered restlessly about the -lonely house. The hundreds of people that had -thronged it had gone at last, even Miss Beale and -Mrs. Watt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had cried until she had no tears left, and -rebelled until reason would hear no more. Her nerves -felt blunt and worn down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yesterday Miss Tremont’s lawyer had told her that -after a few unimportant bequests she was to have the -income of the dead woman’s small estate until she -married, after which she would have nothing and the -Temperance cause all. She was therefore exempt from -the pettiest and severest of life’s trials. Miss Tremont -had also left a letter, begging her to devote herself to -a life of charity and reform. But Patience had at last -revolted. She realised how empty had been her part, -how torrential the impulsion of Miss Tremont.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The great world outside of Mariaville pressed upon -her imagination, gigantic, rainbow-hued, alluring. It -beckoned with a thousand fingers, and all her complex -being responded. She longed for a talent with which to -add to its beauty, and thought no ill of it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had sat up half the night thinking, and this -morning she felt doubly restless and lonely. She -wanted to go away at once, but as yet she had made -no plans; and plans were necessary. She was too -tired to go to Mr. Field and apply for work; and she -knew that her delicate appearance would not commend -itself to his approval. She went to the mirror in the -best spare bedroom and regarded herself anxiously. -Her black-robed figure seemed very tall and thin, her -face white and sharp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even red bows—” she began; then her memory -tossed up Rosita. “Oh,” she thought, “if I could -only see her,—see some one I care a little for. I -believe I’ll go—there may have been some reason—her -letters may have miscarried—I must see -somebody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She ran upstairs, put on her outing things, and -walked rapidly to the station. The sharp air electrified -her blood. The world was full of youth and hope -once more. She forgot her bereavement for the hour. -She hoped Rosita would ask her to visit her: the -popular young prima donna must have drawn many -brilliant people about her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she reached New York she inquired her way -to “Soper’s Opera House,” obtained Rosita’s address, -and took the elevated train up town. She found the -great apartment house with little difficulty, and was -enraptured with its marble floors and pillars, its liveried -servants and luxurious elevator.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I certainly had rich ancestors,” she thought, “and -I am sure they were swells. I have a natural affinity -for all this sort of thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was landed at the very top of the house. The -elevator boy directed her attention to a button, then -slid down and out of sight, leaving Patience with the -delightful sensation of having stepped upon a new -stratum, high and away from the vast terrestrial cellar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A trim French maid opened the door. She stared -at Patience, and looked disinclined to admit her. But -Patience pushed the door back with determined hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish to see La Rosita,” she said in French.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But madame is not receiving to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She will see me, I am sure. Tell her that Miss -Sparhawk is here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman admitted her reluctantly, and left her -standing in an anteroom, passing between heavy -portières. Patience followed, and entered a large -drawing-room furnished with amber satin and ebony: -a magnificent room, heavy with the perfume of great -baskets of flowers, and filled with costly articles of -decoration. The carpet was of amber velvet. Not a -sound of street penetrated the heavy satin curtains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An indefinable sensation stole over Patience’s -mind, a ghost whose lineaments were blurred, yet -familiar. She felt an impulse to turn and run, then -twitched her shoulders impatiently, and approaching -other portières, parted them and glanced into the -room beyond.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was evidently a boudoir, a fragrant fairy-like -thing of rose and lace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In a deep chair, clad in a <span class='it'>robe de chambre</span> of rose-coloured -silk, flowing open over a lace smock and petticoat, -lay Rosita. Her dense black hair was twisted -carelessly on top of her head and confined with a -jewelled dagger. One tiny foot, shod in a high-heeled -slipper of rose-coloured silk, was conspicuous on a low -<span class='it'>pouf</span>. The flush of youth was in her cheek, its scarlet -in her mouth. The large white lids lay heavily on the -languorous eyes. In one hand she held a pink cigarette -in a jewelled holder. She spoke in a low tantalising -voice to a man who sat before her, leaning eagerly -forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid had evidently not succeeded in gaining -her attention. Patience, conquering another impulse -to run, pushed the hangings aside and entered. Rosita -sprang to her feet, the blood flashing to her hair; but -her eyes expanded with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita! Patita!” she stammered, then caught Patience -in her arms. As both girls looked as if about -to weep, the man hurriedly departed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls hugged each other as of old; then Rosita -divested Patience of her wraps and told the astonished -maid to take them out of sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now that you are here, you shall stay,” she -said, “stay a long, long while. Have you had luncheon?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—but I’m not—yes, I am, though, come to -think of it. Get me something to eat. Rosita, how -good it is to see you again! Why, why didn’t you -write to me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O—h; I will tell you, perhaps; but you must -have luncheon first. I take a late breakfast, just after -rising, so it will be a few minutes before yours is ready.” -She rang a bell and gave an order to the maid, then -pushed Patience into the deepest and softest chair in -the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now,” she said, smiling affectionately, “lie back -and be comfortable; you look tired. Oh, Patita, I am -so glad to see you. Isn’t it like old times?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With a grace which long practice had made a fine -art, she sank upon one end of a divan, and back among -a mass of cushions. Her white arms lay along the -pillows in such careless wise as to best exhibit their -perfection; her head dropped backward slightly, revealing -the round throat. The attitude was so natural -as to suggest that she had ceased to pose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stared at her, wondering if it could be the -same Rosita. All the freshness of youth was in that -beautiful face and round voluptuous form, but she -looked years and years and years older than the Rosita -of Monterey. Patience suddenly felt young and foolish -and green. The world that had been so great and -wonderful to her imagination seemed to have shrunken -to a ball, to be tossed from one to the other of those -white idle hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What has changed you so?” she asked abruptly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita gave the low delicious laugh of which Patience -had read in the New York “Day.” She relit her cigarette -and blew a soft cloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will tell you after luncheon. You are the only -person I would never fib to. I believe those grey eyes -of yours are the only honest eyes in the world. Why -are you in black?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience told her, and was drawn on to speak of -herself and her life. Rosita shuddered once or twice, -an adorable little French shudder, and cast upward her -glittering hands, whose nails Patience admired even -more than their jewels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Dios de mi alma!</span>” she cried finally. “What an -existence!—I cannot call it life. I should have jumped -into the river. That life would drive me mad, and I -do not believe that it suits you either.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spoke with a Spanish accent, and with the affected -precision of a foreigner that has carefully learned the -English language. Her monotony of inflection was -more effective than animation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, it doesn’t,” said Patience, “and I have no -intention of pursuing it. I’m going to be a newspaper -woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita gave forth a sound that from any other throat -would have been a shriek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A newspaper woman! And then you will come -and interview me. How droll! I shall have to become -eccentric, so that I can furnish you with ‘stories,’ as -they call them. I have been pumped dry. When the -newspaper women have run out of everything else they -come to me, and they love me because I am good-natured, -and turn my things upside down for them. I -never refuse to see them, so they have never written -anything horrid about me. Oh, I can tell you I have -learned a great many lessons since I left Monterey. -But here is your luncheon. While you are eating it I -will do something for you that I have never done for -any one else off the stage: I will sing to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid placed a silver tray on a little table, and -while Patience ate of creamed oysters and broiled partridge, -Rosita sang as the larks of paradise may sing when -angels awake with the dawn. Once Patience glanced -hastily upward, half expecting to see the notes falling in -a golden shower. When she expressed her admiration, -Rosita’s red lips smiled slowly away from the white -sharp little teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you like it, Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>?” she asked with bewitching -graciousness. “Yes, I can sing. I have the -world at my feet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She resumed her languid attitude on the divan. -“<span class='it'>Bueno</span>,” she said, “now I am going to tell you all -about it. People are always a little heavy after eating; -I waited on purpose. But you must promise not to -move until I get through. Will you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Patience, uncomfortably. “I hope it is -nothing very dreadful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That all depends upon the way you look at things. -It will seem odd to tell it to you. You used to be the -one to do what you felt like and tell other people that -if they did not like it they could do the other thing; -but I suppose you are W. C. T. U’d.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I’m not. Go on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I will.” She paused and laughed lightly. -“Funny world. We do not usually tell this sort of -story to a woman, but you and I are different. <span class='it'>Bueno.</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I went to Paris and studied hard. Yes, I am lazy -yet, but I had made up my mind to be a great, great, -great success. I had what in insane people is called -the fixed idea, and the American in me conquered the -Spanish. Everybody praised my voice. No one said -it was the greatest voice in the world, nor even better -than two or three others over there; but I had no discouragement. -I attracted a great deal of attention -from men, but the <span class='it'>dueña</span> never let them get a word -with me, and I did not care. I used to wonder at the -stories told about some of the other girls, and did not -half understand. Two sold themselves; but why? with -a fortune in one’s throat. Others fell in love, and -talked about the temperament of the artist, but I could -not understand that nonsense either.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Bueno</span>, at the end of the time Soper came over -and bought me eight trunks full of the most beautiful -clothes you ever saw,—mostly for the stage, but lots -for the house and street. He said I was a first-class -investment, and worth the outlay. When he heard me -sing he shook all over. I ought to tell you that I had -been kept on short allowance, and had had very dowdy -clothes, which broke my heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Bueno</span>, we came home. On the steamer, Soper -treated me like a father, but never let me talk to a -man. Either he or the <span class='it'>dueña</span> was at my heels all the -time. He is a coarse-looking man, but I really liked -him because he had been so good to me, and there -was something very attractive about him. When we -reached New York the <span class='it'>dueña</span> left us. She said she -was going straight to Philadelphia to her home. Soper -and I got in another cab and drove to an apartment -on Broadway. I did not know until the next day that -it was his apartment. That was in the evening. The -next morning, while I was at a late breakfast, he sent -me a note, saying that he would call in an hour and have -a business talk with me. I was practising my scales -when he came in, and he clapped his hands and offered -me a chair. He drew one up for himself, and then -said in a perfectly business-like voice:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘When I ran across you I knew that you only -needed training to become a queen of opera bouffe, and -to make a fortune for some one besides yourself. I -also saw that you were going to become a beautiful -woman. I made up my mind that I would own both -the woman and the artist. Don’t look like a little -tigress—still, I’m glad you can look that way,—you -may be able to do Carmen yet. Don’t misunderstand -me. I am not a villain, merely a practical man with -an eye to beauty. I have no idea of letting you get -under the influence of any other man,—not even if -you weren’t so pretty. Let me console you by telling -you that for the sort of woman you are there is no -escape. You were made to drive men mad, and for the -comic opera stage. That sort of combination might as -well get down to business as early in the game as possible: -it saves time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘Had I never discovered you, you would have -drifted from company to company, gone the pace with -nothing to show for it, and worn out your youth at -one-night stands. I saved you from a terrible fate. -You know the rest. You know what you owe me. -You have developed even beyond my hopes, but—mark -you this—I have not advertised you in any way. -You are as unknown as on the day you left California. -If you mount the high horse and say: ”Sir, you are -a villain. Go to, go to!“ I shall merely turn you -loose without your trunks. You may imagine that with -your voice and beauty you could get an engagement -anywhere. So you could—without advertising, without -an opera, and without a theatre of your own. -Every existing troupe has its own prima donna; you -would have to take a second or third rate part,—and -unquestionably in a travelling troupe. There is no -place for you in New York but the one I propose to -create. Lillian Russell practically owns the Casino, -and will, unless all signs fail, for many years. She -would not tolerate you on the same stage five minutes; -neither would any prima donna who had any influence -with her manager,—and they mostly have. Your -career would be exactly what it would have been if I -had not met you,—full of hardships and change and -racing about the country; arriving at six in the evening, -singing at eight, leave the next morning at four, -get what sleep you could on the train. That’s about -the size of it. You’d be painting inside of a year, if -not wearing plumpers. And what you’re mad at now, -you’d be looking upon as a matter of course then, and -grateful for the admiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘Moreover, no success is worth a tinker’s dam that -ain’t made in New York,—I think I wrote you that -on an average of once a month. If you show that you -have horse sense, and will sign a contract with me for -five years, I’ll make you the rage in New York inside -of two months. Now it is success or failure: you can -take your choice. I’ll be here to-morrow at ten.’ -And he was gone before I could speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Bueno</span>, after I had gotten over being fearfully -mad I sat down and thought it all over. I knew that -all he said was true. I had heard too much in Paris. -He had kept writing me that virtue paid in an actress -to keep me straight, but I had heard the opposite -about nine hundred times. <span class='it'>Bueno</span>, I was in a trap. -I had made up my mind to succeed. I had even -worked for it,—and you know how much that meant -with me. I made up my mind that succeed I would, -no matter what the price. It is one of two things -in this world,—success or failure,—and if you fail -nobody cares a hang about your virtue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know I never was sentimental nor romantic. -Soper had made a plain business proposition in a practical -way that I liked. If he had gone on like a stage -lover it would have been much harder. And after all -I would be no worse than a society girl who sells herself -to a rich husband. So, after turning it over for -twenty-four hours—or all the time I was awake—I -concluded not to be a fool, but La Rosita, Queen of -Opera Bouffe. When he called I merely shrugged my -shoulders and said ‘<span class='it'>Bueno</span>.’ He laughed, and said I -would certainly succeed in this world; that the beautiful -woman with the cool calculating brain always got -there. So—here I am. What do you think of it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During this recital her voice had not for one instant -broken nor hardened. She told her story in the soft -sweet languid voice of Spain; she might have been relating -an idyl of which she was the Juliet and Soper the -Romeo.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stared at her with wide eyes and dry lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you have never regretted it?” she asked; -“you don’t care?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita raised her beautiful brows. “Regret? Well, -no, I should say not. Have I not realised my dreams -and ambition? Am I not rich and famous and happy -instead of a scrambling nobody? Regret?—No—rather. -What is more, I know how to save. A good -many of us have learned that lesson. When I have -lost voice and youth I shall be rich,—rich. We do -not end in a garret, like in the old days. And I do -not drink, and I rest a great deal—it will be a long -time before I go off. Besides, there are the beauty -doctors—Oh, no, I am not regretting. And Soper is -getting tired of me, I am happy to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience rose and went into the room where the -maid had carried her hat and jacket. It was a bedroom, -a white nest of lace and velvet. When she returned -she said: “I should like to go home and think -it over. I feel queer and stunned. You have taken me -so completely by surprise that I can hardly think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita coloured angrily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are shocked, I suppose,” she said with a -sneer. “I should think—” She paused abruptly. -She was still an amiable little soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience understood perfectly, and turned a shade -paler. “I told you that I did not understand how I -felt. In fact, I hardly ever know just how I feel about -anything. I suppose it is because I have the sort of -mind that is made to analyse, and I haven’t had experience -enough to know how. And I never judge any one. -Why should I? Why should we judge anybody? We -are not all made alike. I couldn’t do what you have -done, but that is no reason why I should condemn you. -That would be absurd. If any one else had told me -this story I should only have been interested—I am so -curious about everything. But you see you are the only -girl friend I ever had, and that is what makes me feel -so strangely. Good-bye;” and she hurriedly left the -room.</p> - -<h2>XV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When she reached home she forgot her horror of -death chambers, and went to Miss Tremont’s room and -flung herself on the bed. She did not cry—her tears -had all been spent; but she felt something of the profound -misery of the last year in Monterey. During the -intervening years she had seen little of the cloven hoof -of human nature; the occasional sin over on Hog -Heights hardly counted; creatures of the lower conditions -had no high lights to make the shadows startling. -But to-day the horror of old experiences rushed -over her; she was filled with a profound loathing of -life, of human nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So far, of love, in its higher sense—if it possessed -such a part—she had seen nothing; of sensuality, too -much. True, she had spent two weeks with Miss Galpin, -during that estimable young woman’s engagement; -but Miss Galpin took love as a sort of front-parlour, -evening-dress affair, and Patience had not deigned to -be interested. She had speculated somewhat over Miss -Tremont’s early romance, but could only conclude that -it was one of those undeveloped little histories that so -many old maids cherish.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She recalled all the love stories she had read. Even -the masters were insipid when they attempted to portray -spiritual love. It was only when they got down to -the congenial substratum of passion that they wrote of -love with colour and fire. Was she to believe that it did -not exist,—this union of soul and mind? Her dreams -receded, and refused to cohere. She wondered, with -natural egoism, if any girl of her age had ever received -so many shocks. She was on the threshold -of life, with a mass of gross material out of which to -shape her mental attitude to existing things. True, she -had met only women of relative sinlessness during these -last years, but their purity was uninteresting because -it was that of people mentally limited, and possessed of -the fad of the unintellectual. Moreover, they had their -erotism, the oddest, most unreal, and harmless erotism -the world has known in the last two thousand years; -and after all quite incidental: her keen eyes had long -since observed that the old maids were far more religious -than the married women, that the girls cooled -perceptibly to the great abstraction as soon as a concrete -candidate was approved.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She longed passionately for Miss Tremont. All her -old restlessness and doubt had returned with the flight -of that ardent absorbing personality. She wished that -she could have been remodelled; for, after all, the dear -old lady, whatever her delusions, had been happy. -But she was still Patience Sparhawk; she could only -be thankful that Miss Tremont had cemented her hatred -of evil.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose abruptly, worn out by conjectures and -analysis that led nowhere, and went out into the woods.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she said, lifting her arms, “this at least is -beautiful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ground was hard and white and sparkling. The -trees were crystal, down to the tiniest twig. They -glittered iridescently under the level rays of the sun -descending upon the Palisades on the far side of the -Hudson. The river was grey under great floating -blocks of ice. Groves of slender trees in the hollows -of the Palisades looked like fine bunches of feathers. -On the long slopes the white snow lay deep; above, -the dark steeps were merely powdered, here and there; -on the high crest the woods looked black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She walked rapidly up and down, calmed, as of old, -by the beauty of nature, but dreading the morrow and -the recurring to-morrows. Suddenly through those -glittering aisles pealed the rich sonorous music of the -organ. The keys were under the hands of a master, -and the great notes throbbed and swelled and rolled -through the winter stillness in the divine harmonies of -“The Messiah.” Patience stood still, shaking a little. -On a hill above the wood a large house had been built -recently; the organ must be there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The diamond radiance of the woods was living -melody. The very trees looked to bow their crystal -heads. The great waves of harmony seemed rolling -down from an infinite height, down from some cathedral -of light and stars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ugly impressions of the day vanished. The -sweet intangible longing she had been used to know in -Carmel tower flashed back to her. What was it? She -recalled the words of the Stranger. It was long since -she had thought of him. She closed her eyes and -stood with him in the tower. His voice was as distinct -as the notes of the organ. She felt again the tumult of -her young half-comprehending mind. Was not life all -a matter of ideals? Were not the bad and the good -happy only if consistent to a fixed idea? Did she -make of herself such a woman as the Stranger had -evoked out of the great mass of small feminity, could -she not be supremely happy with such a man? Where -was he? Was he married? He seemed so close—it -was incredible that he existed for another woman. -Who more surely than she could realise the purest -ideal of her imaginings,—she with her black experience -and hatred of all that was coarse and evil? She -closed her eyes to her womanhood no longer. It -thrilled and shook her. If he would come—She -trembled a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All men were henceforth possible lovers. Unless the -Stranger appeared speedily his memory must give way -to the definite. The imperious demands of a woman’s -nature cannot be satisfied with abstractions. The ideal -which he stood for would lend a measure of itself to -each engaging man with whom she exchanged greeting.</p> - -<h2>XVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Patience!” cried a strident voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience turned with a violent start. Ellen was a -large blotch on the white beauty of the wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a young lady to see you. She didn’t give -her name as I remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience followed the servant resentfully. The world -was cold and dull again. But when she recognised the -Peele coachman and footman on the handsome sleigh -before the door she forgot her dreams, and went eagerly -into the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A girl was standing before the mantel, regarding -through a lorgnette a row of photographs. She turned -as she heard footsteps, and came forward with a cordial -smile on her plain charming face. She wore a black -cloth frock and turban which made Patience feel dowdy -as Rosita’s magnificence had not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am Hal,” she said, “and you are Patience, of -course. I hope you have heard as much of me as I -have of you. Dear old girl, I was awfully fond of her. -You look so tired—are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A little. It is so good of you to come. Yes, I’ve -heard a very great deal of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll sit down, thank you. Let’s try this sofa. I’ve -already tried the chairs, and they’re awful. But I suppose -dear old Harriet never sat down at all. I wonder -if she’ll be happy in heaven with nothing to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience smiled sympathetically. “She ought to be -glad of a rest, but I don’t believe she is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She thought we were all heathens—dear old soul; -but I did love her. What was the trouble? We only -had one short letter from Miss Beale. Do tell me all -about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Peele had an air of reposeful alertness. She -leaned forward slightly, her eyes fixed on Patience’s -with flattering attention. She looked a youthful worldling, -a captivating type to a country girl. Her voice -was very sweet, and exquisitely modulated. Occasionally -it went down into a minor key.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What shall you do with yourself, now?” she asked -anxiously, when Patience had finished the brief story. -“I am so interested in you. I don’t know why I -haven’t called before, except that I never find time to -do the things I most care for; but I have wanted to -come a dozen times, and when we returned yesterday -and heard of the dear old girl’s death I made up my -mind to come at once. And I’m coming often. I -know we shall be such good friends. I’m so glad she -left you her money so you won’t have to work. It -must be so horrid to work. I’m going to ask mamma -to ask you to visit us. She’s feeling rather soft now -over Cousin Harriet’s death, so I’ll strike before she -gets the icebergs on. She isn’t pleasant then. I’ll -tell her you don’t wear the white ribbon yet—” She -broke into a light peal of laughter. “Poor mamma! -how she used to suffer. Cousin Harriet’s white bow was -the great cross of her life. It will go far toward reconciling -her—Don’t think that my parent is heartless. -She merely insists upon everything belonging to her to -be <span class='it'>sans reproche</span>. That’s the reason we don’t always -get along. What lovely hair you have—a real <span class='it'>blonde -cendrée</span>. It’s all the rage in Paris. And that great coil -is beautiful. Tell me, didn’t you find that Temperance -work a hideous bore?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, but no one could resist Miss Tremont.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed one couldn’t. I believe she’d have roped -me in if I’d lived with her; but I’m a frivolous -good-for-nothing thing. You look so serious. Do you -always feel that way?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience smiled broadly. “Oh, no. I often feel -that I would be very frivolous indeed if circumstances -would permit. It must be very interesting.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You get tired of yourself sometimes—I mean I do. -Are you very religious?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not religious at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how awfully jolly. I do the regulation business, -but it is really tragic to carry so much religion -round all the time. I wonder how Cousin Harriet and -the Lord hit it off, or if they liked each other better -at a distance? I corresponded once with the brother -of a school friend for a year, and when I met him I -couldn’t endure him. Those things are very trying. -I am going to call you Patience. May I? And if ever -you call me Miss Peele you’ll be sorry. How awfully -smart you’d look in gowns. My colouring is so commonplace. -If I didn’t know how to dress, and hadn’t -been taught to carry myself with an air, I’d be just -nothing—no more and no less. But you have such a -lovely nose and white skin—and that hair! You are -aristocratic looking without being swagger. I’m the -other way. You can acquire the one, but you can’t the -other. When you have both you’ll be out of sight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What fun it would be,” she rambled on in her -bright inconsequential way, “if Bev should fall in love -with you and you’d marry him. Then I’d have such fun -dressing you, and we’d get ahead of my cousin Honora -Mairs, whom I hate, and who, I’m afraid, will get him. -Propinquity and flattery will bring down any man—they’re -such peacocks. But I’ll bring him to see you. -You ought to have a violet velvet frock. I’d bet on -Bev then. But, of course, you can’t wear colours yet, -and that dead black is wonderfully becoming. Can I -bring him up in a day or two?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” said Patience, smiling as she recalled her -brief periods of spiritual matrimony with Beverly Peele; -“by all means. I’ll be so glad to meet all of you. And -you are certainly good to take so much interest in me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am the angel of the family. Well, I must be off, -or I’ll have to dine all by me lonely. None of the -rest of the family uses slang: that is the reason I do. -May is a grown-up baby, and never disobeyed her -mamma in her life. Honora is a classic, and only -swears in the privacy of her closet when her schemes -fail. Mother—well, you’ve seen mother. As you may -imagine, she doesn’t use slang. Papa doesn’t talk -at all, and Bev is a prig where decent women are concerned. -So, you see, I have to let off steam somehow, -and as I haven’t the courage to be larky, I read French -novels and use bad words.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose and moved toward a heavy coat that lay on a -chair. “Well, Patience—what a funny lovely old-fashioned -name you have—I’m going to bring Bev to see -you as a last resource. I’ve tried him on a dozen other -girls, but it was no go. I’ll talk you up to him meanwhile—I’ll -tell him that you are one of the cold haughty indifferent -sort, and yet withal a village maiden. He admires -blondes, and you’re such a natural one. We’ll -come up Sunday on horseback. Now be sure to make -him think you don’t care a hang whether he likes you -or not—he’s been so run after. Isn’t it too funny? I -did not come here on matchmaking thoughts intent, but -I do like you, and we could have such jolly good fun -together. I’ll teach you how to smoke cigarettes—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But Miss Peele—Hal—you know—I don’t want -to marry your brother—I have never even seen him—much -as I should like to live with you—I’d even -smoke cigarettes to please you—but really—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I know, of course. I can only hope for the -best, and Bev certainly is fascinating. At least he -appears to be,” and she smiled oddly; “but being a -man’s sister is much like being his valet, you know. -Would you mind helping me into this coat?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate these heavy fur things,” she said petulantly. -“Oh, thanks—they don’t suit my light and airy architecture, -and I can’t get up any dignity in them at all. -I need fluffy graceful French things. You’d look -superb in velvet and furs and all that sort of thing. -Well, bye-bye,—no,—<span class='it'>au revoir</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She took Patience’s face between her hands and -lightly kissed her on either cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be lonesome,” she said. “I’d go frantic in -this house. Can’t I send you some books? I’ve a lot -of naughty French ones—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!” said Patience, abruptly, “I don’t want -them. Don’t think I’m a prig,” she added, hastily, as -a look of apprehension crossed Miss Peele’s face; “but -I had a hideous shock to-day, and I don’t want to read -anything similar at present—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, tell me about it. How could you have a shock -in Mariaville?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t. It was in New York—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, was it real wicked? Did you have an adventure? -Do tell me—Well, don’t, of course, if you don’t -want to, only I’m so interested in you. Well, I must, -must go;” and despite the furs she moved down the -walk with exceeding grace. As she drove off she -leaned out of the sleigh and waved her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!” thought Patience, “I’m so glad she came. -It was like fresh air after a corpse covered with sachet -bags.” And then she went to the mantel and gazed -upon Beverly Peele.</p> - -<h2>XVII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When Sunday came Patience dressed herself with unusual -care. It did not occur to her that people in -different spheres of life arose at different hours, and -she expected her guests any time after eight o’clock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course she must wear unrelieved black, but after -prolonged regard in the becoming mirror of the best -spare room, she decided that it rather enhanced her -charms, now that a week’s rest had banished the circles -from her eyes and cleared her skin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had coiled her soft ashen hair loosely on the top -of her head, pulling it out a little about her face—she -wore no bangs. Her restless eyes were dark and clear -and sparkling, her mouth pink. She carried her slender -figure with a free graceful poise. The carriage of -her head was almost haughty. Her hips had a generous -swell. Her hands and teeth were very white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I certainly have a look of race,” she thought, “if -I’m not a beauty. I’d give a good deal to know that -my ancestors really did have good blood in their veins. -I don’t care so much for money, but I’d like to be sure -of that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After breakfast she wandered about restlessly. She -had known few moments of peace since Miss Peele’s -visit. The train had been fired, and her being was in a -tumult. Beverly Peele, the Stranger, and the vague -ideals of her earlier girlhood were inextricably mixed. -The result was a being before whom she trembled with -mingled rapture and terror. Her vivid imagination -had evoked a distinct entity, and the love scenes that -had been enacted between the girl and this wholly satisfactory -eidolon were such as have time out of mind -made life as it is seem a singularly defective composition -to the wondering mind of woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At times she was terrified at the rich possibilities of -her nature, so little suspected. The revelation gave -her vivid comprehension of woman’s tremendous power -for sacrifice and surrender, possibilities of which she -had read with much curiosity, but little sympathy. For -those women she felt a warm honour, a fierce desire to -espouse their cause. For Rosita she had only loathing -and contempt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not only passion that was awake. Sentiment, -that finer child of the brain, and the sweet faint feeling -which assuredly lingers about the region of the heart, -whatever its physical cause may be, were there in full -measure to lend their potent lashings to that primeval -force which is as mighty in some women as in some -men. It is doubtful if a woman ever loves a man when -in his arms with the same exaltation of soul and passion -which she feels for that creation of her brain that he -little more than suggests, and that is only wholly hers -when the man himself is absent. Imagination in -woman is as arbitrary as desire in man, and she is -beaten down and crushed by this imperious and capricious -brain-imp so many times in her life that the -wonder is she is not driven to the hopes and illusions of -religion, or to humour, long before the skin has yellowed -and the eye paled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And when the imagination has full sway, when the -man has not been beheld, when he has been invested -with every quality dear to the heart of the generously -endowed woman, when, indeed, all eidola blend, and -she has a confused vision of an immense and mighty -force bearing down upon her which shall sweep every -tradition out of existence and annihilate the material -world, then assuredly man himself would do well to -retire into obscurity and curse his shortcomings.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was four o’clock, and she had been through the -successive stages of hope, despair, hope, melancholia, -hope, and resignation, before she heard the sharp clatter -of hoofs on the road. She ran to the dining-room -window, her heart thumping, and peered through the -blind. They were coming! Hal sat her horse like a -swaying reed, but the young man on the large chestnut -rode in the agonised fashion of the day. He was of -medium height, she saw, compactly and elegantly built, -and the beauty of his face had defied the photographer’s -art.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience ran to the kitchen and told Ellen to answer -the bell immediately, then sat down by the stove to -compose herself. She was still trembling, and wished -to appear cold and stately, as Hal had recommended. -When Ellen returned and announced the visitors, she -sprang up, patted her hair, pulled down the bodice of -her gown, and then, with what dignity she could muster, -went forth to meet her fate. She did wish she had -a train. It was so difficult to be stately in a skirt that -cleared the ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she entered the parlour Mr. Peele was standing -by the opposite door. His riding gear was very becoming. -Patience noted swiftly that his eyes were a spotted -brown and that his mouth pouted under the dark -moustache.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal came forward with both hands extended. “We -have come, you see,” she said, “and we had to make a -wild break to do it—had a lot of company; but I -was bound to come. Patience, this is Beverly. He’s -quite frantic to meet you. It was all I could do to -keep him away until to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young man bowed in anything but a frantic -manner, and stood gracefully until the girls were seated. -Then he took a chair and caressed his moustache, -regarding Patience attentively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you mind if Bev smoked?” asked Hal. -“He is just wild for a cigar. We had to ride so hard -to keep warm that he didn’t have a chance, and he’s -a slave to the weed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience glanced swiftly at the door, half-expecting -to see the indignant wraith of Miss Tremont, then, -almost reluctantly, gave the required permission. Mr. -Peele promptly lit a cigar. Patience wondered if he -would ever speak. Perhaps he did not think it worth -his while. He looked very haughty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had a perfectly beautiful ride,” said Hal, in -her plaintive voice. “I’d rather be on a horse than -on an ocean steamer, and I do love to travel. You -look ever so much better than you did, Patience. You -must have needed a rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele removed his cigar. “Perhaps that was what -she had been <span class='it'>im</span>patiently waiting for,” he remarked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stared at him. Her eyes expanded. Something -seemed crumbling within her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Bev, you do make me so tired,” said his sister. -“I tell him eighteen times a day that punning is the -lowest form of wit, but he’s incorrigible. I suppose it’s -in the blood, and I’m glad it broke out in him instead -of in me. It is well to be philosophical in this -life—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When you can’t help yourself—” interrupted Mr. -Peele, easily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience felt it incumbent upon her to make conversation, -although her thoughts were dancing a jig.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have a beautiful horse,” she said to the young -man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Isn’t she a -beauty?” he exclaimed. “She’s taken two prizes -and won a race. She’s the daughter—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience doesn’t know anything about horses,” -interrupted Hal. “What does she care whose daughter -Firefly is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m very much interested,” faltered Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you really?” cried Mr. Peele, with a smile so -beautiful that Patience caught her breath. “I’ve got -the rarest book in the country on horses—beautiful -pictures—coloured—I’ll bring it up and explain it to -you. Tell you a lot of stories about famous horses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall be delighted.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you ride?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I used to ride a pony, but I haven’t been on a -horse for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s too bad. There’s nothing like it. Makes -you feel so good. When I have dyspepsia I just jump -on Firefly, and I’m all right in less than no time. I -take a canter for dyspepsia—although I can’t—er—always -feel at home that way. Ahem!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience wanted to tear her hair. It was with an -effort that she kept her face from convulsing with disgust. -She caught sight of the young man’s intellectual -brow, and, without any premonitory consciousness, -laughed aloud. Mr. Peele smiled back with the -pleasure of appreciated wit, and resumed his cigar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bev isn’t such a fool as he looks,” remarked Hal, -airily. “Just have patience with him. We all have -our little failings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sat as if turned to clay. She could not -talk. All her natural animation had deserted her. She -wished they would go and leave her alone. But Hal -pulled off her riding gloves, and made herself comfortable -on the sofa. As she rattled on, Patience noticed -how beautiful her nails were. She turned her own -hands over so that the palms lay upward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind,” said young Peele, in a low tone. -“They’re much prettier.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s that?” cried Hal. “What are you blushing -about, Patience? How lovely it is to blush like -that. I’ve forgotten how—and I’m only twenty-two. -There’s tragedy for you. It’s not that I’ve had so -many compliments about my beauty, nor yet about my -winning ways,—which are my strong point,—but I -found so much to blush about when I was first launched -upon this wicked world that I exhausted my capacity. -And Bev always did tell such naughty stories—” She -paused abruptly. “Dear me! perhaps I’ve made a -bad break, and prejudiced you against my brother; -and I want you to be good friends so that we can have -jolly times together. Perhaps you have an ideal man—a -sort of Sir Galahad. I haven’t sounded you yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sir Galahad is not my ideal,” said Patience, -with the quick scorn of the woman who is born with -intuitive knowledge of man. “I could not find anything -interesting in an elongated male infant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how lovely!” cried Hal. “Give me the man -of the world every time. I tell you, you appreciate the -difference when you have to entertain ’em. And the -elongated infant, as you put it, never understands a -woman, and she has no use for that species whatever. -He doesn’t even want to understand her, and a woman -resents that as a personal insult. The bad ones hurt -sometimes, but they’re interesting; and when you learn -how to manage them it’s plain sailing enough. Mrs. -Laurence Gibbs—a friend of mamma’s, awfully good, -goes in for charity and all that sort of thing—said the -other day that at the rate women were developing and -advancing, the standard of men morally would have to -be raised. But I said ‘Not much!’ that the development -of woman meant that women were becoming -more clever, not merely bright and intellectual, and -that clever women would demand cleverness and fascination -in man above all else; and that Sir Galahads -were not that sort. It’s experience that makes a man -interesting to us women,—they represent all we’d like -to be and don’t dare. If they were like ourselves—if -they didn’t excite our imaginations—we wouldn’t -care a hang for them. Mrs. Gibbs was horrified, of -course, and told me I didn’t know what I was talking -about. But I said I guessed it was the other way. -I’m not clever—not by a long sight,—and if I can’t -stand a prig I know a clever woman can’t and won’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m so glad I’m not a prig,” murmured Mr. -Peele.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’re a real devil. If you were clever now, -you’d have to be shut up to protect society; but as it -is, you just go on your good looks, so you’re not as -dangerous as some.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rattled on, not giving the others a chance for -more than a stray remark. Patience, listening with deep -curiosity to this new philosophy, became aware of an -increasing desire to turn her eyes to the man that had -so bitterly disappointed her. A direct potent force -seemed to emanate from him. It was her first experience -of man’s magnetism, but she knew that he possessed -it to a remarkable degree. When he finally -shot out an insignificant remark she felt, in the excuse -it gave her to turn to him, a sensation of positive relief. -He was leaning back in his chair, in the easy -attitude of a man that has been too accustomed to -luxury all his life to look uncomfortable in any circumstances. -With his picturesque garb, his noble, beautiful -face, his subtle air of elegance and distinction, he -looked the ideal hero of girlhood’s dreams. Patience -wondered what Nature had been about, then recalled -the many tricks of that capricious dame made famous -in history, the round innocent faces of the worst boys -in the Loyal Legion class, the saintly physiognomy -of a Mariaville minister who had recently fallen from -grace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peele was watching her out of his half-closed eyes, -and as she met them he smiled almost affectionately. -Patience averted her head quickly, angry that she had -felt an impulse to respond, and fixed her attention on -Hal. “Dear old Cousin Harriet,” that young woman -was remarking, “how I do wish that I were even -sorrier than I am that she is dead. I try to think it’s -because I saw so little of her; but I know it’s just -because I’m so beastly selfish. I don’t care a hang -for anything that doesn’t affect my own happiness—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not selfish,” interrupted Patience, indignantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, but I am,” said Miss Peele, with a comical -little air of disgust which sat as gracefully upon her as -all her varying moods and manners. “I get up thinking -what I can get out of the day, and I go to bed glad -or mad according to what the day has done for me. I -don’t go in for Church work like Honora—dear -Honora!—nor am I always doing some pretty little -thing for people like May. I suppose you think I’m -an angel because I came to see you. I assured myself -at great length that it was my duty—but it was plain -curiosity, no more nor less; and now I like you awfully, -better than any woman I ever met—and I do so want -you to come and visit us, but—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t you come and stay with me?” asked -Patience, hurriedly. She had no desire to visit Mrs. -Gardiner Peele. “You know you have more or less -company, and I should be very quiet for a while. -And oh! I should so like to have you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’d love to! I’ll come and stay a week. I’m -so sick of the whole family, Bev included. We won’t -be going anywhere for three months out of respect for -Cousin Harriet—mamma is very particular about those -things—and I can get away as well as not. I’ll come -on Tuesday,—can I? Bev will come up occasionally -and see how I’m getting on—won’t you, Bevvy, dear?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d much rather you would not be here,” said Mr. -Peele, calmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—really—well, we’re all young yet. I’m -coming all the same. I suppose we must be going. -We have to get home to dress for dinner, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose, and drew on her gloves. Her brother stood -up immediately and helped her into her covert coat. -“Well, Patience,” she said, kissing her lightly, “you’ll -see me on Tuesday. I’ll come by train, and wire you -beforehand. Mamma’ll raise Cain, but I’ll manage it. -It’s only occasionally she’s too much for me. The cold -glare of those blue eyes of hers freezes my marrow at -times and takes all the starch out of me. It’s awful to -have been brought up under that sort of eye. When -Honora marries it’s the sort of eye she’ll have. She -cultivates the angelic at present. Have I talked you to -death, Patience? So good of you to ask me to come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peele held out his hand, and Patience could do no -less than lay hers within it. As it closed she resisted -an impulse to nestle her own more closely into that -warm grasp. He held her hand longer than was altogether -necessary, and she felt indignantly that she had -no desire to draw it away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’ll do for one day,” said Hal, drily. “Come -along, Beverly Peele. We won’t get home for coffee at -this rate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they had gone Patience threw herself on the -sofa and burst into tears, then laughed suddenly. “I -feel like the heroine of a tragedy,” she thought. “And -the tragedy is a pun!”</p> - -<h2>XVIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal arrived on Tuesday afternoon. Patience for -twenty-four hours after Beverly Peele’s visit looked -upon life through grey spectacles. She had an impression -of being a solitary figure on a sandy waste, -illimitable in extent. Life was ugly practical reality. -It frightened her, and she cowered before it, hating the -future, her blood chilled, her nerves blunt, her brain -stagnant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But by Tuesday morning, being young and buoyant, -she revived, and roamed through the woods, entirely -loyal to the Stranger. She made up her mind that she -would find him, that he could not be married. He -must have waited for her. “Oh!” she thought, “if I -could not believe that something existed in this world -as I have imagined it, some man good enough to love -and look up to, I believe I’d jump into the river. At -least I have heard Him talk. He could not be a -disappointment, like that hollow bronze. If there are -many men in the world like Beverly Peele I don’t -wonder women are in revolt. Women start out in life -with big ideals of man, and if they are disappointed I -suppose they unconsciously strive to make themselves -what they should have found in man. But it is unnatural. -It seems to me that man must be able to -give woman the best she can find in life, whether -he does or not. Something in civilisation has gone -wrong.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been so restless,” she said to Hal, as the girls -sat on the edge of the bed in the spare room, holding -each other’s hand. “If you had not been coming I’d -have gone to New York before this and seen Mr. Field, -the editor of the ‘Day’—He promised me once he’d -make a newspaper woman of me—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A what?” cried Hal. “What on earth do you -want to be a newspaper woman for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I must be something. I couldn’t live out of -Mariaville on my income, and the few hundred dollars -Mr. Foord left me, and I don’t know of anything else -I want to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are going to be Mrs. Beverly Peele,” said Hal, -definitely. “Beverly has the worst attack of my recollection. -He has simply raved about you. Tell me, -don’t you like him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal leaned forward and turned Patience’s face about. -“Don’t you like him?” she asked in a disappointed -tone. “Tell me. Please be frank. I hate people who -are not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll confess it—I was disappointed in him. -You see, I’d thought about him a good deal—several -years, if you want to know the truth—and I was sure -he was an intellectual man—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal threw back her head and gave a clear ringing -laugh. “Bev intellectual! That’s too funny. I don’t -believe he ever read anything but a newspaper and -horse literature in his life. But we all think he’s bright. -I think it my duty to tell you that he has a fearful -temper. He’s always been mamma’s pet, and she never -would cross him, so he flies into regular tantrums when -things don’t go to suit him; but on the whole he’s -pretty good sort. Don’t you think he’s good-looking?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, wonderfully,” said Patience, glad to be enthusiastic.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’m sure you’ll like him when you’ve forgotten -the ideal and got used to the real. Do please try -to like him, for I’m bent on having you for a sister-in-law.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll try,” said Patience, laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have no idea,” continued the astute Miss Peele, -“how many girls have been in love with him. I’ve -known girls that looked like marble statues—the -marble statue with the snub nose; that’s our swagger -New York type, you know,—well, I’ve seen them -make perfect idiots of themselves about him. But so -far he’s rather preferred the ladies that don’t visit at -Peele Manor. I’ve brought some cigarettes. Can I -smoke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can just do anything you like.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thanks. Well, I think I’ll begin by lying down -on this soft bed. It’s way ahead of the chairs and sofa -in the parlour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She exchanged her frock for a <span class='it'>peignoir</span>, and extended -herself on the bed. Patience sat beside her in a rocking -chair, her troubles forgotten.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“By the way,” said Hal, suddenly removing her -cigarette, “what was the shock you had the other day? -Tell me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I will,” and Patience told the story of Rosita -from beginning to end. Hal listened with deep -interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a stunner,” she said, “and worth coming to -Mariaville for. The little rip. She didn’t tell you half. -I’ll bet my hopes of a tiara on that. But she does -dance and sing like an angel. And so you were children -together? How perfectly funny! Now tell me your -history, every bit of it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience hesitated, then impulsively told the story, -omitting few particulars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Peele’s cigarette was allowed to go out. “Well, -well,” she said, when Patience had finished. “Fate -did play the devil with you, didn’t she? I’m so glad -you’ve told me. I’ll tell the family what I like, and -you keep quiet. I have the inestimable gift of selection. -You poor child! I’m so glad you fell in with Cousin -Harriet; and now you are going to be happy for the -rest of your life. Oh, it’s so good to be here in this -quiet place. I’m so tired of everybody. Sometimes -I get a fearful disgust. The same old grind, year after -year. If I could only fall in love; but when I do I -know it’ll be with a poor man. I never did have any -luck.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t you marry him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal shook her wise young head. “I don’t know. -You never can tell what you’ll do when you get that -disease; but I do know that I’d be miserable if I did. -Money, and plenty of it, is necessary to my happiness. -You see we’re not so horribly rich. Papa gives mamma -and May and me two thousand dollars each a year, and -his income comes mostly from his practice. We haven’t -anything else but a little house in town, and Peele Manor—which -of course we’ll never sell—and a big farm adjoining. -Bev runs that, and has the income from it—about -three thousand dollars a year. When he wants -more mamma gets it for him, and when he’s married of -course he’ll have a lot more. Two thousand stands me -in very well now, but as a married woman I want nothing -under thirty thousand a year—and that’s a modest -ambition enough. You can’t be anybody in New York -on less. Oh, dear—life is a burden.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your woes are not very terrible,” said Patience, -drily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’d think so if you were me. We suffer -according to our capacities and point of view. What -is comedy to one is tragedy to another. If I had to -wear the same clothes for two seasons I’d be as miserable -as a defeated candidate for the Presidency. Beer -makes one man drunk and champagne another. Bev, -by the way, never drinks. He’s rather straight than -otherwise. What’s your ideal of a man, by the way? -Of course you have an ideal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Patience, vaguely. “A -man with a big brain and a big heart and a big -arm.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Peele laughed heartily. “You are not exacting -in your combinations, not in the least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The week passed delightfully to Patience, although -Hal became rather restless toward the end. She -arranged Patience’s hair in six different fashions, -then decided that the large soft coil suited her best. -Patience’s nails were manicured, she was taught how -to smoke cigarettes, and select extracts from French -novels were read to her. Hal was an accomplished -gossip, and regaled her hostess with all the whispered -scandals of New York society. She was a liberal -education.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly did not call, nor did he write, and Hal -anathematised him freely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I have my ideas on the subject,” she said -darkly. “Just you wait.”</p> - -<h2>XIX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the evening of Hal’s departure, as Patience was -braiding her hair for the night, there was a sharp ring -at the bell, and a few moments later Ellen came upstairs -with a card inscribed “Mr. Beverly Peele.” -Patience felt disposed to send word that she had retired, -so thoroughly had she lost interest in the young -man; but reflecting that he had probably ridden -ten miles on a cold night to see her, told Ellen to light -all the burners in the parlour, and twisted up her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she went downstairs she saw a heavy overcoat on -the hall table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it had occurred to me that he had come by -train,” she thought, “I’d have let him go home -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came forward with his charming smile, looking -remarkably handsome in his evening clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was kind of you to come,” she said, too unsophisticated -to feel embarrassed at receiving a man at -night in a house where she lived alone with a servant. -“Of course you knew how lonely I must be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal is good company, isn’t she?” he asked, holding -her hand and staring hard at her. “But I should -think she’d miss you more than you’d miss her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience withdrew her hand abruptly. Her face -wore its accustomed cold gravity, contradicted by the -eager eyes of youth. “Won’t you sit down? I hope -Hal has missed me, but she has hardly had time to tell -you so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hasn’t she? She has had several hours, and I -suppose you know by this time how fast she can talk. -She’s awfully bright, don’t you think so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed she is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She isn’t a beauty like May, nor intellectual like -Honora, but you can’t have everything—that is, -everybody can’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does any one?” asked Patience, indifferently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal says you are the cleverest woman she has ever -met,—and—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid Hal is carried away by the enthusiasms -of the moment,” said Patience, as he paused. She was -highly gratified, nevertheless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“—you are the prettiest woman I ever saw,” he -continued, as if she had not spoken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Patience, angrily, but -the colour flew to her face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean it,” and indisputably his eyes spoke admiration. -“I’ve thought of no one else since I was here. -I haven’t come before, because there’s nothing in calling -on your sister, and that’s what it would have -amounted to. But, you see, I’m here the very night -she left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are very flattering.” Patience was beginning -to feel vaguely uncomfortable. She realised that the -lore gathered from novels was valueless in a practical -emergency, and longed for the experience of Hal. “I -understand that you are considered fascinating, and -I suppose most women do like to be flattered.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never paid a woman a compliment before in my -life,” he said, unblushingly. “You don’t look a bit like -any woman I ever saw. Hal says you look like a -‘white star on a dark night,’ and that’s about the size -of it. You have such lovely hair and skin. I’ve -always rather admired plump women, but your slenderness -suits you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please talk about something else! I am not -used to such stuff, and I don’t like it. Suppose you -talk about yourself.” (She had read that man could ever -be beguiled by this bait.) “Are you as fond of travel -as Hal is?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never travel,” he said shortly. “When I find -a comfortable place I stay in it. Westchester County -suits me down to the ground.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean to say that you can travel and don’t? -that you don’t care at all to see the beautiful things in -Europe?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my mother always brings home a lot of photographs -and things, and that’s all I want of it. I -never could understand why Americans are so restless. -I’m sick of the very sound of Europe, anyway.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you fond of New York?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“New York is the centre of the earth, and full of -pretty—interesting things, dontcherknow? I’ve had -some gay times there, I can tell you. But I’ve -settled down now, and prefer Westchester County to -any place on earth. I’d rather be behind or on -a horse than anything else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you care for society?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate it. One winter was enough for me. Wild -horses wouldn’t drag me into a ball-room again. Of -course when the house is full of company in summer -I like that well enough. I play billiards with the men -and spoon—flirt with the girls and the pretty married -women; but I’m just as contented when they’ve all -cleared out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to say that you stay in the country -by yourself all winter? What do you do? Read?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“N-o-o-o. I don’t care much about books. We -have a big farm and I run it, and I skate and drive -and ride and smoke—Oh, there’s plenty to do. -Occasionally I go to town and have a little fun.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you call fun if you don’t like society,—the -theatre?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The theatre!” he laughed. “I never sat out -a play in my life. Oh, I don’t know you well enough -to tell you everything yet. Sometime, I’ll tell you -a lot of funny things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you enjoy the newspapers in winter,” said -Patience, hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I read even the advertisements. The papers -are all the reading any man wants. There are two or -three good sensational stories every day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t read those,” said Patience, disgustedly. -This idol appeared to be clay straight up to his hair. -“I like to read the big news and Mr. Field’s editorials.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you need educating. I read those too—not -Field; he’s too much for me. But I didn’t come -here to talk about newspapers—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t you smoke a cigar?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, thanks. I smoked all the way down, and in -the cab too, for that matter—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are the horses standing out there in the cold? -Wouldn’t you like to tell him to take them to the -barn?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose he can look after his own horses. -They’re nothing but old hacks, anyhow.” He leaned -forward abruptly and took her hand, pressing it closely. -“Oh!” he said. “I’ve been wild to see you again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience attempted to jerk her hand away, acutely -conscious of a desire to return his clasp. She did the -worst thing possible, but the only thing that could be -expected: she lost her head. “I don’t like you to do -that,” she exclaimed. “Let me go! What do you -mean, anyhow?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That you are the loveliest woman I ever saw. I -have been wild about you—” He had taken her -other hand, and his face was close to hers. He had -lowered his lids slightly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you think that because I am alone here you -can say what you like?” she cried passionately. “You -would not dare act like this with one of your mother’s -guests!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He laughed disagreeably. “But -what is the use of being a goose—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sprang to her feet, overturning her chair: -but she only succeeded in pulling him to his feet also; -he would not release her hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you would leave the house,” she said, stamping -her foot. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll call Ellen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t make a goose of yourself. And I’m not -afraid of a servant. I’m not going to murder you—nor -anything else. Only,—do you drive all men wild -like this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know anything about men,” almost sobbed -Patience, “and I don’t want to. Will you go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I won’t.” He released her hands suddenly; -and, as she made a spring for the door, flung his arms -about her. She ducked her head and fought him, but -he kissed her cheeks and brow and hair. His lips -burnt her delicate skin, his powerful embrace seemed -absorbing her. She was filled with fury and loathing, -but the blood pounded in her ears, and the very air -seemed humming. The man’s magnetism was purely -animal, but it was a tremendous force.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a brute, a beast!” she sobbed. “Let me -go! Let me go!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t,” he muttered. He too had lost his head. -“I’ll not leave you.” He strove to reach her mouth. -She managed to disengage her right arm, and clinching -her hand hit him a smart blow in the face. He laughed, -and caught her hand, holding it out at arm’s length.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ellen!” she cried. As she lifted her head to call -he was quick to see his advantage. His mouth closed -suddenly on hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The room swam round her. She ceased to struggle. -Her feet had touched that nether world where the -electrical forces of the universe appear to be generated, -and its wonder—not the man—conquered her. She -shook horribly. She felt a tumultuous impulse to spring -upon her ideals and beat them in the face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Heavy footfalls sounded in the kitchen hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is Ellen!” she gasped, wrenching herself -free. The man stamped his foot. He looked hideous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go!” said Patience. “Go, just as fast as you can, -and don’t you ever come here again. If you do, it -won’t do you any good, for you’ll not see me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she ran upstairs and locked her door loudly.</p> - -<h2>XX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>For some time she walked rapidly up and down, pressing -her hands to her hot face. Chaos was in her. She -could not think. She only felt that she wanted to die, -and preferred the river. She poured water into a -basin and plunged her face into it again and again. -The water had the chill of midwinter, and sent the -blood from her brain; but she felt no cleaner. Still, -her brain was no longer racing like a screw out of water, -and she sat down to think. It was her trend of mind -to face all questions with the least possible delay, and -she looked at herself squarely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So,” she thought, “I am the daughter of Madge -Sparhawk, after all. The horror of that night left me -as I was made. Three years with the best woman the -sun ever shone on only put the real me to sleep for a -time. All my ideals were the vagaries of my imagination, -a sort of unwritten book, of the nature of those -that geniuses write, who spend their leisure hours in -debauchery. I am no better than Rosita. I have not -even the excuse of love—if I had—if it had been -Him—I might perhaps—perhaps—look upon passion -as a natural thing. Certainly it is not disagreeable,” and -she laughed unpleasantly. “But I despised this man. -He has not the brain of a calf nor the principle of a -savage, and yet it is he that made me forget every ideal -I ever cherished. If I met Him now, I would not -insult him with the gift of myself. . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Beverly Peele came in here now I verily believe -that I should kiss him again. What—what is human -nature made of? I have the blood of refined and enlightened -ancestors in my veins—I know that. I have -seen nothing of sexual sin that did not make me abhor -it. Barring my mother, I had the best of influences in -Monterey, and I knew the difference. I have—or had—a -natural tendency toward all that was refined and -uplifting. I was even sure I had a soul. My brain is -better, and better furnished, than that of the average -woman of my age. And yet, at the first touch, I -crumble like an old corpse exposed to air. I am simply -a body with a mental annex, and the one appears -to be independent of the other.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the world all vile?” she continued, resuming -her restless walk. “This man attacked me as if he -had no anticipation of a rebuff. And yet I am the -friend of his sister, the adopted daughter of his -mother’s cousin, and, he has every reason to think, -of irreproachable life. If the world—his mother’s -world—were not full of such women as he imagined -me to be—he would never have taken so much for -granted. He acted as if he thought me a fool, and I -appear to be remarkably green. I am certainly learning. -Oh—the brute! the brute!” And she flung -herself on the bed and burst into violent weeping, which -lasted until she was so exhausted that she fell asleep -without disrobing.</p> - -<h2>XXI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning her head ached violently. She -started for the woods, but turned back. They held her -lost ideals. She sat all day by the window, looking -at the Hudson, listless, and mentally nauseated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the afternoon a special messenger brought a -note of abject apology from Beverly Peele. She burnt -it half read and told the man there was no answer. -There is only one thing a woman scorns more than a -man’s insult, and that is his apology.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day he called, but was refused admission -by the sturdy Ellen. Patience spent the day on Hog -Heights. On the following day he called again, with -the same result. The next day Hal came.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the row between you and Bev?” she -exclaimed, before she had seated herself. “He says -you’ve taken a dislike to him, and is in the most -beastly temper about it. I never saw him so cut up. -He’s sent me here to patch it up and give you this -letter. Do tell me what is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Patience, grimly. “The -idea of his sending his sister to patch it up!” And she -gave an account of Mr. Peele’s performance, woman-like -omitting her own momentary forbearance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal listened with an amused smile. “So Bev made -a bad break,” she remarked when Patience had concluded. -“I’m not surprised, for he’s pretty hot-headed, -and head over ears in love. You mustn’t -take life so tragically. I’ve had several weird experiences -myself, although I’m not the kind that men lose -their head about as a rule; only given the hour and -the occasion, some men will lose their head about any -woman. Perhaps I should have said New York men. -They are a rare and lovely species. They admire God -because he made himself of their gender and knew -what he was about when he invented woman. I was -out on a sleighing party one moonlight night last winter, -and on the back seat with a man I’d never seen out of -a ball-room before. The way that man’s legs and -arms flew round that sleigh made my hair curl. You -see, a lot of us are fast, but then plenty of us are not. -The trouble is that the men can’t discriminate, as we -look pretty much alike on the outside. They’re not a -very clever lot—our society men—and they don’t -learn much until they’ve been taught. Then when -they are forced to believe in your virtue they feel -rather sorry for you, and later on are apt to propose—if -you have any money. Bev would propose to you if -you were living in a tent and clad in a gunny sack. -He would have preferred things the other way—it’s -so much less trouble—but as he can’t, he won’t stop at -any such trifling nuisance as matrimony. Oh, men are -a lovely lot! Still, the world would be a pretty stupid -place without them. You’ll learn to manage them in -time, and then they’ll only amuse you. They are not -really so bad at heart—they’ve been badly educated. -I know four married women of the type we call ‘friskies,’ -whom my mother would shudder at the thought of -excluding from her visiting list, and whom I’d bet my -new Paquin trunk, several men I know have had affairs -with. So what can you expect of a man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is the world rotten?” asked Patience, in disgust.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s just about half and half. I know as many -good women as bad. Half the women in society are -good wives and devoted mothers. The other half, -girls and married women, old and young, are no better -than your Rosita. Sometimes their motives are no -higher. Usually, though, it’s craving for excitement. -I don’t blame those much myself. The most fascinating -woman I know is larky. She as much as told me so. -Some of the confessions I’ve had from married women -would make you gasp. Well—let’s quit the subject. -Promise me you’ll forgive Bev.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall not. I hate him. I shall never look at -him again if I can help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear, dear, you are young! And I do so want -you for a sister. May is such a fool, and I do hate -Honora.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wouldn’t have me loathe myself for the sake -of being your sister, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I wouldn’t have you marry Bev if you -couldn’t like him; but I believe you really do, only -things haven’t turned out as you planned in that innocent -little skull of yours. Bev is a good fellow, as men -go. You’ll get used to him and his kind in the course -of time, and then you’ll enjoy life in a calm practical -way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there no other way?” asked Patience, bitterly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not in my experience. And if you stay here in -your woods you’ll get tired of your ideals after a while. -You can’t live on ideals—the human constitution isn’t -made that way. If it was there’d be no such thing as -society. We’d live in caves and bay the moon. So -you’d better come into the world, Patience dear, and -accept it as it is, and drain it for all it’s worth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, hush! You are too good to talk like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good?—what is good? I am the result of my -surroundings—a little better than some, a little worse -than others. So was Cousin Harriet. So is La Rosita. -I’m not cynical. I merely see life—my section of -it—exactly as it is. If you become a newspaper -woman you’ll probably receive a succession of shocks. -As nearly as I can make out they’re about like us—half -and half. I became quite chummy with a newspaper -woman, once, crossing the Atlantic. She was -awfully pretty, and, as nearly as one woman can judge -of another, perfectly proper. She related some wild -and weird experiences she had had with men. Yours -would probably be wilder and weirder, as you appear -to be possessed of an unholy fascination; and in a year -or two you’ll be a beauty. All you want is a little more -figure and style—or rather clothes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if I’m to have wild and weird experiences I -prefer to have them with men of brains, not with a lot -of empty-headed society men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t generalise too freely, my dear. There are -newspaper men and newspaper men,—according to -this girl I’ve just told you of. Some are brainy, some -are merely bright; some are gentlemen, most are -common beyond words. And, as she said—after -you’ve worked with man in his shirt sleeves, you don’t -have many illusions about the animal left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not one, and I lost them in an hour. Your -brother is supposed to be a gentleman with a long -array of ancestors, and he acted like a wild Indian.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, he merely lost his head. That was a -compliment to you, and you should not be too hard on -a man in those circumstances. He won’t do it again, -I’m sure of that. He has some control. I warned -him before he came not to pun, and he says he didn’t, -not once. Now, tell me one thing—Don’t you like -him just a little?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Patience; but she flushed to her hair, -and Hal, with her uncanny wisdom, said no more.</p> - -<h2>XXII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day Patience went to the woods for the -first time since Beverly Peele’s onslaught. A natural -reaction had lifted her spirits out of the slough, and she -turned to nature, as ever. She could never be the same -again, she thought with a sigh; and once more she -must readjust herself. She wondered if any girl had -ever done so much readjusting in an equal number of -years.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woods were no longer a scene of enchantment. -The ice had melted. The trees were grey and naked -again. The ground was slush, and nasty to walk upon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the spring must come in time,” she thought; -“and then perhaps I’ll feel new too—but not the -same, for like the spring I shall have other seasons -behind me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But—perhaps—who knows?—I may be the better -for knowing myself. I was in a fool’s paradise -before. Perhaps I was in danger of becoming an -egoist, and imagining myself made of finer fibre than -other women. Great writers show that the same brute -is in all of us, and I can believe it. Some work it off -in religion, but the majority don’t. There seems to be -some tremendous magnetic force in the Universe that -makes the human race nine-tenths Love—for want of -a better name. Circumstances and ancestors determine -the direction of it. It seems too bad that Civilisation -has not done more for us than to give us the -analytical mind which understands and rebels, and no -more, at the inheritance of the savage. But now that -I know myself, perhaps I can go forward more surely -on the path to the higher altitudes of life. I should -like to be as good as auntie, and worldly-wise beside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose my horrid experience with this man will -make me more exacting with all men. I think I could -not blunder into matrimony, as some women do. I feel -as if I never wanted to see another man, but that -impression will pass—all impressions appear to pass. -I may even want to meet Him after a time, and perhaps -he will forgive. Shouldn’t be surprised if he’d want -a good deal of forgiveness himself. Meanwhile I can -work, and learn all I can of what life means, anyway. -I’ll go to Mr. Field—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The soft ground echoed no footfalls, but Patience -suddenly became aware that some one was approaching -her. She turned, and saw Beverly Peele.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='book3'></a>BOOK III</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>I</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do hope you’ll make a hit, Patience,” said Hal, -regarding her critically. “The public, even the little -public of a garden party, is a thing you can’t bet on, -but you certainly are stunning. If ever papa loses his -fortune, in the curious American way, I shall follow the -ever seductive example of the English aristocracy and -go in for dressmaking. That frock is a triumph of art, -if I do say it myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience revolved slowly before the Psyche mirror -which stood between two open windows in one corner -of Hal’s pretty terra-cotta bedroom. She too was -pleased with the airy concoction of violet and white. -On a chair lay a picture hat, another bird of the same -feather. Hal placed it on Patience’s head, a little -back, and the violet velvet of the interior made a very -effective frame for the soft ashen hair and white skin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You certainly carry yourself well,” continued Hal, -“and before long you will acquire an air. Always -keep in mind that <span class='it'>that</span> is the most important thing in -life—our life—to acquire. But you look like a lily, -a purple and white forest lily.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t the faintest idea what to talk to fashionable -people about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t be too clever—don’t frighten the men and -antagonise the women. You see, you’re not known at -all, so people won’t begin by being afraid of you—as -they would if they knew all that went on in that pretty -skull of yours. Just be Mrs. Beverly Peele. Nobody -would ever suspect Bev of marrying a clever woman. -You can’t do the artless and infantile, like May: your -face is too strong; but you can be unsophisticated, -and that always goes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not unsophisticated!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t look like that. All the light seems to -go out of your skin. I mean give everybody the impression -that you have everything to learn, and that -each, individually, can teach it all. It’s awfully fetching. -That is what has made May’s success. Of course -you wouldn’t be another May, if you could; but you -want to begin at the beginning—don’t you know? -You must let society feel that it gives you everything, tells -you everything. Then it will love you. But if it suspects -that you are alien—the least little bit—then there -will be the devil to pay. Of course a few of the best -sort would like you, but I’m set on your making a hit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I’ll never take,” said Patience, with a -sigh, “but I am wild to see Vanity Fair, all the same. -It must be great fun—all that brilliancy and life. -But somehow I don’t feel in tune with the people I -have met, so far.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s natural. You are not acclimatised yet, -so to speak. Society is a distinctly foreign country to -those that have not been brought up in it. Just sit -down on the edge of that chair and rest while I take a -look at myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“White is certainly my day colour,” she continued, -revolving in her turn before the mirror. “It is wonderful -how it clears the skin, especially with a touch of -blue near the face. Pink would make me as yellow as -October, and green would suggest thirty-five. Your -grey matter will be spared the wear and tear of The -Study of Colour, but if I hadn’t reduced it to a fine -art, I’d have had to turn literary or something when -May came out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look just like a fairy! I never saw anything -so dainty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, of course; I’m so little and light that I have to -work the fairy racket for all it’s worth. It’s a heavenly -day, isn’t it? The country’s got its best spring clothes -on, sure enough.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls leaned out of each of the windows in turn, -scrutinising the grounds. In front and on both sides -of the house the land rolled away in great irregular -waves. Woods were in the sudden hollows, on the -lofty knolls; between, shelving expanses of green, bare -but for an occasional oak or elm. Beside the driveway -was a long narrow avenue of elms, down which two -might pace shoulder to shoulder, and no more. In a -deep hollow on the right was the orchard, a riot of -pink and white. The immediate grounds were small -and trim, and fragrant with the flowers of civilisation; -out on the hills beyond the wild-flowers and tall grass, -the locust and hawthorn, had their way. Behind all -flowed the Hudson under the green Palisades, its surface -gay with sail and steamboat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A dancing booth had been erected on one of the -lawns, and the musicians were already assembling under -the silken curtains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It looks very well,” said Hal, “and you couldn’t -have a more perfect day for your <span class='it'>début</span>. Not that I -care much for garden parties; the fresh air makes me -sleepy, and there’s no concentration, as it were—as -there is in a ball-room, don’t you know? But mamma -decreed that the world should make your acquaintance -out of doors, and that is the end of it. I wonder if you’ll -manage to induce Bev to go to town for the winter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope so! It will be horribly dull to stay here all -winter, with all of you away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s an edifying sentiment for a bride of three -months. However, I agree with you. I’d go mad -shut up in a country house in winter with the most -fascinating man that ever breathed. And the dickens -of it is, mamma always takes his part, whether he’s -wrong or right. She’ll preach wifely duty to you until -you’d live on a desert island to get rid of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve heard her,” said Patience, gloomily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wondered if that was what she was at in the -library yesterday. When mamma has her chin well up -and her lower lip well out I can tell at long range that -she’s embracing the cause of virtue. But she tackled -you rather early in the game, considering you haven’t -made any notable break as yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wouldn’t go driving with Beverly yesterday,—the -sun makes my head ache,—and I’d also begged -him to take me to the theatre to see Rosita, and he -wouldn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’ll never get Bev to the theatre. We’ll -go by ourselves to a matinée. However, it’s better than -being a newspaper woman on several dollars a week—come -now, own up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I enjoyed Florida and New Orleans and Canada -immensely.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That was a tremendous concession for Bev to -make—he detests travelling. He certainly is in love; -but I imagine he expects you to live on that same concession -for some time to come—thinks it’s your turn -to do the self-sacrificing act. Such is man. Anyhow, -I’m glad it’s all turned out so comfortably, and that you -are here, and that all is settled—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to ask you something. I couldn’t get it -out of Beverly. Did your mother make a very violent -objection to his marrying me? Of course I am a social -nobody, and she must have made great plans for her -only son. She didn’t say anything when she came to -call; but, you see, she didn’t call until three days -before the wedding, and Beverly’s and your excuses -were not very good.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, of course she raised Cain,” said Miss Peele, -easily; “that was to be expected. But papa put his -foot down and said he was glad to have Beverly marry -a clever woman: it might be the making of him. And -<span class='it'>I</span> just fought! Of course I’d told papa that you were -as high bred as any woman in America, and that you’d -look a swell in less than no time. That weighed heavy -with him, for, in his opinion, God may have made himself -first, but he made the Peeles next, and no mistake. -And Bev! He went into the most awful tantrums you -ever saw. I think that was what brought mamma -round—she was afraid he’d burst a blood-vessel. -When she wrote and asked Miss Beale to live with you -I knew the day was won. And now that you are Mrs. -Beverly Peele she’ll respect you accordingly, although -you’ll have some lively tussles. But make her think -you adore Bev, and you’ll pull through. Suppose we -go down now. Tra-la-la! I wish it were over.”</p> - -<h2>II</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls descended the twisted stair into the wide -hall. All the doors and windows were open, and the -soft air blew through the great house, lifting the lace -and silken curtains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A girl, looking like a large butterfly, in her yellow -frock, was fluttering about the hall amidst the palms -and the huge vases of flowers. Her skin was of matchless -tints, her large blue eyes as guileless as those of an -infant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! Oh!” she cried, as Hal and Patience reached -the first landing, “how perfectly sweet! Hal, is my -frock all right in the back? My things never fit quite -as well as yours do. Isn’t Patience too fetching for -words? I wish I was just white like that. How perfectly -funny that we should be giving a garden party for -Bev’s wife! Who would have thought it last year? -Isn’t it odd how things do happen? And hasn’t -Honora been perfectly lovely about it? I always knew -she didn’t care. I wonder if any decent men will -come up! It’s so hard—Hal, <span class='it'>does</span> my frock wrinkle -in the back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, no,” drawled Hal, without looking at her. -She glanced at the tall clock in an angle. “They’ll -be here in ten minutes, now—Oh—h—h!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A portière was pushed aside, and a girl entered the -hall from a dark background of books and heavy curtains. -She was far above the ordinary height of woman, -and extremely slender. Golden hair clustered about a -long face, pale rather than white. The large azure eyes -had the extraordinary clarity of childhood, and an -expression of perfect purity. The nose was long, the -mouth thin, but well curved and very red. She wore a -clinging gown of white crêpe and a large knot of blue -wild-flowers at her belt. She moved slowly forward, -managing her long limbs with much dexterity, but -could hardly be called graceful. Patience thought her -the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and murmured -her admiration to Hal, who snorted in a gentle, -ladylike way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They will be here in a moment, I suppose,” said -Honora, wearily. “I think I shall not go out. I’ll -stay in the drawing-room and entertain the older people. -Some one must attend to them, and I really prefer the -house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are always so amiable,” said Hal, drily, “and -you certainly won’t get freckled.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is true that I don’t like freckles,” said Honora, -calmly, “and I do like the older people. Even you, -when you have a few white hairs, may become more or -less interesting. Patience, dear, you look very lovely. -You must let me kiss you.” She bent her cool lips to -the brow of the bride, swaying over her. Her voice -could not be described by any adjective devoid of the -letter L. It was liquid, silvery, cold, light.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She certainly is a stunning-looking woman,” said -Hal, as Honora passed into the drawing-room, “but -she’s a whole rattlesnake, and no mistake. I’ve never -seen her strike real hard yet; she merely spits occasionally, -and always in that amiable way. You can -imagine how subtle she is, and what a dangerous force -such self-control is. I shall never understand how she -failed to get Bev.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps, as May suggests, she didn’t want him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, didn’t she! Just wait! you’ll hear from her -yet. There’s the whistle. The train’ll be here in -three minutes. Let us group ourselves gracefully under -Peele the First.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went into the large white drawing-room, whose -old-fashioned woodwork was as it had been nearly three -hundred years ago, even to the heavy shutters over the -small-paned windows. The ceiling was fretted with -floral designs, executed in <span class='it'>papier mâché</span>, surrounding a -<span class='it'>bas relief</span> of “our well beloved Whyte Peele,” who had -received the grant of these many acres from James the -First. All the woodwork was painted white, and carved. -The furniture, modern, but of colonial design, was upholstered -in pale pink and blue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beyond a side hall was a long dining-room panelled -to the ceiling in oak, and hung on all sides with dead -and living Peeles. The carved oaken table was spread -with the light unsubstantial feast of the modern time. -Adjoining the dining-room were two small reception-rooms -looking upon the terrace at the back of the -rambling old house. In the middle of this hall, under -the carved twisted stair, was a round enclosure whose -door opened upon a well, from whence a secret passage -led to the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Peele swept across the hall from the dining-room, -and raising her lorgnette, considered Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You look very well,” she said, coldly. “Don’t get -nervous, please; it is the one thing for which people -have no toleration. Where is Beverly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has gone for a drive. You know he does not -like entertainments.” Patience’s nerves were muttering, -and her mother-in-law’s admonition was not of the -nature of balm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Peele raised her brows. “It is odd that a bride -should have so little influence over her husband,” she -remarked; and Patience was now in that equable frame -of mind which carries one through the severe ordeals -of life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How she did live through that ordeal of introduction -to some five hundred people she never knew. Fortunately, -all but the neighbours arrived on the special -train which had been sent for them, and there was little -for her to do but smile and bend her head as Mrs. -Peele named her new daughter-in-law to her guests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And whatever might be that exalted dame’s private -opinion of her son’s choice, whatever methods she -might employ in untrammelled domestic hours to make -her disapproval felt, to the world she assumed her habitual -air of being supremely content with all that pertained -to the house of Peele. Had Patience been the daughter -of a belted earl she could not have been presented to -New York with a haughtier pride, a calmer assumption -that New York must embrace with gratitude and enthusiasm -this opportunity to meet the daughter-in-law of -the Gardiner Peeles.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her manner gave Patience confidence after a time. -Her own pride had already conquered diffidence; and -trying as the long ordeal was, she thrilled a little at the -sudden realisation of half-formed ambitions. There -was no taint of the snob in her; some echo-voice of -other generations lifted itself out of the inherited impressions -which had moulded her brain cells, and protested -against its descendant ranking below the first of -the land.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Many of the guests were politely indifferent to the -honour provided for them; the girls stared at her in a -manner calculated to upset any <span class='it'>débutante’s</span> equilibrium; -but the gracious kindness of others and the languid -admiration of the men kept her in poise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The neighbours arrived shortly after the train, and it -was an hour before the greater part of the company -had dispersed over the grounds, and Patience could sit -down. Mrs. Peele remained in the drawing-room with -some eight or ten people, and as Hal and May had -both disappeared, Patience stayed with her mother-in-law, -not knowing where to go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She thought the girls very forbidding with their pert -noses and keen eyes, although she admired their luminous -skin and splendid grooming, striking even in the -airy attire of spring. The older women looked as if -they would patronise her did Mrs. Peele withdraw her -protecting wing, and one man, passing the window, -inserted a monocle and regarded her deliberately. -Suddenly Patience experienced a sensation of profound -loneliness. No force in life is surer of touch than the -subtle play of spirit on spirit, and Patience read that -these people did not like her and never would, that -they recognised the alien who would regard their world -spectacularly, never acquire their comic seriousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you fond of golf, Mrs. Peele?” asked one girl, -languidly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never have played golf.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl raised her brows. “Really! Are you fond -of tennis?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have never played tennis.” Patience repressed -a smile as the girl looked frankly shocked. Still the -guest was evidently determined to be amiable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope you don’t think it frivolous?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, I should like to learn all those things very -much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Miss Peele can teach you. She is awfully -clever at all those things. Don’t you think Miss Mairs -looks like Mary Anderson?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mary Anderson?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, the actress, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have never seen her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girl was visibly embarrassed. Another, who -looked as if harbouring a grin in her straight little -mouth, came to the rescue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I do think Mr. Peele is so good-looking,” she -exclaimed, with a fine show of animation. “We all -think you are to be congratulated.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience smiled at the frank rudeness of this remark, -and said nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know Amy Murray was wild about him. She’s -not here to-day, I notice. We did think it too bad -that he wouldn’t go out. Some of the girls have met -him here, but I never have. They say he is awfully -fascinating.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, he is fascinating,” said Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What have you been doing with yourself if you -have never learned to golf nor play tennis?” asked -another girl, insolently. She was a tall girl, with a -wooden face, a tight mouth, and an “air.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I read, mostly,” said Patience, with an extremely -bored air.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mother of the third girl turned swiftly and -smiled at the bride, a humorous smile in which there -was some pity. Patience had observed her before. -She was a tall woman with a slender figure of extreme -elegance. Her dark bright face was little older than -her daughter’s. Her ease of manner was so great that -it was almost self-conscious.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, say!” she exclaimed, “don’t think we’re all -like that. The girls don’t have much time to read—that’s -true—but after they settle down they do, really. -Hal reads French novels—the little reprobate!—We -read French novels too, but a lot else besides. Oh, -really! Outsiders—the people that only know society -through the newspapers, don’t you know?—misjudge -us terribly, really. Some of the brightest women of -the world are in New York society—why shouldn’t -they be? And if the girls don’t study it’s their own -fault; they certainly have every opportunity under the -sun. I was made to study. My father was old-fashioned, -and had no nonsense about him. I always say I was -educated beyond my brains, but I’d rather have it -that way than the other. Now, I assure you I read -everything. I have a standing order on the other side -with an English and a French book-seller, to send me -every book the minute it attracts attention—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’re real intellectual, you are,” drawled -Hal’s mocking voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lady turned with a start and a little flush.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Hal!” she cried gaily, “how you do take the -starch out of one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got enough to stock a laundry, so you -needn’t worry. I’ve come to rescue my fair sister-in-law -before you talk her to death. Come, Patience.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience arose with alacrity, and followed her out of -the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you like her?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, immensely. She’s as bright as a woman can -be who has so little time to think about it. She’s a -tall and majestic pillar of Society, you know, and she -carries it—the intellect, not the pillar—round like a -chip on her shoulder. That makes me weary at times. -I’ve heard her talk for an hour without stopping. The -only thing that makes me forgive her is her slang. We -have a match occasionally.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Her daughter doesn’t look as if she used slang.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she doesn’t. She’s no earthly use whatever. -Are you enjoying yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not particularly. But it’s a lovely scene.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lawns, and knolls, and woods were kaleidoscopic -with fashionettes in gay attire, shifting continually. -There were not men enough to mar the brilliant effect. -The music of birds soared above the chatter of girls, -the sound of wood and brass. The river flashed away -into the distance, a silver girdle about Earth’s green -gown.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, very pret,” said Hal. “But come, I’m going -to introduce you to my latest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You didn’t tell me that you had a latest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve only met him a few times—he’s from Boston. -I expect I forgot about him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were walking over the lawns toward the Tea -House, a long low rustic building which stood on the -edge of the slope. A hubbub of voices floated through -the windows, peals of laughter, affected shrieks.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A lot of my intimates are there,” said Hal. “I’ve -managed to get them together. May is doing the -hostess act with her accustomed grace and charm, and -I’m taking a half hour off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went round to the front of the house and -entered. It was an airy structure of polished maple. -Little tables, each with a delicate tea-service, were -scattered about with artistic irregularity; round the -wall ran a divan, luxurious, but not too low for whaleboned -forms. On this the girls were stiffly lounging. -The men were more at their ease. All were smoking, -the girls daintily, but firmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal! Hal! sweet Queen Hal!” cried one of the -young men, rising to his feet. “I’ve been keeping -this place—directly in the middle—for you. See, it -shall be a throne.” He piled three cushions atop, and -with exaggerated homage led her forward amidst the -ejaculatory applause of the others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t Norry too witty?” said one girl to Patience, as -she made room for her, “and so original! Whoever -else would have thought of such a thing?—although -Hal ought to be a queen, don’t you think so? We -just rave about her. Do you smoke? try my kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, thankful that at last she could do something -like these people, accepted the cigarette. During -her three months’ trip she had not smoked, as Beverly -thought it shocking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Wynne,” cried Hal, suddenly, “come over -here and talk to my sister-in-law. Patience, this is -the young man from Boston, famous as the only New -Englander whose ancestors did not come over on the -‘May Flower.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A man with a smooth serious face rose from his -cushions and came forward.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Awfully good-looking,” murmured the girl who had -proffered the cigarette, “and wonderfully smart, considering -he’s not a New Yorker. It’s too bad he’s so -beastly poor, for he’s terribly <span class='it'>épris</span> with Hal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The young man, who had paused a moment to speak -with Hal, inserted himself as best he could between -Patience and her new acquaintance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad you are here,” murmured the bride. -“You do not look quite at home, and I am not, -either.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled with instant sympathy. “Oh, I don’t -care very much for society, and I don’t like to see -women smoke. It’s an absurd prejudice to have in -these progressive days, but I can’t help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean you don’t like to see Miss Peele smoke,” -said Patience, mischievously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flushed, then laughed. “Well, perhaps that is -it. They are all charming, these girls, but there is -something about Miss Peele that distinguishes her. -Did you ever notice it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes. She is herself, and these others are -twelve for a dozen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is it.” He glanced about at the girls in their -bright gowns, which clung to their tiny waists and hips, -their narrow chests and modest busts, with the wrinkleless -perfection that has made the modern milliner the -god he is. Their polished skin and brilliant shallow -eyes, their elegant sexless forms, their haughty poise -and supercilious air, laid aside among themselves but -always in reserve, their consciousness of caste, were -the several parts of a unique and homogeneous effect, -which, Patience confided to Mr. Wynne, must mark -out the New York girl in whatever wilds she trod.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it does,” he said. “The New York girl is <span class='it'>sui -generis</span>, and so thoroughly artificial a product that it -seems incredible she can exist through another generation. -I will venture to predict that the species will be -extinct in three, and that American women of a larger -and more human type will gradually be drawn into New -York, and found a new race, so to speak. Why, it -seems to me that the children of these women must -be pigmies—imagine one of those girls being the -mother of a man. It is well that New York is not -America.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Involuntarily Patience’s eyes wandered to Hal. Her -waist was as small, her figure as unwomanly as the -others.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is true,” said Wynne, answering her thought; -“but she is so charming that one is quite willing she -should do nothing further for the human race.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience burst into a light laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the matter?” asked Wynne.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It suddenly struck me—the almost comical difference -between these girls and the ‘Y’s,’ and the ‘King’s -Daughters.’ It does not seem possible that such types -can exist within ten miles of each other. I should -explain that I have passed the last three years in a -country town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is odd how religion holds its own in those small -places. It is opera, theatre, balls, Browning societies, -everything to those people shut out of the manifold distractions -of cities. Religion seems to be the one excitement -of the restricted life. Human nature demands -some sort of emotional outlet—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth are you two talking about?” cried -the girl on the other side. “Will you have another -cigarette, Mrs. Beverly?—that is what we shall all call -you, you know. Mr. Wynne, please talk to me a while. -Isn’t this Tea House too sweet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is more,—it is angelic,” said Wynne, gravely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! you’re guying!” Even her voice pouted. -“Oh! please shake those ashes off my gown—quick!—thanks. -Oh, your eyes are grey. I thought they -were brown. I’m afraid of grey eyes, aren’t you, Mrs. -Beverly—Oh, dear! your eyes are grey too. What -ever shall I do?” and she cast up her hands. Even -her sleek hair seemed to quiver.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is the misfortune of the American race to run to -grey eyes,” said Wynne. “Habit should have steeled -you by this time—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he made a pun! he made a pun!” cried the -girl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not!—I beg pardon, but I never did such -a thing in my life,” cried Wynne, indignantly; and -Patience felt suddenly depressed, although she too had -found a friend in habit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal rose while the girl was lisping mock apologies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve got to go,” she said. “Isn’t it hateful? But -I must go and do my duty. Patience, you must -come too. Why are you blocking the doorway, Mr. -Wynne?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really? Well, bye-bye;” and the three went off, -followed by a gentle chorus of regrets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, my dear,” said Hal, “there is a group -of people over there looking hideously bored. You -go and cheer them up, while I do my duty by those -austere and venerable dames who are staring through -their lorgnettes at the dining-room windows—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Hal, I can’t! Don’t send me to those people -alone. What can I say to them?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience, my dear, this is a world of woe. One -day you will be châtelaine of this place and be giving -garden-parties on your own account, so you’d better -take the kindergarten course, and be thankful for the -chance. Go on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience walked unwillingly over to a group of four -women seated under a drooping oak. She had forgotten -the names of nine tenths of the guests, but she -recognised Mrs. Laurence Gibbs, a plain rather dowdy -little woman with sad face and abstracted gaze. Beside -her on the rustic seat was a woman who gave a -dominant impression of teeth: they fairly flashed in the -shadows. In a chair sat a woman of remarkable prettiness. -She would have been a beauty had her features -been larger, so regular were they, so sweet her expression, -so soft her colouring of pink and white and brown, -so tall and full her figure. In another chair was a -young woman of no beauty but much distinction. Her -prematurely white hair was curled and tied at the base -of her head with a black ribbon, realising an eighteenth -century effect. Her face was dark and brilliant. She -sat forward, her slim figure full of suppressed energy. -She had been talking with much animation, but as -Patience approached she paused abruptly. The pretty -woman burst into a merry laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Lafarge was just remarking what hideous -bores garden parties are,” she said audaciously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you needn’t mind me,” said Patience, sitting -down on the grass, as there was no other seat. “I -quite agree with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Peele,” said -Mrs. Lafarge, “and awfully mean of you, Mary Gallatin. -Of course this is one of the loveliest places on the -Hudson, and I love to come here; but there are not -enough men. That’s the whole trouble.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That always seems to be the cry with you American -women,” said she of the teeth. “You have no resources. -You should be independent of men. They -seem to be of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps you are driven to resources in Russia,” -said Mrs. Gallatin, sweetly, “but your observation is -faulty. We are spoiled over here, and that is the reason -we grumble occasionally.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see we haven’t a large leisure class, as you -have,” said Mrs. Gibbs, hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I really think the reason men avoid garden parties -is that they are afraid they might be betrayed into sentiment,” -broke in Mrs. Lafarge. “They do protect -themselves so fiercely. How did you ever make Tom -Gallatin propose, Mary dear? He had the most ideal -bachelor apartment in New York, and entrenched -himself as in a fortress.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, one or two fall by the wayside every year, -you know, and this time Gally happened to stumble -over me. Poor Gally, he told me yesterday that he -hadn’t seen me to speak to for a month. The idea -of the lower classes grumbling. I should like to know -who works as hard as we do. How do you manage to -do the society and the charity, both?” she asked of -Mrs. Gibbs. “Does Mr. Gibbs ever see <span class='it'>you</span>?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never neglect my husband,” said Mrs. Gibbs, -sternly. “When I must neglect anything it is society. -I came to-day because I longed for a glimpse of the -country, and I have not been able to go to Woody -Cliffs yet—the poverty is so terrible this year. I wish -you would come with me sometime and see for -yourself—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God forbid! I never could stand the smells. I -give my pastor so much a year, and I really think that’s -doing one’s share. Of course if you like it, it’s another -thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like it!” cried the Russian. “You speak as if it -were her pastime. I cannot express how gratifying it -is to me to meet a serious woman occasionally in New -York society.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had a lovely time in Petersbourg,” murmured Mrs. -Gallatin. “I never met an offensive Russian inside of -the country. Poor America!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t understand,” said the foreigner, stiffly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am sure you understand English—you -express yourself so clearly. We all weep over America -occasionally, you know. It is a sort of dumping ground -for foreigners,—who sit at our feet, and abuse us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One is at liberty to abuse insolence,” said the Russian, -with suppressed wrath, “and the women of New -York are the most insolent I have ever met.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, not among ourselves—not really. We think -it insolent in outsiders to elbow their way in—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mary! Mary!” cried Mrs. Gibbs. “I hear that -you spent some years with Miss Harriet Tremont,” she -continued, addressing Patience. “She passed her -entire life in charitable work, did she not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, she did, and she enjoyed it too. Don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gallatin laughed softly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Enjoy it?” said Mrs. Gibbs. “I never have looked -at it in that way. I think it my duty to aid my miserable -fellow beings, and I am thankful that I am able to -aid them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Odd, the fads different people have,” murmured -Mrs. Gallatin. “Now mine is Russians. What is yours, -Leontine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mary, you deserve to be shaken,” exclaimed -Mrs. Lafarge, as the Russian sprang to her feet and -stalked away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t help it. She’s a boor, and I wish she’d go -back and live with a Cossack. Foreigners are all very -well on their native heath, but as soon as they are transplanted -to this side and treated with common decency -they become intolerable. They grovel at our feet, swell -because we receive them, and sneer at us behind our -backs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you have a way of irritating them, my dear,” -said Mrs. Gibbs. “You are a very naughty girl. -Won’t you sit up here by me, Mrs. Peele? I am afraid -the ground is damp. I shall ask you some time to -explain to me Miss Tremont’s methods. I often feel -sadly at sea.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear!” said Patience, “I doubt if I know -them. I just followed her blindly. I may as well -confess it—I didn’t take a very great interest in the -work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how lovely!” cried Mrs. Gallatin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sorry that I have made a mistake,” said Mrs. -Gibbs, stiffly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well—you know—there is such a thing as getting -too much of anything—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there?” Mrs. Gibbs rose, and shook out her -skirts with an absent air. “I think I will go over and -talk to Mrs. Peele;” and she walked away with an awkward -gait, her head bent forward. She certainly did -not have an “air.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear! dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Gallatin. “Just -think! you have lost the interest of Mrs. Laurence -Gibbs. She might have invited you to her exciting -musicales or her cast-iron dinners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t abuse her,” said Mrs. Lafarge. “She is -a harmless little soul, and does what she thinks is right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is happier too,” said Patience, her thoughts in -Mariaville. “It is odd, but they always are. I think -it’s because they’ve unconsciously cultivated the supremest -and most inspired form of egoism, and naturally -they get a tremendous amount of joy out of it—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hear! Hear!” cried Mrs. Gallatin. “She analyses!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear, you mustn’t do that out loud,” said Mrs. -Lafarge. “You’ll be a terrible failure if you do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That would be a pity, because you are so pretty,” -said Mrs. Gallatin, smiling. “I’ve been staring at -you whenever I’ve had the chance, and you don’t -know how many charming things I’ve heard said of -you this afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, have you really?” asked Patience, warming instantly, -as much to the kindly sympathy as to the agreeable -words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed I have. That violet against your hair and -skin makes a perfect picture of you. <span class='it'>N’est-ce pas</span>, -Leontine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It certainly does.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you are both very kind,” said Patience, with -a young impulse to be frank. “I feel so out of it all. -You see this is my first experience of this sort of thing, -and some of those girls have made me feel like a -barbarian.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They’d be glad of your freshness, not only of looks -but of mind,” said Mary Gallatin. “I should think it -would be a blessed relief to have some other sort of interest -but just this,” and she swept out her arm disdainfully. -“That’s the reason I go, go, all the time. I don’t dare -think. When you have no talent, and are not intellectual, -and not frantic about your husband, what are you -to do? There’s no other resource, in spite of that -Russian prig. I’d give a good deal to be beginning it -all again at eighteen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no spice in life without violent contrasts,” -said Mrs. Lafarge. “That’s the real reason why so -many of our good young friends are larky. The -trouble with this world is that although there is variety -enough in it, each variety travels in a different orbit. -The social scheme is all wrong, somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“True! True!” said Mrs. Gallatin, plaintively. “But -I see they are about to eat. The open air always makes -me hungry. That is variety enough for the present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they crossed the lawn she laid her arm about -Patience’s waist. “Bev doesn’t like society,” she said, -“and I’m afraid you’re not in any danger of satiety; -but don’t think out loud when you are in it. Leontine -never does, do you, Leontine? And she is clever too. -It must be delightful to be clever. Heigh-ho! Well, -you must be sure to come to see me anyhow. I feel -positive we shall be friends. Come some morning at -eleven. That is just after I have had my tub and am -back in bed again. I love to see my friends then. -Oh, dear, we must scatter. There are not two seats -together anywhere. Bye-bye.”</p> - -<h2>III</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank God they’re gone.” Hal divested herself of -her tight smart frock, got into a lawn gown, lit a cigarette, -and extended herself on the divan in her bedroom. -“Well, Patience, how did you like it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think I made the hit you expected.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“N-o-o-o, you didn’t exactly create a <span class='it'>furore</span>; but I -don’t know that any one could do that with so much -oxygen round: makes peoples so drowsy, don’t you -know? But you were admired awfully. And then you -are an unconventional beauty, and that always takes -longer. Now, May made a howling sensation, but people -are tired of her already. That type doesn’t wear. -My plain phiz wears much better, because there was -never any chance of reaction with me. Oh, dear, here -comes Bev.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A knock, and in response to Hal’s languid invitation, -Beverly entered. He was in evening clothes, and as -handsome as ever; but he looked rather sulky.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might have met me when I got home,” he -said to his wife. “I haven’t seen you since luncheon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tragic!” exclaimed Hal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was so tired I just drifted in here and fell in a -heap,” said Patience, apologetically. “My skull feels -empty, and aches inside and out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you don’t like society?” said Mr. Peele, -eagerly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, very much indeed! I think it is delightful, -delightful! Only the first time is rather trying, you -know. I met some charming people, and want to meet -them again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peele grunted, and lit his cigar. His eyes devoured -his wife’s fair face. Patience looked at Hal.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My mother says you carried yourself very well,” -remarked Mr. Peele, gracefully; “that after the first -you were quite at your ease. That was one reason I -went away: I was so afraid you’d break down, or -something.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience flushed angrily, but made no reply. She -had learned that even a slight dispute would move her -husband to a violent outbreak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She looked more to the manor born than half the -guests,” said Hal, “and if you took her out next winter -she’d become the rage—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t wish my wife to be the rage! And she is -going to stay here. If she loves me as much as I love -her she’ll be as contented with my society as I am with -hers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As if any woman ever loved a man as much as he -loved her,” remarked Miss Peele. “I am sure Patience -is no such idiot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What?” cried Beverly. Patience rose hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I’ll go and brush my hair,” she said, moving -to the door; but he sprang to his feet and stood in -front of her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me!” he cried, his voice shaking. “Don’t -you love me as much as I love you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Beverly,” she said, impatiently, “how can -you get into such tempers about nothing? You have -asked me if I loved you about nine thousand times -since we were married. How am I to know how much -you love me? Have you a plummet and line about -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are dodging the question. And you have -never asked me if I loved you—not once—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience slipped past him and ran down the hall to her -room. Before she could close the door he was beside -her. He caught her in his arms and kissed her violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall always be mad about you,” he said. “And -I believe you are growing cold. You have not been -the same lately. Sometimes I think that you shrink -from me as you did at first. Tell me what I have -done. I’d sell my soul to keep you. If you are tired -of me, I’ll kill myself—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She disengaged herself. “Listen,” she said; “I’ve -tried to explain—but you don’t seem to understand—that -I didn’t want to fall in love with you—not in that -way. That should not come first. Then when I found -myself made of common clay, I said that I would forget -that I had ever been Patience Sparhawk, and begin life -again as Mrs. Beverly Peele. Novelty helped me; and -when one is travelling, one’s ego appears to be dissolved -into the changing scene—one is simply a sensitised -plate. But now I am beginning to feel like -Patience Sparhawk again, and it frightens me a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly, to whom the larger part of these remarks -were pure Greek, blanched to the lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you regret it,” he stammered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t say that. I only mean that I seem to -spend life readjusting myself; and that now I seem to -be all at sea again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t love me any longer! Oh, God!” and -he flung himself on the floor, and burying his face in a -chair, groaned aloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was disgusted, but his suffering, primary as -it was, touched her. Moreover, her broad vein of philosophy -was active once more. She was by no means -prepared to leave him—the tide was ebbing very slowly. -She sat down on the chair, and lifted his face to her -lap. “There,” she said, “I am sorry I spoke. You -don’t seem to understand me. If you did, though, this -scene could never have occurred. But I love you—of -course—and I do not regret it. So get up and -bathe your eyes. It is after seven o’clock.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He kissed her hands, his face glowing again. The -words were all sufficient to him. “Then if you love -me you will see how happy I’ll make you,” he exclaimed. -“I’ll never leave you a minute I can help; -but if you stop loving me I’ll make life hell for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I thought you said you’d kill yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I would, but I’d get square with you first.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, suppose you go into your own room now, and -let me dress for dinner.”</p> - -<h2>IV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The summer passed agreeably enough. Circumstances -prevented Beverly bestowing an undue amount of his -society on his wife, and until a woman is wholly tired -of a man she retains her self respect. Moreover, -Patience chose to believe herself in love with him: -“it had been in her original estimate of herself that she -had been at fault.” She persuaded herself that she -loved him as much as she could love any man, and -she did her pathetic best to shed some glimmer of spiritual -light into a man who might have been compounded -in a laboratory, so little soul was in him. But despite -the clay which was hers, she loved it a great deal for a -time in loving it at all, for that was her nature.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went to several other garden-parties, and found -them more amusing than her own, although the young -men that frequented them were quite uninteresting: -even Beverly scintillated by contrast, for he, at least, -had a temper; these more civilised youths appeared to -have no emotions whatever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Peele Manor was full of company all summer. Patience -found the married men more entertaining than -the younger ones, although they usually made love to -her; but after she had outgrown her surprise and disapproval -of their direct and business-like methods, it -amused her to fence with them. They had more self-control -than Beverly Peele, and were a trifle more skilful, -but their general attitude was, as she expressed it -to Hal: “There’s no time to lose, dontcherknow! -Life is short, and New York’s a busy place. What the -deuce is there to wait for? Sentiment? Oh, sentiment -be hanged! It takes too much time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal was an accomplished hostess, and allowed her -guests little time to make love or to yawn. There were -constant riding and driving and yachting parties, picnics -and tennis and golf. In the evening they danced, -romped, or had impromptu “Varieties.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was fascinated with the life, although she -still had the sense of being an alien, and moments of -terrible loneliness. But she was too much of a girl not -to take a girl’s delight in the dash and glitter and picturesqueness -of society. She was not popular, although -she quickly outgrew any external points of difference; -but the essential difference was felt and resented.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the whole there was concord between herself and -her mother-in-law. Mr. Peele she barely knew. His -family saw little of him. He had not attended the wedding. -When Patience had arrived at Peele Manor after -her trip, he had kissed her formally, and remarked -that he hoped she “would make something of Beverly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was an undersized man with scant iron grey hair -whose tint seemed to have invaded his complexion. -His lips were folded on each other so closely, that -Patience watched them curiously at table: when eating -they merely moved apart as if regulated by a -spring; their expression never changed. His eyes -were dark and rather dull, his nose straight and fine, his -hands small and very white. He was not an eloquent -man at the bar; he owed his immense success to his -mastery of the law, to a devilish subtlety, and to his -skill at playing upon the weak points of human nature. -No man could so adroitly upset an “objection,” no -man so terrify a witness. It was said of him that he -played upon a jury with the consummate art of a great -musician for his instrument. He rarely lost a case.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice was very soft, his manners exquisite. He -was never known to lose his temper. His cold aristocratic -face looked the sarcophagus of buried passions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He deeply resented his children’s failure to inherit -his brain, but in his inordinate pride of birth, forgave -them, for they bore the name of Peele. Hal was his -favourite, for she, at least, was bright.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>May admired her sister-in-law “to death,” as she -phrased it, and bored her with attentions. Patience -preferred Honora, who puzzled and repelled her, but -assuredly could not be called superficial, although her -claims to intellectuality were based upon her preference -for George Eliot and George Meredith to the lighter -order of fiction, and upon her knowledge of the history -of the Catholic Church.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One day, as Patience was crossing the lawn in front -of the house, May called to her from the hall, beckoning -excitedly. She and Hal and Honora were standing by -a table on which was a saucer half full of what appeared -to be dead leaves. As Patience entered, May lifted the -saucer to her sister-in-law’s nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why? What?” asked Patience, then paused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,—what a faint, delicious, far-away perfume,” she -said after a moment. “What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>May dropped the saucer and clapped her hands. -Hal laughed as if much gratified. Honora’s eyes wandered -to the landscape with an absent and introspective -regard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” asked Patience again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, it’s dried strawberry leaves,” said May. -“Don’t you know that they say in the South that you -can’t perceive their perfume unless every drop of -blood in your veins is blue? The common people -can’t smell it at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience blushed and moved her head disdainfully, -but she thrilled with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t you come up and see my room?” said -Honora, softly. “You’ve never called on me yet, and -I think I have a very pretty room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’ll be delighted,” said Patience, who was -half consciously avoiding Beverly: Peele Manor was -without guests for a few hours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now you must tell me if you like my room as much -as you do me,” said Honora, who looked more like an -angel than ever, in a white mull frock and blue sash. -Her manner to Patience was evenly affectionate, with -an undercurrent of subtle sadness and reproach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she opened the door of her room, Patience -exclaimed with admiration. The ceiling was blue, -frescoed with golden stars, the walls with celestial -visions. A blue carpet strewn with lilies covered the -floor, fluttering curtains of blue silk and white muslin, -the old windows. From the dome of the brass bedstead -mull curtains hung like clouds. A faint odour of -incense mixed with the sweet perfumes of summer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it not beautiful?” said Honora, in a rapt voice. -“It makes me think of heaven. Does it not you? It -was dear Aunt Honora’s last Christmas gift to me. It -was so sweet of her, for of course I am only the poor -cousin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience looked at her, wondering, as she had often -done, whether the girl were a fool, or deeper than any -one of her limited experience. Honora rarely talked, -but she had reduced listening to a fine art, and was a -favourite in society. Whether she had nothing to say, -or whether she had divined that her poverty would -make eloquence unpardonable, Patience had not determined. -One thing was patent, however: she managed -her aunt, and her wants were never ignored.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now,” she said softly, “I am going to show you -something that I don’t show to every one—but you are -dear Beverly’s wife.” She folded a screen and revealed -an altar covered with cloth of silver, antique candlesticks, -and heavy silver cross.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My faith which sustains me in all the trials of life,” -whispered Honora, crossing herself. “Ah, if I could -have made dear Beverly a convert. Once he seemed -balancing—but he slipped away. I have tried to win -Hal and May to the true faith too; but we were always -so much more to each other—Beverly and I,—playmates -from childhood. I think I know him better than -anybody in the world.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience felt an interloper, a thief and an alien, but -out of her new schooling answered carelessly: “Oh, -he is awfully fond of you, but I don’t think he is inclined -to be religious. This room is too sanctified to -speak above a whisper in. Come to my room and talk -to me awhile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora opened a door by the head of her bed, and -they passed through a large lavatory, then through -Beverly’s room to that of the bride, a square room -whose windows framed patches of Hudson and Palisade, -and daintily furnished in lilac and white. A -photograph of Miss Tremont hung between the windows. -On one side were shelves containing John -Sparhawk’s library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly arose from a deep chair, where he had been -smoking and glowering upon the Hudson. Patience -caught Honora firmly by the waist and pushed her into -the most comfortable chair in the room, then with much -skill engaged her in a discussion with Beverly upon the -subject of music, the one subject besides horse which -interested him.</p> - -<h2>V</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>In August the girls went to Newport, and Patience became -very tired of her mother-in-law. May returned -engaged to a wealthy Cuban, who had been dancing -attendance on her blondinitude for some months past, -and Mrs. Peele became so amiable that she forgot to -lecture her daughter-in-law or irritate her with the large -vigilance of her polaric eyes. The girls left again for -Lenox and Tuxedo. On the first of January the family -moved to their town house for the winter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was alone with her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the first three days of this new connubial -solitude it snowed heavily. Beverly could not ride nor -drive, and wandered restlessly between the stable and -the library, where his wife sat before the blazing logs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were some two thousand volumes at Peele -Manor. Patience had had no time to read since her -marriage, but on the morning of the family’s departure -she made for the library, partly in self defence, partly -with pleasurable anticipation. She hoped that Beverly -would succumb to the charms of the stable, where there -were many congenial spirits and a comfortable parlour; -but she had barely discovered Heine’s prose and had -read but ten pages of the “Reisebilder,” when the door -opened, and he came in. She merely nodded, and went -on reading. She was barely conscious of his presence, -for Heine is a magician, and she was already under his -spell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you might shut up your book and talk to -me,” said Beverly, pettishly, flinging himself into a -chair opposite her. “This is a nice way to treat a -fellow on a stormy day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you read too,” murmured Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I will not. I want to talk to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience closed the book over her finger and looked -at him impatiently. Then an idea occurred to her, and -she spoke with her usual impulsiveness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look, Beverly,” she said, “you and I have to spend -many months alone together, and if we are to make -a success of matrimony we must be companions, and -to be companions we must have similar tastes. Now -I’ll make a bargain with you: I’ll try to like horses if -you’ll try to like books. On pleasant days I’ll ride and -drive with you, and when it storms we’ll read together -here in the library. I am sure you will like it after a -time. If you find it tiresome to read to yourself I’ll read -aloud. I don’t mind, and then we can talk it over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All right,” said Beverly. “Anything you say. -What’s that you’re reading now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Heine’s prose. He is wonderful—such a style and -such sardonic wit, and such exquisite thoughts. I’ll -begin all over again. Now light a cigar and make -yourself comfortable.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a half hour she read aloud, and then Mr. Peele -remarked,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hang it! The skating is spoiled for a week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Beverly, you haven’t been listening.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t like it very much. He skips around -so. Besides, I always did hate Germans. Give me -America every time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, read something American then,” said Patience, -crossly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You find something and read it to me. I like to -hear your voice, even if I can’t keep my mind on it. -Wait a while though. I guess I’ll go and see how the -stable is getting on.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent down to kiss his wife, but she was once -more absorbed, and did not see him. He snatched the -book from her with an oath and flung it across the -room. She sprang to her feet with flashing eyes, -pushed him aside with no gentle hand, and ran after -the book.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You sha’n’t read that book!” he cried. “The idea -of forgetting your husband for a book—<span class='it'>a book</span>! You -are a lovely wife! You are a disgrace to the name! -You would rather read than kiss your husband! I’ll -lock this room up, damned if I don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll go and live with Miss Beale and do Temperance -work,” sobbed Patience. “I won’t live with -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you won’t—what? What did I marry you -for? My God! What did I marry you for? My life -is hell, for I’m no fool. I know you don’t love me. -You married me for my money.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish I had,” she exclaimed passionately, then -controlled herself. “I hope we are not going to -squabble in the usual commonplace way. I shall not, -at any rate. If you lose your temper, you can have the -quarrel all to yourself. I shall not pay any attention -to you. Now go out to the stable and cool off, and -when you come back I’ll read something else to -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you love me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes—yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Beverly disappeared, slamming the door behind -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if any one on earth has such a temper,” -she thought. “And people believe that vulgarity and -lack of control are confined to the lower classes! What -is the matter with civilisation anyhow? I can only -explain my own remarkable aberration in this way: -youthful love is a compound of curiosity, a surplus of -vitality, and inherited sentimentalism. It is likely to -arrive just after the gamut of children’s diseases has run -its course. Of course the disease is merely a complacent -state of the system until the germ arrives, which -same is the first attractive and masterful man. All -diseases run their course, however. I could not be -more insensible to Beverly Peele’s dead ancestors out -in the vault than I am to him. No woman is capable -of loving at nineteen. She is nothing but an overgrown -child, a chaos of emotions and imagination. There -ought to be a law passed that no woman could marry -until she was twenty-eight. Then, perhaps a few of us -would feel less like—Well, there is nothing to do but -make the best of it, regard life as a highly seasoned -comedy, in which one is little more than a spectator, -after all—and at present I have Heine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly did not return for an hour. When he did -she rose at once, and running her eye along the shelves, -selected a volume of Webster’s Speeches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You like politics,” she said; “and all of us should -read the great works of our great men. I’ll read the -famous Seventh of March Speech.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she did, Beverly listening with considerable -attention. When she had finished he remarked enthusiastically,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know what that speech has made me make -up my mind to do? I’m going to run for the Senate, -and make speeches like that myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience merely stared at him. She wondered if he -were really something more than a fool; if there was a -sort of post-graduate course.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What makes you look at me like that? Don’t you -think I can?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—” She hardly knew what to say.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well! Is that the way you encourage a fellow? -You are a nice wife. Here my father has been at me -all my life to do something, and just as soon as I make -up my mind, my wife laughs at me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t laugh at you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s all the same. If I never do anything, it’ll -be your fault.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to the Senate just as fast as ever you can get -there. And you might as well spend the rest of the -day studying Webster; but suppose you read to yourself -for a while: my throat is tired.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t like to read to myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, anyhow, I hear Lawson coming. Luncheon -is ready.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The table in the dining-room had been divested of -its leaves, and the young couple sat only a few feet -apart. The room had once been a banqueting-hall. -It was very large and dark. The white light filtered -meagrely through the small panes. The wind moaned -through the naked elms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The country is awfully dull in winter,” remarked -Patience. “I wish we were in town.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a beautiful speech to make to a husband. -I don’t mind so long as you are here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I am deeply flattered,” and she smiled -upon him. There seemed nothing else to do.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn it!” cried Beverly, “this steak is as thin -as a plate and burnt to a cinder. Patience, I do wish -you’d give some of your attention to housekeeping and -less to books. It is your place to see that things are -properly cooked, now that Honora is gone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear. I don’t know anything about cooking, or -housekeeping, either.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, then, I’d be much obliged if you’d learn as -quickly as possible. Take this steak out,” he said to -the maid, “and bring some cold beef or ham. Damn -it! I might have known that when Honora went away -I’d have nothing fit to eat, with this new cook.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience refused to continue the conversation, and -when the ham and beef came he ate of them with such -relish that his good-nature returned as speedily as it -had departed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the afternoon the scene of the morning was -repeated with variations, and the same might be said of -the two following days. Then came an interval of -sleighing and skating. Then rain turned the snow to -slush, and once again Beverly exhibited the characteristics -of a caged tiger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall have nervous prostration before the winter -is over,” thought Patience, who was still determined to -take the situation humorously, still refused to face her -former self. “I do wish the family would come back, -mother-in-law and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Occasionally, despite Beverly’s indignant protests, she -went to town for the day, and shopped or paid calls -with Hal. On one occasion they went to see Rosita. -That “beautiful young prima donna of ever increasing -popularity” wore black gauze over gold-coloured tights, -and acted and sang and danced and allured with -consummate art. The opera house was two-thirds -crowded with men, although there was the usual matinée -contingent of girls and young married women.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” thought Patience, “she’s way ahead of -me, for she’s made a success of herself, at least, and is -not bothered with scruples and regrets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The winter dragged along as slowly as if time had -lamed the old man, then fallen asleep. The relations -between Patience and Beverly became very strained. -His frequent tempers were alternated by sulks. He -was genuinely unhappy, for limited as he was, mentally -and spiritually, he was very human; and in his primitive -way he loved his wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience’s resolution to go through life as a cynical -humourist, deaf and blind to the great wants of her -nature, died hard, but it died at last. Monotony -accentuated fact, and the time came when pretence -failed her, and she visibly shrank from his lightest -caress. The tide of horror and loathing had risen -slowly, but definitely. He threatened to kill her, to -commit suicide, to get a divorce; but his threats did -not disturb her. He was too weak to kill himself, too -proud to make himself ridiculous in the divorce courts, -and too much in love to put her beyond his reach. -What sustained her was the hope that his passion would -die a natural death, and that they would then go their -diverse ways as other married people did,—that had -come to seem to her the most blessed meaning of the -holy state of matrimony. Then she could enjoy her -books, and he would permit her to spend the winters -in New York, or in travel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly’s affections, however, showed no sign of dissolution.</p> - -<h2>VI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>One afternoon in March, Patience, glancing out of the -library window, saw Hal coming up the lawn from the -path that led down the slope to the station. She suppressed -a war-whoop with which she and Rosita had -been used to awake the echoes of the Californian hills, -opened the window, and vaulted out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” cried Miss Peele, as Patience ran toward her, -“you do look glad to see me, sure enough. Bev can’t -be very exciting, for you don’t look as if it were me -particularly—just somebody. Oh, matrimony! matrimony! -I envy the women that have solved the problem -in some other way—the journalists and artists, and -authors and actresses, and even the suffragists, God rest -them. Hello, there’s Bev. He looks as if he were -about to cry. What have you been doing to him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I left him writing an order for some new kind of -horse-feed,” said Patience, indifferently. Her husband -stood at the window, staring gloomily at the beaming -faces. When the girls entered the room he had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He looks as if he had just been let out of the dark -room. Do you beat him? What do you suppose my -mother will say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I suppose he’s bored too. You see it’s nearly -three months now. I tried to make him read, but after -the third day he went to sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal drew a low chair to the fire, close to the one -Patience occupied. She laughed merrily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Fancy your trying to make Bev intellectual! That -would be a good subject for a one-act farce. Well, -I’ve come up here to tell you something, and to talk it -over. I, too, am contemplating matrimony.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, don’t!” cried Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believe that is usually the advice of married -people, but the world goes on marrying itself just the -same. But my problem is much more complicated -than the average, for there are two men in the question.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two? You don’t mean to say you don’t know -your own mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is exactly the fact in the case. You remember -Reginald Wynne? Well, Patience, I do like that -man. I never liked any man one tenth as much. I -might say he’s the only serious man I’ve ever met, the -only one, to put it in another way, that I ever could -take seriously as a man. He has brains—he’s a -lawyer, you know, and they say very fine things of him—and -he is so kind, and <span class='it'>strong</span>. When I am with -him I don’t feel frivolous and worldly and one of a -dozen. If I have any better nature and any apology -for a brain, they are on top then. He is the last sort -of man I ever thought I’d fall in love with, but it takes -us some years to become acquainted with ourselves, -doesn’t it? I do respect him so, and it is such a novel -sensation. He even makes me read. Fancy! And -I’ve even promised him that I won’t read any more -French novels, excepting those he selects, nor smoke -cigarettes. So, you see, I am in love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Patience,” she continued with tragic emphasis, -“he hasn’t a red—and I know I’d be miserable, -poor. When papa saw which way the wind was blowing, -he took me into the library and told me that although he -made fifty thousand dollars a year, we spent nearly all -of it, and that he should not have much to leave besides -his life insurance—one hundred thousand—which of -course would go to mamma. It is a matter of honour -never to sell this place, and the revenue from the farm—which -is to go to Beverly—would keep it up in a -small way. The town house is to be May’s and mine; -but what will that amount to? May and I have always -pretty well understood that if we want to keep on having -the things that habit has made a necessity to us, -we must marry rich men! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, the other man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He has appeared on the scene lately. He is not -the usual alternative by any means, for he is very attractive -in his way. He has the manners of the man of -the world, a <span class='it'>fin de siècle</span> brain, and the devil in his eye. -He is rather good-looking and tremendously good form. -And, my dear, he has three cold millions. Think what -I should be with three millions! Fancy me in Boston on -three or four hundred dollars a month. Oh, Patience, -what shall I do?” And Hal, the most undemonstrative -of women, laid her head on Patience’s knee and -sobbed bitterly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had to come to see you, Patience,” she continued -after a moment. “I have no one else; I could never -have said a word of this to mamma or May. And I -like you better than any one in the world except Reginald -Wynne. And you seem to understand things. -Do tell me what to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do this: Be true to your ideals. If love means, -and has always meant more to you than anything else -in the world, marry Reginald Wynne. If money and -power and luxury are the very essentials of happiness -to you, marry the other man. No temporary aberration -can permanently divert one’s paramount want -from its natural course. As soon as the novelty has -gone, the ego swings back to its old point of view as -surely as water does that has been temporarily dammed. -There is only one thing that persists, and that is the -ideal,—that habit of mind which is bred of heredity -and environment, even where care or consciousness is -lacking. It is as relentless and pitiless as the law of -cause and effect. I believe it would outlive a very -leprosy of the soul. And it makes no difference whether -that ideal be great or small, high or low, its hold is -precisely the same, for it is individuality itself. Rosita -is happy because she has realised her ideal. Miss -Tremont was happy because she lived up to hers. Miss -Beale was supremely satisfied with herself when she let -a man die whom she might have saved by smirching -her ideals. The religionists are happy generally, not -through communion with the presiding deity, as they -imagine, but because they have arbitrarily created a -sort of spiritual Blackstone whom they delight to obey. -The author is happy when he toils, even without hope -of reward. Martyrs have known ecstasy—But one -could go on for a week. Don’t marry Wynne if you -feel that you would be unhappy in poverty after the -first few months; and if you feel that great wealth -without love would be misery, don’t marry the other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I could like Latimer Burr well enough,” said -Hal, staring gloomily at the fire; “and after a time I -suppose I’d forget. You see, I have been in love so -short a time that the wrench would be a good deal less -violent than the wrench from luxury—I’d soon get -over it, I expect. But I do like him—I never thought -I could feel like this.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience fondled the sleek head, but she was not in -a mood to feel in sympathy with love. The only thing -that to her seemed of paramount importance was to fix -a clear eye on the future.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see,” she said, “the present is ever with us, -and the past recedes farther and farther. If the rich -man can give you what you most want, time will make -you forget the very sensation of love. If you marry -Wynne and the love goes, you will have equal difficulty -to recall it, and nothing to compensate in the -present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m not afraid that it would go; but I know that I -should be thoroughly miserable poor, and make him -miserable too. I do love it all so—all that money -means—why, one can’t even be well groomed without -money. It has gone to make up nine-tenths of my -composition; the other tenth is only a bit of miserable -wax. But I love this new feeling, and I never -believed that anything could be so sweet. Oh, dear; -I’ll have to dry up. Here comes Bev.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Remember this,” said Patience, “and let it console -you: however you feel or are torn, you’ll do one -thing only,—follow along the line of least resistance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly entered and kissed his sister affectionately. -Her back was to the light, and he did not notice her -swollen eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you are looking hilarious,” she remarked in -her usual flippant tones. “Has Tammany gone lame, -or Mrs. Langtry refused to take her five bars?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My wife doesn’t love me!” Beverly had brooded -upon his wrongs for two months. Hal’s words were as -a match to a mine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!” exclaimed Patience, springing to her feet, -“don’t let us have a scene for Hal’s benefit. Do cultivate -a little good taste, if good sense is too far beyond -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her words were not soothing, and Beverly exploded -in one of his most violent passions. He tore up and -down the room, banging his fist alternately on the -table, the mantel, and the books, and once he hit -the panel of a door so heavy a blow that it sprang. -Patience sat down and turned her back. Hal endeavoured -to stop him; but he had found a listener, and -would discharge his mind of its accumulated virus. -He told the tale of the winter in spasmodic gusts, hung -and fringed with oaths. Finally he flung himself out -of the room, shouting all the way across the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a moment there was an intense and meaning -silence between the two women; then Hal stood up -and laid her palms to her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience!” she said, “Patience! this is awful. -What have I done? Oh, does it really mean anything? -I have seen Bev go into tempers all my life—but—Tell -me, please—does this really mean anything—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whether it does or does not it need not worry you -beyond warning you against mistakes on your own -account. I married with my eyes open, and I can take -care of myself. Don’t marry your rich man unless you -like him well enough to pretend to like him a good -deal more. If you do, you’ll end by loathing him and -yourself—and what is more, he’ll know it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, I don’t think I am as intense as you are—but -what do you suppose makes Beverly such a wild -animal? We are none of us like that, and never have -been, as far as I know, although some of the old boys -were pretty gay, not to say lawless. But for two or -three generations we seem to have been a fairly well-conducted -lot. Beverly is almost a freak.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience crossed the room, and lifting down a volume -of Darwin’s “Descent of Man” read from the chapter -on Civilised Nations:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘With mankind some of the worst dispositions which -occasionally, without any assignable cause, make their -appearance in families, may perhaps be reversions to a -savage state from which we are not removed by very many -generations.’”</p> - -</div> - -<h2>VII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Two weeks later Patience received a letter from Hal -which induced no surprise.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>The die is cast [it read]. Reginald Wynne has gone -back to Boston, and I am going to marry Latimer Burr. -On the first of April we sail for Europe—mamma and -May and I—to get our things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Don’t imagine that I am doing the novel-heroine act, -and sprinkling my pillow o’ nights. I did feel terribly, and -I’ll never love any other man; but the thing is done, and -done for the best, and that is the end of it. What you said -about following along the line of least resistance is as sure -as love and fate and a good many other things; for what -Latimer Burr can give me I want more than what Reginald -Wynne can give me, and it drew me like a magnet. -And the other thing you said is equally true,—that the -only joy in life is to pursue your ideals to the bitter end. -Mine are not lofty, but they are <span class='it'>me</span>, and that is all there is -to it. I shall not weep it out, because I’ve no beauty to -lose, and weeping does no earthly good, anyway. If it -would give Wynne Burr’s fortune I’d drown New York.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We’ll be back on the first of June. We’re only going -over to order things. I wish you joy of Honora. It’s -too bad Bev is so much in love with you, or you might -switch him off on to her. Oh, Patience, dear, you don’t -know how much I’ve thought about you. It hurts me -<span class='it'>hard</span> to think that you are unhappy. I feel as guilty as a -murderer, but really I thought you’d get along. So many -women had been in love with Bev, I thought you would be, -too. I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that women -sometimes had a soul. If I had known as much then as I -do now I’d have done all I could to keep you apart, for -Beverly Peele certainly has not the attenuated ghost of a -soul.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience, dear, do stand it out. Don’t, <span class='it'>don’t</span> get -a divorce. Remember that all over the world women are -as miserable as you are, and as I might be if I would -let myself go. Now, at least, you have compensations; -and when I am married I’ll do everything I can to make -life gay and pleasant for you; but don’t make a horrid -vulgar newspaper scandal and leave yourself without resources. -This world is a pretty good place after all when -you are on top, but it must be hell underneath.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>Lovingly <span class='sc'>Hal</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<h2>VIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The day Mrs. Peele and her daughters sailed for -France Mr. Peele and his niece returned to the Manor. -Honora kissed Patience on either cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am so glad to come back to my lovely room, -and to see you, Patience dear,” she said wearily. “We -have had such a gay winter, and I am so tired. Dear -me, how fresh and sweet you look in that white frock. -I just long to get into thin things.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Mr. Peele came up in the evening he narrowed -his lids as he kissed Patience, and regarded her critically. -“Well, how does Beverly wear in a three months’ -<span class='it'>tête-à-tête</span>?” he asked. “Gad! I shouldn’t care to -try it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” she said flushing, “we didn’t talk much. -He had the farm and the horses to attend to, you -know, and I had the library. Oh, I am so glad you -have that library.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed aloud, with the harsh notes of a voice -unused to such music.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see you have had a Paul and Virginia time, as -Hal would say. I’m sorry you’ve put your foot in it, -for even you can’t make anything of him; but make -the best of it. Don’t leave him—Hal has told me -something, you see. It was best that she should. -There must be no scandal. If he makes too great a -nuisance of himself come to me; and if he cuts off -your allowance at any time just let me know, and I’ll -see that you have all the money you want. He doesn’t -own the farm. I like you. You’re a clever woman. If -you’d been my daughter I’d have been proud of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And whether he really found pleasure in his daughter-in-law’s -society, or whether he merely thought it -politic to lighten her burden, from that time until the -return of the family he devoted his evenings to her. -He was deeply read, and Patience, after years of mental -loneliness, was grateful for his companionship, although -personally he antagonised her. He was a -mentality without heart or soul, and she knew that he -would sacrifice her as readily as he accepted her if it -better suited his purpose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She clung to Honora during the day and read aloud -to her in the Tea House, while that devoted young -Catholic embroidered for the village church or sewed -for the poor of her beloved priest. Father O’Donovan, -a young man with a healthy serious face and a clear -eye, frequently joined them. Every morning the girls -rode or sailed. Beverly frequently made one of the -party, and Patience and Honora exercised all their -tact to keep him in good humour. In the evening he -played duets with his cousin. Her touch was as light -and hollow as an avalanche of icicles from the roof, -he pounded the piano as if it were a prize fighter’s -chest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One evening Patience did not go downstairs until a -few moments before dinner was announced. As she -entered the library she saw that a stranger stood at the -window with Mr. Peele. The priest was present, and -she shook hands with him before going over to greet -the stranger and her father-in-law. While she was -agreeing with him that Honora in her white robe and -blue sash looked exactly like an angel, the man at the -window turned, and she recognised Mr. Field. She -ran forward and held out her hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! Oh!” she cried. “I’m so glad to see you -again. I’ve wanted and wanted to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took her hand, smiling, but regarded her with -the keen gaze she so well remembered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bless my soul,” he said, “but you have changed. -It is not too much to say that you have improved. -Even the freckles have gone, I see. I thought I was -to make a newspaper woman of you. I felt rather cross -when you married. But this life certainly agrees with -you. You look quite the <span class='it'>grande dame</span>—quite—ah! -Good evening, sir,” as Beverly entered and was presented. -Mr. Field darted a glance from one to the -other, his mouth twitching sardonically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He sat at Patience’s right during dinner, and they -talked constantly. Beverly was sulky, and said nothing. -Mr. Peele rarely talked at table, even to Patience. -Honora and the priest conversed in a solemn undertone. -It is doubtful if two courses had been served -before the terrible old man understood the situation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s tragedy brewing here,” he thought, grimly. -“That fellow has the temper of a fiend in the skull of -a fool, and this girl is not the compound I take her to -be if she lives a lie very long for the sake of champagne -and truffles. I’d give a good deal to foresee the outcome. -Unless I’m all wrong there’ll be a two column -story on the first page of the ‘Day’ some fine morning. -Well, she’ll have its support, right or wrong. -She’s a brick, and he’s the sort of fellow a man always -wants to kick.—What is that?” he asked of the -priest, who had begun a story that suddenly appealed -to Mr. Field’s editorial instinct.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A physician over at Mount Vernon, who stands -very high in his profession, has been accused of poisoning -his wife. She died in great agony, and her mother -insisted upon a post-mortem. Her stomach was full of -strychnine. He maintains that she threatened to commit -suicide repeatedly, and that he is innocent; but -opinion is against him, and people seem to think that -the jury will convict him. I knew both, and I feel -positive of his innocence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Undoubtedly he is innocent,” said Mr. Field. -“No physician of ordinary cleverness would bungle -like that. Strychnine! absurd! Why, there are poisons -known to all physicians and chemists which absolutely -defy analysis. I don’t doubt that more than one -doctor has put his wife out of the way, and the world -none the wiser.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that true?” said Patience, eagerly, leaning forward. -Her curious mind leapt at any new fact. “What -are they like?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That I can’t say. That is a little secret known to -the fraternity only, although I don’t doubt they give -their friends the benefit of their knowledge occasionally. -Indubitably a large proportion of murderers are never -discovered—unless they discover themselves, like the -guilty pair in ‘Thérèse Raquin.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, they belonged to the cruder order of civilisation,” -said Patience, lightly. “I am sure that if -I committed a murder, I should not be bothered by -conscience if I had felt myself justified in committing -it. It seems to me that if the development of the -intellect means anything it means the casting out of -inherited prejudices. Of course I don’t believe in -murder,” she continued, carried away as ever by the -pleasure of abstract reasoning, “but if a man of the -world and of brains, after due deliberation, makes way -with a person who is fatal to his happiness or his -career, then I think he must have sufficient development -of mental muscle to scorn remorse. The highest -intelligences are anarchistic.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Undoubtedly there are those that have reached -that point of civilisation,” said Mr. Field, “but for my -part, I have not. Although I keep abreast of this -extraordinary generation, my roots are planted pretty -far down in the old one. But assuredly if I did feel -the disposition to murder, and succumbed, I’d cover -up my tracks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do these poisons give pain? Are they mineral or -vegetable?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Mr. Field was about to answer, a peculiar expression -crossed his face, and Patience, following his eyes, -looked at Beverly. Her husband was staring at her -with his heavy brows together, the corners of his mouth -drawn down in an ugly sneer. To her horror and disgust -she felt the blood fly to her hair. At the same -time she became conscious that Mr. Peele, the priest, -and Honora were exchanging glances of surprise. -Beverly gave an abrupt unpleasant laugh, and pushing -his chair violently back, left the room. Patience -glanced appealingly about, then dropped her glance -to her plate. She felt as if the floor were dissolving -beneath her feet.</p> - -<h2>IX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A week later, after a pleasant morning in the Tea -House with Honora and Father O’Donovan, she left -it to go to the library. As she turned the corner of the -house she saw Beverly standing close to one of the -windows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you doing there?” she asked in surprise.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His brows were lowered and his skin looked black, as -it always did when his angry passions were risen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve been watching you and that priest,” he said -savagely, following her as she retreated hastily out of -earshot of the people in the Tea House. “I saw you -exchanging glances with him! Now I know why you -want to know so much about poisons—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you insane?” she cried. “What on earth are -you talking about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I’m not insane—by God! You’re in love with -that priest, and I know it. But I’m on the watch—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,—you—you—” stammered Patience. She -could not speak. Her face was crimson with anger and -disgust. In her husband’s eyes she was an image of -guilt. He burst into a sneering laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You think I’m a fool, I suppose, because I don’t -know anything about books. But a woman said once -that I had the instincts of the devil, and I’ve no idea -of—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience found her tongue. “You poor fool,” she -said. “It was ridiculous of me to pay any attention -whatever to you; but I am not used to being insulted, -even by you. And remember that I am not used to any -display of imagination in you. As for <span class='it'>love</span>—” the scorn -with which she uttered the word made even him wince—“do -not worry. You have made me loathe the thing. -I could not fall in love with a god. Don’t have the -least fear that I shall be unfaithful to you. I couldn’t!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She walked away, leaving Beverly trembling and -speechless. When she reached her room she locked -the doors and sobbed wildly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?” she -thought. “I can’t stand it any longer. I believe I -really would kill him if I stayed. I feel as if my nature -were in ruins. I hate myself! I loathe myself! I’ll -leave this very day!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she had said the same thing many times. Why -does a woman hesitate long before she leaves the man -who has made life shocking to her? Indolence, abhorrence -of scandal, shame to confess that she has -made a failure of her life, above all, lack of private -fortune and the uncertainty of self-support. For whatever -the so-called advanced woman may preach, woman -has in her the instinct of dependence on man, transmitted -through the ages, and a sexual horror of the -arena. Patience let the days slip by, hoping, as women -will, that the problem would solve itself, that Beverly -Peele would die, or become indifferent, or that she -would drift naturally into some other sphere.</p> - -<h2>X</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Peele and the girls returned with the June roses; -the house was filled with guests at once. The Cuban -had gone to his islands for the summer, and May -chose to wear the willow and occasionally to weep upon -Patience’s unsympathetic shoulder; but as frequently -she consoled herself with the transient flirtation. Hal, -apparently, was her old gay self. She did not mention -Wynne’s name, and Patience was equally reticent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should be the last to remind any woman of what -she wished to forget,” she thought. “And love—what -does it amount to anyhow? If He came I believe I -should hate him, because once I felt something like -passion for him too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had looked forward with some curiosity to meeting -Latimer Burr. He also had been in Paris. He -followed his lady home on the next steamer, and immediately -upon his return came to Peele Manor. -Patience did not meet him until dinner. She sat beside -him, and at once became acutely aware that he was a -man of superlative physical magnetism. She proscribed -him accordingly—magnetism was a repellent force at -this stage of her development. She was rather surprised -that she could feel it again, so completely had Beverly’s -evaporated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Burr was a tall heavily built man about forty years -old. He carried himself and wore his clothes as only -a New York man can. His face was florid and well -modelled, his mouth and half closed eyes sensual. But -his voice and manners were charming. He appeared -to be deeply in love with Hal, and his voice became a -caress when he spoke to her. Patience did not like -his type, but she forgave him individually because he -was fond of Hal and appeared to possess brains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She fell into conversation with him, and his manner -would have led her to believe that while she spoke -neither Hal nor any other woman existed. To this -Patience gave little attention: she had met that manner -before; it was pleasant, and she missed it when lacking; -but she had practised it too often herself to feel -more than its passing fascination. His eyes, however, -were more insistently eloquent than his manner, -and their eloquence was of the order that induced -discomposure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience at times looked very lovely, and she was at -her best to-night. Her white skin was almost transparent, -and the wine had touched her cheeks with -pink. The sadness of her spirit had softened her eyes. -Her gown of peacock blue gauze fitted her round elastic -figure very firmly, and her bare throat and neck and -arms were statuesque. She had by no means the young -married woman look, but she had some time since acquired -an “air,” much to Hal’s satisfaction. To all -appearances she was a girl, but her figure was womanly. -Although about five feet six, and built on a more generous -plan than the average New York woman, she walked -with all their spring and lightness of foot. Her round -waist looked smaller than it was; she never laced. -Lately she had discovered that she “had an arm,” as -Hal would have phrased it, and the discovery had given -her such satisfaction that she had forgotten her troubles -for the hour, and sent for a dressmaker to take the -sleeves out of her evening gowns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Burr also discovered it, and murmured his approval -as caressingly as were he addressing his prospective -bride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The milk-white woman!” he ejaculated softly. -“The milk-white woman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t you get any farther?” asked Patience. “If -you were a poet now, that would make a good first -line for a rhapsody—to Hal, for instance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed indulgently. “How awfully bright you -are. I am afraid of you.” But he did not look in the -least afraid. “You are to be my sister, you know. -We must become friends at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And flattery is the quickest and surest way of establishing -the fraternal relation? Well, you are quite -right; but just look at my hair for a change, will you?” -(She felt as if her skin must be covered with red spots.) -“Or my profile. They are also good points.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are exquisite. I have rarely seen a woman so -beautiful.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear! Dear! How relieved you must be to feel -that you can keep your hand in without straying too far -from Peele Manor. And there is also Honora.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t admire Miss Mairs. She is too tall, and her -nose is too long.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor dear Honora! But how well you understand -women! What tact! I like you so much better than -I did before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed again in his indulgent way. “You -mustn’t guy me. It is your fault if I pay you too many -compliments. You are a very fascinating woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are wonderfully entertaining. What must you -be when you are in love! What do you and Hal talk -about?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t Hal a dear little girl? I do love her. I -never loved a woman so much in my life—never proposed -before. She is so bright. She keeps me amused -all the time. I always said I’d never marry a woman -that didn’t amuse me, and I’ve kept my word. It -isn’t so much what she says, don’t you know, as the -way she says it. Dear little girl!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On this subject they could agree, and Patience kept -him to it as long as possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After dinner Burr went with Mr. Peele into the -library. Patience, passing through the room, found -them talking earnestly upon the great question of the -day,—the financial future of the country. She paused -a moment, then sat down. To her surprise she found -that Burr was master of his subject, and possessed of a -gift of words which fell little short of eloquence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The argument lasted an hour, during which Patience -sat with her elbows on the table, her chin on her folded -hands, her eager eyes glancing from one to the other. -Occasionally she smiled responsively as Burr made -some felicitous phrase. When the discussion was over, -Mr. Peele left the room. Burr arose at once and -seated himself beside her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never talked so well,” he said. “You inspired -me;” and he took her hand in the matter-of-fact manner -she knew so well.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You talked quite as well before you saw me—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you were there—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Kindly let me have my hand. I have only two—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense! Let me hold your hand. I want to! -I am going to—Why are you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Haven’t you Hal’s hand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my God! You don’t expect me to go through -life holding one woman’s hand? Hal is the most fascinating -woman in the world, and I love her—but I -want you to let me love you, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is quite immaterial to me whether you love me -or not; and, I think, if you want plain English, that -you are a scoundrel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, come, come. You—<span class='it'>you</span>—must know more -of the world than to talk like that. Why am I a scoundrel?” -He looked much amused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are engaged to one woman and are making -love to another.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what of that so long as she doesn’t know it? -I shall be the most uxorious and indulgent of husbands—but -faithful—that is not to be expected.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must have great confidence in me. Suppose I -describe this scene and conversation to Hal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will not,—not out of regard for me, but because -you love Hal—dear little girl! And you are one of -the few women devoid of the cat instincts. That long-legged -girl, now, has a whole tiger inside of her, but -you have only the faults of the big woman. I hope -you have their weaknesses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you shall never know if I have. Please let go -my hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flung it from him. “Oh, well,” he said, haughtily, -“I hoped we should be friends, but if you will have it -otherwise, so be it;” and he stalked out, and devoted -himself to Hal for the rest of the evening.</p> - -<h2>XI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Funny world,” thought Patience. She shrugged her -beautiful young shoulders cynically, and went forth to -do her duty by the guests. As she passed out of the -front door to join some one of the scattered groups on -the lawns, she heard a voice which made her pause and -tap her forehead with her finger. It was a rich deep -voice, with a vibration in it, and a light suggestion of -brogue. She turned to the drawing-room, whence it -came. A man in riding clothes was talking to Mrs. -Peele, who was listening with a bend of the head that -meant much to Patience’s trained eye. The man had -an athletic nervous figure, suggestive of great virility -and suppressed force, although it was carried with a fine -repose. The thick black hair on his large finely shaped -head glinted here and there with silver. His profile -was aquiline, delicately cut and very strong, his mouth, -under the slight moustache, neither full nor thin, and -both mobile and firm, the lips beautifully cut. The -eyes, deeply set, were not large, and were of an indefinite -blue grey, but piercing, restless, kind, and humourous. -There were lines about them, and a deep line on one -side of his mouth. His lean face had a touch of red -on its olive. He might have been anywhere between -thirty-five and forty.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience recognised him and trembled a little, but -with excitement, not passion. She had understood herself -for once when she had said that in her present -conditions she was incapable of love. Beverly Peele -would have to go down among the memories before his -wife could shake her spirit free, and turn with swept -brain and clear eyes to even a conception of the love -whose possibilities dwelt within her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she was fully alive to the picturesqueness of -meeting this man once more, and suddenly became -possessed of the spirit of adventure. There must be -some sort of sequel to that old romance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She withdrew to the shadow of a tree, where she -could watch the drawing-room through the window. -Burr entered, slapped the visitor on the back, and bore -him away to the dining-room, presumably to have a -drink. When they returned, Mr. Peele was in the room. -He shook hands with the stranger more heartily than -was his wont. In a few moments he crossed over to the -library, and Patience, seeing that her early hero would -be held in conversation for some time to come, followed -her father-in-law and asked casually who the visitor was.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that’s Bourke, Garan Bourke, the legal idol,” -sarcastically, “of Westchester County. In truth he’s a -brilliant lawyer enough, and one of the rising men at -the New York bar, although he will go off his head -occasionally and take criminal cases. I don’t forgive -him that, if he <span class='it'>is</span> always successful. However, we all -have our little fads. I suppose he can’t resist showing -his power over a jury. I heard an enthusiastic youngster -assert the other day that Bourke whips up a jury’s -grey matter into one large palpitating batter, then -moulds it with the tips of his fingers while the jury sits -with mouth open and spinal marrow paralysed. Personally, -I like him well enough, and rather hoped he -and Hal would fancy each other. But he doesn’t seem -to be a marrying man. You’d better go over and meet -him. He’ll just suit you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience returned to her post. Burr had disappeared, -Bourke was talking to half a dozen women. In a few -moments he rose to go. Patience went hastily across -the lawns to the narrow avenue of elms by the driveway. -No two were billing and cooing in its shadows, and -Beverly was in bed with a nervous headache.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The moon was large and very brilliant. One could -have read a newspaper as facilely as by the light of an -electric pear. As Bourke rode to the main avenue a -woman came toward him. He had time to think her -very beautiful and of exceeding grace before she surprised -him by laying her hand on his horse’s neck.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” she said, looking up and smiling as he -reined in.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?” he stammered, lifting his hat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am too heavy to ride before you now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared at her perplexedly, but made no reply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Still if I were up a tree—literally, you know—and -a band of terrible demons were shouting at a man -beside a corpse—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What?” he said. “Not you?—not you? That -homely fascinating little girl—no, it cannot be possible—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” lifting her chin, coquettishly. “I have -improved, and grown, you see. I was more than delighted -when I saw you through the window. It was -rather absurd, but I disliked the idea of going in to -meet you conventionally—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laid his hand strongly on hers, and she treated -him with a passivity denied to Latimer Burr.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to tie up my horse and talk to you a -while, may I?” America and the law had not crowded -all the romance out of his Irish brain, and he was keenly -alive to the adventure. He had forgotten her name -long since, and it did not occur to him that this lovely -impulsive girl was the property of another man; but -although he had lived too long, nor yet long enough, -to lose his heart to the first flash of magnetism from -a pretty woman, yet his blood was thrilled by the commingling -of spirituality and deviltry in the face of this -high-bred girl who cared to give the flavour of romance -to their acquaintance. He saw that she was clever, and -he had no intention of making a fool of himself; but -he was quite willing to follow whither she cared to lead. -And it was night and the moon was high; the leaves -sang in a crystal sea; a creek murmured somewhere; -the frogs chanted their monotonous recitative to the -hushed melodies and discords of the night world; the -deep throbbing of steamboats came from the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He tied his horse to a tree, and they entered the -avenue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You told me that it was a small world, and that -we should probably meet again,” she said; “and I never -doubted that we should.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I never did either,” he exclaimed. He was -racking his brains to recall the conversation which had -passed between them a half dozen years ago, and for -the life of him could not remember a word; but he -was a man of resource.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad that it is at night,” he continued, “even -if the scene is not so charming as Carmel Valley from -that old tower. How beautiful the ocean looked from -there, and what a jolly ride we had in the pine -woods!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She understood perfectly, and grinned in the dark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! I remember I gave you some advice,” he exclaimed -with suspicious abruptness. “I thought afterward -that it was great presumption on my part.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if you had an ideal of your own in mind -when you spoke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“An ideal?” He cursed his memory and floundered -hopelessly. Even his Irish wit for once deserted -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I hoped you had not forgotten it. Why, I -have made a little ‘Night Thoughts’ of what you said, -and it has been one of the strongest forces in my development. -Shall I repeat it to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please.” He was blushing with pleasure, but -sore perplexed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she repeated his comments and advice, word -for word.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it possible that you remember all that? I am -deeply flattered.” And he was, in fact.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What more natural than that I should remember? -I was a lonely little waif, full of dreams and vague -ideals, and with much that was terrible in my actual -life. I had never talked with a young man before—a -man of seventy was my only experience of your sex, -barring boys, that don’t count. And you swooped -down into my life in the most picturesque manner -possible, and talked as no one in my little world was -capable of talking. So, you see, it is not so remarkable -that I retain a vivid impression of you and your words. -I was frightfully in love with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—were you? Were you?” He was very much -at sea. It was true that she had paid him the most -subtle tribute one mind can pay to another, but her -very audacity would go to prove that she was a brilliant -coquette. He had a keen sense of the ridiculous, and -he was still a little afraid of her. He took refuge on -the broad impersonal shore of flirtation, where the boat -is ever dancing on the waves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you felt obliged to use the past tense you might -have left that last unsaid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, there are a thousand years between fifteen -and twenty-one. I am quite another person, as you -see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are merely an extraordinary child developed; -and you have carried your memory along with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, the memory is there, and the tablets are -pretty full; but never mind me. I want to know if your -ideals are as strong now as I am sure they were then—if -any one in this world manages to hold onto his -ideals when circumstances don’t happen to coddle -them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m afraid I haven’t -thought much about them since that night. I doubt -if I’d given too much thought to them before. Deep -in every man’s brain is an ideal of some sort, I imagine, -but it is seldom he sits down and analyses it out. He -knows when he’s missed it and locked the gates behind -him, and perhaps, occasionally, he knows when -he’s found it—or something approximating it. We -are all the victims of that terrible thing called Imagination, -which, I sometimes think, is the sudden incursion -of a satirical Deity. I have not married—why, I can -hardly say. Perhaps because there has been some -vague idea that if I waited long enough I might meet -the one woman; but partly, also, because I have had -no very great desire to marry. I keep bachelor’s hall -over on the Sound, and the life is very jolly and free of -small domestic details. There are so many women -that give you almost everything you want—or at least -four or five will make up a very good whole—that I -have never yet faced the tremendous proposition of -going through life expecting one woman to give me -everything my nature and mind demand. But there -are such women, I imagine,” he added abruptly, trying -to see her face in one of the occasional splashes of -moonlight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A very clever woman—Mrs. Lafarge; perhaps you -know her—said to me the other day, that many men -and women of strong affinity took a good deal of spirituality -with them into marriage, but soon forgot all -about it—matrimony is so full of reiterant details, and -everything becomes so matter of course. Do you think -that is true?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am afraid it is. The imagination wears blunt. -The Deity is sending his electricity elsewhere—to -those still prowling about the shores of the unknown. -Perhaps if one could keep the danger in mind—if one -were unusually clever—I don’t know. I fancy civilisation -will get to that point after a while. Unquestionably -the companionship of man and woman, when no -essentials are lacking, is the one supremely satisfying -thing in life. If we loved each other, for instance—on -such a night—it seems to me that we are in tune—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we don’t love each other, as it happens, and -we met about three quarters of an hour ago. We’ll -probably hate each other by daylight.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I hope not,” he said, accepting the ice-water. -“But tell me what your ideals were. I hope they have -proved more stable than mine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, mine were a sort of yearning for some unseen -force in nature; I suppose the large general force from -which love is a projection. Every mortal, except the -purely material, the Beverly Peele type, for instance, -has an affinity with something in the invisible world, -an uplifting of the soul. Christianity satisfies the great -mass, hence its extraordinary hold. Do you suppose -the real link between the soul of man and the soul -of nature will ever be established?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed a little, piqued, but amused. “You are -very clever,” he said, “and this is just the hour and -these are just the circumstances for impersonal abstractions. -Well—perhaps the link will be established -when we have lived down this civilisation and entered -upon another which has had drilled out of it all the -elements which plant in human nature the instincts of -cupidity and sordidness and envy and political corruption, -and all that goes to make us the aliens from nature -that we are. About all that keeps us in touch with her -now are our large vices. There is some tremendous -spiritual force in the Universe which projects itself into -us, making man and nature correlative. What wonder -that man—particularly an imaginative and intelligent -child—should be affected and played upon by this -Mystery? What wonder that the heathens have gods, -and the civilised a symbol called the Lord God?—a -concrete something which they can worship, and upon -which unburden the load of spirituality which becomes -oppressive to matter? It is for the same reason that -women fall in love and marry earlier than men, who -have so many safety-valves. On the other hand, men -who have a great deal of emotional imagination and -who can neither love nor accept religion take refuge -in excess. It is all a matter of temperament. Cold-blooded -people—those that have received a meagre -share of this great vital force pervading the Universe, -which throws a continent into convulsions or a human -being into ecstasy—such, for instance, are religious -only because their ancestors were,—their brain is -pointed that way. Their blood has nothing to do -with it, as is the more general case—for Christianity -is pre-eminently sensuous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you suppose will take its place? The world -is bound to become wholly civilised in time; but still -human nature will demand some sort of religion (which -is another word for ideality), some sort of lodestar.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A superlative refinement, I think; a perfected -æstheticism which shall by no means eradicate the strong -primal impulses; which shall, in fact, create conditions -of higher happiness than now exist. Do we not enjoy -all arts the more as they approach perfection? Does -not a nude appeal with more subtle strength to the -senses the more exquisite its beauty, the more entire -its freedom from coarseness? When people strive to -place human nature on a level with what is highest in -art and in nature itself, the true religion will have been -discovered. So far, man himself is infinitely below -what man has achieved. It is hard to believe that -genius is the result of any possible combination of -heredity. It would seem that it must, like its other -part, imagination, be the direct and more permanent -indwelling of the supreme creative force—as if the -creator would lighten his burden occasionally, and -shakes off rings which float down to torment favoured -brains.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I always knew that I should love to hear you talk,” -murmured Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hand closed over hers. He drew it through his -arm and held it against his heart, which was beating -irregularly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I haven’t talked so much nor such stuff to -a woman since God made me. I believe that I could -talk to you through twenty years. You have said -enough to-night to make me hope that our minds -have been running along the same general lines. -Tell me—honestly—no coquetry—has what I said -that night had the slightest effect in your development?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She told the tale of the day in the crystal woods, -giving a sufficiently comprehensive sketch of the events -which had led up to it to make her the more keenly -interesting to the man whose brain was beginning to -whirl a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you had come at that moment,” she concluded, -“I would have gone with you to the end of the earth. -I have a pretty strong personality, but there was a good -deal of wax in me then, and if you could have gotten -it between your hands I think that what you moulded -would have closely resembled your ideal—the impression -you had already made had so strongly coloured -and trained my imagination. But,” she continued -hastily, and glancing anxiously to the far distant end of -the avenue, “you see my life changed immediately -after that, and I went into the world and became hard -and bitter and cynical. I have no ideals left, and I do -not want any—I have seen too much—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush!” he said passionately, “I do not believe a -word of it. Why, that was not two years ago, and you -are still a young girl. Have you loved any one else?” -he asked abruptly, his voice less steady.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was too excited to note the meaning of her -emphasis. He was only conscious that he was very -close to a beautiful woman who allured him in all ways -as no one woman had ever done before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are full of a girl’s cynicism,” he said; “you -have seen just enough to make you think you know the -world—to accept the superficial for the real. You—you -yourself are an ideal. All you need is to know -yourself, and I am going to undertake the task of -teaching you—do you hear? If I fail—if I have -made a mistake—if it is only the night and your -beauty that have gone to my head—well and good; -but I shall have the satisfaction of having tried—of -knowing—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no! No, no!” she said. “You must not come -here again. I do not want to see you again—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense! You have some sentimental foolish -idea in your head,—or perhaps you are engaged to -some man who can give you great wealth and position. -I shall not regard that, either. If I feel to you by -daylight as I do now, I’ll have you—do you understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience opened her lips to tell him the truth, then -cynically made up her mind to let matters take their -course. At the same time she was bitterly resentful -that she should feel as she did, not as she had once -dreamed of feeling for this man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well,” she said, “I shall be here for a -while.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I shall see you in the course of a day or two. -I’m going now. Good-night.” He let her arm slip -from under his, but held her hand closely. “And even -if it so happened that I never did see you again, I -should thank you for the glimpse you have given me of -a woman I hardly dared dream existed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had gone she anathematised fate for a -moment, then went back to her guests.</p> - -<h2>XII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Latimer Burr was evidently a man upon whom rebuff -sat lightly. The next morning he came suddenly upon -Patience in a dark corner, and tried to kiss her. Whenever -the opportunity offered he held her hand, and -once, to her infinite disgust, he planted his foot squarely -on hers under the dinner table. A few hours later they -happened to be alone in one of the small reception-rooms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” exclaimed Patience, wrathfully, “will -you let me alone?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I won’t,” he said good-naturedly. “Jove! but -you are a beauty!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wore a gown of white mull and lace, trimmed -with large knots of dark-blue velvet. She had been -talking all the evening with Mr. Peele, Mr. Field, and -Burr, and was somewhat excited. Her lips were very -pink, her eyes very bright and dark. She held her -head with a young triumph in beauty and the intellectual -tribute of clever men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal would be delighted. She has always wanted -me to become the fashion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You never will be that, for there are not enough -brainy men in society to appreciate you. If all -were like myself, you would be wearied with the din of -admiration—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s nothing like having a good opinion of -oneself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why not? I don’t set up to be an intellectual -man—intellectual men are out of date; but I’m a brainy -man, and I’d like to know how I’m to help being -aware of the fact. I certainly don’t claim to be pretty, -so you can’t say I’m actually wallowing in conceit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was forced to laugh. “Oh, you’d do very -well if you’d exercise as much sense in regard to women -as you do to affairs. Just answer me one question, -will you? Are you so amazingly fascinating that -women have the habit of succumbing at the end of the -second interview?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never set up to be an ass.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But your manner is quite assured. You seem very -much surprised that I don’t tumble into your arms -and say ‘Thank you.’ Oh, you New York men are -so funny!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, answer me one question—you don’t love -your husband, do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you like me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would if you wouldn’t make such an idiot of -yourself. You certainly are very agreeable to talk to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came closer, his lids falling. The fine repose of -his manner was a trifle ruffled. “Do you love anybody -else?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then let me love you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then if you don’t love your husband and you like -me and will not let me love you, you must have a -lover.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience burst into brief hilarity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that the logic of your kind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“A beautiful woman that does not love her husband -always loves another man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Or is willing to be loved by the first man that happens -to have no other affair on hand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have said that you like me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I didn’t say I loved you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d make you!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh!” with a deep contempt he was incapable of -understanding, “you couldn’t. But tell me another -thing; I’m very curious. Has it never occurred to -you that a woman must be wooed, that it is somewhat -necessary to arouse sentiment and feeling in her before -she is willing to advance one step? Why, you and your -kind demand her off-hand in a way that is positively -funny. What has become of all the old traditions?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, bother,” he said. “Life is too short to waste -time on old-fashioned nonsense. If a man wants a -woman he says so, and if she’s sensible and likes him -she meets him half way. Men and women of the -world know what they want.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is all there is to love then? It no longer -means anything else whatever?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh—you are all wrong. If you were not a spiritual -woman I wouldn’t cross the room to win you. -One can buy the other sort. It is your spirituality, -your intellectuality, that fascinates me as much as -your beauty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you know about spirituality?” she said -contemptuously. “I don’t like to hear you speak the -word. You desecrate it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He flushed purple. “There are few things I don’t -understand—and a good deal better than you do, -perhaps.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have a clever man’s perception, that is all. -Association with all sorts of women has taught you the -difference between them. But what could you give a -spiritual woman? Nothing. You have not a shrunken -kernel of soul. The sensual envelope is too thick; -your brain too crowded with the thousand and one petty -experiences of material life. You are as ingenuous as -all fast men, for the women you have spent your life -running after make no demands upon subtlety—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take care,” he said angrily; “you are going too -far. I tell you I have as much soul as any man living.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps. I doubt if any man has much. Men -give women nothing, as far as I can see. If we want -companionship there seems nothing to do but to descend -to your level and grovel with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would never make you grovel. I would reverence—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, rot!” she cried, stamping her foot. “What a -fool—and worse—the average woman must be. -You have no idea how ingenuously you are giving away -the women of society. And soul! The idea of a -man who pretends to love the woman he is engaged -to and is making love to another, and that her sister-in-law -and most intimate friend, claiming to have a soul! -Have you no sense of humour? I say nothing about -honour, as I wish to be understood, if possible; but -you are clever enough to see the ridiculous in most -things—Please don’t walk over me. There is plenty -of room. And the windows are open, you know—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, and I am here,” cried a furious voice, and -Beverly sprang into the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stepped back with a faint exclamation. -Burr turned white. Beverly was shaking with rage. -His face was almost black; there were white flecks on -his nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I kept quiet,” he articulated, “to hear every word. -You dog!” to Burr. “I may be pretty bad, but I’d -never do what you have done. And as for you,” he -shook his fist at his wife, “you were only leading -him on. If I could only have held myself in another -moment I’d have seen you in his arms. Get out -of this house,” he roared, “both of you. You’ll -never marry my sister. I’m going to tell her this -minute—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Burr sprang forward and caught him by the collar; -but Beverly was not a coward. He turned, flinging -out his fist, and the two men grappled. Patience -closed the door and glanced out of the window. No -one was near. Voices floated up from the cliffs. Burr -was the more powerful man of the two, and in a -moment had flung Beverly, panting, into a chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Keep him here,” said Patience, rapidly, and she -left the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Man is certainly still a savage, a brute,” she -thought. “What is the matter with civilisation?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she crossed the lawn, she met one of the servants.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go and find Miss Hal, and ask her to come here,” -she said. A few moments later her sister-in-law hurried -up from the cliffs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” she called cheerily. “Has Bev had -an apoplectic fit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beverly has been making a greater fool of himself -than usual,” said Patience, as the girls met, “and -I want to see you before he does. I was standing in -one of the reception-rooms talking to Mr. Burr after -Mr. Field and Mr. Peele had gone out, and he had on -all his manner and was telling me how beautiful I was, -in his usual after dinner style, when Beverly leaped -through the window like the wronged husband in the -melodrama and accused us of making love. He threatened -to come and tell you, and he and Mr. Burr -wrestled like two prize-fighters. If Beverly were put -on the witness stand he’d be obliged to admit that -Mr. Burr had not so much as touched my hand. I -suppose you will believe me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal gave her light laugh. “Certainly, my dear, -certainly; although if I were a man I should fall in -love with you myself. I wouldn’t bet on Latimer, -but I would on you—so don’t worry your little head. -Do you suppose I expect a man with that mouth and -those eyes to be faithful to me? Still, I must say that -I should have given him credit for more decency than -to make love to my sister-in-law—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He didn’t! I swear he didn’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, of course not! Nor will he make love to -every pretty woman he finds himself alone with for five -minutes. He can’t help it, poor thing. Let us go and -talk to the gentlemen.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they entered the little room she exclaimed airily, -“Been making a fool of yourself again, Bev? No, -don’t speak. Patience has told me all about it. I -have every confidence in her and Latimer. Better go -and take a spin with Tammany. Latimer, you really -must mend your manners. They’re too good. From -a distance a stranger would really think you were making -love when you are swearing at the heat. Now, come -down to the Tea House. Good-night, Bevvy dear.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And she went off between her lover and her sister-in-law, -leaving her brother to swear forth his righteous -indignation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night Patience opened the door of her husband’s -room for the first time. Beverly, who had just -entered, was so astonished that the wrath he had carefully -nourished fell like quicksilver under a cool wave, -and he stared at her without speaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish to tell you,” said his wife, “that you were -entirely justified in being angry to-night. I could have -suppressed Burr by a word, but I chose to lead him on -to gratify my curiosity. Hal wishes to marry him, and -I am determined that she shall. If I had admitted -the truth to her or permitted you to enlighten her, her -self-respect would have forced her to break the engagement. -That would have been absurd, for the match is -exactly what she wants, and she is not marrying with -illusions. But you have been treated inconsiderately, -and I apologise for my share in it. Will you forgive -me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I’ll forgive you,” said Beverly, eagerly. -“I wasn’t angry with you, anyhow—only with that -scoundrel. But I never believed you’d do this. Do -you care for me a little?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience averted her face that she might not see the -expression on his. Despite her loathing of him she -gave him a certain measure of pity. With all the preponderance -of the savage in him and the limitations of -his intelligence he had his own capacity for suffering, -and to-night he stood before her crushed under the -sudden reaction, his eyes full of the dumb appeal of -shrinking brutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we are going to live peacefully don’t let us -discuss that subject,” she said gently. “We have both -missed it, and I sometimes think that you are more -to be pitied than I am. However, I shall not flirt—I -promise you that. Good-night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was the last of Mr. Burr’s illegal love-making at -Peele Manor. He had had a fright and a lesson, and -he forgot neither.</p> - -<h2>XIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Garan Bourke is coming to dinner to-night,” said -Hal, the next day. “It’s the hardest thing in the -world to get him; he never goes anywhere; but he -half promised mamma, when he called the other night, -that he’d come some day this week, and he wrote -yesterday, saying he’d dine with us to-day. I want -you to meet him. He is awfully clever, and when he -talks I want to close my eyes and listen to his voice. -If the dear girls ever get the vote and do jury duty, all -he’ll have to do will be to quote law. He needn’t -take the trouble to sum up. His voice will do the -business every time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, in a French gown of black chiffon, was -very beautiful that night. She did not go down to -dinner until every one was seated. Bourke sat next to -Mrs. Peele. Her own chair was near the end of the -opposite side of the long table. For a time she did -not look at Bourke. When she did she met his eyes; -and knew by their expression that some one had told -him she was the wife of Beverly Peele.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After dinner he went with Mr. Peele and Burr into -the library. Patience was about to follow a party of -young people down to the bluff, when Mr. Field drew -her arm firmly through his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not going to desert your court?” he said. -“Why, you don’t suppose I come up here to talk to -Peele, do you? If you go out with those boys I’ll -never come here again.” And he led her into the -library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was nearly twelve o’clock when she found herself -alone with Bourke. The others had gone out, one by -one. She had made no attempt to follow them. She -sat with defiant eyes and inward trepidation. Bourke -regarded her with narrowed eyes and twitching nostrils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you are married?” he said at last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you deliberately made a fool of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—no—I did nothing deliberately that night—no—I -acted on impulse. And all that I said was -quite true. Of course I should have told you—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it would have spoiled your comedy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—no—don’t think that. I see that I was -dishonest—I am not making excuses—I never -thought you’d become really interested—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not breaking my heart. Don’t let that worry -you. The mere fact of your dishonesty is quite enough -to break the spell—for you are not the woman I imagined -you to be. I was merely worshipping an ideal -for the hour. Do you love your husband?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you are a harlot,” he said, deliberately. “It -only needed that.” He rose to his feet and looked -contemptuously at her scarlet face. “At all events it -was an amusing episode,” he said. “Good-night.”</p> - -<h2>XIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a matter of comment before the summer was -over, both among the guests at Peele Manor and the -neighbours, that Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Peele had come -to the parting of the ways. As the young man’s infatuation -was as notable as his wife’s indifference, he -received the larger share of sympathy. The married -men championed Patience and expressed it in their -time-honoured fashion; and although they worried her -she looked forward with terror to the winter: she -would willingly have taken them all to board and -trusted to their wives to keep them in order.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly had confided his woes long since to his -mother. She declined to discuss the subject with her -daughter-in-law, but treated her with a chill severity. -Fortunately they were gay that summer, and Patience -had much to do. Hal and May were absorbed in -preparations for their wedding, and the duties of hostess -fell largely on her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Late in the fall there was a double wedding under -the medallion of Peele the First. Immediately thereafter -May went to Cuba; and Hal to Europe, to pay a -series of visits. Mrs. Peele continued to entertain, and -was obliged to confess that her daughter-in-law was -very useful, and in deportment above reproach. Outwardly -Patience looked almost as cold a woman of the -world as herself, and gave no evidence of the storms -brewing within; but one day she hung out a signal. -Mrs. Peele announced that she should go to town on -the first of December. Patience followed her into her -bedroom and closed the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I speak to you a moment alone?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Certainly,” said Mrs. Peele, frigidly. “Will you -sit down?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She herself took an upright chair, and suggested, -Patience thought, a judge on his bench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I want to go to town with you this winter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should be happy to have my dear son with me, -and I will not deny that you are a great help to me; -but Beverly is as strongly opposed as ever to city life. -I asked him myself to go down for the winter, but he -refused. He is one of Nature’s own children, and loves -the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He certainly is very close to Nature in several of -her moods. But I wish to go whether he does or -not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You would leave your husband?” Mrs. Peele -spoke with meditative scorn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will be better for both of us not to be shut -up here together for another winter. I—I will not -answer for the consequences.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is that a threat?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can take it as you choose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you not love my son?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I do not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you are not ashamed to make such an -admission?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you prefer to have me lie about it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is your duty to love your husband.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That proposition is rather too absurd for argument, -don’t you think so? Will you persuade Beverly to let -me go with you to town?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall not. You should be glad, overjoyed, to -have such a husband. You should feel grateful,” she -added, unburdening her spite in the vulgarity which -streaks high and low, “that he loved you well enough -to overlook your lack of family and fortune—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience had left the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That evening she went to her father-in-law and -stated her case. She spoke calmly, although she was -bitter and sore and worried. “I cannot stay here with -Beverly this winter,” she continued. “I need not -explain any farther. Mrs. Peele will not consent to my -going to town with her. But couldn’t I live abroad? -I could do so on very little. I should care nothing for -society if I could live my life by myself. I should be -quite contented with books and freedom. But I cannot -stay here with Beverly alone again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele shook his head. “It wouldn’t do. I -understand; but it would only result in scandal, and I -don’t like scandal. We have never gone to pieces, like -so many great New York families. Our women have -been proud and conservative, and have not used their -position to cloak their amours. I have perfect confidence -in you, of course; but if you went to Europe and -left Beverly raging here, people would say that you had -gone to meet another man. Moreover, it would do no -good. Beverly would follow you. And he will give -you no cause for divorce: he has the cunning peculiar -to the person of ugly disposition and limited mentality. -No, try to stand it. Remember that all the humours -of human nature have their limit. Beverly will become -indifferent in time. Then he will let you come to us. -I intend to take a rest in a year or two and go abroad, -and I shall be glad to have you with us. I do not mind -telling you that you are the brightest young woman I -have ever known—and Mr. Field has said the same -thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience was not in a mood to bend her neck to -flattery. She shook her head gloomily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I have any brain, cannot you see that I suffer the -more? Mr. Peele, I cannot stay here with Beverly! -Do you know that sometimes I have felt that I could -kill him? I am afraid of myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush! Hush! Don’t say such things. You excitable -young women are altogether too extravagant in -your way of expressing yourselves. Words carry a great -deal farther than you have any idea of—take an old -lawyer’s word for it. Now try to stand it. In fact, -you must stand it. I’ll do all I can. I’ll leave a -standing order with Brentano to send you all the new -books, and I’ll insist upon your coming up every week -or so to have some amusement. But for God’s sake -make no scandal.”</p> - -<h2>XV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the first of December Patience and Beverly were -alone once more. The weather was fine, and Beverly -temporarily absorbed in breaking in a colt on his private -track. Patience spent the first day wandering about -the woods, tormented by her thoughts. She remembered -with passionate regret the old crystal woods -where she had been a girl of dreams and ideals. Her -ideals were in ruins. The hero of her dreams had told -her a hideous truth that had made her hate him and -more abundantly despise herself. She longed ardently -to get away to a mountain top, a hundred miles from -civilisation. Nature had been her friend in the old -Californian days, and the green or white beauty of her -second environment had satisfied her in that peaceful -intermediate time. But Westchester County, although -exquisitely pretty, lacked grandeur and the suggestion of -colossal throes in remote ages with which every stone in -California is eloquent. That was what she wanted now. -But there was no prospect of getting away. Did she -have enthusiasm enough left to leave summarily she -had little money. She was very extravagant, and left -the larger part of her quarterly allowance with New -York shops and milliners and dressmakers; but she -knew that the end was approaching, and listlessly -awaited it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Heavy with rebellious disgust she returned to the -house and went mechanically to the library. For a -while she did not read; she felt no impulse to do so. -But after a time she took down a book in desperation, -a volume of a new edition de luxe of “Childe -Harold.” She had not read it during her brief Byronic -fever, and had not opened the poet since. Gradually -she forgot self. She began with the third canto, and -when she had finished the fourth she discovered that -her spirits were lighter, a weight had risen from her -brain. She had always regarded “notes” as an evidence -of the amateur reader, but to-day she scrawled on -a fly-leaf of Mr. Peele’s new morocco edition:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“As the Christian goes to his God for help, the intellectual, -in hours of depression and disgust and doubt go -to the great Creators of Literature, those master minds -that lift our own temporarily above the terrible enigma of -the commonplace, and possess us to the extinction of -personal meditation. Are not these genii as worthy of deification -by the higher civilisation as was Jesus Christ—their -brother—by the great illogical suffering mass of mankind? -‘Faith shall make ye whole,’ said Christ; ‘come unto me, -all ye that are heavy laden.’ ‘Develop your brain, and I -will give you self-oblivion, philosophy, and a soul of many -windows,’ say the great masters of thought and style, the -stupendous creative imaginations.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly came home in high good humour; his colt -had showed his blood, and nearly pulled him out of the -break-cart. Patience endeavoured to appear interested, -and he was so pleased that the atmosphere during -dinner was quite domestic. Afterward he went to -sleep on a sofa by the library fire, and his wife read.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A week passed more placidly than Patience had expected. -Beverly was evidently under stress to make -himself agreeable. His wife suspected that he had had -a long and meaning conference with his father. In -truth he was desperately afraid that she would leave -him. Patience did not know whether she hated him -most when he was amiable or violent; but she hated -herself more than she hated him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think I’ll go to town and see Rosita,” she -thought one morning as she awakened. “It seems to -me that she is the fittest companion I could find.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the breakfast-table she appeared in a tailor frock -and turban, and informed Beverly that she was going to -town to pay some visits. Beverly looked at her for a -moment with black face, then dropped his eyes without -comment. He recalled his father’s advice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What train shall you come home in?” he asked -after a moment. “I’ll go down to the station to meet -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot say. I shall be back to dinner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Aren’t you going to kiss me good-bye?” he asked -sullenly, when she was about to open the front door. -She hesitated a moment, then raised her face, closing -her eyes, lest he should see the impulse to strike him. -He saw the hesitation and turned away with an oath, -then ran after her, flung his arms about her and kissed -her. She walked down to the station with burning -face, rubbing her mouth and cheeks violently, careless -of the wide-eyed regard of two gardeners.</p> - -<h2>XVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When she arrived at Rosita’s the maid admitted her -without protest, not recognising in this elegant young -woman the countrified girl of two years before. She -left Patience in the dark drawing-room, but returned in -a moment and announced that Madame would see Mrs. -Peele at once. Patience followed the woman through -the boudoir and bedroom to the bath-room, a classic -apartment of pink tiles. The tub was merely one corner -of the room walled off with tiles; and in it, covered -from throat to foot with a sheet, her head on a silken -strap, lay Rosita. By her side sat a girl in a fashionable -ulster and large hat, a note-book and pencil on -her lap. Rosita looked like a dark-haired Aphrodite, -and was as fresh as a rose. A maid had just dried one -pink and white hand, and she held it out to Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita! Patita! Patita!” she said with her sweet -drawl and accent, and without a trace of resentment in -her soft heavy eyes. “Where, where have you been all -these years? Miss Merrien, this is my oldest and -dearest friend, Mrs. Beverly Peele [she pronounced the -name with visible pride]. Patita, this is Miss Merrien -of the ‘Day.’ She is interviewing me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience flushed as she bent her head to the young -woman, who regarded her with conspicuous amazement, -and whose nostrils quivered a little, as if she scented a -“story.” She was a pretty girl with a dark rather worn -face, a frank eye, and a nervous manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita, sit down there just for a moment while I -look at you. Then we will go into the other room. -I could not wait to see you. <span class='it'>Dios de mi alma</span>, but you -have changed, Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>. Who would ever have -thought that you would be such a beauty and such a -swell. Gray cloth and chinchilla! Just think, Miss -Merrien, we used to wear sunbonnets and copper-toed -boots, and drove an old blind horse that would not go -off a walk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“May I put that down?” asked the girl, eagerly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, please don’t,” exclaimed Patience. Miss Merrien’s -face fell. Then she smiled, and said good-naturedly, -“All right, I won’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And now Patita is a swell,” pursued Rosita, -as if no interruption had occurred, “and I am a -famous <span class='it'>prima donna</span>. Such is life. Patita, do you -know that I have two hundred thousand dollars invested?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Really?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si, señorita!</span> Oh, my price has gone up, Patita -<span class='it'>mia</span>,” and she laughed her low delicious laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien smiled. “A man shot himself for that -laugh the other day—I suppose you read about it,” -she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I did not. I have read the newspapers irregularly -of late—the ‘stories,’ at least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is true,” said Rosita, complacently. “Oh, Patita, -life is so lovely. To think that we both had such great -destinies! <span class='it'>Pobre</span> Manuela, and Panchita, and all the -rest! <span class='it'>Bueno</span>, go into the bedroom, both of you, and I -will be there in ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience and Miss Merrien seated themselves in the -white bower of velvet and lace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please do not put me into your story,” said Patience, -hastily. “It would not do—you see my husband -would not like it—but we are old friends, and I -wanted to see her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien nodded intelligently. With the suspicion -of her craft she leaped to the conclusion that the -fashionable young woman came to her disreputable -friend for an occasional lark.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I promise you. If you hadn’t asked me I -should though. It would make a fine story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me,” said Patience abruptly, “do you like being -a newspaper woman? Is it very hard work?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, it’s hard work,” Miss Merrien answered in some -surprise; “but then it is the most fascinating, I do -believe, in the whole world. I have a family and a -home out West, and I could go back and be comfortable -if I wanted to; but I wouldn’t give up this life, with -all its grind and uncertainty, for that dead and alive -existence. I only go out there once a year to rest. I -came on here for an experiment, to see a little of the -world. I had a dreadful time catching on; once I -thought I’d starve, for I was bound I wouldn’t write -home for money; but I hung on and got there. And -I’m here to stay.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, is it really so pleasant? Sometimes I wish I -were a newspaper woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You? You? I never saw anybody that looked -less like one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am very strong. I am naturally pale, that is all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, your skin is lovely: it’s that warm dead white. -I wasn’t thinking of that. But you look like the princess -that felt the pea under sixteen mattresses.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One adapts one’s self easily to luxury. I have -only had it two years. I do like it certainly. Nevertheless, -I’d like to be a newspaper woman. You look -tired; are you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I am, Mrs. Peele. It’s hard work, if it is -fascinating; for instance, I’ve chased about this entire -week for stories that haven’t panned out for a cent. I -haven’t made ten dollars. I came up here as a last -resource. La Rosita is always good-natured, and I -hoped she’d have a story for me. But all I’ve got is -a crank that’s following her about threatening to kill -her if she doesn’t marry him, and that’s such a chestnut. -If I could only fake something I know she’d let -it go, but my imagination’s worn to a thread—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The portière was pushed aside, and Rosita entered. -She wore a glistening night-robe of silk and lace and -ribbon under a yellow plush bath gown. Her dense -black hair fell to her knees. She slid into bed and -ordered her maid to admit the manicure. An old -woman, looking like a witch and clad in shabby black, -came in and took a chair beside the bed. The maid -brought a crystal bowl and warm water, and a golden -manicure set, and Rosita held forth her incomparable -arm with its little Spanish hand. She lay with indolent -grace among the large pillows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You certainly are a beauty,” exclaimed Miss Merrien, -enthusiastically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita smiled with much pleasure. “I love to hear -a woman say that, and I shall make good copy for -many years yet. I shall not fade like most Spanish -women. Oh, I have learned many secrets.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish you hadn’t told them to me, and then I -should still have them to write about. They made a -great story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Dios! Dios!</span>” said Rosita, plaintively, “I wish we -could think of something. I hate to send you away -with nothing at all. I love to be written about. Patita, -can’t you think of something?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Mrs. Peele,” said Miss Merrien, “let us see -if you are a good fakir. That is one of the first essentials -of being a successful newspaper woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear! Is it? If I could fake I’d make books. -I’d like that even better. Rosita, did you ever tell -the newspapers about that time I coached you for your -first appearance on any stage, and the great hit you -made?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is that?” asked Miss Merrien, sharply.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never thought of it. Patita, you tell the story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This Patience did, while Miss Merrien wrote rapidly -in shorthand, pausing occasionally to exclaim with -rapture.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my good angel sent me here this morning,” -she said when Patience had finished. “I won’t mention -your name, of course, but you won’t mind my saying -that you are one of the Four Hundred.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t suppose there is any objection. I am such -an obscure member of it that no one will suspect me. -Only don’t give any details.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I won’t, indeed I won’t.” She slipped her -book into her muff and rose to go. “You don’t know -how much obliged I am. I’ll do as much for you some -day. If ever you want to be written up, let me know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never should want to be in the newspapers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, there’s no telling. You haven’t had a taste of -it yet. Well, good-morning,” and she went out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience leaned back in her luxurious chair, and -watched the old woman polish the pretty nails. Rosita -babbled, and Patience watched her face closely. Its -colouring was as fresh, its contours as perfect as ever, but -there was a faint touch of hardness somewhere, and the -eyes held more secrets than they had two years ago. -They were the eyes of the wanton. For a moment -Patience forgot her surroundings. Her mind flew back -to the old days, to the rickety buggy with the two contented -innocent little girls, then, by a natural deflection, -to her tower and her dreams. She longed passionately -for the old Mission, and wondered if Solomon were still -alive. Then she thought of Bourke, and came back to -the present with a shudder. The woman had gone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the matter?” asked Rosita. “Is it true—what -the men say—that you are not happy with your -husband?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hate him,” said Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you get a divorce?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no grounds.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No grounds? Fancy a wife having no grounds!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have not the slightest doubt of his faith.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Send him to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Rosita! How can you be so coarse?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No-o-o-o! You are my old friend. I would do -anything for you. Think it over, Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do not need to think it over. I would never do -so vile a thing as that. Have you no refinement left?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What earthly use would I have for refinement? -Patita, you are such a baby, and you always had ideals -and things. Have you got them yet?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” said Patience, rising abruptly. “I haven’t. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye, Patita dear,” said Rosita, with unruffled -good humour, “and if ever you are in trouble come -here and I will take you in. I would even lend you -money, and if you knew me you would know how much -I loved you to do that. There is not another person -living I would give a five cent piece to.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience reached the sidewalk she filled her -lungs with fresh air, then looked at her watch. It was -only a half after twelve, and she decided to call on -Mary Gallatin. She had never yet paid that charming -young fashionette the promised morning call, although -she had attended one or two of her afternoon receptions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She told the coachman to drive to the house in Fifty-seventh -Street, then threw herself back on the seat and -laughed, a long unpleasant laugh. She tapped first one -foot and then the other, with increasing nervousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What fools we mortals be to cry for the unattainable,” -she said, addressing the little mirror opposite. -“Probably that young newspaper woman envies me -bitterly. So, doubtless, do many others. Why on -earth am I longing for what I’ll never find, instead of -making the best of a bad bargain and the most of my -position? I think I’ll find my way out of the difficulty -with the average woman’s solution: I’ll take a lover.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The carriage stopped before a house with the breadth -of stoop which in New York means plentiful wealth. -She waited in the drawing-room while the cautious -butler went up to see if his mistress would receive this -stranger. He returned in a moment and conducted -her up to a door at the front of the house. Patience -entered a large room whose light was so subdued that for -a moment she could see only vaguely outlined forms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mrs. Beverly, how dear of you,” cried a sweet -voice, and Patience groped her way round the angle of -a large bed and saw Mrs. Gallatin sitting against a -mass of pillows. “I’m so glad you came this morning. -I’m feeling so blue. I’ve twisted my foot, you know, -and my friends are so kind to me. Mr. Rutger, give -Mrs. Peele a chair. Mrs. Beverly, you know Mr. -Rutger and Mr. Maitland and Mr. Owen, do you not? -There is Leontine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The three young men, who had risen as she entered, -bowed and resumed their seats. Mrs. Lafarge threw -her a kiss from the depths of a chair by the fire.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sat down and glanced about her while Mrs. -Lafarge finished an anecdote she had been telling. Her -eyes became accustomed to the light, and in a moment -she saw things quite distinctly. The large room was furnished -in Empire style, the walls and windows and the -great mahogany and brass bedstead covered with crimson -satin damask. There were only a few pieces of -heavy furniture, in the room, but like the bed they -were magnificent. Each brass carving told a different -story.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mrs. Gallatin, smiling, exquisite, wore a cambric -gown, less elaborate than Rosita’s but more dainty. -Her shining hair was drawn modishly to the top of her -head and confined with a pink porcelain comb, carved -into semblance of wild roses. A pink silk shawl slipped -from her shoulders. Another wild rose was at her -throat. On her hands she wore rubies only.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The story Mrs. Lafarge told was slightly naughty, and -all laughed heartily at its conclusion. Patience had -heard too many naughty stories in the last two years to -be shocked; but when one of the young men began -another he was promptly hissed down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not going to tell that before Mrs. Beverly,” -said Mary Gallatin. “She is quite too frightfully -proper. But we’re awfully fond of her all the same,” -and she patted Patience’s hand while her lovely young -face contracted in a charming scowl. Patience wondered -if she had a lover—Mr. Gallatin was a dapper -little man—and if that was why she looked so happy. -She glanced speculatively at the men, and wondered if -she could fall in love with one of them. But they -were very ordinary New York youths of fashion, high of -shoulder, slow of speech, large of epiglottis, vacuous of -expression. She shook her head unconsciously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what on earth are you thinking about?” -cried Mrs. Gallatin, with her silvery laugh. “That -wasn’t a shake of disapproval, was it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, no!” said Patience, hastily. “Something -occurred to me, and I forgot I was not alone. You -see, I am so much alone that I’ve even gotten into the -habit of thinking out loud.” She felt that she was a -restraint—the suppressed young man had relapsed -into moody silence—and, as soon as she reasonably -could, rose to go. Mrs. Gallatin kissed her warmly -and Mrs. Lafarge came forward and kissed her also; -but Patience detected a faint note of relief in their -voices, and went downstairs feeling more depressed -than ever. “There seems to be no place for me,” she -thought. “I must be out of tune with everything.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went to her father-in-law’s house in Eleventh -Street and found Mrs. Peele and Honora gowned for -expected luncheon guests. The former apologised -coldly for not being able to ask her to join them, but -“there was only room in the dining-room for eight.” -Honora rippled regret, and Patience felt that she should -disgrace herself with tears if she did not get out of the -house. She went directly to the station, intending to -return home, but as the train approached Peele Manor -she turned her back squarely on the old house and -decided to go on to Mariaville and see Miss Beale. -She remembered with satisfaction that she knew at -least one wholesome thoroughly sincere woman, however -misguided.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she reached the station she concluded to walk -to the house. She felt nervous and excited. Her -cheeks burned and her temples ached a little. She had -taken no nourishment that day but a cup of coffee and -a roll, and her head felt light. It was now two o’clock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she had gone a little more than half way she -lifted her eyes and saw Miss Beale coming toward her -with beaming face, one hand ready to wave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Patience!” she cried, as they met. “I’m so -glad to see you. I’m just going to kiss you if it is on -the street. I can’t say I thought you’d forgotten me, for -you’ve sent me money for my poor every time I begged -for it; but I did think you’d never come to see me.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had no excuse to offer, so wisely attempted -none, but returned Miss Beale’s embrace heartily. -The older woman’s face was brilliant with pleasure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear me, how pretty you have grown! What a -colour! I’m so glad to see you looking so well. -How happy dear Miss Tremont would be to see you -now. She was always afraid you would be delicate. -But we can’t wish her back, can we, Patience?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no use wishing anything undone. Where -are you going?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where I am going to take you. Now, don’t ask -any questions, but just come along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, hoping that the destination was a fair -where she could get luncheon, followed submissively, -and evaded Miss Beale’s personal inquiries as best she -could.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How does the Temperance Cause get on?” she -asked at length.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, just the same! Just the same!” said Miss -Beale, with a cheerful sigh. “One makes slow progress -in this wicked world; all we can do is to trust in the -Lord and do our humble best. Mariaville has three -new saloons, and the father of one of my scholars beat -him nearly to death the other day for coming to the -Loyal Legion class; but we’ll win in the end.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Meanwhile are you as much interested as ever?” -asked Patience, curiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my!” Miss Beale gave an almost hilarious -laugh. “Well, I should think so. How could I ever -lose interest in the Lord’s work? Why, I never even -get discouraged.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It has occurred to me, sometimes—since I have -been away and met all sorts of people—that if you -really were Temperance you might have more chance -of success.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If we were what?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Temperance in the actual meaning of the word. -You’re not, you know; you’re teetotalists. That is the -reason you antagonise so many thousands of men who -might be glad to help you with their vote otherwise. -The average gentleman—and there are thousands upon -thousands of him—never gets drunk, and enjoys his -wine at dinner and even his whiskey and water. He -doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t have it, and -there isn’t any. It adds to the pleasures of life. -Those are the people that really represent Temperance, -and naturally they have no sympathy with a movement -that they consider narrow-minded and an unwarrantable -intrusion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale shook her head vigorously. “It is a sin -to touch it!” she exclaimed, “and sooner or later they -will all be drunkards, every one of them. The blessing -of God is not on alcohol, and it should be banished -from the face of the earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was in a perverse and almost ugly mood. -“Tell me,” she said, “how do you reconcile your -animosity to alcohol with the story of Christ’s turning -the water into wine at the wedding feast?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wasn’t wine,” said Miss Beale, triumphantly; -“it was grape juice. Wine takes days to ferment, so -the water couldn’t possibly have become wine all in a -minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience burst into laughter. “But, Miss Beale, it -was a miracle anyhow, wasn’t it? If he could perform -a miracle at all it would have been as easy to make wine -out of water as grape juice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale shook her head emphatically and set her -lips. “I <span class='it'>know</span> that the Lord never would have offered -wine to anybody; but grape juice is delightful, and he -probably knew it, and they called it wine. That is all -there is to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” exclaimed Patience, forgetting the Temperance -question, as Miss Beale turned into a path and -walked toward the side entrance of the First Presbyterian -Church, “are we going here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, this is just where we are going. There is a -special meeting of the Y’s and Christian Endeavourers -of Mariaville and White Plains and two or three other -places. Ah! I’ve caught you now, you naughty -girl.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience turned away her face and frowned heavily. -All her old dislike of religion, almost forgotten during -the past two years, surged up above the impulsion of -her fermenting spirit. She felt the old impatience, the -old intolerance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you want me to go in there?” she asked. “I -came to see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’re not going to get out of it,” cried Miss -Beale, gayly. “And I know you better than you know -yourself. I know you always wanted to give yourself -to the Lord, only you are too proud.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stared at her, wondering if she had so far -forgotten herself as to indulge in a little joke at the -expense of her idols; but Miss Beale was looking at -her with kind, earnest eyes. Patience laughed, and -shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll go in to please you; but I hope it won’t -be too long, for I’m horribly hungry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, dear! Why didn’t you come a little earlier? -But it won’t be more than two hours, and then I’ll have -a hot luncheon prepared for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She led Patience through the large church parlour -and straight up to a table, lifting a chair as she passed -the front row of seats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want to sit here,” whispered Patience, -hurriedly; but Miss Beale pushed her into the chair, and -seated herself beside her, at the back of the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am going to preside, and you are the guest of -honour,” she said. “Young ladies,” she continued, -smiling at the rows of bright and serious faces, “I -am sure you will all be glad to see Patience again. I -know she is glad to see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience arose and bowed awkwardly, then sat down -and tapped the floor with her foot. The young women -looked surprised and pleased. One and all smiled -encouragingly, sure that she had been converted at last. -Many of the faces were bright with youth and even mischief; -others were careworn and aging. Not one of -them but looked happy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience under her calm exterior began to seethe -and mutter once more. Once she almost laughed -aloud as she thought of the effect upon these simple-minded -girls if the hell within her were suddenly made -manifest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The meeting opened at once. Miss Beale offered a -prayer, in which she implored that they all might love -the Lord the more. Hymns were sung, the Bible read, -and reports by the various secretaries and treasurers. -Then one serious and not unintelligent-looking woman -of thirty read a platitudinous paper beginning: “Some -one has said, ‘The time will come when it will be the -proudest boast of every man and woman to say “I am -an American.”’ I say that the time will come when it -will be the proudest boast of every man and woman to -say, ‘I am a Christian.’”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All regarded the reader with eyes of affection and -approval. Each word Patience, in her abnormal state -of mind, took as a personal insult to Intellect. She -felt furiously resentful that in this Nineteenth Century -with its educational facilities, its libraries full of the -achievements of great masters of thought, there should -be so low a standard of intellectuality in the middle -classes. Even the fashionable women, frivolous as they -were, were brighter, and keener to pierce outworn traditions. -They might not be thinkers, but they had a -species of lightning in their brain which rent superstition -and gave them flashlight glimpses of life in its true -proportions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls began to give experiences. One had just -joined the Y’s, and she related with tears the story of -her struggle between the World and the Church, and -her thankfulness that at last she had been permitted to -decide in favour of the Lord. Patience remembered -her as the vapid daughter of rather wealthy parents -who in her own day had been devoted to society and -young men. She was very faded. Many of the girls -wept in sympathy, and Miss Beale mopped her eyes -several times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An extremely pretty girl stood up, a girl with black -hair and pale blue eyes and rich pink colour. Patience -regarded her satirically, thinking what a beauty she -would be if properly gowned. Miss Beale, noting her -interest, patted her hand and smiled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I just want to say,” began the girl, with deep earnestness, -“that every day of my life I have greater confidence -that the Lord loves me and hears what I ask -Him. You know that I write the reports of the Y. W. -C. T. U., and of course I have to get them printed for -nothing. So when I sit down to write them I just ask -the Lord to tell me what to say and how to say it, and -all the way to the office I keep asking Him to tell me -what to say to the editor so that he will print it and -help our great cause along. And, girls, he prints it every -time, and only yesterday he said to me: ‘I like your -stuff because it’s direct and to the point, no gush, no -rhetoric—it’s plain horse sense.’ Now, girls, you -need not think I say that to compliment myself. I -just say it to prove that the Lord writes those newspaper -articles, not I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience put her handkerchief to her face and shook -convulsively. She bit her lips to keep from laughing -aloud; she wanted to scream.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she became conscious of a deep murmur. -Supposing it to be of disapproval, she straightened her -mouth and dropped her handkerchief; but her face -was scarlet, her eyes full of tears. The girls were leaning -forward, regarding her earnestly. Miss Beale leaned -over and placed her arm about her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth are you thinking about?” gasped -Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell us what is in your heart,” said Miss Beale, in -a tremulous voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And, “Tell us! Tell us!” came from the girls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t know what you are saying,” said Patience, -freeing herself angrily. “Let me go.” She was trembling -with excitement. Her head felt very light. The -blood was pounding in her ears. She started to her -feet, meaning to rush to the door; but Miss Beale was -too quick for her. She caught her firmly by the waist -and led her to the middle of the space at the head of -the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know she will speak,” said Miss Beale. “Patience, -we all feel our awful responsibility. If you speak -out now, you will be saved. If your timidity overcomes -you, you may go hence and never hear His knock -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Speak! Speak!” came with solemn emphasis from -the Y’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, I’ll speak,” cried Patience. “And suppose -you hear me out. It will be only polite, since -you have forced me to speak. You have always misunderstood -me. I am by no means indifferent to the -God you worship. I have the most exalted respect -and admiration for this tremendous creative force behind -the Universe, a respect so great that I should -never presume to address him as you do in your funny -little egoism. Do you realise that this magnificent -Being of whose essence you have not the most approximate -idea, is the Creator, not only of this but of countless -other worlds and systems, and furthermore of the -psychic and physical laws that govern them and of the -extraordinary mystery of which we are a part, and which -has its most subtle expression in the Space surrounding -us? And yet you, atoms, pigmies, tiny individual manifestations -of a great correlative force called human nature, -you presume to address this stupendous Being, -and stand up and kneel down and talk to It, to imagine -that It listens to your insignificant wants,—that It -writes newspaper articles! Is it Christianity that has -destroyed the sense of humour in its disciples?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“In each of you is a shaft from the great dominating -Force—that is quite true, and it is for you to develop -that force—character—and rely upon it, not upon -a spiritual lover, as weak women do upon some unfortunate -man. What good does all this religious sentimentality -do you? Your brains are rotting. You have -nothing to talk about to intelligent men. No wonder -the men of small towns get away as soon as they can, -and seek the intelligent women of lower strata. Men -are naturally brighter than women, and girls of your -sort deliberately make yourselves as limited and colourless -as you can. Go, make yourselves companions for -men, if you would make the world better, if you must -improve the human race. Study the subjects that -interest them, that fill their life; study politics and the -great questions of the day, that you may lead them to -the higher ethical plane on which nature has placed -you. Quit this erotic sentimentalising over an abstract -being to whom you must be the profoundest joke of his -civilisation—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hush!” shrieked Miss Beale. For some moments -Patience had been obliged to raise her voice above the -angry mutterings of her audience. One or two were -sobbing hysterically. Miss Beale’s cry was the signal -for the explosion of pent-up excitement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go! Go!” cried the girls. “Go out of this -church! Blasphemer! Shame! Shame!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience looked out undaunted upon the sea of -flushed angry faces, which a few moments before had -been all peace and love. She shrugged her shoulders, -bowed to Miss Beale, who was staring at her with horrified -eyes in a livid face, and walked toward the door. -The girls pressed her forward, lest she should speak -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We have a right as churchwomen to hate you,” -cried one, “for we are told to hate the devil, and you -are he incarnate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience refused to accelerate her steps, but reached -the door in a moment. As she was about to pass out -a joyous face was uplifted to hers. It belonged to a -girl still sitting. Her lap was piled with loose sheets -of paper. There was an excited smirch of lead on her -cheek. Even as she raised her head and spoke she -continued writing. “That was a corker,” she whispered, -“the biggest story I’ve had in weeks.” It was -Miss Merrien.</p> - -<h2>XVII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was an early riser, and had usually read the -“Day” through before Beverly lounged downstairs, sleepy -and cross and masculine. On the morning after her -day of varied experience she took the newspaper into -the library and read the first page leisurely, as was her -habit. The news of the world still interested her profoundly. -Then she read the editorials, and, later, -glanced idly at the headlines of the “stories.” The -following arrested her startled eye:</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>AN EARTHQUAKE IN MARIAVILLE!</p> -<p class='line'>THE GOOD PEOPLE ARE OUTRAGED!</p> -<p class='line'>A SENSATION BY THE BEAUTIFUL AND BRILLIANT</p> -<p class='line'>MRS. BEVERLY PEELE!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>The story covered two thirds of a column. Patience -read it three times in succession without stopping to -comment. It was graphically told, much exaggerated, -and as carefully climaxed as dramatic fiction. And it -was interesting reading. Patience decided that if it -had not been about herself she should have given -it more than passing attention. Her beauty and grace -and elegance, her grand air, were described with enthusiasm. -Every possible point of contrast was made to -the serious and unfashionable Y’s.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first Patience was horrified. She wondered what -Mr. and Mrs. Peele would say. Beverly’s comments -were not within the limitations of doubt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m in for it,” she thought. Then she smiled. -She felt the same thrill she had experienced when the -men looked askance at her after her assault upon her -mother. The Ego ever lifts its head at the first caress, -and quickly becomes as insatiable as a child for sweets. -Patience glanced at the article to note how many times -her name—in small capitals—sprang forth to meet -her eyes. She imagined Bourke reading it, and Mrs. -Gallatin, and Mrs. Lafarge, and many others, and wondered -if strangers would find it interesting; then, -suddenly, she threw back her head and laughed aloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What fools we mortals be!” she thought. “And -the President of the United States has dozens of paragraphs -written about him every day. And actors and -writers are paragraphed <span class='it'>ad nauseam</span>. If a woman is -run over in the street she has a column, and if she goes -to a hotel and commits suicide, she has two, and is a -raving beauty. Rosita is persecuted for stories. The -Ego ought to have its ears boxed every morning, as -some old-fashioned people switch their children. Well, -here comes Beverly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her husband entered, and for the first time in many -months she sprang to her feet and gave him a little -peck on his cheek. He was so surprised that he -forgot to pick up the newspaper, and followed her at -once into the dining-room. During the meal she -talked of his horses and his farm, and even offered -to take a drive with him. He was going to White -Plains to look at some blooded stock which was to be -sold at auction, and promptly invited her to accompany -him; but her diplomacy had its limits, and she declined. -However, he went from the table in high good humour. -When she left him in the library, a few moments later, -he was arranging the scattered sheets of the “Day,” -without his accustomed comments upon “the infernal -manner in which a woman always left a newspaper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience went up to her room and wrote a note of -apology to Miss Beale. She was half way through a -long letter to Hal when she heard Beverly bounding up -the stair three steps at a time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The cyclone struck Peele Manor at 10.25,” she -said, looking at the clock. “Sections of the fair—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly burst in without ceremony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What the hell does this mean?” he cried, brandishing -the newspaper. His dilating nostrils were livid. -The rest of his face was almost black.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beverly, you will certainly have apoplexy or burst -a blood vessel,” said his wife, solicitously. “Think of -those that love you and preserve yourself—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Those that love me be damned! The idea of my -wife—<span class='it'>my wife</span>—being the heroine of a vulgar newspaper -story! Her name out in a headline! Mrs. -Beverly Peele! My God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“God was the cause of the whole trouble,” said -Patience, flippantly. “I thought the young women -were entirely too intimate with him. The spectacle -conjured of The Almighty with his sleeves rolled up -grinding out copy at five dollars per column was too -much for me. I have the most profound admiration -and respect for the Deity, and felt called upon to -defend him—the others seemed so unconscious of -insult—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is no subject for a joke,” cried Beverly, who -had sworn steadily through these remarks. “I don’t -care a hang if you had a reason or not for making a -public speech—Christ!—it’s enough that you made -it, that your name’s in the paper—my wife’s name! -What will my father and mother say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They will not swear. A few of the Peeles are -decently well bred.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No one ever gave them cause to swear before. -You’ve turned this family upside down since you came -into it. You’ve been the ruin of my life. I wish to -God I’d never seen you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I sincerely wish you hadn’t. What had you intended -to make of your life that I have interfered -with?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I’d married a woman who loved me I’d have -been a better man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder how many weak men have said that since -the world began! You were twenty-six when I married -you, and I cannot see that there has been any change in -kind since, although there certainly is in degree. If -you had married the ordinary little domestic woman, -you would have been happier, but you would not have -been better, for you possess neither soul nor intelligence. -But I am perfectly willing to give you a chance -for happiness. Give me my freedom, and look about -you for a doll—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean to say that you want a divorce?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you know just how much I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you won’t get it—by God! Do you understand -that? You’ve no cause, and you’ll not get -any.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There should be a law made for women who—who—well, -like myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her husband was incapable of understanding her. -“Well, you just remember that,” he said. “You don’t -get a divorce, and you keep out of the newspapers, or -you’ll be sorry,” and he slammed the door and strode -away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A quarter of an hour after Patience heard the wheels -of his cart. At the same time the train stopped below -the slope. A few moments later she saw Miss Merrien -come up the walk. The maid brought up the visitor’s -card, and with it a note from Mr. Field.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Mrs. Beverly</span> [it read],—Forgive me—but you -are a woman of destiny, or I haven’t studied people sixty -years for nothing. I chose to be the first—the scent of -the old war-horse for news, you know. Peele will be -furious, but I can’t bother about a trifle like that. Just give -this young woman an interview, and oblige your old -friend</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.5em;'>J. E. F.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience started to go downstairs, then turned -to the mirror and regarded herself attentively. She -looked very pretty, remarkably so, as she always did -when the pink was in her cheeks; but her morning -gown was plain and not particularly becoming. She -changed it, after some deliberation, for a house-robe -of pearl grey silk with a front of pale pink chiffon -hanging straight from a collar of cut steel. The maid -had brought her some pink roses from the greenhouse; -she fastened one in the coil of her soft pale hair. -Then she smiled at her reflection, shook out her train, -and rustled softly down the stair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien exclaimed with feminine enthusiasm as -she entered the library.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are the loveliest woman to write about,” -she said. “I do a lot of society work; and I am so -tired of describing the conventional beauty. And that -gown! I’m going to describe every bit of it. Did it -come from Paris?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” said Patience, amused at her immediate success. -“My mother-in-law brought it to me last summer—but -perhaps you had better not mention Mrs. -Peele in your story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I won’t, of course, if you don’t want me to. -I have written the story about La Rosita for the Sunday -‘Day,’ and I did not hint at your identity. It made -a good story, but not as good as the one about you. -Mr. Field wrote me a note this morning, complimenting -me, and told me to come up here and interview -you. I hope you don’t mind very much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t the faintest idea whether I do or not. -How do you do it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you see, I’ll just ask you questions and you -answer them, and I’ll put it all down in shorthand, and -then when I go to the office I’ll thresh it into shape. -You can be sure that I won’t say anything that isn’t -pleasant, for I really never admired any one half so -much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well, you interview me, and then I’ll interview -you. I have some questions to ask also.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you anything you like. This story, by -the way, is to be in the Sunday issue on the Woman’s -Page. Now we’ll begin. Were you always an unbeliever? -Tell me exactly what are your religious -opinions.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear me! You are not going to write a serious -analysis of me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, but I’ll give it the light touch so that it won’t -bore anybody. It is to be called ‘A Society Woman -Who Thinks,’ and will be read with interest all over -America.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I am not a society woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’re a swell, and that’s the same thing, for -this purpose anyhow. The Gardiner Peeles are out of -sight, and I have heard lots of times how beautifully -you entertain in summer and how charmingly you gown -yourself. Tell me first—what do you think of this -everlasting woman question? I hate the very echo of -the thing, but we’ll have to touch on it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I haven’t given much thought to it, except as -a phase of current history. One thing is positive, I -think: we must adjust our individual lives without -reference to any of the problems of the moment,—Womanism, -Socialism, the Ethical Question, the Marriage -Question, and all the others that are everlasting -raging. He that would be happy must deal with the -great primal facts of life—and these facts will endure -until human nature is no more. Moreover, however -much she may reason, nothing can eradicate the strongest -instinct in woman—that she can find happiness -only through some man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good,” said Miss Merrien. “I’d have thought the -same thing if I’d ever had time. Now tell me if you -have any religion at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I should be called an anarchist. Don’t -be alarmed: I mean the philosophical or spiritual anarchist, -not these poor maniarchists that are merely an -objectionable variety of lunatics. The religious situation -is this, I think: Jesus Christ does not satisfy the -intellectual needs of the Nineteenth Century. And -yet, indisputably, the religionists are happier than the -multiplying scores that could no more continue in the -old delusion than they could worship idols or torture -the flesh. Civilisation needs a new prophet, and he -must be an anarchist,—one who will teach the government -of self by self, the government of man’s nature by -will, which in its turn is subservient to the far seeing -brain. Human nature is anarchic in its essence. The -child never was born that was brought to bend to -authority without effort. We are still children, or we -should not need laws and governments.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait till I get that down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course these are only individual opinions. I -don’t claim any value for them, and should never have -thought of airing them if you hadn’t asked me. For -my part I’m glad I live in this imperfect chaotic age. -When we can all do exactly as we please and won’t -even remember how to want to do anything wrong—Awful!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you said the advanced thinkers needed this -new religion to make them happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Their happiness will consist in the tremendous -effort to reach the difficult goal. That will take centuries, -just as the spiritualised socialism of Jesus Christ -has taken twenty centuries, and only imperfectly possessed -one third of the globe. When anarchy is a cold -hard fact—well, I suspect the anarchists will suddenly -discover that <span class='it'>ennui</span> is in their vitals, and will gently -yawn each other to death. Then the tadpoles will -begin over again; or perhaps there will then be mental -and moral developments that we in our present limitations -cannot conceive. Haven’t you had enough?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, no. I’ve a dozen questions more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien, like all good newspaper reporters, was -an amateur lawyer and a harmless hypnotist. In an -hour she had extracted Patience’s views of society, -books, dress, public questions, and the actors in the -great national theatre, the Capitol at Washington.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, this is magnificent,” she announced, when the -pages had been folded. “Now can I look at the -house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We will have luncheon first. No, don’t protest. -I am delighted. Mr. Peele is away for the day, -otherwise I fear you would not have had this interview.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you don’t believe in the submission of wives, -then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve never thought much about it,” said Patience, -indifferently. “There is too much fuss made about it -all. When a man commands his wife to do a thing she -does not care to do, and when a woman does what she -knows will displease her husband, it is time for them to -separate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, that is too simple. It wouldn’t do to reduce -the woman question to a rule of three. What -would all the reformers do? And the poor polemical -novelists! Oh, these are the famous portraits, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can look at them if the luncheon is bad,” said -Patience, as they took their seats at table. “I’m not -a very good housekeeper, although I actually did take -some lessons of Miss Mairs. And sometimes I forget -to order luncheon. I did to-day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the luncheon proved to be a very good one, and -Miss Merrien did it justice, while Patience explained -the portraits. Afterward she showed her guest over the -lower part of the house. Then they went back to the -library, and Patience had her interview.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me exactly how does a woman begin on a -newspaper?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, different ones have different experiences,” said -Miss Merrien, vaguely. “Sometimes you have letters, -and are put on as a fashion or society reporter, or to -get interviews with famous women, or to go and ask -prominent people their opinion on a certain subject—for -a symposium, you know; like ‘What Would -You do if You Knew that the World was to End in -Three Days?’ or, ‘Is Society Society?’ I have written -dozens of symposiums. Sometimes you do free-lance -work, just pick up what you can and trust to luck -to catch on. But of course you must have the nose for -news. I was at a matinée one day and sat in front of -two society women. Between the acts they talked about -a prominent woman of their set who was getting a divorce -from her husband so quietly that no newspaper -had suspected it. They also joked about the fact that -her lawyer was an old lover. I knew this was a tip, and -a big one. I wrote all the names on my cuff, and before -the matinée was over I was down at the ‘Day’ and -had turned in my tip to the City editor. He sent a -reporter to the lawyer to bluff him into admitting the -truth. The next day we had a big story, and after that -the editor gave me work regularly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How much do you make a week?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes forty, sometimes not twenty; but I average -pretty well and get along. Still, when you have to -lay by for sickness and vacations, and put about one -half on your back it doesn’t amount to much. You -see, a newspaper woman must dress well, must make a -big bluff. If she doesn’t look successful she won’t be, -to say nothing of the fact that she couldn’t get inside -a smart house if she looked shabby. And then she’s -got to eat good nourishing food, or she never could -stand the work. Of course there’s got to be economy -somewhere, so I live in a hall bedroom and make my -own coffee in the morning. Still, I don’t complain, -for I do like the work. If I had to go back home I’d -ruin the happiness of the entire family.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you look forward to?—I mean what -ultimate? You don’t want to be a reporter always, -I suppose. Everybody is striving for some top -notch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, maybe I’ll become Sunday editor, or I might -fall in with somebody that wanted to start a woman’s -newspaper, or magazine—you never can tell. There -aren’t many good berths for women. Of course there -are a good many very bright newspaper women, and it’s -a toss up who goes to the top.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t seem to take matrimony into consideration.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t deny I get so tired sometimes that I’d -be only too glad to have a man take care of me. I -guess we all look forward to that, more or less. I think -I’d always work, but not so hard. It would make all -the difference in the world if you knew some one -else was paying the bills. And then, you see, we go to -pieces in eight or ten years. A man is good for hard -newspaper work until he’s forty, but we women are -made to be taken care of, and that’s a fact. We take -turns having nervous prostration. I haven’t had it -yet, but I’m looking cheerfully forward to it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now I want to tell you,” said Patience, “that I am -going to be a newspaper woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nonsense, Mrs. Peele! Excuse me, but you -belong here. Your rôle is that of the châtelaine in -exquisite French gowns and an air half of languor, half -of pride. You were not made for work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is very pretty, but I suspect you don’t want -to lose me for copy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I don’t deny it. I wish you’d keep the ball -rolling, and give me a story a month.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid I’ve given you my last. In a week or -two I shall be a châtelaine in a pink and grey gown no -longer, but a humble applicant for work in Mr. Field’s -office.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is it possible that you mean it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do I look as if I were joking?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t look unhappy—Pardon me—but—but—does -he beat you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no,” said Patience, laughing outright, “he -doesn’t beat me. I have better grounds for desertion -than that. Do you think you would do me a favour? -I shall have to slip away. He would never let me go -with a trunk. I am going to ask you to let me send -you a box of things every few days. That will excite -no comment among the servants, as we are always -sending clothes to the poor. May I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you may. I’ll do everything I can to -help you. But—I can’t imagine you out of this environment. -Don’t you hate to give it up,—all this -luxury, this ease, this atmosphere?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I like it all. I’m a sybarite, fast enough. -But I’ve weighed it all in the balance, and Peele Manor -stays up. I have a hundred dollars or so, and that will -last me for a time. I’ll give it to you to take care of -for me. I never was wealthy, but I have no idea of -economy. I don’t think I should like a hall room -though. Are the others so very expensive?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are if you have a good address, and that’s -very important. And you want to be in a house with a -handsome parlour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no friends,—none that will come to see -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you’ll make friends. You’re an awfully sweet -woman. I can’t bear to think—Well, there’s no -use saying any more about it. I expect you’re the -sort that knows your own mind. I should like to keep -on seeing you a great lady, but if you can’t be a happy -one I suppose you are right. Well, I’ll stand by you -through thick and thin, and I’ll show you the ropes. -Now I must get back to the office and work up my -story. Here’s my address. There’s a spare room -on the floor above mine. If you’re in dead earnest -I’d better take it right away; then I can unpack your -things and hang them up. But—but—do you really -mean it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know Mr. Field personally, don’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well, indeed; and he told me when I was -sixteen that he should make a newspaper woman of -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, then, you’ll have a lot of push, and your -road won’t be as hard as some—not by a long <a id='shot'></a>shot. -About six out of every ten newspaper women either go -to the wall or to the bad. It is a mixture of knack -and pluck as much as brains that carries the favoured -minority through. You have brains and pluck, and -you’ll have push, so you ought to get there. About -the knack of course I can’t tell. Good-bye.”</p> - -<h2>XVIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The evening mail brought from Mrs. Peele to her son a -note which he read with a rumbling accompaniment, -then tossed to Patience.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you intend to permit your wife to disgrace your -family?” it read. “If I had my way that abominable -paper, the ‘Day,’ should never enter this house—nor any -other paper that dealt in personalities. I literally writhe -every time I see my name—your father’s honoured name—in -the society columns. You may, then, perhaps, imagine -my feelings when your father handed me the ‘Day’ -this morning with his finger on that outrageous column. -He was speechless with wrath, and will personally call Mr. -Field to account. I am in bed with a violent headache, in -consequence, and dictating this letter to Honora. But -although I deeply feel for you, my beloved son, I must -<span class='it'>insist</span> that you assert your authority with your wrong-headed -wife and command her to refrain from disgracing -this family. I don’t wish to reproach you, but I cannot -help saying that it is <span class='it'>always</span> a dangerous experiment to -marry beneath one. This girl is not one of us, she never -can be; for, not to mention that we know nothing whatever -of her family, she comes from that dreadful savage <span class='it'>new</span> -Western country. In spite of the fact that she has been -clever enough to superficially adapt herself to our ways, I -always knew that she would break out somewhere—I -always said so to Honora. But I don’t wish to add to -your own sorrow. I know how you, with all your proud -Peele reserve, must feel. Only, my son, use your authority -in the future.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience finished this letter with a disagreeable lowering -of the brows. She made no comment, however, -but opened a book and refused to converse with her -husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On Sunday morning she found three columns on the -Woman’s Page of the “Day” devoted to her beauty, -her intellect, her gowns, and her opinions. It was -embellished with a photograph of Peele Manor and a -sketch of herself, which Miss Merrien had evidently -made from memory. When Beverly came down she -handed the newspaper to him at once, to read the story -with the raw temper of early morning. She hoped that -Mrs. Peele would read it in similar conditions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After he had gone through the headlines he let the -newspaper fall to the floor, and stared at her with a -face so livid that for a moment she felt as if looking -upon the risen dead. Then gradually it blackened, -only the nostrils remaining white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So you deliberately defy me?” he articulated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” she said, watching him narrowly. She -thought that he might strike her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You did it on purpose to drive me crazy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had no object whatever, except that it pleased -me to be interviewed. Understand at once that I shall -do exactly as I please in all things. This is not the -country for petty household tyrants. I don’t doubt -there are many men in this world whom I should be -glad to treat with deference and respect if I happened -to be married to one of them; but with men like you -there is only one course to take. I have asked you -to let me live abroad. If you consent to this, it may -save you a great deal of trouble in the future; for, I -repeat, I shall in all things do exactly as I choose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll see whether you will or not,” he roared. -“You’ll do as I say, or I’ll lock you up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you will not lock me up. You are way -behind your times, Beverly. There is no law in -the United States to compel me to obey you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll stop your allowance. You’ll never get another -cent from me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That has nothing whatever to do with it. Now, I -ask you for the last time, Will you let me travel?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!” he shouted, and he rushed from the room.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='book4'></a>BOOK IV</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>I</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien lived in West Forty-fourth Street, near -Broadway. Ten days after her visit to Peele Manor -Patience rang the door-bell of the house that was to be -her new home, one of a long impersonal row.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The maid that answered her ring handed her a note -from Miss Merrien, and conducted her up to a hall -room on the third floor. Patience closed the door, -and looked about her with the sensation of the shipwrecked. -For a moment she was strongly tempted to -flee back to Peele Manor. The room was about eight -feet square, and furnished with a folding-bed, which -was likewise a bureau, and with a washstand, a table, -and two chairs. The furniture and carpet were new, -and there were pretty blue and white curtains on the -window. Nevertheless the tiny room with its modern -contrivances was the symbol of poverty and struggle -and an entirely new existence. Her second impulse -was to sit down on a chair and cry; but she set her -teeth, and read Miss Merrien’s note instead.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>I am so sorry not to be able to meet you [it read]; -but I am a slave, you know. Before I was out of bed -this morning I received an assignment to go to a woman’s -club meeting at eleven. But I’ll get back in time to go -down to the shop with you. Don’t get blue—if you can -help it. Remember that every woman feels the same way -when she first makes the break for self-support; and that -your chances are better than those of most. There’s a -little restaurant round the corner—the maid will show you—where -you can get your luncheon. <span class='it'>Au revoir.</span> I’m so -glad the sun is out.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;margin-top:0.5em;'><span class='sc'>Anna Chetwynde Merrien.</span></p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<p class='pindent'>P. S. Your clothes are in the closet in the hall. The -key is in the washstand drawer.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience felt in better cheer after reading Miss -Merrien’s kindly greeting, but the day dragged along -very heavily. She went out and bought all the newspapers, -and studied them attentively for hints; but -they did not tell her inexperience anything, and after -a time she let them fall to the floor and sat staring at -the blank windows opposite. For the first time doubts -assailed her. She had been so full of young confidence, -and pride in her brains and health and courage, that -she had not regarded the issue of her struggle with the -world in the light of a problem; but face to face with -the practical details, she felt short of breath and weak -in the knees.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At two o’clock Miss Merrien came in, looking very -tired. There were black scoops under her eyes, and -the lines about her mouth were strongly accentuated. -But she smiled brightly as Patience rose to greet her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you are here,” she said. “I changed my -mind fifty times about your coming, but on the whole -I thought you would. Fortunately I have nothing on -hand for this afternoon. I’ll rest, and then go down -with you to the shop. Oh, I am so tired, my dear. -Can I lie down on your bed awhile?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall be delighted to learn how to open it,” said -Patience, who was wondering if her fair face was to -become scooped and lined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien deftly manipulated the bed, loosened -her frock, and flung herself full length.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I spent all day yesterday and half the night tramping -over Brooklyn hunting up facts in the case of that -girl who was found dead in a tenement-house bed in a -grand ball gown. A great story that, but it has done -me up. Tell me—how do you feel?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’m glad I’m here, but I wish it was six -months from now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you do. That’s the way we all feel. -But you’ll soon swing into place, and be too busy to -think. I do wish you could get work in the office, so -that you could keep regular hours and meals, and not -lose your good looks; but there’s no berth of that sort. -I tell you it is a sad day when a girl under twenty-five -sees the lines coming. The Revolting Sisterhood say -that the next century is to be ours; but I doubt it. -Men lighten our burdens a little now, but I’m afraid -they’ll hate us if we worry and supplant them any -further. Well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me -promptly at 3.10.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately. -The lines grew fainter as she slept, and the hair fell -softly about her face. Patience reflected gratefully that -three months of absolute leisure and peace of mind -would give back to the girl all her freshness and -rounded contours. At ten minutes past three she -awakened her. Miss Merrien sat up with a sigh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel better, though. Cultivate those cat-naps. -They refresh you wonderfully. Now, we’ll go.”</p> - -<h2>II</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>They went down town on the Elevated, leaving it at -Park Row. Patience was so much interested in the -great irregular mass of buildings surrounding City Hall -Square, at the dense throngs packing the crooked side -streets, at the fakirs with their nonsensical wares, at the -bewildering array of gilt newspaper names on the rows -and stories of polished windows, that she forgot her -errand for the moment, and was nearly run over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, this is the heart of New York, sure enough,” -assented Miss Merrien. “All those big buildings over -there are on the famous Newspaper Row. Brooklyn -Bridge is just behind. This is the Post Office on the -right, and that flat building in the square is the City -Hall. I tell you when you get down here, the rest -of New York, including all the smart folk, seems pretty -insignificant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,” exclaimed Patience, with a sudden sinking of -the heart, “there is the ‘Day’ building.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is our shop. Now, brace up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience needed the admonition. She forgot City -Hall Park. All her doubts returned, with others in -their wake. She knew something of the snobbery of -the world. As Mrs. Beverly Peele she had been an -object of respectful interest to Mr. Field. What would -she be as an applicant for work? True, he had been -kind to her when she was a small nobody, but that -might have been merely a caprice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They climbed up two narrow stairs in an ugly old -building, and entered a large gas-lit room full of desks. -Many young men were writing or moving about; several -were in their shirt sleeves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is the City room,” said Miss Merrien, “and -these are the reporters. Those men in that little room -there are the editors and editorial writers. Mr. Field’s -room is just beyond. Now send your card in by this -boy. The Chief’s harder to see than the President of -the United States, but I guess he’ll see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience gave the boy her card, and at the end of -half an hour, during which she was much stared at by -some of the men and totally ignored by others, the boy -returned and conducted her to Mr. Field’s office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a typical editor’s den of the old-fashioned -type. A big desk covered with papers, a revolving chair, -and one other chair completed the furniture. A large -cat was walking about, switching its tail. The floor was -bare. The light straggled down between the tall -buildings surrounding, and entered through small windows. -It was Mr. Field’s pride to have the greatest -newspaper and the most unpretentious “shop” in -the United States.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rose as Patience entered, his eyes twinkling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he said, as he handed her the extra chair, -“there’s a mighty row on, isn’t there? Peele has -been here, and now we do not speak as we pass by. But -we hadn’t had a good woman sensation for a month. -I tried to explain that to Peele, but it didn’t seem to -impress him. I suppose you’ve come to beg for -mercy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—I haven’t come for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what is the matter? I never saw you look -the least bit rattled before. You are always the young -queen with a court of us old fellows at your feet. But -tell me; you know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience drew a long breath of relief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you make it easier—I’ve been horribly -frightened. But I’ll get to the point—I suppose -you’re very busy down here. Can I have ten -minutes?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed. “We are usually what you might call -busy in this office, but you may have twenty minutes. -Take your time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s this: I’ve left Peele Manor for good and -all, and I want to be a newspaper woman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Field’s shaggy white brows rushed up his forehead. -His black eyes expanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My God! What did you make such a break as -that for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There are many reasons. I can’t give them all. -But all the same I’ve left, and I’m not going back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, your reasons must be good, for you had a -delightful position, and you became it. Are you sure -you are not acting rashly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve thought and thought and thought about it. I -can’t understand why I didn’t leave before. I suppose -my ideas and intentions didn’t crystallise until I met -Miss Merrien. She has been very kind. I sent my -clothes to her by degrees; she engaged a room for me -in her house; we are going to cook together; and I -have given her what money I have to take care of.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, well, you have acted deliberately. I don’t -know that I am so much surprised, after all, and I’ll -say nothing to persuade you to go back. I respect -your courage and independence, and I’ll do all I can. -I haven’t the slightest idea what you can do, but we’ll -find out.” He leaned forward and patted her hand. -Patience had one moment of painful misgiving, but -again she had misjudged him. “If you get discouraged, -just remember that the old man at the helm is your -friend and won’t let you go under.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure you’re awfully good,” said Patience, -tears of contrition and gratitude in her eyes. “I knew -you would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Field touched a bell. A boy entered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If Mr. Steele is still in the office ask him to step -here,” said the chief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Steele is the editor of the Evening ‘Day,’” he explained, -“and has a remarkable faculty for discovering -other people’s abilities.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience expected to see a man of middle years and -business-like demeanour. She stared in amazement as -a young man under thirty entered and was presented. -He was closely built, but held himself carelessly. His -smooth rather square face was very pale, and despite -the irregularity of feature, bore an odd resemblance -to the Greek fauns. The mouth was large and full, the -eyes large, dark blue, and very cold. His fashionable -attire accentuated the antiquity of his face and head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Steele,” said Mr. Field, “this is Mrs. Beverly -Peele, of whom you have heard so much lately. She -has made up her mind to support herself. When she -was a little girl I told her that I should one day make -a newspaper woman of her, and she has come to hold -me to my word—much to my satisfaction. I put her -in your hands, and feel confident you will make a success -of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience expected to see a look of blank surprise -cross the young editor’s face, but she did not know the -modern newspaper youth. Mr. Steele could not have -displayed less emotion had the new-comer been a young -woman with letters from Posy County, Illinois. He -merely bowed to her, then to his chief. Patience rose -at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t keep you,” she said to Mr. Field. “I’ll -only thank you again, and promise to work as hard as -Miss Merrien.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t the slightest doubt of your success. -Always remember that,” said Mr. Field. Patience saw -Mr. Steele’s eyebrow give a slight involuntary jerk; -but it was immediately controlled, and he bowed her -through the door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had better go upstairs to the evening room,” -he said. “There is no one there at present.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience followed him up a precipitous stairway into -a walled-off section of the composing-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sit down,” he said politely, but Patience for the -first time in her life felt terrified and humble. This -young man, of whom she had never heard before, had -the air of a superior being, omnipotent in her destiny. -His manner conveyed that he was not one whit impressed -by the fact that she had stepped down from the -Sacred Reservation, took not the faintest interest in -her as a pretty woman. She was merely a young -person particularly recommended by his chief, and as -such it was his duty to give her consideration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took a chair opposite her own, and she felt as if -those classic guileless eyes were exploring her innermost -brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What can you do?” he asked coldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, nothing,” she said desperately, “absolutely -nothing. I suppose you feel like remarking that the -‘Day’ is not a kindergarten.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it certainly is not. Nevertheless, as Mr. Field -thinks that you have ability, and wishes you to write for -his paper, I, of course, shall do all I can to abet him. -I shall begin by giving you a few words of advice. -Have you a good memory; or should you prefer to -write them down?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He spoke very slowly, as if he had a deep respect -for the value of words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have read a great deal,” said Patience, proudly, -“and my memory is very good indeed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a faint twitching of one corner of Mr. -Steele’s mouth, but he continued in the same business-like -tone:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Read the ‘Day’ through carefully, morning and -evening. Observe the style in which facts are presented, -and the general tone and atmosphere of the paper. -Cultivate that general style, not your own. Remember -that you are not on this newspaper to make an individual -reputation, but to become, if possible, a unit of a harmonious -whole, and to give the public the best news -in the style to which this newspaper has accustomed it. -When you are sent on an assignment remember that -you are to gather facts—facts. Keep your eyes open, -and cultivate the faculty of observation for all it is worth. -When you have gathered these facts put them into as -picturesque a shape as you choose—or as you can. But -no rhetoric, no rhapsodies, no flights, no theories. If -the facts admit of being treated humorously, treat them -in that way, by all means,—that is, if you can imitate a -man’s humour, not a woman’s flippancy. A good many -women can. And never forget that it must not be your -humour but the inherent humour of the subject. Be -concise. When you feel disposed to say a thing in ten -words say it in five. That is all I can think of at -present. Be here at eight o’clock to-morrow, and I will -give you an assignment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rose, and Patience felt herself dismissed. She -sat for a minute looking at him with angry eyes. Not -even in the early days of her married life had she been -so patronised as by this unknown young man. She felt -as if he had plucked her individuality out with his thumb -and finger and contemptuously tossed it aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is anything the matter?” he asked indifferently, -although one corner of his mouth twitched again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No!” Patience sprang to her feet and ran down -the stair, at the imminent risk of breaking her neck. -Miss Merrien was waiting for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, what on earth is the matter?” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, let us get out into the air! Come, and then -I’ll tell you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But they were not able to converse until seated in the -Elevated Train. Then Patience exclaimed with an -accent of cutting sarcasm,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who, <span class='it'>who</span> is Mr. Steele?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien smiled broadly. “Oh, I see. Did he -patronise you? You must get used to editors. Remember -they are monarchs in a small way, and love their -power—the more because their dominion is confined -within four walls. But Morgan Steele is one of the -kindest men in the office. I’d rather work for him -than for any one. He puts on an extra amount of side -on account of his youth, but the reporters all adore him. -He won’t keep an incompetent man two days, and -during those two days the man’s life is a burden; but -he is always doing good turns to the boys he likes. -When you know him you’ll like him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think him an insolent young cub, and if I didn’t -hate to bother Mr. Field I’d refuses to write for him. -What on earth is a youngster like that in such a responsible -position for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, my dear, this is the young man’s epoch. Just -cast your eyes over the United States and even England, -and think of the men under thirty that are editors -and authors and special writers and famous artists and -leaders of enterprises. They are burnt out at forty, but -they begin to play a brilliant part in their early twenties. -I heard a man say the other day of another man who -is only twenty-six and supposed to be ambitious: -‘Well, he’d better hump himself. He’s no chicken.’ -A man feels a failure nowadays if he hasn’t distinguished -himself before thirty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They are certainly distinguished for conceit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, when you get used to newspaper men you’ll -like them better than any men you’ve known. What -is objectionable is counteracted by their brains and -their intimate and wonderfully varied knowledge of life. -A newspaper man who is at the same time a gentleman, -is charming. It is true they have no respect for anybody -nor anything. They believe in no woman’s virtue -and no man’s honesty—under stress. Their kindness—like -Morgan Steele’s—is half cynical, and they look -upon life as a thing to be lived out in twenty years—and -then dry rot or suicide. But no men know so well -how to enjoy life, know so thoroughly its resources, or -have all their senses so keenly developed, particularly -the sense of humour, which keeps them from making -fools of themselves. No man can feel so strongly for a -day, and that after all is the philosophy of life. All -this makes them very interesting, although, I must confess, -I should hate to marry one. It seems to be a -point of honour among them to be unfaithful to their -wives; however, I imagine, the real reason is that no -one woman has sufficient variety in her to satisfy a man -who sees life from so many points of view daily that he -becomes a creature of seven heads and seven hearts -and seven ideals. Now, tell me all about your interviews -with Mr. Field and Morgan Steele.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience told the tale, and Miss Merrien raised her -eyebrows at its conclusion. “Well, you need not lie -awake nights trembling for the future. You are in for -push and no mistake. If the Chief has taken you under -his wing in that fashion you can be sure that Morgan -Steele will work you for all that is in you, whether he -wants to or not.” Suddenly she laughed, and leaning -over looked quizzically at Patience. “You vain girl,” -she said, “you are piqued because Morgan Steele did -not succumb as other men—including Mr. Field—have -done to your beauty and charm. But I’ll tell you -this, by way of consolation: it is a point of etiquette—or -prudence—among editors never to pay the most -commonplace attentions to, or manifest the slightest -interest in the women of the office. It would not only -lead to endless complications, but would impair the -lordlings’ dignity: in other words, they would be guyed. -So cheer up. You haven’t gone off since this morning. -I see three men staring at you in true Elevated -style.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience laughed. “Well, I will admit that I have -no respect whatever for a man that is unappreciative of -the charms of woman. I’d like to give Mr. Steele a -lesson, but I won’t. I wouldn’t condescend. I’ll be -as business-like as he is. He knew why I was angry to-day, -I am afraid, but he won’t see me angry again. -Why is Mr. Field so much nicer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, he owns the paper.”</p> - -<h2>III</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience’s indignation had worn itself out by bedtime. -When Miss Merrien left her for the night she locked her -door and spread her arms out with an exultant sense of -freedom. She seemed to feel the ugly weight of the -past two years fall from her, and to hear it go clattering -down the quiet streets. Her sense of humour and the -liveliness of her mind had saved her from morbidity at -any time, although she had not escaped cynicism. She -now felt that she could turn her back squarely on the -past, that she was not a woman whose mistakes and -dark experiences would corrode the brain and spirit, -ruining present and future. She could not make the -same mistake again; and it was better to have made it -in early youth when the etchery of experience eats the -copper of the ego more lightly. The future seemed to -her to be full of infinite possibilities. She could be her -own fastidious dreaming idealising self again. New -friends dotted the dusk like stars. She felt ten years -away from the man to whom she had nodded a careless -good-bye that morning. A vague pleasurable loneliness -assailed her, the instinct of plurality. Then she -laughed suddenly and went to bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning, at eight o’clock, after a cup of -black coffee to stiffen her nerves, she presented herself -in the evening room of the “Day.” Two men and a -woman were writing at little tables. Mr. Steele in his -shirt sleeves was at his desk, reading copy. She sat -down, priding herself that her face was as impassive as -his own. In a few moments he called her to his -desk.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have read in the newspapers, I suppose, of this -crusade of Dr. Broadhead, the fashionable Presbyterian -clergyman, against the voting of Immigrants?” he -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he is doing his best to get the women of -New York to help him, and is holding his first meeting -this morning in Cooper Union—eleven-thirty. -One of our best men will go to report the addresses, -but I want you to go and sit in the audience, and observe -how many fashionable women are there, what -they wear, and what degree of interest they appear to -take in the proceedings. Above all, I want you to -keep your eyes and ears open for any significant fact -which may or may not appear. It usually does. That -is all.—Well, what do you want?” This to the office -boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience went slowly downstairs, feeling as if she -had been sent out to discover the North Pole with a -chart and a row-boat. When she reached Cooper -Union, two hours later, and found herself for the moment -an integer of one of the many phases of current -history, she forgot the agonising travail of the “news -sense,” and became so deeply interested that she -observed the many familiar faces abstractedly, and, -later, “faked” their costumes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hurried to her room before the meeting was over -and wrote her “story.” It concluded thus:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some four hundred women were present, at half-past -eleven in the morning; the hour indicating that -they were women of leisure, which in its turn presupposes -the large measure of education and refinement, -and a general superiority over the toiling millions. -They were very enthusiastic. When Dr. Broadhead entered -the applause was deafening. They interrupted -him every few minutes. When he sat down, and Mr. -Lionel Chambers came forward he, too, was warmly -welcomed, for his popularity is well established. He -smiled, and began something like this:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“‘Ladies: Dr. Broadhead has left me little to say. -I being somewhat versed in politics, however, in other -words, in hard fighting with the enemy, he believes -that I may be able to give you a little useful advice.’ -(Applause and cries of ‘Yes! Yes!’) ‘Now, ladies, -there are several points upon which I must ask your -attention.’ (No man ever had more serious attention.) -‘I will check them off in detail. First of all, -ladies, my advice to you is to—’ (every ear went forward)—‘is—to—pray.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He paused. There was an intense and disgusted -silence, with the exception of one or two muttered exclamations -of impatience. <span class='it'>There were just four hundred -women in the city of New York who were beyond -that sort of thing.</span> He saw his mistake at once, blundered -on confusedly, recovered himself, and gave them -much sound, practical advice which they received with -every mark of gratitude.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She hastened down to the office, her eyes shining with -the proud delight of authorship. Steele looked busier -than any one she had ever seen, but he asked sharply:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Got anything?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let me see it. Skip the descriptive part.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She handed him the latter part of her story, and he -ran his eye hastily over it. A gleam shot from his eyes, -but he compressed his lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s not bad—but I don’t know that I dare -print it. The religious hypocrisy of this country beats -that of England, strange as it may appear. However, -I’ll think it over. Come down to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The article was printed, and the result was a shower -of protesting letters from clergymen and religious -women. Patience was sent to interview a number of -representative women, of various spheres of life, on the -subject, and found herself fairly launched. She hardly -had time to realise whether she liked the work or not, -but when she was not too tired, concluded that she -did. As this phase wore off, she developed considerable -enthusiasm, and felt her bump of curiosity enlarge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She practically forgot the past, except to wonder -occasionally that she heard nothing from the Peeles. -Upon her arrival in New York, on the morning of her -departure from Peele Manor, she had mailed a note to -Beverly, which merely announced that she had left him, -never to return. He was the sort of a man to put the -matter in the hands of a detective, but so far—and -the weeks were growing into a month—he had given -no sign of any kind. She cared little for the cause of -his silence, however; she was too thankful for the fact. -Occasionally Steele gave her a brief word of praise, and -she was more delighted than she had ever been at the -admiration of man.</p> - -<h2>IV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sprang out of bed, full of the mere joy of -living. She felt as happy as a wild creature of the -woods, and for no reason whatever. She longed for -Rosita’s voice that she might carol, and wondered if it -were possible that she had ever thought herself the -most miserable of women. The small room would not -hold her, and she went out and took a long walk in the -sharp white air; it was Sunday, and she was not obliged -to go to the office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she returned, the servant told her that a gentleman -awaited her in the parlour. She turned cold, -but went defiantly in. The visitor was Mr. Field, and -the revulsion of feeling was so great, and her exuberance -of spirits so undiminished, that she ran forward, -threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am so happy I must kiss some one,” she said, -“and after all you are the right person, for it is owing -to you that I am happy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well! well!” he said laughing, “I am delighted; -and also relieved that you did not take it into your -head to do that down at the office. I’ve just dropped -in to ask after your health and to say good-bye. How -do you stand it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am well. I never felt so well. I get tired, -but I sleep it off. I made twenty-five dollars last week, -and I celebrated the occasion by coming home in a -cab. Oh, I can tell you I feel all made over, and -Peele Manor seems prehistoric.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You always did live at a galloping rate mentally. -You are doing first rate—not but what you’ll do better -a year from now. There’s pulse in your stuff. Keep -your enthusiasm as long as you can. Nothing takes its -place. Here’s something for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A messenger boy had entered with a note.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For Mrs. Beverly Peele.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, “it has come. This -is from Mr. Peele. Do let me read it—I can’t wait.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She tore the envelope open and read hastily:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Patience</span>,—On the night of the day of your -departure from Peele Manor, my son came up to us in a -distracted condition. He had also contracted the grippe. -The combination of disorders produced delirium and serious -illness. For that reason and others we have not endeavoured -to communicate with you. In fact, I only ascertained -yesterday that you were working for Mr. Field, -who I consider has further betrayed my friendship in -associating himself with you in your insubordination.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course you are at liberty to act as you choose. The -laws of this country are wretchedly inadequate regarding -the authority of the husband. But one thing I insist upon: -that you call upon us and make a definite statement of -what you purpose to do. If you have repented and wish -to return to us, we will overlook this wretched mistake. If -you intend definitely to leave your husband and to follow -the disgraceful life of a reporter on a sensational newspaper, -you owe it to us to come here in person and define your -position. The family with which you have allied yourself, -my dear young woman, is not one to be dismissed with -a note of three lines.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I particularly request that you call at three o’clock this -afternoon.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;margin-top:0.5em;'>Yours truly</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:3em;'><span class='sc'>Gardiner Peele</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience handed the note to Mr. Field, who read it -with much interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go by all means,” he said; “otherwise they will -annoy you with petty persecutions, and Beverly will -haunt the ‘Day.’ Keep up all your pluck, and remember -that this is a free country, and that they can -compel you to do nothing you do not wish to do. You -are mistress of the situation, and can call upon me for -proof that you are supporting yourself adequately.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t want to go. I never want to look -at one of them again. I’d just managed to forget -them all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you must go. It would look cowardly if you -didn’t; and, when you come to think of it, you certainly -do owe them some sort of explanation. Poor -Peele! he must have actually suffered at being treated -in such cavalier fashion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, I’ll go! I’ll go! But I wish I’d never -seen them.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t look at all pretty with that face, and -I shall run. By the way, I came to tell you that I -start for Paris to-morrow to join my wife, who has -been on the other side for some months. Otherwise -she would have called before this. Steele will take -care of you.”</p> - -<h2>V</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience went up to her room she slammed the -door, closed the window violently, then sat down and -beat a tattoo on the floor with her heels. Her spirits -were still high, but cyclonic. She would willingly have -smashed things, and felt no disposition to sing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nevertheless she rang the bell of the house in -Eleventh Street at three o’clock. The butler bowed -solemnly, and announced that the family awaited her -in the library. Patience, piqued that they were assured -of her coming, was half inclined to turn back, -then shrugged her shoulders, walked down the hall, -and through the dining-room to the library in the -annex.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The afternoon sun irradiated the cheerful room, -but Beverly, with sunken eyes and pallid face, sat huddled -by the fire. He sprang to his feet as Patience -entered, then turned away with a scowl and sank back -in his chair. His mother sat opposite. She merely -bent her head to Patience, then turned her solicitous -eyes to her son’s face. Honora came forward and -kissed her sweetly. Mr. Peele did not shake hands -with her, but offered her a chair by the long table. -Patience took it, and experienced a desire to laugh -immoderately. They had the air of a Court of Inquiry, -and appeared to regard her as a delinquent at the -bar.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele sat in his revolving chair, tipped a little -back. He had crossed his legs and leaned his elbows -on the arms of the chair, pressing his finger tips lightly -together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now,” he said coldly, “we are ready to hear -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have nothing in particular to say. I gave you -fair warning, and you refused to listen, or to let me go -abroad and so avoid publicity. I therefore took the -matter in my own hands and went.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ignore your duty to your husband; your -marriage vows?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is only one law for a woman to acknowledge, -and that is her self respect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The husband that loves you is entitled to no -consideration?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not when he exercises none himself. I refuse -to admit that any human being has the right to control -me unless I voluntarily submit myself to that -control.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you aware that you are uttering the principles -of anarchy?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, the true anarchists of this world are not the -bomb throwers. When a man and woman are properly -married there is no question of authority or disobedience; -but a woman is a common harlot who lives -with a man that makes her curse the whole scheme of -creation.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora lifted a screen and hid her face. Beverly -muttered inaudible remarks. Mrs. Peele lifted her eyebrows -and curled her mouth. Mr. Peele moved his -head slowly back and forth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall not attempt to contradict any of your remarkable -theories,” he said. “It is apparent that you -are imbued with all the pernicious thought of the time. -I am thankful that it is not my destiny to live among -the next generation of women. Will you kindly tell -me how you should have acted in this matter if you had -had children?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know! I have thought of that. No -woman should have a child until she has been married -three years. By that time she would know whether or -not she had made a mistake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what shall you do if you are unable to support -yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Starve. No one has a right to live that the world -has no use for, that can give the world nothing. Man’s -chief end is not bread and butter. If I can give the -world anything it will be glad to give me a living in -return. If I am a failure I’ll walk out of existence as -quietly as I altered my life. But I haven’t the slightest -doubt of my ability to take care of myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele pressed his lips together. The old man -and the young woman regarded each other steadily, the -one with malevolence in his eye, the other with defiance -in hers. In that moment Mr. Peele hated her, -and she knew it. She had made him feel old and a -component part of the decaying order of things, while -she represented the insolent confidence of youth in the -future.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Women make too much fuss,” continued Patience. -“If they don’t like their life why don’t they alter it -quietly, without taking it to the lecture platform or the -polemical novel? If they don’t like the way man -governs why don’t they educate their sons differently? -They can do anything with the plastic mind. I am -sure it could be proved that most corrupt politicians -and bad husbands had weak or careless mothers. If -the men of a country are bad you can be sure the -women are worse—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly sprang to his feet, overturning his chair. -“Damn it!” he cried. “You can talk all you like, -but you are mine and I’ll have you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience turned and fixed her angry eyes on his face. -“Oh, no, you will not. Your father will tell you that -I am quite free.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele gave a short dry laugh. “She has the -best of it,” he said. “You cannot compel her to return -to you, and she has the air of one who has tasted of -the independence of making money—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then I’ll dog her steps. I’ll make life hell for -her—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will do nothing of the sort, sir. Much as I -disapprove of this young woman’s course, she has in me -an unwilling abettor. I shall not have my domestic -affairs made food for the newspapers and their hordes -of vulgar readers. Field would take up her cause and -hound me to my grave. You will keep quiet, and in the -course of time get a divorce of which no one will be the -wiser until you marry again. If the gossip does not -get into the papers it will not rise above a murmur. If -you add to my annoyance I shall turn you out of Peele -Manor and cut you off without a cent. You will not -pretend that you can support yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience rose. “If you have nothing more to ask I -shall go,” she said. “Beverly can bring his suit as -soon as he chooses. It will go by default.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly flung off his mother’s restraining arm and -rushed forward. “You shall not go!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t touch me!” cried Patience; but before -she could reach the door Beverly had caught her in his -arms. Excitement gave him strength. He held her -with hard muscles and kissed her many times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The ugly temper she had kept under control broke -loose. She lifted her hand and struck him violently on -the mouth. Her face too was convulsed, but with -another passion. She felt as if the past month had -been annihilated.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you let me go?” she gasped. “Oh, how I -hate you!” Then as he kissed her again, “I could -kill you! I could kill you!” She flung herself free, -and shaking with passion faced the scandalised -family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had better keep him out of the way,” she said. -“Do you know that once I nearly killed my own -mother?”</p> - -<h2>VI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience slept little that night. Her head ached violently. -When she presented herself at the office Steele -sent her to report a morning lecture. It was dull, and -she fell asleep. When she returned to the office Steele -happened to be alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have no report,” she said. “I fell asleep. That -is all I have to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a few seconds he stared at her, then turned on -his heel. In a moment he came back. “The next -time you do that,” he said, “hunt up the reporter of -some other newspaper and get points from him. First-class -reporters always stand in together. Here’s a -good story badly written that has come up from Honduras. -Take it home and revamp it, and let me have it -to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are awfully good. I thought you would tell -me to go, and I certainly deserve to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You certainly do, but we won’t discuss the matter -further.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was an unhappy week for Patience, and she lost -faith in her star. A great foreign actress, whom she -was sent to interview, haughtily refused to be seen, -and the next morning capriciously sent for a reporter of -the “Eye,” the hated rival of the “Day.” She was -put on the trail of a fashionable scandal and failed to -gather any facts. She was sent to interview a strange -old woman, supposed to have a history, who lived on a -canal boat, and became so interested in the creature -that she forgot all about the “Day,” and did not -appear at Mr. Steele’s desk for three days. When she -did he looked sternly at her guilty face, although the -corners of his mouth twitched.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m delighted to see you have not forsaken us,” he -said sarcastically. “May I ask if the canal boat woman -quite slipped your memory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“N-o-o. I have been there ever since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed?” His ears visibly twitched. “That -alters the case. Did you get the story out of her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience looked at him steadily for a moment, then -dropped her eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is nothing to tell,” she answered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steele sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come out here,” he said. He led her into a -corner of the composing-room, and they sat down on a -bench.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now tell me,” he said peremptorily. “What have -you heard? You have news in your eye. I see it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have nothing to tell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Suppose you tell the truth. You have the story, -and you won’t give it up. Why not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—you see—she confided in me—she said I -was the only woman who had given her a decent word -in twenty years; and if I told the story she would be -in jail to-morrow night. Do you think I’d be so low -as to tell it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sentimentality, my dear young woman, is fatal to a -newspaper reporter. Suppose the entire staff should go -silly; where would the ‘Day’ be?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It might possibly be a good deal more admirable -than it is now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We won’t go into a discussion of theory <span class='it'>v.</span> practice. -I want that story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t get it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed.” He looked at her with cold angry eyes. -“The trouble is that you have not been made to feel -what the discipline of a newspaper office is—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience leaned forward and smiled up audaciously -into his face. “You would do exactly the same thing -yourself,” she said; “so don’t scold any more. I -admit that you frighten me half to death, but all the -same I know that you would never send a poor old -woman to prison—not to be made editor-in-chief.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He reddened, and looked anything but pleased at -the compliment. “Do you know that you have just -said that I am a jay newspaper man?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Patience only continued to smile, and in a moment -he smiled back at her, then, with an impatient -exclamation, left her and returned to his desk.</p> - -<h2>VII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Two months later Steele asked her to come to the office -at six o’clock, an hour at which the evening room was -empty, and suggested that she should give up reporting, -and start a column of paragraphs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should like it better, of course,” said Patience, -after he had fully explained the requirements of the -new department. “I was going to tell you that I <span class='it'>would -not</span> go to that Morgue again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you wouldn’t? Well, you stood it rather -longer than I thought you would.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I’m tired of interviewing insolent conceited -people. Oh, by the way, I should thank you for all -these nice things you’ve just said to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dropped his business-like manner suddenly. -“How do you stand it?” he asked. Then in reply to -her look of surprise: “Oh, you know, the Chief, when -he went away, told me to look out for you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience immediately became the charming woman -accustomed to the homage of man. Steele’s pre-eminence -was gone from that moment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am remarkably well, thank you, considering how -you have bullied me—and I can tell you that I -did not fancy at all being ordered about by such an -infant.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh! Thanks! But when a man’s too polite he -doesn’t get anything done for him—not in this business. -And is it a crime to be an editor before you -are thirty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you have reason to be proud of yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean that I have the big head. Well, that -is the disease of the age, you know. It would never -do for a newspaper man to get a reputation for eccentricity. -You’ll have it yourself inside of six months if -these paragraphs are a success.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never! I scorn to be so unoriginal.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, we’ll encourage your sentiments, and keep -you as the office curio; but I didn’t really bully you, -did I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I’ll admit that you were kinder than I deserved, -once in a while: when I fell asleep at the lecture, for -instance.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed heartily. “That was the richest joke. -There was absolutely nothing to say to you. If you only -stood at the end of a long perspective of this business -and could fully appreciate the humour of that situation! -An experienced reporter, if he couldn’t have lied out -of it, or borrowed news, would never have shown up. -You looked like a naughty child expecting to have its -ears boxed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, Miss Merrien guyed me for a whole week; -I know all about that now. And now that you’ve -come down off your pedestal I’ll thank you for all your -patience and good training. If I’ve learned to write I -owe it to your blue pencil; and I don’t need to be -told by Miss Merrien that you’ve saved me from a great -deal of hard work.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled charmingly. There were times when he -looked like an old man with the mask of youth; to-day -he looked a mere boy. “Oh, any one would do as -much for you, even if the Chief hadn’t given orders. -You are an unusual woman, you know. You proved -that—but, of course, I have no right to speak to you -of that.” He stood up suddenly and held out his hand. -“Well, be good to yourself,” he said. “If you feel -yourself breaking, take a rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder,” she thought, as she went downstairs, -“if that young man knows he betrayed the fact that he -has been thinking a good deal about me? He certainly -is an interesting youth, and I should like to know him -better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience did not find her paragraphs as easy as -she expected. It was one thing to work on a given -idea, and another to supply idea and execution both; -but after a time her sharpened brain grew more -magnetic and life fuller of ideas than of lay figures. -The men in the office frequently gave her tips, and one -clever young reporter, who worshipped her from afar, -fell into the daily habit of presenting her with a slip of -suggestions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her choicest paragraphs were usually edited by -Steele’s ruthless hand, and now and again she was -moved to wrath. Upon such occasions Mr. Steele -merely smiled, and she was forced to smile in return or -retire with the sulks.</p> - -<h2>VIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was writing busily in her little bedroom. The -March winds were howling down the street. Her door -opened, and a very elegant young woman entered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hal!” cried Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You dear bad girl!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They kissed a half dozen times, then sat down and -looked at each other. Hal had quite the young married -woman air, and held herself with a mien of conscious -importance, entirely removed from conceit: she -was <span class='it'>grande dame</span>, and the late object of attentions from -smart folks abroad.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, how are you?” asked Patience. “Oh, but I -am glad to see you. Tell me all about yourself. When -did you get back?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Day before yesterday. I’ve returned with thirty-two -trunks, the loveliest jewels you ever saw, and quite -a slave of a husband. I must say I never thought -Latimer would keep up such a prolonged bluff, but he -fills the rôle as if he’d been husbanding all his life. -Oh, no. Don’t look at me like that. I’ve forgotten -it, and I’ve no regrets. <span class='it'>Mon Dieu!</span> To think that I -might be in Boston on four hundred a month! I shall -be a leader, my dear. You can do as much with a -hundred and fifty thousand a year as you can with a -million, for you can only spend just so much money anyhow. -All that the big millionaires get out of their -wealth is notoriety. Nobody’d remember about them -if it wasn’t for the newspapers. But you bad bad girl! -What have you been and gone and done? Why didn’t -you wait for me? I would have rescued you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you couldn’t, Hal dear. I didn’t want to be -rescued for a day or a month. I’ve run away for good -and all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Patience, what an alternative! Do you mean -to say you live in this cubby-hole?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m mighty happy in this cubby-hole, I can tell -you; happier than I ever was at Peele Manor.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That certainly was the mistake of my life. However, -you’ve solved the problem more promptly than -most women do. The celerity with which you untied -that knot when you set about it moved me to admiration. -By the way, do you know that Bev is ill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is he? What is the matter?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t know exactly,—one of those organic afflictions -that men are always getting. How uninteresting -men are when their interior decorations get out of gear. -And they always will talk about them. Latimer is ever -groaning with his liver; but no wonder. I’ve had to -eat so much rich stuff to keep him from feeling lonesome -that I’ve actually grown fat. Well, we don’t -know what is the matter with Bev, yet. The doctor -says it’s a result of the influenza. He has some pain, -and makes an awful fuss, like all men.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where are you going to stay, now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am at the Holland, but will spend the summer at -the Manor and the fall at Newport. Our house on the -Avenue—opposite the park, you know—will be finished -by winter. That house will be a jewel. I got the -most beautiful things abroad for it. Then you will -come and live with me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shook her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It wouldn’t do, and you will see it. I belong to -another sphere now; but I can see you sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, put up that stuff, and come to the Holland -and dine with me. You can finish up to-night. I have -yards and yards to talk to you about. I’ll never give -you up,—remember that.”</p> - -<h2>IX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When the hot days and nights of summer came -Patience did not find routine and the hunt as fascinating -sport as when the electric thrill of cooler seasons -was in the air. Her paragraphs acquired some reputation, -and her mind grew tense in the effort to keep -them up to a high standard, and to prepare at least -one surprise a day. She grew thin and nervous, and -began to wonder what life and herself would be like -five years hence. Mr. Field and Steele helped her as -much as they dared, and she managed to make about -fifty dollars a week: her success gave Mr. Field the -excuse to pay her special rates. It never occurred to -her to give up, and she assured Hal that she would -have nervous prostration four times a year before she -would return to Peele Manor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were times when she passionately longed for -the isolation of a mountain top. Nature had been -part of her very individuality for all the years of her -life until this last, and a forested mountain top alone -was the antithesis of Park Row. She sometimes had -a whimsical idea that her grey matter was becoming -slowly modelled into a semblance of that famous precinct. -She loved it loyally; but the isolation of high -altitudes sent their magnetism to another side of her -nature. She was getting farther and farther away from -herself in the jealous absorption of her work,—the -skurrying practical details of her life. She felt that she -could no longer forecast what she should do under -given circumstances, that something in her was slowly -changing. What the result would be she could not -predict; and she craved solitude and the opportunity -to study herself out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In August Mrs. Field took her to her house in the -Berkshire hills. Although she had no solitude there, she -returned much refreshed, and did good work all winter. -Steele she never saw outside of the office, but he managed -to treat her with a certain knightliness, and she lay -awake, occasionally, thinking about him. Hard work -and the practical side of life had disposed of a good -deal of her romance, but she was still given to vagaries. -Steele’s modernity fascinated her. No other epoch but -this extraordinary last quarter of the nineteenth century -could have produced him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was a great favourite in the office. Again a -thaw had succeeded a second glacier period, induced -by entire change of environment, and she liked nearly -everybody she knew, and became a most genial and -expansive young woman. She often laughed at herself, -and concluded that she would never strike the proper -balance until she fell in love (if she ever did), when -the large and restless currents of her nature would unite -and find their proper destination. She had no “weird -experiences.” Her abounding feminity appealed to -the chivalry of the gentlemen among whom she was -thrown, and she was clever enough not to flirt with -them, to treat them impartially as good comrades. -The second-class men detested her, and were not conciliated: -the underbred newspaper man touches a lower -notch of vulgarity than any person of similar social -degree the world over.</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning she awoke about four o’clock,—that -is, her mind awoke; her body was still too full of sleep -to move to the right or left. It was one of her favourite -sensations, and she lay for a time meditating upon the -various pleasures, great and small, which are part of -man’s inheritance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she became conscious that it was raining. -She had moved into a back room on the second floor. -Beside one window was a tin roof upon which the rain -poured with heavy reiterance. In the back yard was -a large ailanthus tree which lifted itself past her windows -to the floor above. A light wind rustled it. -The rain pattered monotonously upon its wide leaves, -producing a certain sweet volume of sound.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was long since she had listened to rain in the -night. It was associated in her mind with the vague -sweet dreams of girlhood and with her life in Carmel -Valley. She had loved to wander through the pine -woods when the winter rains were beating through the -uplifted arms, swirling and splashing in the dark fragrant -depths. It said something to her then, she hardly knew -what, nor when it roared upon the roof of the old farmhouse, -or flung itself through the windows of Carmel -tower, as she and Solomon huddled close to the wall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But when it had beaten upon the roof of her little -room in Miss Tremont’s house it had sung the loneliness -of youth into her soul, murmured of the great -joy to which every woman looks forward as her birthright. -Hard worked and absorbed as she may have -been during the day, if the rain awoke her in the night, -it was to dreams of love and of nothing else, and of the -time when she should no longer be alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This morning she listened to the rain for a time, then -moved suddenly to her side, her eyes opening more -widely in the dark. The rain said nothing to her. She -listened to it without a thrill, with no longing, with no -loneliness of soul, and no vague tremor of passion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nothing in her unhappy experience had so forcibly -brought home to her the changes which her inner self -had undergone in the last few years. Life was a hard -clear-cut fact; she could no longer dream. Imagination -had taken itself out of her and gone elsewhere, -into some brain whose dear privilege it was to have a -long future and a brief past.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The tears scalded her eyes. She cursed Beverly -Peele. She wished she had remained in Monterey. -There, at least, she would never have married any one, -for there was no one to marry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Even if my life had been a success,” she thought, -“if Beverly Peele had been less objectionable, or had -died, and I had had the world at my feet, it would be too -high a price to pay. Not even to care that one is alone -when the rain is sweeping about with that hollow song! -To think and dream of nothing beyond the moment! -To have accepted life with cynical philosophy, and feel -no desire to shake the Universe with a great passion! -To be beyond the spell of the rain is to be a thousand -years old, and a thousand centuries away from the -cosmic sense. I wish I were dead.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there were other moods. Sometimes the devil -which is an integral part of all strong natures—of -woman’s as well as of man’s, and no matter what her -creed—awoke and clamoured. There were four or -five men in the office whom she liked well enough -when absent, and in whom the lightning of her glance -would have changed friendship to passion. Why she -resisted the temptation which so fiercely assailed her -at times she never knew. Conventions did not exist -for her impatient mind excepting in so far as they -made life more comfortable; she had in full measure -youth’s power to know and to give joy, and she owed -no one loyalty. And at this time she imaged no future: -she had lost faith in ideals. It was only at brief -intervals that there came a sudden passionate desire—almost -a flash of prophetic insight—for the one man -who must exist for her among the millions of men. -And this, if anything, took the place of her lost ideals -and conquered the primal impulses of her nature. Or -was it a mere matter of destiny? Woman is a strange -and complex instrument. She is as she was made, -and it is not well to condemn her even after elaborate -analysis.</p> - -<h2>X</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>One morning in May, Hal came in before Patience was -out of bed. She sat down on a chair and tapped the -floor with her foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I come charged with a message, a special mission, -as it were,” she said. “I hardly know where to begin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t look at me like that, or I’ll never have the -courage to go on. Bev is desperately ill,—not in bed, -but he has the most frightful pains: his disease, which -has been threatening for a year, has developed. It -may or may not be fatal. The doctor says it certainly -will be unless he has peace of mind, and he is fretting -after you like a big baby. The grippe seems to have -broken the back of his temper, and he is simply a -great calf bleating for its parent. It would be ridiculous -if it were not serious. You’d better come back -to us, Patience.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you would say exactly that; but when you -think it over you will come. Remember that the doctor -practically says that you can either save or prolong -his life. Mamma is simply distracted. You know she -adores Bev, and she broke down completely last night -and told me to come and beg you to return. You -know what that means: you’ll have nothing to fear -from her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I can’t go back! I can’t! I think I should -die if I went back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We don’t die so easily, my dear. Now, I’ll go -and let you think it over,” and the <a id='dip'></a>diplomat kissed -Patience and retired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience endeavoured to put the matter out of her -mind, but it harassed her through her day’s duties, -and her work was bad. Steele told her as much the -next afternoon when she came into the office late, intending -to write there instead of at home. Her room -was haunted by Beverly’s pallid face and sunken eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well,” she said, flinging herself down before a -table, “perhaps it’s the last, so it doesn’t matter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why? What do you mean? You do look pale. -Are you ill?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience hesitated a moment, then told him of the -complication. He listened, without comment, looking -down upon the skurrying throngs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose I must go,” she said in conclusion. -“Anyway I feel that I shall go, whether I want to or -not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came over to the table and regarded her with his -preternatural seriousness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said, “you will go. It will be like you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am no angel. It’s not that—please! It’s—don’t -you know there are some good acts you can’t -help? Not only do traditions and conventions drive -you into them, but your own selfishness—I haven’t -the courage to be lashed by my conscience. If I could -give that morphine, do you think I’d go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He smiled. “Do you analyse everything like that? -However, I choose to keep to my illusions. I think -that you have magnificent theories, but act very much -like other people. Can I go up and see you sometimes? -I may have a chance to know you, now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She put up her hand and took his impulsively. “Yes, -come,” she said. “That is the only thing that will -make life supportable.”</p> - -<h2>XI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>She went home and wrote the following letter to -Beverly Peele:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will return to Peele Manor and remain while you are -seriously ill, under the following conditions: (1) That you -pay me what you would be obliged to pay a trained nurse; -(2) That you will treat me on that basis absolutely. My -feeling toward you has undergone no change. I am not -your wife. But as your physician holds me responsible for -your life, I will be your nurse on the terms stated above.”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day she received this telegram:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>Come. Terms agreed to.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:left;margin-left:5em;'><span class='sc'>Beverly Peele.</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>She was received by the various members of the -household with infinite tact. Mrs. Peele’s cold blue -eyes sheltered an angry spark, but she behaved to her -errant daughter-in-law exactly as if matrimonial vacations -were orthodox and inevitable. Honora kissed -her sweetly, and asked her if the roses were not beautiful. -When Mr. Peele came home he said, “Ah, good-evening.” -Beverly, who had evidently been coached, -did not offer to kiss her, but immediately explained -every detail of his disease. Hal and her husband were -in the North Carolina mountains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beverly was not a good actor, and his eyes followed -his wife with kaleidoscopic expression. She frequently -encountered hungry admiration and angry resentment; -and if he had made up his mind to abide by her decree -he as clearly evidenced that he considered her his -salaried property: he demanded her constant attendance. -He looked so wan and hopeless that Patience -was moved to pity, and even to tenderness, and devoted -herself to his care.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first two weeks she felt hourly as if she must -pack her trunk and flit back to the “Day.” She longed -for a very glimpse of the grimy men in the composing-room, -and felt that the sight of Morgan Steele in his -shirt sleeves would give more spiritual satisfaction than -the green and grey of the Palisades.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The life at Peele Manor seemed doubly flat after her -emancipation. At the breakfast table, Mrs. Peele and -Honora discussed their small interests. At luncheon, -Beverly—who arose late—gave the details of his -night. At dinner there was little conversation of any -sort. The mornings, and the afternoons from four -to six—when Beverly drove with his mother and -Honora—were Patience’s own. Although discontented, -she was by no means unhappy: she was out -of bondage forever. If Beverly grew better she could -return to the “Day” after a reasonable time had -elapsed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spent most of her leisure rambling over the hills -in idle reverie or meditating upon her checkered life. -She gave a good deal of thought to the many phases of -life which had flashed before her startled eyes in the -last year, but was too young not to be more interested -in herself than in problems, however momentous. Still, -she did not feel much more intimate with herself than -she had felt in Park Row.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She frequently wondered with some pique and much -disapproval that she heard nothing from Morgan Steele. -The few glimpses she had caught of the nature behind -the mask tempted her to idealise him, and she finally -succumbed. One night she awoke to the fact that she -had been walking the stars with him, discussing the -mysteries of the Universe. She pictured the smile with -which he would regard the workings of her imagination, -were they revealed to him, and recalled his business-like -demeanour, his shirt sleeves, his Park Row vocabulary, -and his impatient scorn of “damned slush.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It happened to be midnight when these later thoughts -arrived, and she laughed aloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What are you laughing at?” demanded a querulous -voice from the next room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing? Do you suppose I’m an idiot? Tell -me what you were laughing at.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go to sleep, go to sleep.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t go to sleep. You lie there and laugh while -I lie here and suffer.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why didn’t you say you were suffering? Do you -want the morphine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour later Patience was roused from her first -heavy sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience! Patience! Oh, my God! My God! -My God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stumbled out of bed and into her dressing-gown -and slippers, shaking her head vigorously to dispel -the vapours in her brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes!” she said. “I’m coming. Do please -don’t make such a fuss. You’ll wake up everybody—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not make a fuss! Oh, I wish you had it for a -minute—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience ran into the lavatory and turned up the gas. -The night was very warm, and the door leading into -Honora’s room stood wide. The light fell full on her -face. Patience saw that her eyes were open.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hope Beverly didn’t wake you up,” she said. -“He does make such a noise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was awake. I never sleep well in warm weather. -I don’t envy you, though.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t mind if only I don’t make a terrible -mistake some night and give him an overdose. He -takes particular pains to wait until I am in my first -sleep and then I hardly know what I am doing. There! -this is the third time I have dropped the wretched stuff. -What is the good of drop bottles, anyway?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you use the hypodermic?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t. It would make me ill to puncture people. -And this does him as much good.” She set the bottle -down impatiently, drew a basin full of cold water, -dashed it over her face, then dropped the dose and -took it to Beverly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Stay with me,” he commanded. “You know it -doesn’t take effect at once, and I feel better if I hold -your hand.” She sat down beside him and nodded -sleepily until the morphine did its work.</p> - -<h2>XII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next afternoon, a few moments after Beverly had -gone for his drive, Morgan Steele’s card was brought up -to Patience. She had imagined that this first call -would induce a mild thrill of nerve, but she merely -remarked to the butler: “Tell him I will be down in -a moment,” walked to the long mirror in the corner, -and shook out her violet and white organdie skirts. Her -long hair was braided and tied with a lavender ribbon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I look very well,” she thought, and went downstairs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steele awaited her in the drawing-room, and, as she -entered, was standing with his head thrown back, regarding -the medallion of Whyte Peele. She noted -anew how well he dressed and carried his clothes. -He looked quite at home in the drawing-room of -Peele Manor. Her first remark followed in natural -sequence,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How odd not to see you in your shirt sleeves.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned with a start and a sudden warmth in his -face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, well, I hope you’ll never see me that way -again. How charming you look in that frock and with -your hair in that braid! <span class='it'>I</span> always imagine <span class='it'>you</span> in prim -tailor things, with your hair tucked out of sight under a -stiff turban. This is lovely. You look like a little girl. -Those awful dress reformers should see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a comfort to think that the She-males cannot -exterminate the artistic sense. Let us go into the -library.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is there a large comfortable chair there? These -are impressive but unpleasant. Perhaps you would not -suspect it, but I love a comfortable chair and a cigar -better than anything in life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One thing I do suspect—that we shall have to -become acquainted all over again. You are not exactly -like a fallen angel outside of the office, but you certainly -have not patronised me for five minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you can take your revenge now and patronise -me. Hang the shop! I don’t want to think about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the library he critically inspected every chair, -selected one that pleased him, and drawing it to the -open window sank into it with a deep sigh of content. -Patience gave him permission to smoke, and a moment -later he looked so happy that she laughed aloud.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You may laugh,” he said plaintively, “but you -have less imagination than I thought if you don’t understand -what this is to a man after Park Row. After -an hour of that water and your muslin frock, I shall -go back as refreshed as if my brain had taken a cold -bath.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d fly back to the office this minute if I could. -I’ve felt like a bottle of over-charged champagne for -two weeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have the enthusiasm of youth. When you are -my age—sixty-five—you will be thankful for the <span class='it'>dolce -far niente</span> of a colonial manor. This sort of life suits -you—you are a born châtelaine. You have lost your -tired expression, and are actually stouter. Besides, I -want to come up here to see you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you come often?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“As often as you will let me. I am free every -afternoon, you know, and if I followed my tactless inclination -I’d come seven times a week. However, -don’t look alarmed; I’m only coming once a week—” -He sat up suddenly, his eyes sparkling. “By Jove!” -he exclaimed. “What a beauty!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience followed his eyes, which were directed -ardently upon a sail-boat skimming up the river.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you fond of sailing?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I? I could live in a boat. I’d rather be in -a boat than—than even talking to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you shall be inside of a boat in five minutes,” -she said good-naturedly. “Wait until I get my hat and -gloves!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Being only the nurse,” she said, as they walked -down the wooded slope to the boathouse, “I don’t -know that I have any right to take liberties, but I will, -all the same. I feel that it is an act of charity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It certainly is, and you really are an angel.—She’s -a good boat,” he said approvingly, a few moments -later, as he unreefed the sail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience arranged the cushions and made herself -comfortable, and they shot up the river in a stiff breeze. -She watched Steele curiously. He looked as happy as -a schoolboy. His hat was on the back of his head, his -eyes shone. Once as he threw back his head and -laughed, he bore an extraordinary resemblance to the -Laughing Faun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ve lived in a boat for a whole summer,” he said, -“and never seen a woman nor wanted to, nor a man -neither, for that matter. There are three months in -the year when I want nothing better in life than this.” -His large cool eyes moved slowly to hers. “Still,” he -added, “I do believe it’s an improvement to have you -here. What fun if we had a little yacht and could sail -like this all summer! I think we’d hit it off, don’t -you? We shouldn’t either of us talk too much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience laughed. It was impossible to coquet with -Steele. He took no notice of it. “I should be afraid -you’d tip me over if you got tired of me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shouldn’t get tired of you,” he said seriously. -“I never met a woman I liked half as much. You’re -lovely to look at, and your mind is so interesting to -study. Guess I’d better come about.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They sailed for two hours. The wind fell, and they -talked in a desultory fashion. They discovered that -they had the same literary gods, and occasionally -Steele waxed enthusiastic. He had read more than -most men of forty; nor was there anything youthful -about the fixity of his opinions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear!” said Patience, suddenly, “why did -we never meet before? I like you better than any one -I ever knew. I’ve been hunting all my life for a -mental companion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So have I,” he said, smiling at her in his half cynical -way, “and now I’ve found you I don’t propose to -let you go; not even next winter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He confided to her that he had written a good deal, -although he had published nothing. Patience wondered -where he had found time to accomplish so -much.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to bring up some of my stuff and read -it to you,” he said. “You can take that as a compliment -if you like, for I’ve only shown it to one other -person—a man.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, I know why you like me! You are going to -study me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s partly that,” he replied coolly. “You are -a new type—to me at any rate, and I shall probably -know a good deal more after I have known you a year -or so than I do now. Who is that? What an amiable-looking -person!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience followed his glance. Beverly stood at the -foot of the slope, with distorted face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear,” she said, “that is Mr. Peele. I am -afraid he is going to be disagreeable. Of course I am -not obliged to stay—but in a way I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steele ran the boat into the dock, handed her out, -and reefed the sail before he spoke. Then he turned -and looked at her squarely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Would you rather I did not come?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No! No! I want you to come. I’ll think it -over and write you—or—I wonder if you are horrid -like most men and would misunderstand me if I asked -you always to come on a certain day and meet me in -that wood up there, instead of going to the house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Look here,” he said in his old business-like tone, -“just let me set your mind at rest. I haven’t the -slightest intention of making love to you. In the first -place I am just now tired and sick of that sort of thing—a -state a man does get into occasionally, although -a woman will never believe it. In the second place I -like to think of you as <span class='it'>sui generis</span>; a woman on a -pedestal. It is very refreshing. A week from to-day -I’ll be in that wood, and I’ll stay there from four to -six whether you come or not. There comes my -train.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You must flag it. Hurry. I’ll expect you Thursday.”</p> - -<h2>XIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is that man?” thundered Beverly, as she crossed -the track behind the train.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience raised her eyebrows. “What have you to -do with my visitors?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You sha’n’t receive men, and you sha’n’t sail in -my boat.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course the boat is yours. I shall not use it -again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are my nurse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your nurse is always ready to be dismissed,” and -she walked up the slope, taking no further notice of -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Hal returned the following week; and, as Beverly -improved steadily, the house was filled with company -once more. Whenever Patience hinted that she was -no longer required, Beverly immediately went to bed -and rent the air; but as a matter of fact his attacks -were growing less and less frequent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, in the circumstances, was not impatient to -return to work until the hot weather was over. Her -position was very pleasant, Hal was ever her loyal -friend, and she saw Morgan Steele once a week.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wood was a wild place on a slope of the bluff -some distance above the house. Its underbrush made -it unpopular with the guests of Peele Manor. Steele -left the train at the regular station a mile up the road -and walked back without encounter. In the heart of -the dark cool little wood Patience swung two hammocks -and filled them with pillows. Steele lay full -length in his and looked comfortable and happy, a cigar -ever between his lips. Patience, in hers, sat in as -dignified an attitude as she could assume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does it make you feel romantic?” he said one -day, looking at her quizzically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What do you mean?” she asked, flushing a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I think you have a queer romantic sentimental -streak through your modernity—or had. I’ve been -wondering if there was any of it left.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never told you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but you suggest it. Tell me: didn’t you once -have ideals and that sort of thing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t see how you can even guess it, for I have -none now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, you have. You won’t when you’re thirty, -but you have all sorts of kiddish notions stored away yet -in that brain of yours.” He had seen Peele a few days -before in the train, and knew the history of their courtship -quite as well as if she had related it to him, but -he was curious to know what she had been before. He -drew her on until she told him the story of the tower -and the owl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That little picture pleased his artistic sense, but when -she described her girlish ideals and dreams he threw -back his head and laughed loud and long.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What would I have done with you if I had met -you then?” he said, looking with intense amusement at -her half angry face. “I should have run, I expect. -You are a thousand times more interesting now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not to myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course not, because you are less of an egoist, -and draw a larger measure of your individuality from -your environment. But you are real now, where before -you were unreal—you were a sort of waxwork with -numerous dents. The two extremes in this world are -nature and civilisation. Children belong by right to -nature, and she holds on to them as long as possible. -When civilisation gets hold of them she proceeds to -pick out with a pair of tweezers all but the primal -passions; and the result is the only human variety -capable of enjoying life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t you believe in ideals?” asked Patience, -rather wistfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course not,” he said contemptuously. “Life is -what it is, and you can’t alter it. And as we are only -just so big and have only just so many years in which -to get over a limited surface of this mighty complication -called Life, all we can do is to keep our eyes open, -and pick out here and there what appeals to our taste -most strongly, swallowing the disagreeable majority as -philosophically as possible. When you know the world—and -yourself—you can’t have ideals, and the sooner -you quit wasting time thinking about them the sooner -you begin to enjoy life. And remember that we live -but from day to day—we may be a cold cadaver to-morrow. -Life is a game of chance. To set up ideals -is as purposeless as to waste this life preparing for an -impossible next. Omar expressed it better than I can -when he said:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“‘To-morrow? Why, to-morrow I myself may be</p> -<p class='line0'>  With yesterday’s seven thousand years.’”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have certain ideals though,” said Patience. -“You are intellectually ambitious; and you say that -you never run after a merely pretty face, and never -wasted time on any sort of woman unless she had -brains; and the men at the office say that you are -scrupulously square in money matters. So that I can’t -see that you are altogether without ideals.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Those are mere matters of taste and worldly sense. -I aim for nothing that is impossible. When I think I -want a thing I set about to accomplish it. If I find -that it is impossible I quit without further loss of time. -You don’t suppose I have an ideal woman, do you? -How can any man that knows women?—although he -may often succumb to a happy combination. When I -was exactly twelve my Sunday School teacher forestalled -any inclination I might have developed to idealise -woman. I met her once after I was grown, by the -way, and it did me good to tell her what I thought of -her. That is where you women have the advantage -of us. It is so long before you know man at all that -after you do it is hard work making him over as he -is. The woman never lived that understood man by -intuition. That is the reason a woman so seldom has -any fascination but that of mere youth until she’s -pretty well on to thirty. You, of course, have had -an exceptional experience, but you are a good deal of -a kid yet.”</p> - -<h2>XIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Morgan Steele was a type of the precocious young -United States newspaper man which only this end of the -century has evolved: Preternaturally wise in the way of -the world and the nature of woman; with young blood -and cold judgment; wary, deliberate, calculating; full -of kind impulses; generous with his money, yet careful -of it; ready to make cold-blooded use of a man to-day -and offer him a free lodging to-morrow; possessed of -more self-control than the Club man of forty; without -sentimentality, yet with a certain limited power of -loving; having a thorough appreciation of the finer -as of the coarser shades of woman; incapable of a -blind supreme rush of feeling, through the habit of -eternal analysis; placidly and philosophically content -with the present, and fully expecting to be laid away in -the past at forty; <span class='it'>blasé</span>, yet full of boyish delight in -outdoor sport; having faith in no woman, yet treating -the lowest with a cynical kindness and consideration -which was part of his philosophy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One night he faced the question of his relationship -to Patience with his usual deliberation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lay on a divan in his bachelor quarters: a long -room with bedroom and bath attached. The walls -of the living-room were covered with red paper, the -doors and windows hung with Smyrna cloth. A rug -half covered the stained floor. Between the windows -was a large desk covered with papers. A long table -was strewn thick with magazines. Small bookcases -were filled with the works of Omar, Whitman, Emerson, -Hugo, Heine, Dumas, Maupassant, Bourget, Pater, Dobson, -Herrick, Ibsen, Zola, Landor, Rabelais, Stevenson, -Kipling. On the mantel there was a number of photographs -and a notable absence of legs. The walls were -covered with artists’ sketches.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The summer will pass harmlessly enough,” he -thought. “I only see her once a week, and her husband -is likely to be hidden in the brush; but when she -returns to town in the winter I shall find myself calling -on her every night. I’m not stuck on matrimony, but -I certainly should like her for a companion in a little -house or double apartment where there would be -plenty of elbow room and some chance of keeping up -the illusions. I think it would be some years before I -should tire of her, and I think I could love her a good -deal. Why in thunder doesn’t the man die? She’s -too good for anything else. It would be a terrible pity—the -details smirch so. A novelist would remark at -this point, ‘And yet he never thought of sparing her.’ -No, my dear fictionist, we don’t, nor if she loved me -would she thank me for sparing her. And yet it -would be a pity. She is like some delicate wild-flower -that has been transplanted. I should like to offer her -the best one can, instead of practically remarking: -‘My dear, this brain racket is worked out for the -present. We’ll return to it later, or not at all.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is often a clever thing for those that love and -cannot marry to part when the shock comes: they -coddle the misery and have a glorious time suffering. -But that would not do for us. We live in the thick -and rush of life, and have no time to sit down with -memories, hardly time enough to realise an ache. We -must have our day in fact or not at all; and afterward, -thank God, there is again no time for memories. Well, -this is only the eighth of July. By winter that intolerable -nuisance may be in the family vault.”</p> - -<h2>XV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>People remarked that summer that Patience looked -unusually well. At times her eyes had a certain liquid -softness, at others they sparkled wickedly. Her colour -was beautiful and her manner and conversation full of -animation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was on a hot August afternoon that Patience and -Steele, in the green shades of their wood, suddenly met -each other’s eyes and burst out laughing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We are in love,” said Patience.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well—yes—I suppose we are.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I feel very light-minded over this unexpected -<span class='it'>dénouement</span>. I had imagined all sorts of dramatic -climaxes; but the unexpected always will happen in -this life—more’s the pity.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you expect we should not fall in love?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not think about it at all for a time—just -drifted. But as the situation is so serious it is as well -to take it humourously. What are we going to do about -it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had removed his cigar, and was regarding her with -his contemplative stare. “I have thanked your complicated -ancestors more than once for your large variety -of moods. I am glad and sorry that you have spoken: -sorry, because this was very pleasant; glad that the -discussion of ways and means should take place here -instead of in town. I shall be brutally frank. How -long is your husband likely to live?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He may live for twenty years. I heard the doctors—they -have a consultation every once in a while—tell -Mrs. Peele so the other day. He is much better. On -the other hand, he might take a turn for the worse any -day.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you must persuade him to give you a -divorce.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, dear, I am afraid that is out of the question. -I’ve thought of it; but—you don’t know him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a clever woman: now look up your -resources. Enlist the family on your side. Tell them -that you are about to leave, never to return, and that -you are on the road to become a famous newspaper -woman; that if they will persuade your husband to give -you a divorce you will drop their name; otherwise that -it will be dinned in their ears for the next twenty years. -Tell them that we intend to let you sign hereafter. -That ought to fetch them, as they appear to look upon -the newspaper business with shuddering horror. And -persuade them that Beverly needs a good domestic little -wife who would gladden his declining years.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sorry I feel in this mood,” said Patience, -abruptly. “I should far rather it had been the other -way—the usual way. I suppose I am possessed with -what Poe calls The Imp of the Perverse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My dear girl, I need not remind you that it is just -as well and a good deal better. You need a shaking to -wake you up, though. You imagine that you are awake -already, but you are not—not by a long sight. You -have buried your nature five fathoms deep. Well, time -is up. I must be off. Think over what I have said. -Good-bye.”</p> - -<h2>XVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following Thursday morning Patience walked -slowly over to where Beverly sat under a tree on one of -the lawns, reading a newspaper. She had made up her -mind to adopt Steele’s advice, but had deferred the -evil moment as long as possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beverly,” she said abruptly, sitting down in front of -him, “I want to speak to you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laid down the newspaper and regarded her with -eager admiration. She had carefully selected the most -unbecoming frock she possessed, a sickly green, and -twisted her hair in a fashion to distort the fine lines of -her head. Nevertheless, she looked as fresh as the -morning, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” he asked. “Oh, why—why—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind! I am going to have a business talk -with you, and please don’t get excited. If you do, -you’ll be sure to have a pain, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, what is it? It doesn’t do a fellow any good -to keep him in suspense.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“On the first of November I am going away—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are not!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I shall not come back—not in any circumstances. -You have proved that your attacks are more -or less under your own control. A sojourn at some -foreign baths will probably cure you. I have given you -all of my life that I intend to give you. I know that -self-sacrifice is the ideal of happiness of some women, -but it is not mine. When I leave here on the first of -November it will be forever. There is no inducement, -material nor sentimental, that will bring me back. -Do you understand that much clearly?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He burst into a volley of oaths, and beat his knees -with his fists. Patience continued as soon as she could -be heard:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, it can do you no possible good to retain a -legal hold on me, nor can you care to hear of your -name becoming familiar in Park Row. Give me my -freedom, and I will take my own name—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll get no divorce,” he roared, “now nor ever. -Do you understand that? I’ll brace up and live until -I’m ninety—by God I will! I’ll go abroad and live at -a water cure. You’ll never be the wife of any other -man. Do you understand that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Beverly,” she said, breaking suddenly, “don’t -be cruel,—don’t! What good can it do you? Give me -my freedom.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He grasped her wrists. His eyes were full of rage -and malevolence. “Do you want to marry some one -else?” he asked. “Some damned newspaper man, I -suppose.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience stood up and shook him off. “If ever I -do marry another man,” she said cuttingly, “you may -be sure he will have brains this time, and that he will -also be a gentleman. The most vulgar persons I -have ever known have been socially the most highly -placed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she moved away he sprang after her and caught -her arm. “Now look here,” he said hoarsely, “you’ll -neither marry, nor will you have a lover, unless you -want all New York to know it. The moment you leave -this place a detective goes after you. You’ll do nothing -that I don’t know. I may not have brains, but I’ll get -the best of you all the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience flung him off and went straight to Mrs. -Peele. Her mother-in-law watched her with narrowed -eyes until she had finished, then remarked unexpectedly: -“I shall do my best to make my son -divorce you. If you intend to leave us I prefer that the -rupture should be complete. As you suggest, I have no -desire to see the name of Peele signed to newspaper -articles. Moreover, I believe I can persuade my son to -marry again,—a woman of his own station, who will -not desecrate the name of wife; and who,” with sudden -violence, “will give this house an heir.” She paused -a moment to recover herself, then continued more -calmly: “I have talked the matter over with my husband, -and he agrees with me. Of course, you will -expect no alimony.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t want alimony. I make more with my pen -than Beverly ever allowed me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The red came into Mrs. Peele’s face. “My son was -quite as generous as was to be expected. Moreover, he -had the right to demand that his wife should not come -to him empty handed. I shall speak to Beverly.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour later Patience met Mrs. Peele in the side -hall. The older woman looked flushed and excited. -“I have had a most terrible interview with Beverly,” -she exclaimed. “I can do nothing with him. You -little fool, why didn’t you swear that you did not want -to marry another man? Heaven knows I should prefer -to have you take another name as soon as possible; but -you have ruined your chances by letting Beverly suspect -the truth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sank upon a chair, and sat for a long while -staring straight before her. She felt the incarnation of -rage and hate. Her lovely face was set and repellent. -She came to herself with a start, and wondered if she had -ever had any womanly impulses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had never wanted anything in her life as much -as she wanted to marry Morgan Steele. His very -unlikeness to all her old ideals fascinated her, and she -was convinced that she was profoundly in love. She -could hardly imagine what life with him would be like, -and was the more curious to ascertain; and the obstacles -enraged her impatient spirit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The butler left the dining-room to announce luncheon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Send mine up to my room,” she said. As she -reached the first landing of the stair she turned to him -suddenly. “Tell John to go to New York this afternoon, -and have Mr. Beverly’s morphine bottle filled. -He took the last last night and he may need it again -before I go down myself. Don’t fail to tell him. -The bottle is in the lavatory.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That afternoon she met Steele at the edge of the -wood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could not keep still,” she said. “My brain feels -on fire.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He drew her hand through his arm and held it -tenderly. “What is it?” he asked. “Did you speak, -and was it disagreeable?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll tell you in a minute. Just now it is enough to -feel you here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can only stay an hour. I should not have come -at all, but I could not stay away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When they reached the hammocks Patience flung -herself into hers and told the story of the morning -with dramatic indignation. Then, insensibly, she -drifted into the story of her married life, and described -her intense hatred and loathing of her husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was all my own fault,” she said in conclusion. -“I married him with my eyes open; but all the same -I hate him. Sometimes I felt, and feel yet, fairly -murderous. I seem to have a terrible nature—does it -make you hate me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laughed. “No, I don’t hate you, and you know -it quite as well as I do. You have wonderful possibilities—but -I can’t quite make up my mind that I am -the man—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes, you are. I could love you as much as I -hate Beverly Peele.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, if you think so it amounts to the same thing, -for a while at least. I shall come again in a few days. -I’ll write you. If your husband cannot be induced to -change his mind I’ll talk to you about a paper that -has been offered to me in Texas; but if you prefer it -the other way, I’ll leave you alone without a word.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know! There are some words I hate,—the -words free-love and adultery. I don’t want to -be exploited in the newspapers, and I don’t want to -be insulted by my landlord. After all, expediency is -the source of all morality. My life with you would be -a thousand times better than it was with Beverly Peele; -but I suspect that we can’t violate certain moral -laws that heredity has made part of our brain fibre, -without ultimate regret, even when we keep the world -in ignorance. I suffered horribly once, although I had -not defied the conventions. But I think we must have -everything, or the large share of herself that Nature has -given each of us rebels,—in other words, the ideal is -not complete.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When you are very much in love,” he said dryly, -“you won’t analyse.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Contrary to her habit, she remained in the wood for -some time after he left her. Suddenly she was aroused -from her reverie by a peculiar heavy sound, as of a -man crawling. She listened intently, her hair stiffening: -the house was a quarter of a mile away. The -sound continued steadily. She sprang to her feet and -fled from the wood. As she ran up the hill beyond, -she glanced fearfully over her shoulder. A man shot -from the lower edge of the wood and ran toward the -stables.</p> - -<h2>XVII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour after midnight Patience ran into Honora’s -room and shook her violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Honora! Honora!” she cried, “something is the -matter with Beverly. I can’t wake him up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora stretched herself languidly. Her eyelids -fluttered a moment, then lifted. She said sleepily:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it, Patience?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beverly! Go to him—quick—while I wake up -Mr. and Mrs. Peele, and send for the doctor. He -dropped his own morphine to-night, and he must have -taken too much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few moments later there was an alarmed group of -people at Beverly Peele’s bedside, and the butler could -be heard at the telephone demanding the doctor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele was in his pyjamas, and Patience struggled -with an importunate desire to tell him that his hair -stood on end. Mrs. Peele’s back hair was in a scant -braid; the front locks were on pins. Her skin looked -pallid and old. Honora, as usual, looked like a vision -from heaven. Hal and her husband were in Newport, -and there were no guests at Peele Manor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure,” asked Mr. Peele, as precisely as if -his hair was parted in the middle and plastered on -each side, “that anything is the matter? Does not -the morphine always put him to sleep?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not at once. You see he takes it internally, and -it’s twenty minutes or half an hour before it takes effect. -During that time he always groans, for he never takes it -until the last minute. I heard him get up and return -to bed; and then I knew something must be the matter -because he was so quiet—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How could you let him drop it himself?” exclaimed -Mrs. Peele, passionately. “How could you? What -are you here for?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I offered to drop it for him, but he wouldn’t let me. -I didn’t insist, as he always put it off—and we had -had a quarrel—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“My poor son!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, something’s got to be done,” said Mr. Peele. -“I don’t like the way he’s beginning to breathe. -There are one or two things we can do until the -doctor comes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He raised Beverly’s arms above the head, brought -them down and pressed them into the chest, repeating -the act twenty or thirty times. Beverly meanwhile was -breathing stertorously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can’t I do something?” cried his mother, distractedly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think we had better walk him,” said Mr. Peele, -whose mouth was tightening. “Call Hickman.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The butler was waiting in the hall, and came at once. -He helped Mr. Peele to lift the young man from the -bed. The stalwart figure hung limply between them: -he was as collapsed as the new dead. Mr. Peele and -Hickman walked him up and down the long line of -rooms, shaking him vigorously from time to time; -but they would have produced as much effect upon -the bolster. Mrs. Peele had sunk into a chair. She -sat with compressed lips, and dilating eyes fixed upon -Patience. Honora knelt beside her, patting her hand. -After a time she arose, liberated Mrs. Peele’s hair from -its braid and steels, and arranged it with deft hands, -fetching some of her own amber pins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sat on the edge of the bed. She was -beginning to feel hopelessly sleepy. The day’s excitement -had sapped her nerves. It was now nearly two -o’clock, and she had not slept. Beverly had been ill -the night before and given her little rest. She felt bitterly -ashamed of herself; but every few moments she -was obliged to cover her face with her handkerchief to -conceal a yawn. Once or twice her head dropped -suddenly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The last time she sat up with a gasp. Mrs. Peele -groaned. The two men had entered with their burden. -Beverly’s face was blue, and he breathed infrequently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“His body is bathed in a cold perspiration,” said -Mr. Peele. “Will that doctor never come?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O my God!” murmured Mrs. Peele.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience left the bed and sat on the sill of the window. -The night was very hot and still. A shuddering -horror took possession of her. A palpable presence -seemed skimming the dark gulf under the window. -She sat with distended eyes, half expecting to see a -long arm reach past her and pluck the soul from the -unconscious man on the bed. She closed her eyes and -put her fingers in her ears. When she removed them -she drew a long breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The doctor is coming,” she said. “I hear the -wheels.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you make him understand what was the -matter?” asked Mr. Peele of the butler.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir. He said he would bring everything -necessary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the doctor came in he bent over the sick man -and lifted his eyelids.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is morphine poisoning, sure enough,” he said. -“Have some black coffee made. I shall use the electricity -meanwhile. Better telegraph to New York. I -don’t like this case, and don’t want it alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience watched them mechanically for an hour, -then slipped into her own room and into her bed. -Nature had conquered her. Another moment, and she -would have fallen to the floor in sleep.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Four hours later she was awakened by a vigorous -shaking of her shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat upright and glanced about wildly. “What -is it? What is the matter?” she cried. “I had such -a horrible dream. I thought Beverly was drowning -me—holding me down under the water—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your husband is dead,” said the doctor. “Do you -wish to go to him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shrank under the bedclothes, pulling them -about her head. After the doctor had gone she ran -over to a spare room, opened all the windows to -admit light, then went to bed and slept until late in the -day.</p> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1 class='nobreak'><a id='book5'></a>BOOK V</h1></div> - -<h2 class='nobreak'>I</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The editor-in-chief of the New York “Eye” sat in the -large revolving-chair in his private room, dictating to a -typewriter answers to the great pile of letters on the -desk before him. He opened one letter after another -with expert swiftness, glanced over it, gave it a few lines -of response, or tossed it, half read, into a wastebasket. -But although his heed to duty was alert, his brow was -contracted, and he was carrying on a double train of -thought. The subconsciousness was not pleasant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Arnold Sturges was one of the most remarkable men -in New York. Not thirty-three, he had been editor-in-chief -of one of the great newspapers of the United States -for a year and a half. He had elected journalism as the -safety-valve for a superabundant nervous energy and a -means to gratify ambition and love of power. Although -possessed of a little fortune he had begun his career on -the city staff. As a reporter he had worked as hard as -if twenty-five dollars a week stood between him and -starvation. He had risen rapidly from one editorship -to another, and still no half naked man down in -the printing-rooms worked more lustily. His rushing -career was by no means due to work alone, nor yet to -his superlative cleverness: it was said of him that he -could smell news a week off, and not only ahead but -backward; by which was meant that he knew the subtle -and valuable relation that old news occasionally holds to -that of the moment. Naturally, he had made many -brilliant and memorable coups.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When friends had blocked his way he had thrust -them aside as lightly as he seemed to spurn less material -obstacles. Body and brain he was the dauntless servant -of the “Eye;” its personality was his; his very nerves -were tuned to its sensational policy. He lived for it, -and would have died for it. He hardly regarded himself -as an individual, although his fine intellect, his bold -executive ability, his splendid suggestions, had been -large factors in the success of the paper.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cold, cruel, charming, calculating, enthusiastic, audacious, -unscrupulous, fearless, relentless, brilliant, executive, -had he been a factor in the French Revolution -his name would have become infamously immortal. As -it was, he was supreme in the field he had deliberately -chosen ten years before, immediately after graduating -from Harvard with such honours that the faculty had sent -for and severally congratulated him upon his future.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lived with a soubrette with whom he spent his -evenings, playing <span class='it'>parchisi</span>.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To-day he was in a serious quandary. Three days -before he had paid fifteen hundred dollars for a scandalous -story relative to one of the most fashionable families -in Westchester County,—a story which bore truth -on the face of it, but which he had not yet published, as -it was necessary to go through the form of verification. -The family meanwhile had heard of the sale, and brought -tremendous pressure to bear upon him to suppress the -story: the owner of the “Eye” was travelling in -Europe. Lawyers had called and harangued. A woman -had gone to his apartment and wept at his feet. A -man had flourished a pistol. For tears and threats he -cared nothing, but it had occurred to him when too late -that the owner of the “Eye” purposed to build in -Westchester County and had aspirations to the Country -Club. Despite the fact that the story would make the -sensation of the day, the owner might be moved to fury. -On the other hand, he had paid fifteen hundred dollars -for the facts, and must justify himself. It was the first -time in his career that he had made a serious mistake, -and he was in a cold rage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man would have given pleasure to a physiognomist; -he was a type so marked, so essentially modern, -that an amateur could not have misplaced him, as one -easily could so commonplace a type as Beverly Peele. -His forehead was full and wide, his grey eyes piercing, -restless, hard as ice. The nose was finely cut, the -mouth licentious, the face thin and sallow. At each -extremity of the jaw was an abnormal development of -muscle. His small thin figure was as lithe as a panther, -and so crowded with pure nerve force that it seemed to -shed electricity. His attire was fashionable and elegant. -In flannel shirt and overalls he would still have looked -a product of the higher civilisation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened. He wheeled about with a frown, -then smiled pleasantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it’s you, Van,” he said. “I’ll be through in a -minute. Sit down.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man that had entered bore so striking a resemblance -to Sturges that the two men might have been -twins. He was, in fact, three years younger than his -brother. Yet there were some points of difference. Van -Cortlandt Sturges’ mouth was a straight line, his hair -was many shades lighter, almost flaxen, and he was -several inches taller. But the expression of the upper -part of the two faces was identical. He, too, had left -Harvard with high honours, and ambition devoured him. -Although only thirty he was District Attorney of Westchester -County. But as yet his fame had not gone -beyond its borders, although within them his dry -incisive bitter eloquence had carried many juries. -Criminals in their cells thought on him with terror. He -had sent several men to the chair, but no man that had -been defended by Garan Bourke. People said of him -lightly that he would not go out of his way to be President -of the United States until he had thrashed Bourke -on his own ground.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d like ten minutes as soon as possible,” he said. -“I have an important communication to make.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll hear it now.” To the typewriter: “You can -go. Don’t return until I ring, and tell Tom to stand -in front of the door and admit no one.—Well, what -is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you made up your mind to publish that Westchester -County scandal?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How do you know anything about that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They sent for me yesterday and besought me to -use my influence with you. I am engaged to the -woman’s sister.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The devil you are! This is bad—bad. But I -can’t do anything. I paid fifteen hundred dollars for -that story.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know you did. If I could give you a better, -would you let that go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t I? It’s a white elephant. I thought -you didn’t know me so little as to come here with -sentiment. Fire away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course you remember the Gardiner Peeles, -although you never go anywhere. You went to one or -two children’s parties there when you were a kid. -Well, Beverly Peele died suddenly night before last, -supposedly of an overdose of morphine administered -by himself. Now, old Lewis, the family physician, is a -great friend of mine, and likely to be communicative in -his cups. Last night he dined with me, and after he -was pretty well loaded told me a remarkable yarn. It -seems that Mrs. Beverly had not been on good terms -with her husband since the early days of their marriage, -and had threatened to leave him from time to time. -He treated her well, and was desperately in love with -her. She, as far as is known, had nothing against him -but personal dislike. She is said to have frequently -expressed hatred of him in violent terms. Well, winter -before last she left him, came to New York, and went to -work on the ‘Day.’ The Peeles did everything to -induce her to return, but she only consented to go -back temporarily this summer to nurse her husband, -who had been attacked with a chronic but not immediately -fatal complaint. Meanwhile it seems she had -fallen in love with some one, and she met him every -Thursday in a wood. Jim, a stable boy, who had been -brought up on the place and was devoted to Beverly -Peele, watched her, but said nothing to his master, as -he was cautiously waiting for some proof of criminality. -On the afternoon of Peele’s death there was a tremendous -scene between the lovers: young Mrs. Peele telling -a furious story of her husband’s refusal to give her -divorce, of his threat to have her watched, to expose -her if she took a lover, and to live until ninety if -he had to go abroad and live at a foreign spa. She -reiterated that she hated him, and had frequently had -the impulse to murder him. The lover invited her to -go to Texas, and she demurred, as she disliked scandal. -Jim told this story to Lewis when driving him home -from the death-bed,—his own horse had cast a shoe,—and -the doctor advised him to keep quiet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The night after the interview between the lovers—or -rather the following morning—Peele died of an overdose -of morphine. She says he took it himself; but it -is a remarkable fact that never before—not in a single -instance—had he dropped the morphine himself. He -had had a nurse from the first, and when the pain was -on he shook like a leaf. And yet she asserts that she -did not drop it that particular night, and adds—by -way of explanation—that they had had a violent quarrel -and he had refused to let her wait on him. While -he was dying and the others were working over him, -she behaved in the most heartless manner,—deliberately -went to bed in the next room and went to sleep. -When Lewis awakened her, however, and told her that -Peele was dead, she displayed symptoms of abject -terror, and tore across the hall and locked herself in -another room. Now, what do you think of it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sturges’ eyes were glittering like smoked diamonds. -“My God!” he cried. “That’s a grand story! a -corker! I’ll have Bart Tripp, the best detective reporter -in New York, up there inside of two hours. -Between whiskey and gold he’ll get every fact out of -the servants they’ve got. It’s worth two of the other. -A young, beautiful, swagger woman accused of murdering -her husband, and that husband a Peele of Peele -Manor! The ‘Eye’ will be read in the very bowels -of the earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And I shall conduct the case for the prosecution.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The ‘Eye’ will let people know it. Don’t worry -about that. Does Lewis remember that he told you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not a word.”</p> - -<h2>II</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the following Sunday Patience arose early. Beverly -had been in the family vault down in the hollow for a -week. She had wished to leave immediately after the -funeral, but had remained at the insistence of Hal, who -had returned at once, and was doubly depressed by her -brother’s death and the gloomy house. Mrs. Peele had -gone to bed with a violent attack of neuralgia some -days ago, and had not risen since. Honora was in constant -attendance. Mr. Peele never opened his lips -except to ask for what he wanted. Burr, as a matter -of course, spent the days in New York or at a private -club house in the neighbourhood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had moved into a room adjoining Hal’s. -She kept the light burning all night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll be all right when I get back to New York,” she -said, “but I have a horror of death. I can’t help it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who hasn’t?” asked Hal. “I wish I were a man—or -could be as selfish as one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On this Sunday morning Patience rose after a restless -night, and went downstairs as soon as she was -dressed. The “Day” and the “Eye”—Burr’s -favorite newspaper—lay on a table in the hall. She -carried them into the library and turned them over -listlessly, then remembered that a great Westchester -County scandal had been promised for the Sunday -“Eye” by the issue of the day before, and that Hal -and Burr were on the alert, suspecting that they half -knew the story already.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She opened the “Eye” and glanced at the headlines -of the first page. In the place of honour, the -extreme left hand column, she found her story:</p> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>WAS IT MURDER?</p> -<p class='line'>AN OLD MANOR HOUSE IN WESTCHESTER COUNTY MAY</p> -<p class='line'>HAVE BEEN THE THEATRE OF A GREAT CRIME!</p> -<p class='line'>A YOUNG WIFE SUSPECTED OF THE FOUL DEED!</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience read ten lines. Then she stumbled to -her feet, spilling the papers to the floor. Her skin -felt cold and wet, her knees trembled, her hands -moved spasmodically. Something within her seemed -disintegrating.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She got to the door and up to her room. Aside from -the horror which sat in each nerve centre and jabbered, -she was conscious of but one idea: she must fly. She -flung off her robe and put on the black frock she had -bought out of deference to the family’s grief. She -scratched herself and thrust the buttons into the wrong -holes, but she could call no one to her assistance. She -was thankful it was so early; she could get away without -encountering any of the family. She was about to -put on her black bonnet when her muddled consciousness -emitted another flash and bade her disguise herself; -detectives would have orders to search for a -woman in weeds. She tore off the mourning frock, -dropping it to the floor, and got herself into a grey one, -then pinned on a grey hat trimmed with pink flowers. -She thrust a few things into a bag, and ran down the -stair. She reached the station in time to flag the 8.30 -train for New York. Some one else boarded the same -train, but she did not see him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Having accomplished her flight, her thoughts travelled -to the objective point. Inevitably her woman’s -instinct turned to the man whose duty it was to protect -her. She convinced herself femininely that if she -could reach him all would be well; he not only loved -her, but he was so amazingly clever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At the station in New York she walked deliberately -to a cab and gave the man Morgan Steele’s address. -She looked neither to the right nor to the left, consequently -did not see that the man who had boarded -the train at Peele Manor stood at her elbow when she -gave the order, and followed her immediately.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the cab reached the house in which Morgan -Steele lived, she dismissed it and ran up the steps. She -rang again and again, pacing the narrow stoop in an -agony of fear and impatience. At the end of ten -minutes an irritable half dressed Frenchman came -shuffling down the stairs. There were no curtains on -the door, and the man’s expression struck new terror -to her heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” he asked surlily, as he opened the -door.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—I—must see Mr. Steele.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Steele is asleep. He does not receive visitors -at this hour.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must see him.” Her cheeks were flaming under -the man’s scrutiny. “Here,” she opened her purse -and gave him a bill, then pushed him aside and ran -upstairs. She remembered that Steele had told her -that his rooms were on the second floor, front. The -halls were as dark as midnight. She had to feel with -her hands for a door. There was one at the end -facing the hall. She knocked so loudly that Steele -sprang out of bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” he cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is I. Open the door—quick!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steele made no reply until he opened a door at the -side of the hall. He had tied himself into a bath -robe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good heavens!” he said, “why have you come -here? Are you mad?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I think I am. Lock the door—quick. Oh, -haven’t you heard? Didn’t you know about it before? -The ‘Day’ is right next door to the ‘Eye.’ Why -didn’t you warn me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth are you talking about? What has -happened? Do sit down and calm yourself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The ‘Eye’ is out with a big story that I murdered -Beverly Peele. That is what is the matter.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What? Oh, you poor child! The damned rascals! -But you shouldn’t have come here. Don’t you -know that the ‘Eye’ will watch every move you make? -It takes the clever woman to do the wrong thing, every -time!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He went to the window and peered out, then clenched -his teeth, and raising his arm brought it down violently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They can’t put me in prison, can they?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pressed his finger to a bell. “I must read what -they have to say. They are very wary, and never -would have printed such a story unless they had had a -good deal of circumstantial evidence. But they will -need a terrible lot to convict you. Don’t worry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how can you be so cool?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Some one has to be cool, my dear girl. If you -cannot think I must think for you.” A man has not -much sentiment at that hour of the morning; still, -Steele had sympathy in his nature, and was profoundly -disturbed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The servant came up with the newspapers, and -Steele ordered coffee and rolls from the restaurant -below. He threw himself into a chair, opened the -“Eye,” and read the story through deliberately, word -for word, while Patience walked nervously up and -down the room. When he had finished he laid the -newspaper on the table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a damned bad case,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t believe I did it, do you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her for a moment with his peculiarly -searching gaze. “No,” he said, “you didn’t do it. -You’d be even more interesting if you had. But -that’s not the question. We’ve got to make others -believe you didn’t do it. The first thing for you to do -is to go directly back to Peele Manor. Tell them you -came up to see Miss Merrien and to engage rooms. -Anything you like—only go back there and wait. If -you are arrested, it must be from there, and there must -be no suggestion of fear on your part—you must -brace up and carry it off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The waiter entered with the coffee and rolls, and -Steele made her drink and eat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is 9.45,” he said. “You can catch a train that -goes between ten and eleven.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience had finished she drew on her gloves. -“I’ll go,” she said, “and I’ll try to do as you say. -I’ve made a fool of myself, but I won’t again—I -promise. I can be as cold as stone, you know. That’s -the New England part of me. And so long as I know -that you care I sha’n’t break down—in public at -least.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I care fast enough—poor little woman. -Here, leave that bag, for heaven’s sake. You mustn’t -go back with that.”</p> - -<h2>III</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience arrived at Peele Manor she knew -before she reached the house that her story had been -read and told. The gardener turned on his heel as -she passed him and walked hastily away. A new stable -boy stared at her until she thought his eyes would fly -from their sockets.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As she entered the front door, Hal ran forward and -threw her arms about her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Patience! Patience!” she sobbed hysterically. -“That brutal paper! How could they do such a -thing? Have they no heart nor soul?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You don’t believe it then?” said Patience, gratefully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I don’t believe it—believe such a thing -of <span class='it'>you</span>! Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come back. They -were all sure you’d run away; but I knew you hadn’t. -It is only the guilty that hide—But why on earth did -you put on that grey frock?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I don’t know. How can one know what one’s -doing—What does your father say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The girls were in one of the small reception-rooms. -Hal removed Patience’s hat and gloves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, this has been the most terrible day of my -life,” she said evasively. “But you must be prudent, -Patience dear. You must wear black—What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A servant had entered the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Peele would like to see Mrs. Beverly in the -library!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience rose and shook herself a little, as if she -would shake her nerves into place. Hal’s face flushed, -and she turned away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Patience crossed the hall she met Latimer Burr. -He held out his hand and pressed hers warmly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is terrible, Patience,” he said; “but remember -that Hal and I are always your friends. If the worst -comes to the worst I’ll send you my attorney. Remember -that, and don’t engage any one else, for he’s -one of the ablest criminal lawyers in the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are good!” she said. She smiled even -through the grateful tears which sprang to her eyes. -Burr had grown a visible inch. His chest and lips -were slightly extended.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele sat in a large chair, his elbows on the -arms, his finger-tips lightly pressed together. As -Patience stood before him she felt as if transfixed by -two steel lances.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You murdered my son.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not.” Her courage came back to her under -the overt attack.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You murdered my son. The evidence is conclusive -to me as a lawyer—and to my knowledge of you. -My error was that I regarded your threats as feminine -ravings. I wish you to leave my house at once—within -the hour. I shall not have you arrested, but -if you are I shall appear against you; and I have some -evidence, as you will admit. You have dishonoured an -ancient house,” he continued with cold passion, “and -you have left it without an heir. Its name, after nearly -three hundred years in this country alone, must die -with me. If you had borne a son I should move -heaven and earth to get you out of the country, but now -I hope to heaven you’ll go to the chair.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shuddered and chilled, but she answered: -“You despised your son, and you should be thankful -that he left no second edition of himself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He was my son, and the last of his name. Now, -kindly leave this house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience went up to her room and began to pack -her trunk. Hal followed, and when she heard what -her father had said cried bitterly. She helped Patience -to pack, assisted her into the black clothes, then walked -to the station with her and stood conspicuously on the -platform, waving her hand as the train moved off.</p> - -<h2>IV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience went directly to her old quarters in Forty-Fourth -Street. She told the cabman not to lift her -trunk down until she ascertained if there was a vacant -room in the house. The bell was answered by a maid -that had been there in her time. The girl stifled a -scream and fled. Patience shut the door behind her -with a hand that trembled again, and went slowly upstairs -to Miss Merrien’s room. A solemn voice answered -her knock. When she opened the door Miss -Merrien sprang up and came forward. Her face was -drawn, her eyes were red.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mrs. Peele!” she cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you believe it? If you do, I’ll go at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course I don’t believe it! How can you ask -me? Sit down. How good of you to come here. Tell -me—are you terribly frightened?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I don’t think I am now. Why should I be? -If I am so unlucky as to have been tossed up in the -news hat of the ‘Eye,’ I cannot help it; and I suppose -this is only the beginning. If I have to go to jail I -have to, and that is the end of it; but they cannot -possibly convict me, for I am innocent.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you always were the bravest woman I ever -knew. It is like you—Come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened, and the landlady entered and closed -it carefully behind her. She was a tall thin elderly -woman with a refined face stamped with commercial -unquiet. Her grey hair was piled high. Her voice -was low, and well modulated. She looked at Patience -out of faded blue eyes in which there was a faint sparkle -of resentment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I see that you have a trunk on your cab, Mrs. -Peele,” she said, “I am very sorry that I have no -room.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had no intention of asking you for a room,” said -Patience, haughtily. “I merely came to call on Miss -Merrien; and as I have only a few moments to spare, I -should be obliged if you would leave us alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The landlady retired in disorder, and Miss Merrien -exhausted her vocabulary of invective.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is the use?” said Patience. “She is right. -In the struggle for bread and butter it must be self first, -last, and always. If it were known—as it would be—that -I had been arrested from her house every other -lodger would leave. Well, I must go roof-hunting.” -She laughed suddenly. “If I do go to jail I suppose -you’ll come to interview me. I hope so. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien, although not a demonstrative girl, -kissed her affectionately. “The ‘Day’ will defend you -for all it’s worth—you know that. And I needn’t say -anything about myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience told her cabman to drive to the Holland -House, but when he stopped there she did not get out. -Reflection had convinced her that no hotel in New -York would take her in. She dared not give a false -name lest her motive should be misconstrued. She -put her head out of the window and gave the man -Rosita’s address.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is no other way,” she thought. “I cannot -live in a cab. Mrs. Field would take me in, but I -have no right to make such a test of friendship as -that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita received her with open arms. She was looking -very beautiful in flowing nainsook and lace, and exhaled -a new and delicious perfume.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita! Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>!” she purred. “<span class='it'>Pobrecita!</span> -Who would have thought that this would happen to my -<span class='it'>lili</span>.” (Her accent was more pronounced than ever.)</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Can I stay with you until they arrest me, or this -blows over?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You shall stay with me forever. ‘Are we not bound -by the ties of childhood?’ That is a line in my new -opera. Isn’t it funny? Ay, Patita, I am so sorry.” -And she sent down for the trunk and removed Patience’s -hat.</p> - -<h2>V</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning Patience was awakened by Rosita’s -ecstatic voice. She opened her eyes to see her hostess -standing at the bedside, the “Eye” in her hand, her -face radiant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita!” she cried. “Read it—there is a whole -column about you and me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience sat up in bed. “Is that why you were so -glad to have me come here?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patita! Do not look at me like that. Oh, if I -could only look that way when I am stage mad!—but -they always say I look like an angry baby. Of course, -that was not the reason, Patita <span class='it'>mia</span>; but it is heavenly -to be written about; do not you think so? And, of -course, every new story about me—and such a sensation -as this—means a perfect rush—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Give me the paper, please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She read the column while Rosita pattered back to -her room and ate her dainty breakfast. Every move -she had made on the day before was chronicled. On -another page an editorial commented on the facts of -her having visited a young man’s apartment, and finally -taken refuge with the notorious Spanish woman.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dressed herself hastily in her black garments, -and locked and strapped her trunk. “I’ll go straight -down and give myself up,” she thought. “It’s what I -ought to have done yesterday. It’s eleven o’clock. I -wish it were nine. Come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Two gentlemen to see madame,” said the maid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What—who—what do they look like?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Like policemen, and yet not, madame.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience gasped. Her knees gave way. Again she -experienced that horrible feeling of disintegration. Her -untasted breakfast stood on a table by the bed. She -hastily drank a cup of black coffee, then walked steadily -to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have come for me?” she asked of the men.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where am I to go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To the jail at White Plains, Westchester County. -You are arrested on charge of murder;” and he displayed -the warrant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience touched the bell button. “Take my trunk -downstairs to the cab,” she said to the butler. Then she -stepped to the portières and said good-bye to Rosita.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s a cool one,” said one man to the other. -“She done it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They went down in the elevator. As they left it, -one of the men preceded her, the other followed close. -Both entered the cab with her. She felt that they were -regarding her with the frank curiosity of their kind, -and kept her eyes fixed on the street with an expressionless -stare. On the train they gave her a seat to -herself, each taking the outside of another, one before -and one behind. The passengers did not suspect the -meaning of the party. She saw no one she knew. It -was not the line that passed Peele Manor. For small -mercies she was duly thankful. She guessed, however, -that a meagre wiry black-eyed young man on the -opposite side of the aisle, a man with a mean sharp -common face, was Bart Tripp. He stared at her until -she thought she should scream aloud, or, what would -be almost as fatal, relax the proud calm of her face. It -was with a sigh of profound relief that she stepped -from the train at White Plains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We won’t meet no one,” said one of the detectives, -as they entered the hack. “The sheriff’s got ready -for you, I guess; he was wired yesterday; but we took -good care not to say what train we was coming on, -so there wouldn’t be no crowd. Feeling’s pretty high -against you, I guess.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they drove through the ugly little town, Patience -wondered why it was called White Plains. She had -never seen a more undulating country. One or two of -the environing hills were almost perpendicular. She -also noticed with the minute observance of persons approaching -crises, that the court house was a big handsome -building of grey stone, and decided that she -liked its architecture. The extension behind, one of -the keepers told her, was the jail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was escorted before a police justice, who read -the charge and explained such privileges as the law -allowed her; then to the sheriff’s office, where she was -registered. A crowd of men were in the office. They -watched her with deep but respectful attention, as she -answered the many questions put to her, but she managed -to maintain her impassive demeanour. There was -a buzz of excitement by this time all through the court -house, and a little of it began to communicate itself to -her. The few that are sustained through life’s trials -by public interest are immeasurably fortunate. Before -the sheriff—who could not have treated her with more -consideration were she a dethroned queen—had finished, -word had gone up into the court room, and a -sudden trampling on the back stair indicated that the -case in hand had lost its interest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s all,” said the sheriff, hurriedly. “Guess -you’d better get along.—Tarbox,” he called.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A short stout man with a ruddy kind face came -forward, offered Patience his arm, pushed his way -through the crowd of men in the hall, and led her out -of a back door and down a long yard beside the jail. -At the end of the building he inserted a key in a lock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go right up, ma’am,” he said politely, and she ascended -a narrow flight of stairs. At its head he unlocked -another door, and again they ascended, again -a door was unlocked. Then Patience stepped into a -long low clean well-lighted room. In the middle of -its length was a stove over which a kettle boiled. On -a bench sat four women. At each end and on one -side were low grated windows. On the other side were -a number of grated doors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The man led Patience to the upper end of the room -and swung open the door of the corner cell. It was a -large cell, and had it not been for the low window with -its iron bars would have been in no wise different from -any room of simple comfort. A red carpet covered the -floor. The bed in the corner was fresh and spotless. -The rest of the furniture was new and convenient. -There were even a large rocker and a student’s lamp. -Over the door a curtain had been hung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why!” exclaimed Patience, “are all prison cells -like this?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, ma’am, they’re not; but you see when we -have a lady—which isn’t often—we do what we can -to make her feel at home. We can’t afford to forget -that this is the swell county of New York, you know. -And of course you’re the finest person we’ve ever had. -You’ll be treated well here,—you needn’t worry about -that. I’ll order one of them girls outside to wait on -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are very good.” For the first time tears -threatened.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I’ll try to be to you, ma’am. I’m John -Tarbox, deputy sheriff, jailor, warden, and all the rest -of it. I shall look after you. I’ll call twice a day, and -anything you want you’ll get. If any of them hussies -out there get to fighting just sing out the window, and -I’ll lock them up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You won’t lock me in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no—there’s no need for that. This cell’s no -stronger than the whole place. Well, make yourself -comfortable. I’ll send over to the hotel to get a lunch -for you. You must be hungry. Keep a stiff upper lip.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience, when she was alone, drew a long breath -and looked about her. The cheerful room, the unexpected -kindness of the sheriffs, had raised her spirits. -She took off her hat and tossed it on the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I may as well take the situation humourously,” she -thought. “It helps more than anything else in life, -I’ve discovered. This can’t last forever, and they -can’t convict me. The serious people of this world -have always struck me as being the most farcical. So -here goes my ninth or tenth lesson in philosophy. -Such is life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After luncheon Mag, the improvised maid, unpacked -the trunk and shook out the pretty garments with many -expressions of rapture. Patience gave her a red frock, -and the girl was her slave thenceforth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The afternoon hours revolved like a clogged wheel in -a muddy stream. Excitement and novelty kept horror -at bay, but she knew that it lurked, biding its time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When night came she lit the lamp and tried to read -a magazine that Tarbox had brought her; but it fell -from her hands again and again. Her ears acted independently -of her will. She had never known so -terrible a stillness. The women had gone to bed at -half past seven. No voice came from the distant street. -The silence of eternity seemed to have descended upon -those massive walls.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was in jail!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sprang to her feet, shuddering; then set her -teeth and knelt by the window.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The heat waves of August hid the stars. Beyond the -jail-yard was a mass of buildings, but no light in any -window. Now and again a tramp came forth from his -quarters on the ground floor and strolled about the yard, -smoking his pipe; but he made no sound, and in his -grey dilapidation looked like a parodied ghost. One -of the women cursed loudly in her sleep, then collapsed -into silence. An engine whistle shrieked, hilarious with -freedom, but the rattle of the train was too distant to -carry to straining ears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She clutched the bars and shook them, then crouched, -trembling and gasping. She dropped forward, resting -her face on her arms. Her fine courage retreated, and -mocked her. She had no wish to recall it. She longed -passionately for the strong arm and the strong soul of -a man. The independence and self-reliance which -Circumstance had implanted, seemed to fade out of -her; she was woman symbolised. No shipwrecked -mariner was ever so desolate; for nothing in all life is -so tragic as a woman forced to stand and do battle -alone.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was only when she arose, shivering and exhausted, -and groped her way to bed, that it occurred to her that -in those appalling moments she had not thought of -Morgan Steele.</p> - -<h2>VI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>In the morning she awoke with a start and a chill, and -sprang out of bed, governed by an impulse to fling herself -against the bars. But sleep had refreshed her, and -she sat down and reasoned herself into courage and -hope once more. The tussle with the world develops -the iron in a woman’s blood, and Patience’s experiences -of the last year and a half stood her in good -stead now. When the girl came in to arrange her -room and Tarbox brought her breakfast, the commonplace -details completed her poise. The morning mail -brought her letters from Steele and Hal.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>Dear Girl</span> [Steele’s ran],—You are blue and frightened -and lonesome. I wish I were there to cheer you -up. But the first day will be the worst. Remember that -liberty is not far off. They cannot convict you. I shall -see you a few hours after you get this.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'>M. S.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'>Oh, Patience dear [Hal had written], it has come! I -wish I could tell you how terribly I feel. But cheer up, old -girl. It will come out all right—I know it will. Latimer -is hustling me out of the country so I cannot appear as a -witness—he says I would do you more harm than good. -But he will stay and see you through. His attorney will -call on you at once. I send you a box to cheer you up a -little. Do write to me, and always remember that I am -your sister</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Hal</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The box arrived an hour later. It contained her -silver toilet-set, and all the paraphernalia of a well-groomed -and pretty woman, a bottle of cologne, a box -of candy, eight French novels, a large box of handsome -writing paper, and a bolt of black satin ribbon. -Patience arranged the toilet-set on the bureau, halved -the candy with the women, then sat down with a volume -of Bourget. When Tarbox came up an hour later with -a card she was still reading, and quite herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” he said, “I’m glad, I am, to see you so -contented and so cool,” he added, mopping his brow. -“This gent is below. He says he’s one of the lawyers -in the case. I hoped you’d have Bourke. He’s the -smartest man in Westchester County! Shall I tell him -to come up, or would you like to see him down in the -sheriffs office? Anything to please you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, here, by all means, if he doesn’t mind the -stairs.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Tarbox gazed at her admiringly. “Well, ma’am,” he -ejaculated, “you are cool, but I for one believe it’s the -coolness of innocence. You never did murder!” and -he walked hastily away as if ashamed of his enthusiasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The lawyer’s card bore the name of Eugene A. -Simms. He came up at once, a short thick-set man of -thirty, with a square shrewd dogged face, a low brow, -a snub nose, and black brilliant hard eyes. He came -in with a bustling aggressive business-like air, scanning -Patience as if he expected to find all the points of the -case written upon her. Patience conceived an immediate -and violent dislike to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will you sit down?” she said stiffly. “You are Mr. -Burr’s lawyer, I believe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no. That’s Bourke. He has charge of the -case. I’m getting it up. I shall attend the coroner’s -inquest and get the case in shape for Mr. Bourke to -conduct.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blood rose to Patience’s hair and receded to her -heart, which changed its time; but she asked no -questions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simms leaned forward and fixed her with his unpleasant -eyes. “Be perfectly frank with me,” he said, -abruptly. “It’s best. We can’t work in the dark. -We’ll pull you through; that’s what we are here for.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You take it for granted that I am guilty, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m bound to say that all the revealed facts point -that way. But of course that makes no difference to -us. In fact, the harder a case is the better Bourke -likes it—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Does Mr. Bourke believe that I am guilty?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t discussed it with him. He merely called -me in, put the facts in my hands, and told me to go to -work. I haven’t seen him since.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I will be perfectly frank with you,” said Patience, -who had recovered herself. “I did not murder Mr. -Peele. I am not wholly an idiot. If I had wished to -poison him do you suppose I would have selected the -drug I was known to administer?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You might have done it in a moment of passion. -You had had a quarrel with him that night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“So much the more reason why I would not make -such a fatal mistake. It is quite true that when in a -passion I frequently expressed the wish to kill him. I -will also tell you that one night when dropping the -morphine I was seized with an uncontrollable impulse -to give him a double dose. I dropped twenty-six -drops. But fortunately it takes some time to do that, -and meanwhile the impulse weakened, and I anathematised -myself as a fool. No man nor woman of respectable -brains ever made a mistake like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is your own theory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I hardly believe that he committed suicide. I -think that he was wild with pain, and did not count the -drops. He was probably half blind. On the other -hand, he was capable of anything when in a rage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Simms scraped the floor with his boot-heels and -beat a tattoo on his knee with his fingers. “Very well,” -he said at last. “We take your word, of course. Now -tell me as nearly as you can, every circumstance of -that night, and give me a general idea of your relations -with him and your reasons for leaving him. It is going -to be one of the biggest fights this State has ever seen, -and we want all the help you can give us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After he had gone Patience fell into a rage. Why -had not Bourke come himself instead of sending his -underling? If he hesitated to meet her after the -abominable words he had used that second night at -Peele Manor why had he undertaken her case at all? -Her pride revolted at the thought of being defended -by him, of owing her life to him. Once she was at the -point of writing him a haughty note declining to accept -his services; but Latimer Burr’s kindness deserved a -more gracious acknowledgment. Again, she took up -her pen to inform him that unless he apologised he -must understand that she could have no relations with -him; but her lively fear of making herself ridiculous -came to the rescue, and she threw the pen aside. She -resumed her novel, but it had lost its flavour. Bourke’s -face was on every page. The interview in the elm walk -wrote itself between the French lines; and the subsequent -conversation in the library danced in letters of -red. She hated Bourke the more bitterly because he -had once been something more to her than any other -man had been. She worked herself into such a bad -humour that she almost snubbed Miss Merrien and a -“Day” artist who came to interview and sketch her; -and when Morgan Steele arrived, late in the afternoon, -she was as perverse and unreasonable as if the widowed -châtelaine of Peele Manor with the world at her feet. -He understood her mood perfectly, although not the -cause of it, and guyed her into good humour and her -native sense of the ridiculous.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I do like you,” she said. “You understand -me so. Any other man would go off in a huff. And I -won’t always be like this. I suppose I am nervous and -upset and all the rest of it. Who wouldn’t be? And -you know I am tremendously fond of you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know you are,” he said dryly. “As you will have -ample time for reflection and meditation in the next -few months, you will find out just how fond. But I am -more glad than I can say to find you in this mood. It -is as healthy as irritability in illness. I am even willing -to be sacrificed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience put out her hand and patted his soft hair -with a spasm of genuine affection. “You are the -dearest boy in the world,” she said, “and I do love you. -For all your uncanny wisdom and cold-blooded philosophy -you are just a big lovable good-natured boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just the kind of fellow a woman would like to have -for a brother, in short.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No! No! I think it will be the most charming -thing in the world to be married to you. You are -such a compound. You will interest me forever. Most -people are such bores after a little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you hadn’t started out in life with ideas upside-down, -you would really love me in loving me no more -than you do now. But ideals and the fixed idea have -got to be worked out to the bitter end, as you are fond -of remarking. In reality, happiness means a comfortable -state of affairs between a man and a woman with -plenty of brains, philosophy, and passion, who are -wholly congenial in these three matters, and have -chucked their illusions overboard. However, we won’t -discuss the matter any further at present. How do -you like being the sensation of the day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Am I?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you? Every newspaper in town had a big -story this morning, and of course the news has gone -all over the country. Nothing else is to be heard in -the trains or in Park Row. Oh, you will have plenty -to sustain you. Lots of women would give their heads -to be in your place.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He dined with her and remained until eight o’clock. -After he had gone, Patience sat for some time lost in -a pleasurable reverie. He always left her in a good -humour, and she unquestionably loved him. Few -women could help loving Morgan Steele. She sighed -once as she reflected that love was not the tremendous -passion she had once imagined it to be; in all her -dreams she had never pictured it as a restful and -tranquillising element; but she conceded that Steele’s -philosophy was correct.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And if he did not inspire her with a mightier passion -it was her fault, not his. Miss Merrien had told her of -one brilliant newspaper woman who had made a wilful -idiot of herself on his behalf, and of a popular and -gifted actress who at one time had taken to haunting -the “Day” office, much to the enjoyment of his fellow -editors and to his own futile wrath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” she thought, “I made a mistake once, and -the shock was so great that it either benumbed or -stunted me; or else the imaginary me was killed and -the real developed. And after such a marriage I doubt -if there are depths or heights left in one’s nature.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then her mind drifted to her predicament, and she -wondered that the workings of fear had so wholly -ceased. “I suppose it is because that man is going to -defend me,” she said, ruthlessly, at last. “They say -he could save a man that had been caught driving a -knife into another man’s heart with a hammer; so it is -quite natural that I should feel safe.”</p> - -<h2>VII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The next day a box of books and periodicals arrived -from Steele. Rosita thoughtfully subscribed to a clipping -bureau, and sent Patience daily a heavy package of -“stories,” editorials, and telegrams of which she was the -heroine. Patience became so bewildered over the contradictory -descriptions of her personal appearance, the -various versions of her marital drama, the hundred and -one theories for the murder and defence, the ingenious -analyses of her character, and the conflicting information -regarding her girlhood, that she wondered sometimes -if a person could come forth from the hands of -so many creators and retain any original birthmarks. -The “Eye” telegraphed to its correspondent in San -Francisco to investigate her childhood, and the correspondent -evidently interviewed all her old enemies. -Her mother’s happy career was detailed with glee, and -her own “sulky, moody, eccentric, murderous propensities” -were brilliantly epitomised. The story was entitled -“She Tried To Murder Her Mother,” and the -“Eye’s” perfervid joy at this discovery throbbed in an -editorial.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The story was copied the length and breadth of the -United States; but it is only fair to add that Mr. -Field’s eloquent leaders in her defence were as widely -quoted.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale came to see her at once, and after a few -tears and an emphatic warning that “this terrible ordeal -was the logical punishment of her blasphemy of and -disrespect to the Lord,” announced her intention to sit -by her during the trial, and let the jury see what a -president of the W. C. T. U. thought of a prisoner whose -life was in their hands. Patience told her that she -loved her, and indeed was deeply grateful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She spent her mornings reading the newspapers and -attending to her correspondence. Tarbox always paid -her a short call, and usually discoursed of Garan Bourke, -whom he admired extravagantly. For a half hour before -luncheon she permitted her fellow prisoners to sit -before her in a wondering semi-circle while she manicured -her nails and drew vivid word-pictures of the -superior comforts incident upon the resignation of alcohol. -With the exception of Mag they were weather-beaten -creatures, with hollow eyes and weak pathetic -mouths. They admired Patience superlatively. She -was touched by their devotion, and occasionally read -them the funny stories in the illustrated weeklies. -They listened with open mouth and voiceless laughter, -which, however, expressed itself vocally when the stories -were told in Irish or German dialect. Patience gave -them the papers, and they pasted the pictures on the -walls of the corridor. Never before had the female -ward of the White Plains Jail presented so festive an -appearance. When the W. C. T. U. ladies came to sing -to the prisoners they were inclined to be horrified; -but Patience assured them that love of art, however -manifested, was a hopeful sign.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was very comfortable. She had saved a thousand -dollars,—to be exact, Miss Merrien had saved -them for her,—and she could command all the small -luxuries of prison life. The ugly walls of her cell had -been draped with red cloth, and a low bookcase was -rapidly filling with the literature of the moment. She -would never have consented to save those thousand -dollars had not Miss Merrien represented that by judicious -economy she could manage to spend every third -year abroad. They did her good service now; she -could accept great favours, but not small ones. Graceful -tributes were to be expected by every charming -woman; but if she had been dependent upon friends -for the small comforts of her daily life she would have -gone without them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The W’s and Y’s of Mariaville forgave her, and -brought her flowers, tracts, and spiritual admonitions. -She received the former with gratitude and the latter -with grace. Miss Merrien came as often as her duties -permitted, and so did all the other newspaper women -she had ever known or heard of. She was interviewed -for nearly every newspaper in the Union, and in most -cases treated with sensational kindness. Many strangers -and a few old friends called.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Steele came regularly once a week. He dared not -come oftener. The “lover in the case” was still a -mystery, and it was as well that he should remain so. -Five other newspaper men lived in his house; therefore -Patience’s visit had told Bart Tripp nothing beyond the -fact that she had indubitably called on a young man -at his apartments at a quarter past nine in the morning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But despite the fact that much of her time was -occupied Patience grew very restless and nervous, -after the novelty wore off. She spent hours pacing up -and down the corridor, and every evening after dark -Tarbox took her out in the jail-yard for a walk; but -she had been used to long walks and hours in the open -air all her life, and no woman ever lived less suited to -routine and restraint of any sort. Fear did not return, -although the coroner’s jury had pronounced her guilty -and she had been indicted by the Grand Jury.</p> - -<h2>VIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>When the dark days of winter came little light -struggled through the low grating, and she was obliged -to keep her lamp burning most of the time. Steele -sent her one with a rose-coloured shade which shed a -cheerful light but hurt her eyes. When the storms -began visitors came infrequently. Moreover, as public -interest cannot be kept at concert pitch for any length -of time, there was less and less about her in the newspapers. -Steele, who understood the intimate relationship -between public interest and the resignation of a -prisoner, assured her that when her trial came off in -March she would once more be the popular news of -the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At first the monotony of the long silent winter days -was intolerable. But gradually, by such short degrees, -that she hardly realised the change taking place within -her, she grew to love her solitude and to be grateful -for it. For the first time since she had left Monterey -her hours were absolutely her own. She had longed -for the solitude of a forested mountain top. From her -prison window she could see the naked tops of a clump -of trees above the buildings opposite, and even her -obedient imagination could not expand them to primeval -heights; but at least she had solitude and not a -petty detail to annoy her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sometimes wondered if it mattered where one -spent the few years of this unsatisfactory life. Nothing -was of permanent satisfaction. Strongly as she had -been infatuated with newspaper work the interest would -have lasted only just so long. She found her modernity -slipping from her, herself relapsing into the dreaming -child of the tower with vague desire for something her -varied experience of the world had not helped her to -find. Inevitably she came to know herself and the -large demands of her nature, and as inevitably she said -to Morgan Steele one day,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you have known all along that it was a -mistake.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” he said, “I have known it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have everything—everything,—good looks -and distinction, brains and modernity, magnetism of a -queer cold sort, knowledge of women and kindness of -heart—I cannot understand. But the spark, the response, -the exaltation is not there,—the splendid rush -of emotion. I love you, but not in the way that makes -matrimony marriage.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at her with his peculiar smile, an expansion -of one corner of his mouth which gave him something -of the expression of a satyr. “You were badly in -need of a companion, and you found one in me. You -wanted to be understood, and I understood you. You -wanted sympathy, and I sympathised with you; but I -am not the man, and I have never for one moment -deluded myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then why would you have allowed me to drift into -matrimony with you?—as I should have done if I had -not come here.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because the experiment would have been no more -dangerous than most matrimonial experiments. And -it would have been very delightful for a time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I should have loved you a good deal,” she said -musingly, “and habit is a tremendous force. And I -should never have permitted myself to recognise a -mistake again—if the decisive step had been taken. -Tell me—” she added abruptly, “do you believe that -if I had married you that you would always have loved -me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I certainly should never have been so unwise as to -promise to, for that is something no man can foretell. -The chances are that I should not. All phases of feeling -are temporary,—all emotions, all desires, all fulfilment. -Life itself is temporary.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Should you have been true to me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O-h-h, how in thunder can a man answer a -question like that? That is something he never knows -till the time comes. If he is sensible he wastes no -time making resolutions, and if he is honest he makes -no promises.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You do not love me,” she exclaimed triumphantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am merely more honest, perhaps more analytical -than most men,—that is all. The man who swears -he will love forever the woman that pleases him most -is simply talking from the depths of ignorance straight -up through his hat. No man knows anything—what -he will do or feel to-morrow. He knows nothing of -himself until his time comes to die, and then he knows -blamed little.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shook her head. “I don’t know. You -may be right in the analysis, but I think you lose a -good deal. Love may be a species of insanity, but the -man whose brain is crystal is not to be envied by the -man whose brain can scorch reason and thought at -times. You may save yourself heartbreak, but you -miss heaven. If you are a type of the future, woman -will change too. Man has been at woman’s feet -throughout the centuries. You and your kind will -place her on an exact level with yourselves and teach her -that love means a comfortable coupling of personalities. -Something primitive has gone out of you. You have -every ingredient in your make-up except love. Liking -and passion don’t make love. When it fades out of man -altogether chivalry and homage will go with it. You -would do a great deal for me, but you are incapable of -any splendid self-sacrifice. You are entirely selfish, -although in the most charming way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are quite right,” he said smiling, “I have not -much love in me; just enough to make life a comfortable -and pleasant sojourn, but not enough to induce a -regret were I obliged to toss it over to-morrow—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor to make it a life of bitter misery did I leave -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No—to be perfectly frank I should not be bitterly -miserable. I should regret—but I should work and -readjust myself. I have never yet given a glance to the -past. I give few to the future. No man gets more out -of the present—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I won’t be loved like that,” said Patience, passionately.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He leaned forward and took her hand, patting it -gently. “You have depths and heights in your nature -which I fully appreciate but which I could never stir -nor satisfy,” he said. “Some man will. It won’t be -all that you expect—you have too much imagination—but -you will have your day. With your nature that -is inevitable. I am sorry to give you up. You are the -most delightful woman I shall ever know. And if you -had married me things would probably have gone along -satisfactorily enough. I should have kept your mind -occupied and talked to you about yourself—those are -the secrets of success in matrimony.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Marriage with you would be like playing at matrimony. -I want a home and husband and children. -I have seen enough to know that unless one is a fanatic -like Miss Tremont or Miss Beale, or the temporary -result of a new and forced civilisation like Hal, or a -mercenary wanton like Rosita—in short, if one is -woman <span class='it'>par excellence</span>, and most of us, clever or otherwise, -even gifted, usually are, nothing else is worth the -toil and perplexity of being alive. But you mustn’t -leave me,” she added hurriedly; “I can’t stand it here -if you don’t come to see me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall come exactly as I have done. Why not? -Our love-making has barely progressed beyond friendship: -we shall hardly recognise any change. I should -feel lost if I could not have a talk with you once in a -while. I intend to have that for the rest of my life. -It isn’t usually the man that proposes the brother -racket, but I merely define the basis upon which we -have really stood all along.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After he had gone Patience drew a long sigh of -relief. The first terrible mistake of her life was buried -with Beverly Peele. A second had been averted. -Something seemed rebuilding within her: the undeflected -continuation of the little girl in the tower. -For the first time she understood herself as absolutely -as mortal can; and she paid a tribute to the zigzag of -life which had helped her to that final understanding.</p> - -<h2>IX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the third of February she received a letter, the -handwriting of whose address made her change colour: -she had seen it once on Mrs. Peele’s desk. It was the -first communication of any sort that she had received -from the man who was to defend her life. She opened -the letter with angry curiosity.</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>My dear Mrs. Peele</span>, [it read],—You will pardon me -I am sure for not having called before this when I tell you -that I have had a rush of civil cases which have hardly -given me time for sleep and have kept me constantly in -New York. And of course you have understood that there -was really nothing I could do until my able confederate, -Mr. Simms, had gathered in and digested all the facts in -the case. Now, however, I am free, and the time has come -when I shall be obliged to see you twice a week until the -first of March. I have worked the harder in order to be -at liberty to devote myself wholly to your case. Need I -add how absolute that devotion will be, my dear Mrs. Peele, -or how entirely every resource I possess shall be at your -service?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At two o’clock on Monday I shall be in the sheriff’s -private office with Mr. Simms and my assistant, Mr. Lansing. -Will you kindly meet us there?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>With highest regard, I am, dear Mrs. Peele,</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:6em;margin-top:0.5em;'>Yours faithfully,</p> -<p class='line' style='text-align:right;margin-right:2em;'><span class='sc'>Garan Bourke</span>.</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience read this carefully worded epistle twice, -then laughed and shrugged her shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am glad he has declared himself,” she thought. -“Of course I should have ignored the past, but it is a -relief to think that there will be no awkwardness.”</p> - -<h2>X</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On Monday at two o’clock Tarbox came up to her -cell to escort her down to the sheriff’s office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bourke’s there, and I never saw him looking better,” -he said, rubbing his hands. “Oh, he’ll pull you through. -Don’t you worry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was very nervous, but her years of self-repression -and her experience at Peele Manor had -forged a key with which she could at times lock nerve -and muscle into subjection. As she entered the sheriff’s -office she smiled upon Mr. Bourke as graciously as any -young and beautiful woman would be expected to smile -upon a great lawyer enlisted in her service.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke came forward with the same ballast, although -the red was in his face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It was better for you to come down here,” he said. -“There could be no privacy in your cell, and we must -have absolute privacy for these meetings. Of course -you know that we are going to rehearse you. Mrs. -Peele, this is my assistant, Mr. Lansing.” He indicated -a good-looking well-dressed young fellow, with boyish -blue eyes and a tilted nose. She liked him at once -and gave him her hand. Mr. Simms had risen as she -entered, and they had nodded distantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take this chair, Mrs. Peele,” continued Bourke. -“Yes. This is the first of many rehearsals. We shall -keep them up until the trial. You will imagine yourself -on the witness stand. Mr. Simms, whom, fortunately, -you don’t like, is the district attorney, Lansing is the -judge, I am the counsel for the defence. I shall -make the direct examination, and then Mr. Simms will -cross-examine you with all the subtlety, the venom, and -the irritating minutiæ of a district attorney determined -to make himself immortal. I think we have outlined -with reasonable completeness all that will or can be -asked you, so that you can hardly be taken off your -guard: you must be prepared to give direct answers -without suspicious promptness, and avoid saying anything -that could be misconstrued.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Must I go on the stand?” asked Patience, fearfully. -“I thought one was not obliged to, and I shall be so -nervous.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke shook his head emphatically. “The judge -might reiterate a hundred times to the jury that your -failure to go on the witness stand should not be counted -against you, and still it would count—more than anything. -It is something a jury never overlooks. These -rehearsals are to keep you from being nervous, as much -as anything else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you believe I am innocent?” asked Patience, -giving way to an uncontrollable impulse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do—both personally and professionally.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simms laughed. “Bourke is so enthusiastic,” he -said, “that if he had made up his professional mind that -you were innocent, the personal would follow suit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, but I do,” said Bourke, laughing, and looking -at Patience with eyes which for the moment were more -kind than keen. “Now, here goes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the two hours’ rehearsal were over she was -very pale. “I did not know the case could look so -black,” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is a black case,” said Simms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you really take so much interest?” she asked -Bourke, curiously. “You make me feel as if the issue -were yours and not mine. Or is that only your professional -pride?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bourke is the most ambitious man at the New York -bar,” said Simms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the most human,” added Lansing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience smiled at the young man and turned to -Bourke, whose eyes were twinkling. “I take a very -deep personal interest in your case,” he said gallantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bourke is an Irishman,” said Simms, with sarcasm.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll excuse you,” said Bourke. “You know you -have business with Sturges,” and Simms gathered up -his papers and retired, followed by Lansing. As the -door closed Bourke’s face changed. He became serious -at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mrs. Peele,” he said, “it would be foolish and -unkind to conceal from you the fact that you are in a -very grave position. I have never known a more damaging -chain of circumstantial evidence. The only jury -we can possibly get together, the only men in Westchester -County who will know nothing about the case, -will be farmers and small tradespeople. These men -are narrow minded, unworldly, religious, bigoted people -who will look with horror upon a woman accused of -murder; who will be surlily prejudiced against you -because you did not love your husband, and because -you left him; and above all they are likely to think you -should be executed if for no other reason than because,”—He -hesitated. The blood came into his face. -“Tell me, is it true? I don’t believe it. I can’t -believe it—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That I had a lover? No, I did not have a lover. -If that spy reports exactly what he heard, he must himself -prove that I did not. I liked—I do like—a -man, a former editor of mine, immensely. At that -time I believed myself in love with him; but I was as -mistaken as I suppose all impulsive and mentally lonely -people are once or oftener in their lifetimes. Although -he visits me now we have come to a complete understanding. -I shall not marry him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke looked at the floor for a moment. “Yes,” -he said finally. “Yes. That is a great point, of course. -Well—as a rule I can do anything I like with a jury -in Westchester County; I know and have known for -twenty years almost every man within forty miles; but -we shall have to go out into the highways and byways -for talesmen: your case has attracted almost universal -attention. It is just possible, therefore, that the -jury may convict you—Don’t be frightened—Don’t -look like that—please!—If that happens I shall take -the case to the General Term, and failing that, to the -Court of Appeals. One way or another I shall get -you off—I pledge you my life on that,” he added -vehemently. “Will you put your faith in me and keep -up?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am sure no woman could help it,” said Patience, -smiling graciously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That night, somewhat to her amusement, she thought -on Bourke with a certain sweet tremor until she fell -asleep. She did not yet love him, but he satisfied her -imagination; and he was the first man that ever had.</p> - -<h2>XI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was rehearsed eight or ten times, Mr. Simms -cross-examining by a different method upon each occasion, -racking his brain for new points with which to -confound her. She began to feel quite at ease on the -witness stand, and equal to the coming tilt with the -district attorney. Aside from a natural nervousness -she felt no fear of the approaching crisis, rather an -excited interest. The papers were booming her again, -and she would have been less than American had she -not appreciated her position as heroine of the most -sensational drama of the day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the last week of February, however, she received -information which induced her first misgiving: Miss -Beale was down with pneumonia. That superlatively -healthy person loved fresh air only less than she loved -the Lord, and slept with her windows open in mid-winter. -Despite habit she invariably caught cold when travelling, -as the one window of a small sleeping-room was likely -to be at the head of her bed. She had defied Nature -once too often.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Patience told Mr. Bourke of Miss Beale’s illness, -the red streaked his face, as it had a habit of -doing when he was disturbed. They were alone in the -office.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Will it make much difference?” she asked anxiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no, I hope not; only she would have been a -great card. She is known and respected throughout -the county, and I should have dinned her in the ears -of the jury. But you should have some woman with -you. Is there no one else?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience shook her head. “No one that would be -of use. I have few women friends. Women don’t like -me much, I think. Mrs. Burr was my most intimate -friend, but her husband naturally wanted to keep her -out of the affair, and sent her off to Europe.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is odd. I cannot think of you as friendless. You -attract and antagonise more strongly than any one I -ever saw.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was staring hard at her, and she turned her head -away, colouring slightly. It was the first time they had -been alone since the initial rehearsal, although he and -the other lawyers had often lingered, after business was -over, to talk with her. Apparently she and he were -the best of friends, and their former acquaintance had -not been recognised by a glance.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wonder if we really are friends,” he said abruptly, -then shook his shoulders slightly, as if, having made -the plunge, he would not retreat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience beat her fingers lightly on the desk, but did -not turn her face to him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our relationship is very agreeable,” she said coolly. -“I am delighted that Mr. Simms, for instance, is not -my counsel.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a moment’s suggestive silence, and then -he said: “I understand. I can be nothing but counsel -to you until I apologise. I have not done so before -because there is no excuse to offer. I can only explain: -you had deceived and outwitted and made a fool of -me, and I was furious. Moreover, I was horribly disappointed. -I am perfectly well aware that all that is -no excuse. I was bitterly ashamed afterwards, and far -more furious with myself than I had been with you. I -have never ceased to deplore it. We might at least -have been friends—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah, you forgave me then?” asked Patience, looking -at his flushed face with a smile. He had never looked -more awkward nor more attractive.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes; my offence was so much worse, you see, -I had to.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well,” she said, giving him her hand gracefully, “we -will forgive each other.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He accepted her hand promptly and evinced no -disposition to relinquish it. “You are so cold, though,” -he said ruefully. “Your forgiveness is merely indifference. -But of course,” hastily, “you are absorbed in -much weightier matters than friendship. I can imagine -how insignificant all other episodes of your past must -seem—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, if it were not for you I might have been here -before to-day, and in a much worse predicament. I -doubt if I should have left him as soon as I did if it -had not been for your unpleasant truths. I was drifting, -and also drifting toward morbidity, where I might -have been capable of anything. If I had really killed -him and been arrested I should have said so, and even -you could not have saved me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, it would have been easier: I could have got -you off on the plea of insanity. But am I really a link -in the chain? I am egoistical—and interested—enough -to be—pleased.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, yes,” she said, laughing a little. “You have -had a good deal more to do with forging some of the -links than you imagine.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hand was beginning to tremble, and she withdrew -her own. He did not attempt to recapture it, and for -a moment they regarded each other defensively. He -had avoided the mistake of mistakes for thirty-six years, -and the very flavour of romance about his experience -with this woman made him wary. She had been -mistaken twice and had ordered her imagination to -sleep. Something within him pulled her, but none -knew better than she the independent activity of sex. -Still, like all women, fire was dear to her fingers. His -eyes had a gleam in them which made her experience -keenly the pleasurable sensation of danger.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you know that night that I had forgotten our -conversation in the tower?” he said, laughing uneasily. -“Well, I will admit that I had, but I certainly remember -the conversation in the elm walk—every word of it. -It was a singular conversation,” he continued hurriedly. -“I have not found her yet, by the way. What is love, -anyhow? Something always seems to be lacking. I -have wanted a good many women, but there were -shallows somewhere.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had taken a chair and was fanning herself -slowly. She answered with a judicial air, as of one -deciding some abstract point to which she had given -exhaustive study: “The lack is spiritual emotion. -People of strong natures who are really in love are -shaken by a passion that for the time being demands -no physical expression. It is only when it subsides, in -fact, that the other manifests itself. On the other hand, -the unimpassioned, the physically meagre, are incapable -of even imagining such an exaltation of emotion. It -is the supreme convulsion of mystery. And it must be -impossible to feel it more than once in a lifetime—for -more than one person, I mean.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you ever felt it?” he asked abruptly. He -was sitting opposite her, his brows drawn together, -regarding her intently. Her cool impersonality nonplussed -him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then how do you know?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“From the organ. If one wants to read the riddle of -human nature let him listen to the organ for ten minutes. -It lashes the soul—the emotional nature—up -to its utmost possibilities. One knows instinctively—that -is, if one is given to reasoning at all; for instincts -are dead letters without analysis—that only one other -force can cause a mightier tumult, a greater exaltation. -Those that do not reason mistake it for a desire to -spread their wings and fly to the throne of grace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke set his lips and looked at the floor. “Of -course you are right,” he said. “A man would never -know that until he had felt it. It takes a woman to -divine it. Perhaps it is as well he doesn’t know it—there -is one disappointment the less in life if such -moments never come to him; and I doubt if they come -to many. Either the savage is too strong in most of -us, or we never come within range of the responsive -spark. I have held that if there is any meaning at all -in the progress of man out of barbarism it is that he -shall become a brain with a refinement and intensity of -passion which shall give happiness without disgust. -But you go beyond me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, we are both right,” said Patience, rising. “We -are much better off than our ancestors. I like so -much to talk to you. When I am free you must come -to see me often.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall, indeed. How gracefully you fan yourself. -I never saw any one use the fan in exactly the same -way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I learned how from the old Spanish women in -Monterey. They hold the thumb outwards, you know. -That makes all the difference in the world. <span class='it'>Au -revoir.</span>”</p> - -<h2>XII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The trial began on the eighth of March. Patience -slept ill the night before, and arose early. She looked -forward to the day’s ordeal with mingled nervousness -and curiosity. Her faith in Bourke was complete, and -her mind was of the order that craves experience. She -could not divest herself of the idea that she was about -to play the part of heroine in a great human drama. -And assuredly there has been no such theatre as the -court room since the world began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dressed herself with extreme care, in a tailor -frock and toque of black and white. The costume was -becoming, but she shook her head at her reflection in -the mirror: hers was not the type of beauty to appeal -to the class of men in whose hands her life would be; -rather they would resent its cold pride, its manifest of -race and civilisation. She remembered her youthful -satisfaction in the fact that “common men did not like -her.” Rosita or Honora would carry a jury by storm, -but she was too subtle to appeal to men outside of her -own social sphere. Tarbox liked her because she was -game and dependent on him for comfort: it was doubtful -if he thought her pretty. He came up at ten minutes -to ten. He wore a new suit of clothes, and looked -excited and impatient.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s a lot of swells come,” he said without preliminary; -“some from New York and some from the -county. We’ve got ’em up in the gallery, and they -look fine in their new spring clothes, I tell you. First -time I ever seen swells in this court house. I rather -thought they didn’t go in for that kind of thing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They go in for fads, and you can as easily tell -where lightning will strike next as what will be the -next fad to possess fashionable women. Where is -Mr. Bourke?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Up in the court room, I guess. Ready?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A few moments later he led her up the stair at the -back of the court room. A crowd of men at the door -parted to let her enter, staring at her with eager curiosity. -As she walked down the room to her seat beside -her counsel she was conscious of a deep level of men’s -faces below and a tier of high-bred faces and bright -spring gowns in the gallery above. She felt as if she -were being shot upon a battery of eyes, and an impulse -to turn and run; she looked like a black and white -effigy of pride.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The large handsome room was tinted a pale blue -and stencilled about the mouldings. The Bench and -panelling behind it, the desks and tables, were of black -walnut. Four long windows on each side of the room -revealed the naked trees of March and the cheerless -landscape. On the right of Patience’s chair was the -empty jury box, before her the Bench. In the space -thus formed—flanked on the other side by the talesmen -summoned for the trial and at the back by the -audience—was a right angle of long study tables, three -or four round tables, and many chairs. Every chair was -occupied. Writing pads lay on the smaller tables. -Patience recognised several of the reporters. By one -of the long tables before the jury box sat Bourke, -Simms, and Lansing. The former whispered to her -that many of the men within the rail were eminent -lawyers who had come to hear the case tried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The judge sat alone on the Bench: an old man with -pink face and head and neck, a close band of silver hair -at the base of his skull. His face was narrow, his upper -lip long. On either side of his mouth was a deep rut. -The nose was coarse and strong, the eyes behind the -spectacles humourous, severe, and a little sly. His -silver chin-tuft was shaped like the queen of hearts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Just below the Bench, beside one of the long tables, -sat a man whom Patience did not notice at once, but to -whom, as the judge called the court to order, she -turned suddenly, conscious of a fixed gaze. He sat -with one arm along the table, the other hand absently -rolling a piece of paper. His narrowed eyes were regarding -her with cold speculation. Patience shuddered. -She knew that he was Sturges, the district attorney. -Tarbox had told and retold the history of his jealousy -of Bourke, and his registered vow to win one of the -great legal battles of which they were occasionally chief -combatants. And this was the greatest! The man’s -face was set. He looked like a fate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The clerk called a name. A man shuffled into the -jury box. Sturges stood up and put the usual questions. -He spoke with exaggerated courtesy. Occasionally he -smiled: a mechanical smile, as if an invisible string -connected each corner of his mouth with a manipulator -at the back of his head. His voice was soothing and -cultivated, his manner almost deferential to the humble -man in the box. Patience followed every motion and -word with fascinated attention. When he asked the -talesman if he had “any conscientious scruples regarding -capital punishment as practised in this State,” she -felt the touch of icy fingers and her feet slipping into -an open grave. Bourke, who divined her sensations, -smiled encouragingly; and after she had heard -the question some fifty times, she ceased to attach any -personal meaning to it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They were four days impannelling the jury. The first -time Patience stood up to face an accepted juror she -regarded the hairy and ill-kept farmer with such -haughty and disdainful eyes that Bourke whispered -hurriedly: “For God’s sake don’t look at them like -that or they’ll send you up out of spite. Remember -that this class of people is always at war with its -betters.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t help it,” said Patience. “It’s humiliating -to think of being at the mercy of men like that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the box was filled at last she regarded the -occupants attentively. They were hard-featured men -of middle age, with long bare upper lip and compressed -mouth. Their grey skin was furrowed with lines of -care and hardship, their chin whiskers grizzled and -scant. Their eyebrows stood out over faded eyes in -wrinkled sockets. But what excited Patience’s wonder -was the small size of the heads. She had never seen -twelve heads so little. They were hardly an advance -upon their hairy ancestors. Throughout the trial she -furtively watched the twelve faces of those twelve -meagre heads. Never once did their expression, -stolid and set, change. At night they haunted her. -She awoke in the morning with a violent start, seeing -them for a moment in a row on the foot board of her -bed. She speculated, at times, upon the lives of those -men, those pinched grubbing lives, and felt for them a -sort of terrified pity. What a mere glimpse of the -world she had had, after all, and what ugly strata it -had! What was the matter with civilisation?</p> - -<h2>XIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>On the fourth day the district attorney opened the -case with an address to the jury which was a masterpiece -of temperate statement and damning suggestion. -He dwelt long upon the remarkable points of the case: -the youth and beauty and intelligence and social -position of the defendant, the distinguished family -which had been plunged into sorrow and disgrace -by her crime, the extraordinary interest the crime -had excited throughout the civilised world. He then -gave a running account, clear and straightforward and -decisive, of what the prosecution would prove, and concluded -with a cold, terse, but reiterated warning that the -prisoner at the bar was entitled to no sympathy because -of her sex and position; that he and the jury were -there for one purpose only: to consider the facts of -the case and to do their plain duty, utterly regardless -of consequences to the individual. Every word was -chosen and weighed, and told like the ring of a steel -hammer on a steel plate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Dr. Lewis was then called to prove the fact of -Beverly Peele’s death, and his vigorous story weighed -heavily in the scales against the defence. The -moment the district attorney sat down Bourke was on -his feet. For a moment he stood lifting and shaking -the loose cloth of the table beside him; then asked one -or two random questions which put the witness for the -prosecution quite at his ease. In the course of a -moment the witness began to writhe, and at the end of -five minutes manifested his consciousness of the fact -that he was a small country practitioner, to be regarded -by any intelligent jury with contempt. Nevertheless, -it was impossible to shake his testimony.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was followed by the New York physician, a man -of eminence, who had assisted at the death-bed, then -by the coroner. The fact of young Peele’s death being -firmly established in the jury box, a chemist was put -upon the stand to testify that he had found morphine -in the stomach of the deceased. He was worried and -badgered and ridiculed and derided by Bourke, who -temporarily infected everybody in the court room -with his scorn of the exercise of chemistry as applied -to morphine in the stomach of a dead man, but held -his ground, having been maltreated in a like manner -many times before. Following, came a civil engineer, -who described the grounds and general position of -Peele Manor to the jury; and the testimony for the -day was over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The next morning the prosecution passed on to the -motive. Honora was the first witness called. She wore -a black frock and hat, and looked dignified and sad. -In her clear childlike voice she described to the jury -her moment of confusion and horror when awakened -from a profound sleep by the prisoner; told the mournful -story of the unavailing attempts at resuscitation; -and hesitatingly admitted, in full detail, the unmistakable -indifference of the wife. To the latter testimony -Mr. Bourke “objected,” as he had done to similar -testimony by the doctors, but the objection was over-ruled -by the judge. She also admitted having seen -from her window the defendant returning from town -after her early visit on the morning of the “Eye” -story, inappropriately attired in grey and pink, and -having discovered the newspapers in confusion on the -library floor before any other member of the household -except the prisoner had arisen. She related Patience’s -previous complaint that her husband always waited -until she was in her first heavy sleep before demanding -the morphine, and her fear lest she should some night -give him an overdose. The jury must have been small -headed indeed, to fail to understand the district -attorney’s insinuations regarding the prisoner’s deep-laid -scheme to avert suspicion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Honora gave her testimony Patience saw Mr. -Bourke’s eyes sparkle. She knew that some pregnant -idea had flashed into that lightning-like brain. As the -district attorney took his seat he rose slowly and -smiled sociably at Honora. She bent her head slightly; -she had always liked him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Mairs,” he said haltingly, his eyes wandering -to the judge, as if in search of inspiration, his hand -flirting the loose cloth of the table, “you are sure -that Mrs. Peele wore a gray gown to New York that -morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the condition of the newspapers seemed to -you to indicate great agitation of mind?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes. And she returned in an hour or two, -you say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Mairs!” he thundered, turning suddenly upon -her and pointing a rigid finger straight at her startled -face, “are you sure that you were asleep when Mrs. -Peele awakened you on the night of Beverly Peele’s -death?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience drew her breath sharply. She closed her -eyes. Honora had not been asleep that night! The -certainty came to her as suddenly and as positively as -it had come to Bourke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the fraction of a moment Honora hesitated. -Every man and woman in the court room was breathless. -Several had started to their feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Quite sure,” she replied finally, and that silver -shallow voice did not falter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are <span class='it'>sure</span> that you heard no one go to the -lavatory that night, before Mrs. Peele spoke to you?” -He hurled the words at her as the Great Judge might -hurl the final sentence on Judgment Day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was your door open that night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience leaned over and whispered to Lansing, who -sprang forward and whispered to Bourke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The night was hot,” continued Bourke. “Were -you not in the habit of leaving your door open on hot -nights?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was it not always your custom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not always. When I thought of it I opened the -door, but I frequently forgot it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes! Yes! You are quite sure you cannot remember -whether or not it was open on that night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot remember.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you remember any other nights on which Mrs. -Peele went to the lavatory to drop the morphine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir; a great many.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But of this all important night you remember -nothing?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes! Mrs. Peele never was called upon to drop -the morphine until after twelve o’clock. Were you in -the habit of lying awake until late?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But on this night you went to sleep early?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You heard or saw—you are on your oath, remember—nothing -whatever until Mrs. Peele called -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can go.—She is lying,” he whispered to -Patience. “Damn her, I’ll make her speak yet if I -have to throttle it out of her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele was the witness next called. He was -treated with extreme diffidence by the district attorney, -and even the judge gave him a fraternal smile. -He told the story of the momentous night with parental -indignation finally controlled, then, in spite of -repeated “objections” and constant nagging, the -significant tale of wifely indifference and desertion, -and read to the jury “that cruel letter written to a -dying man” the day before the defendant returned -to nurse her husband. He repeated with the dramatic -effect of the legal actor those dark insinuations -of the prisoner: “You had better let me go! -I feel that I shall kill him if I stay!” And later -in the town house when she had struck her husband -in the face: “You had better keep him out of my -way. Do you know that once I tried to kill my own -mother?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He told of her eager interest in untraceable poisons -one night when the subject of murder had come up at -the dinner-table, her cold-blooded analysis of human -motives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he passed on to the painfully significant history -of the day before the death: her demand for a -divorce; her fury at her husband’s refusal; her acknowledgment -that she had quarrelled violently with the -deceased a short time before calling the family to his -death-bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he spoke Patience’s blood congealed. The woman -he depicted was enough to inspire any jury with -horror. It was herself and not herself, a Galatea manufactured -by a clever lawyer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But it was Mr. Bourke’s privilege to give the Galatea -a soul. Despite the older man’s greater legal experience, -his superior wariness and subtlety, he was forced -to admit that his son was a fool; that his son’s wife was -a woman of brilliant intellect driven to desperation at -being tied down to a fool; that so long as she had lived -with him she had done her duty; that when she had -returned as his nurse she had fulfilled her part of the -contract to the letter; that never had she given her -husband cause for real jealousy; that the witness himself -had made a companion of her, and that he had -been bitterly disappointed in his son.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The terrible facts could not be stricken out, but Mr. -Peele, nevertheless, was made to pass the most uncomfortable -hours of his life. “And in spite of these -threats,” exclaimed Bourke, with the accentuation of -one addressing an idiot at large, “in spite of the precision -with which you remembered them, you permitted -your family to implore her to return and become your -son’s nurse; you permitted her to sleep in a room communicating -with his, where, in a fit of passion—if she -is the woman you profess to believe her to be—she -could have murdered him in the dead of night with a -carving knife or a hatchet, before any one—even the -lightly sleeping Miss Mairs—could have flown to the -rescue; you permitted her—” he turned suddenly -and faced the jury, then wheeled about and regarded -Mr. Peele with scornful inquiry—“you permitted her -to drop morphine for your son, and to have unrestrained -access to the drug, knowing that he in his agony would -swallow whatever she gave him without question. Will -you kindly explain to the jury whether this mode of -proceeding was ingenuousness on your part, or criminal -connivance?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Peele’s under lip pressed the upper almost to -the septum of his nose. His eyes half closed and -glittered unpleasantly; but he controlled himself and -answered,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I paid no attention to her threats at the time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Ah! You did not believe in them? You admit -that?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I classed them with the usual hysterical ravings of -women. That was my error.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“State, if you please, your specific reasons for your -change of mind. You will hardly, as a lawyer, claim to -have been converted to the defendant’s capacity for -crime by the mere fact that your son died of an overdose -of morphine?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And throughout the long day Mr. Bourke hectored -him, fighting him, point by point, smashing to bits his -testimony relative to the events of the day preceding -the death, evidence to which he was not an eye-witness, -which he had received at second hand from his wife -and son. The “cruel letter written to a dying man” -was disposed of in a similar manner.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You believed your son to be in a precarious condition -when you counselled them to send for your son’s -wife?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you believed with the doctors that if she returned, -thereby bringing him peace of mind as well as -tender care, he had excellent chances for life?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And Mrs. Burr was instructed to present that phase -of the question to the defendant, with all the force of -which she was capable?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And the defendant so understood it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I suppose she did.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And yet you assert that this purely business-like -letter, written by a self-respecting woman, was addressed -to a dying man, while at the same time you -assert that this man could be cured by the gratification -of a whim, and that you had taken particular pains to -make the defendant aware of the fact!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Mr. Peele finally left the stand, he looked -battered and limp.</p> - -<h2>XIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>As soon as the court had opened on the following -morning, Mrs. Peele was called. She looked haughtily -askance at the worn Bible as the clerk rattled off the -oath, bent her head as would she whiff upon what -plebeian lips had touched so often and so evidently, -and took the witness chair as were she mounting a -throne. She was apparelled in crape. Only her intimate -friends could have told whether the backward -bend of her head was due to the weight of her veil or -the weight of her ancestors. At first she stared at the -district attorney with haughty resentment, as, for the -benefit of the humble jury, he curtly asked her several -direct questions; but remembering that he was “a -Sturges,” and also recalling her husband’s admonitions, -she unbent, and even condescended to address the jury. -Her tale of the night in no wise differed from her husband’s; -but her accentuation of Patience’s dark threats -and marital deficiencies was all her own. Her suggestion -of a lover in the case caused a sudden movement -in the jury box, although the stolid faces did not relax. -Under cross-examination much of her testimony was as -effectually demolished as her husband’s had been.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two maid servants followed. They testified to violent -quarrels between the young couple. Then the -butler testified to the reiterant and emphatic command -of the prisoner on the day before the death to send to -New York for morphine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The prosecution produced its trump card: the stable -boy who had spied upon the interviews between the -prisoner and the mysterious lover. The man had evidently -been carefully rehearsed—as Bourke later on -pointed out to the jury—for his memory of the eight -or ten interviews he had witnessed needed little refreshing. -His “best recollection” was given glibly and -ungrammatically. He dilated upon the young man’s -remarkable personal beauty, and observed that it far -outshone his beloved Mr. Beverly’s. They had talked -principally of books in all but the last two interviews, -but had looked perfectly happy. His account of the last -two interviews created a profound impression in the -court room, even the jury leaning forward slightly. -The judge frowned and wheeled his chair sharply when -the man gave the gist of the prisoner’s matter-of-fact -objection to living with a man who was not her -husband.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Bourke’s rich voice had never rung with deeper -indignation and disgust, never shaped itself to more -cutting sarcasm than when he made the man see himself -and the jury see him as a coward, a cur, a spy, a -liar, an eager schemer for an innocent woman’s life. -“You felt it your duty,” he concluded, “to spy upon a -woman of irreproachable reputation who met a friend -in an open wood in broad daylight—Yes, yes,” with all -the lingering scornful emphasis which only he could give -that simple word. “You never felt yourself a cowardly -scoundrel meddling in what was none of your business—No! -No!” He turned to the jury with the passion -still upon his face, but when he took his seat he smiled -encouragingly to his admiring young client.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t he make an actor?” whispered Simms. -“I never saw him do the lofty indignation act with -finer effect.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he would be a great actor, at least,” retorted -Patience, “and I am convinced that you would be a -very small one.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just wait,” said Simms, angrily. “I’ve got to talk -to this jury about you in a day or two, and if you don’t -forget I ever doubted you I’ll eat my hat. The best -lawyer’s the best fakir, and a few days from now you’ll -see what an ambitious man I am.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Miss Rosita Thrailkill,” called the district attorney -when the court opened next morning. The audience -stood up to a man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A plump willowy Spanish figure undulated behind -the jury box, kissed the Bible reverently, and ascended -the witness stand. Rosita was clad in black and yellow, -a mantilla in place of a hat, and many diamonds. -She looked as pretty and as naughty as possible. As -she met Patience’s eyes, she wafted her a kiss, and the -prisoner groaned in spirit. She gave her name and -birthplace with melodious caressing accent and her -marked precision of speech. Yes, the defendant had -been her dear friend, her best friend, her only intimate -friend. Yes, with unaffected reluctance, Mrs. Sparhawk -had been disreputable, and Patience had once -attempted her life. Yes, she was the prima donna of -light opera known as La Rosita. Did she appear before -the public in tights and scant attire? Yes, why -not? Had she not had a number of lovers? Objected -to and sustained. Flashing indignation of soft Spanish -eyes. Did she not have the reputation of being a -woman of loose and lawless life? Objected to and sustained. -Angry rattle of fan. Was it not in her house -that the prisoner was arrested? Yes, it was! and she -loved her Patita and would always give her shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the district attorney sat down with an ugly -smile on his thin mouth, Bourke, muttering anathema, -rose to his feet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Was there ever a whisper against your reputation -when you were a school-girl in Monterey and most -intimate with the prisoner?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, <span class='it'>señor</span>!” cried Rosita, paying no attention to -the objection. “I was a child, and could not even -endure boys.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How many times have you seen the defendant -since you left Monterey?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Rosita cast up her eyes, then tapped the sticks of her -fan successively as she spoke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Once she came to see me just after—ah—WCTU -died; then once just before she left Mr. Peele; then -that day the ‘Eye’ came out and said she had done this -so horrible thing. <span class='it'>Ay, dios!</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She has called upon you three times only, then, -since you were children in Monterey, since you have -been the Rosita of the public; in the last five years, -in short?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si, señor</span>—yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How long did she remain upon her first visit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, only a little while. I told her something that -shocked her, for she was always so proper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you tell her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Objected to,” cried the district attorney.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Objection sustained,” snapped the judge.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How long did she remain on her second visit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“About a half hour. I never knew what she came -at all for. She just floated in and out.” Rosita waved -her arm with enchanting grace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did she tell you why she came the third time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Because she had no other place to go to. She said -no hotel would take her in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She said that her old landlady had refused to -admit her, did she not?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si, señor.</span>”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes!—and that in her terrible extremity -she naturally turned to the friend of her childhood?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Si!</span>” and Rosita wept.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But that she should not have gone to your house if -there had been any possibility of obtaining entrance to -a hotel, or if she had not been turned out of her -father-in-law’s house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>Ay, yi!</span> yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is all. You can go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>During the rest of that day and the two following -days the experts for the prosecution had the stand. -The innumerable questions asked by the district -attorney, the technical details of the cross-examinations, -the constant interruptions, and the minutiæ -of the evidence emptied the court room after the first -hour, and even Patience became bored, and fell to -thinking of other things, not forgetting to pity those -twelve puzzled little heads in the jury box.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The gist of the evidence was that there was enough -morphine in Beverly Peele’s stomach to kill two men.</p> - -<h2>XV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>“Our turn has come,” said Lansing to Patience on the -morning after the expert testimony was concluded. -“We are confident of success now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the facts are hideous, and they have painted -me black.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Bourke scraped off a good deal, and he’ll have -the rest off before he gets through. If he could only -make that lying woman open her mouth! You’ve borne -yourself splendidly. Keep in good condition for the -witness stand. Are you frightened?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” she said, smiling at Bourke gratefully. “Not -a bit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Simms opened the case for the defence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had a harsh strident voice. He gesticulated as if -practising for a prize fight, doubling back and springing -forward. He cleared his throat with vicious -emphasis and rasped his heels upon the floor. His -statements were dry and matter-of-fact, his language -bald; but he made a direct vigorous and enthusiastic -speech. The jury was informed that it was there to -save the life of one of the most brilliant and high-minded -young women of the age,—a woman utterly incapable -of murder or of any violent act, a woman with the mild -and meditative mind of the student. That it would be -proved not only that she was far too clever to take life -by such clumsy methods, but that she had no object, -as she had gained her liberty, and the lover was a myth. -The whole prosecution was a malignant and personal -prosecution of an innocent but too gifted woman by -an absurdly conceited family that had resented her -superior intelligence. This and much more of fact and -fancy. But Patience, with perverse feminity, liked -him none the better, and would not even look at him -when he sat down.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Field was the first witness for the defence. -Although compelled under cross-examination to admit -the prisoner’s interest in subtle poisons, he managed to -convey to the jury that it was merely the result of an -unusually brilliant and inquiring mind, a thought born -of the moment, of his suggestion. He gave the highest -tribute to her cleverness, her work on his paper, and -to her reputation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Latimer Burr was called next, and spoke with enthusiasm -of her “unfailing submission to a man of abominable -and savage temper until submission ceased to be -a virtue.” He had never heard her utter any threats -to kill. Yes, it was true that he had engaged counsel -for defence. He believed in her thoroughly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Merrien, her landlady, and Mrs. Blair were put -on the stand next morning, and the good character -they gave Patience was unshaken by the nagging of the -district attorney. Mr. Tarbox testified to her demeanour -of innocence during her imprisonment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the defence is weak all the same,” whispered -Patience to Lansing. “Not a word can be said in -rebuttal. Only Mr. Bourke’s eloquence can save -me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good character goes a long way,” replied Lansing. -“You have no idea of its weight with a jury, particularly -with a jury of this kind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was put on the witness stand next. The -supreme effort to overcome nervousness gave her an icy -and repellent demeanour. Never had she held her back -as erect, her head as high. She kept her eyelids half -lowered, and spoke with scarcely any change of inflection. -She told the story of the night as she had told -it in rehearsal many times. There had been a quarrel -an hour before she heard the deceased get up and go -to the lavatory. She offered to drop his morphine, and -he replied with an oath that she should never do -another thing for him as long as he lived, that he -hoped she would leave the house by the first train next -morning. His sudden silence upon his return to his bed -excited her apprehension, and she called the family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Bourke sat down and the district attorney -arose and confronted her she shivered suddenly. -Bourke’s rich strong voice and kind magnetic gaze had -given her courage, but this man with his eyes like grey -ice, his mechanical smile, and cold smooth voice conjured -up a sudden awful picture of the execution room -at Sing Sing. Her insight appreciated with exactitude -the pitiless ambition of the man, knew that he stood -pledged to his future to send her to her death. He -made her admit all the damning facts of the evidence -against her, the facts which stood out like phosphorescent -letters on a black wall, and to acknowledge her -abhorrence of the man that had been her husband. But -all this had been anticipated: at least he could not -confuse her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Again two days and a part of a third were monopolised -by experts. These two illustrious chemists testified, -through the same bewildering mass of detail as -that employed by their equally illustrious predecessors, -that there was not enough morphine in Beverly Peele’s -stomach to kill a cat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a short interval, after the second expert -had been permitted to leave the stand, during which -Bourke and Simms and Lansing conferred together, -preparatory to the summing up of the former. As -Bourke was about to rise, the district attorney stood -up, cleared his throat, and said: “One moment, please. -Will Miss Honora Mairs kindly take the stand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke was on the alert in an instant. “The case -for the prosecution has closed,” he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This is by special permission of the Court,” replied -the district attorney, coldly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Honora ascended the stand there was a deep -murmur of admiration. She looked like an angel, -nothing less. She wore a white lawn frock, girt with a -blue sash; a large white leghorn lined with azure velvet, -against which the baby gold of her hair shone softly. -Her great blue eyes had the clear calm serenity of a -young child. Patience drew her breath in a series of -short gasps. Bourke sat with clenched hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We understand,” said the district attorney, severely, -“that you did not tell all you knew the other day, and -that you have signified your willingness to now tell the -truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Is -this true?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora bowed her head with an expression of deep -humility, as a child might that had been justly -rebuked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had not slept at all upon that fatal night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your door was open?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You did see somebody enter the lavatory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whom did you see?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a moment’s breathless silence, during -which Patience wondered if a clock had ever ticked so -loudly, or if the sun had ever shone with so vicious -a glare.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Whom did you see?” repeated the district attorney.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The prisoner.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did she do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She dropped some thirty or forty drops of morphine, -I should say, then half filled the glass with water, -as usual.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You did not see the deceased go to the lavatory -that night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nor any one else until the defendant called you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Mr. Bourke sprang to his feet, his nostrils dilating, -his fine face quivering with unassumed scorn and -indignation.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You admit that you perjured yourself the other -day?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I could not make up my mind to—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind what you had not made up your mind -to do. You admit that you perjured yourself?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” gently.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That in other words you lied.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.” Her voice was like the quiver of a violin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What proof are we to have that you are not lying -now?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not lying. My conscience gave me no rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It will give you more, I suppose, if you will have -succeeded in swearing away the life of an innocent -woman. Yes, yes!—Exactly how long did Mrs. Peele -remain in the lavatory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I cannot remember. Five or ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“State the exact time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Perhaps five.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a few moments later when she ran into your -room you pretended to be asleep: Why did you assume -sleep; what reason had you for lying at that time?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I had dropped off.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You had been sufficiently wide awake five minutes -before to note precisely all these other things, and then -had promptly fallen into a sound sleep. Is that your -usual habit?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you speak to the prisoner when she came into -the lavatory?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Were not you in the habit of holding a conversation -with her upon such occasions?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why did you not address her on that night?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was very sleepy, and had nothing in particular to -say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you were not too sleepy to note carefully all -the details in the evidence you have just given. You -can go,—and to the devil,” he muttered. He thrust -his hands into his pockets and wheeled about, looking -at Patience with such intensity of gaze that she moved -suddenly forward. Her face was pale, but her eyes -blazed with rage. Bourke glanced at the clock.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is twenty minutes to one,” he said. “I would -ask your honour to adjourn until two. I must have -time to digest this new testimony. Its remarkable -glibness prevented me from giving it the running deliberation -that it demanded.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The judge sulkily dismissed the court. As Patience -passed out of the room with Tarbox she heard the -word “angel” more than once, and knew that it did -not refer to her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience was not conscious of fear as she ate her -luncheon. Her heart was black with rage. “I’d willingly -murder <span class='it'>her</span>,” she thought, “and my conscience -wouldn’t trouble me the least little bit.”</p> - -<h2>XVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Immediately after recess Mr. Bourke began his summing -up. He commenced quietly, shaking the loose -cloth of the table in an absent manner. His language -was colloquial as he spoke to the jury of its grave -responsibilities, and complimented it upon the “unusual -intelligence which it had so far made evident.” He -passed naturally to the subject in hand, and dwelt eloquently -upon the character of the defendant, of her -lonely pathetic youth, her high ideals, her remarkable -intelligence, her ignorance of the world which had led -her to fall in love with the first handsome and attractive -man that had addressed her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His voice rose to tragic pitch as he dwelt upon the -terrible awakening of such a woman, bound for life to -such a man,—a sensual, ill-tempered, selfish brute, -who was a disgrace to the nineteenth century.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He depicted two years of uncomplaining wifely devotion -(until Patience became lost in admiration of the -defendant), the husband’s frantic rages about nothing, -his unrecognition of her superiority, his ignorant determination -to make her his slave—his plaything—she, -a woman whom such men as James E. Field and Gardiner -Peele delighted to honour.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he dropped again into pathos (which never for -a moment degenerated into bathos) and described the -desolate life of such a woman in an empty frivolous brainless -society (faint murmur and indignant rustle in the -gallery), a society of idle people with neither soul nor -intelligence, but who squandered the money wrested -from the People, the great People, of whom the Gentlemen -of the Jury were twelve worthy and doubtless long -suffering members.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was not until he had emphasised and recapitulated -with every resource of his splendid vocabulary, every -modulation of his glorious voice, by controlled and telling -gesture, by sudden tremendous bursts of indignation, -the married life of the prisoner, that he passed to -the day and night of the tragedy. He began with the -morning, and dwelt upon every detail of the day. Before -he reached midnight he had Beverly Peele in a -frame of mind for both suicide and murder. He sent -him to bed with black skin and white flecked nose and -chaos in his heart. With a magnificent burst of scorn -he quoted his shameful language when his wife had -offered to get him the morphine, the oaths he had -used to a “refined and elegant and patient woman.” -Then he took him to the lavatory, showed him jerking -the stopper from the morphine bottle, and recklessly -pouring a fourth of its contents into a glass. “He -knew that he had to die anyhow, and he could at least -die happy in a hideous revenge.” In brief and vivid -phrase he cited several similar instances in legal -history.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he returned to Peele Manor and denounced the -jealous woman who for five years had nursed fury in -her heart, and who, on the witness stand, here, Gentlemen -of the Jury, conceived, at the unfortunate suggestion -of the speaker, the frightful revenge upon a woman -who had treated her with unvarying kindness. She -did not speak at once, partly because her lying tale -needed rehearsing, partly because she believed that the -case for the prosecution would win without her. But -when she saw that the case for the prosecution was -wholly lost she arrayed herself like an angel, that she -might the better impose upon the unworldly Gentlemen -of the Jury, and swore away a woman’s life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The several assertions on the defendant’s part that -she felt disposition to murder he tore to rags and flung -in the face of the jury. Had not every high tempered -person—could not the Gentlemen of the Jury recall -having exclaimed in bitter moments: “I wish you -were dead! I could kill you!” With deep regret -and remorse he would confess that he had used similar -expressions many times.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then with consummate skill he dilated upon the impossibility -of so clever a woman as the defendant -doing aught so stupid as to murder in the manner of -the accusation. When there was nothing left to say -on this subject he expatiated upon the lack of motive -with a technical and personal brilliancy which made -even the cross-grained old judge lean forward with a -cynical smile.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The interviews, even the final ones, with the mysterious -stranger, he treated with contempt, although the -contempt was sufficiently long drawn out to impress -the jury with every most insignificant detail. It, was -the mere longing for companionship of a lonely woman: -that was the beginning and the end of it. The lover, -the intention of either to marry, he disposed of with a -vehemence which made Simms twist about suddenly -and look at Lansing; but the young man was regarding -his chief with rapt admiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Not so much as the scraping of a boot heel was heard -in the court room. Patience glanced at the district -attorney. His face was set and sullen.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After every possible point had been considered -Bourke concluded with an appeal so stirring, so ringing, -so thrilling that every person in the court room -except the district attorney sat forward and held his -breath. No such burst of passion had ever been heard -in that room before. Patience covered her face with -her hands. Her heart beat suffocatingly. The blood -pounded in her ears; but not one note of that wonderful -voice, not one phrase of fire, escaped her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Is there any possible condition in which a man can -appear to such supreme advantage as when pleading -for the life of a fellow being, more particularly of a -young and beautiful woman? How paltry all the time-worn -rescues of woman from sinking ship and runaway -horse and burning house. A great criminal lawyer -standing before the jury box with a life in his hand has -the unique opportunity to display all the best gifts ever -bestowed upon man: genius, brain, passion, heart, -soul, eloquence, a figure instinct with grace and virility, -a face blazing with determination to snatch a man or -woman from the most awful of dooms.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And all in two short hours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>If those in the court room for whom the case had no -personal interest were at Bourke’s feet, hanging upon -his words, adoring him for the moment, what were the -feelings of the woman for whom he was making so desperate -and manly a fight? She forgot her danger, forgot -everything but the man, the reckless joy of loving, of -being swept out of her calm orbit at last. Her analytical -brain was dulled, her arms ached, her heart shook her -body.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Bourke made a few supplementary remarks calculated -to take the wind out of the district attorney’s -sails,—references to the young man’s ambition, his -youthful eagerness to become famous, what the winning -of such a great case would mean to him, and to his -remarkable cleverness and skill with a jury,—Patience -heard Simms say to Lansing: “My God! Bourke has -surpassed even himself. Even he never got as high as -that before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s the greatest man in the country, God bless -him!” said Lansing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Bourke finally dropped upon his chair he turned -to Patience. Their eyes met and lingered; and in -that moment each passed into the other’s keeping.</p> - -<h2>XVII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Sturges lost no time taking his stand before the jury -box. It was the hour of his life, but he was not nervous. -His long thin figure leaning toward the box as -he rested his finger tips on the table, showed as fine -a repose of nerve as of brain. His clear-cut face -with the cruel mouth and pleasant smile was calm -and unclouded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He began by defending himself against Mr. Bourke’s -remarks, and asserted with convincing emphasis that -when he had taken the oath of office he had left his -personal ambition behind him with his personal interests, -and had given himself body and soul and brain -to the People of Westchester County. Then he made -an equally earnest statement of the grave responsibilities -of a district attorney, his solemn duty to the People, -the necessity to smother all promptings of humanity -that he might do what was best for the People—“The -greatest good of the greatest number.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then he painted Patience as black as Bourke had -enamelled her white. With masterly ingenuity he -made each juror feel what an awful being a bad woman -was, an unloving undutiful wife; what a curse each -man of them would writhe under had Fate played him -as scurvy a trick as it had played poor Beverly Peele; -that no unloved husband’s life would be safe were not -such women exploited and punished, that if the -Gentlemen of the Jury were weak enough to consider -her sex they might be imperilling the lives of countless -thousands. For the matter of that, he reiterated, -crime had no sex.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He took up each detail of the story, and in the light -of his interpretation Patience was the modern Lucretia -Borgia and Beverly Peele an injured, peaceable, affectionate -husband, who had been sacrificed by an abandoned -woman to whom he had given his honoured -name, his fortune, and his love.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He scarcely raised his voice. There was no passion -in his utterance; but he manufactured a mosaic, bit -by bit, each fragment fitting so exactly that the design -was without crevice or crack. He demonstrated mathematically -that the tardy evidence of Miss Mairs had -been superfluous; that the chain of circumstantial evidence -was symmetrical and complete, and that no possible -motive beyond duty to her conscience could be -attributed to her. With devilish adroitness, without a -direct phrase, he managed to filter into those twelve -small brains the secret of the inspired eloquence of the -eminent counsel for the defence,—in behalf of his -young and beautiful client.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>While he was talking, the skeleton trees beyond the -windows grew dim of outline, the mass of colour in the -gallery faded. An official came out of the library behind -the court room and lit the tall gas lamps on either -side of the bench. The judge looked like a bas-relief -in pink and silver against the dark panelling of the background. -The rest of the room was in shadow. The -light of the near jet fell full upon Sturges’ stern face.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience’s life from “its fiendish childhood” was rehearsed -with such consecutive logic that crime at some -point of such a woman’s career was inevitable. The -only wonder was that it had not been committed sooner. -The threats, he demonstrated, whether uttered in moments -of passion or not, were the significant output of -a brooding mind. The “cruel letter to a dying man” -was read with slow and indignant emphasis. Then the -events of the fatal day and night, the quarrels, the -prisoner’s fury at being denied a divorce, the deceased’s -threat to live twenty years to spite her, her carefully -rehearsed and absurd story that her husband had -dropped the morphine himself,—something he knew -himself physically incapable of doing,—the equal absurdity -of his suicide when a greater revenge lay in his -hands, her brutal indifference while he lay dying, were -deliberately gone over with passionless and insidious -effect. The quiet half-lit room was oddly in keeping -with the deadly methods of the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When he had made the most of her flight on the -morning of the “Eye” story, he paused a moment, -during which the rising wind could be heard in the -trees. Within, there was no sound. No one seemed -breathing. Bourke and Patience were in deep shadow. -With an instinct of protection he clasped his hand suddenly -about hers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sturges resumed, with lowered and vibrating voice:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And—where—Gentlemen of the Jury,—was—this—woman—arrested?——<span class='it'>In -the house of a harlot!</span>” -He paused another half moment. “In the -house of her oldest friend, La Rosita, one of the most -abandoned women in America.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke’s hand twitched spasmodically. Simms twisted -his neck, and shot at Lansing an uneasy glance. Patience -shuddered. For the moment she forgot Bourke. -She felt as if a cobra were folding her about,—very -slowly, and gently, and inexorably.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Sturges sat down the jury was told to rise. -The judge stood under one of the lamps and read them -his charge. He explained that unless they could find -the prisoner guilty of murder in the first degree—of -deliberate premeditated murder—they must acquit her. -As the final quarrel had taken place an hour before the -killing it was obviously impossible that she could have -dropped the morphine in a moment of excitement; and -a verdict of self-defence would be equally absurd. He -also charged them that they were to consider the law -in the case and nothing but the law,—that human -sympathy must have no place in their verdict.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke was too able a lawyer not to have the last -word. As the judge sat down, he arose with several -sheets of manuscript, and for twenty minutes asked the -judge to charge the jury so and so, practically recapitulating -all the strong points of the defence. The judge -answered mechanically, “I so charge,” and at last the -patient jury was conducted out of the court room and -locked up. Bourke was surrounded at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As Tarbox, with Patience on his arm, left the court -house and its crowd behind him, he exclaimed, “By -God, that was a great speech of Bourke’s! There -never has been a summing up like that in my time -before, not even by him. But he’s the smartest man -in Westchester County! Hanged if I don’t think he’s -the smartest man in the State of New York. He’ll be -in the United States Senate yet.”</p> - -<h2>XVIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>After dinner Patience went back to the court room -to remain until ten o’clock, at which time the jury, if it -had not come to a decision, would be locked up for the -night. She sat surrounded by her counsel and the -lawyers that had taken so deep an interest in the case. -Bourke sat very close to her, and once or twice as she -met his eyes she forgot the terrible moment to come. -Few people were in the court house. No one expected -a verdict that night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was exactly at half-past nine that the jury filed -solemnly in. Patience’s knees jerked suddenly upward. -She lost her breath for a moment. Bourke -leaned over her and took her hand, regardless of the -curious people surrounding them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be brave. Be brave,” he said hurriedly. “Now -is the time for all your pride and disdain.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she was ordered to stand up and face the jury, -she did so with an air so collected and so haughty that -even Simms murmured: “By Jove, she is a thoroughbred.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a moment of horrible and vibrating silence, -during which Patience’s brain reiterated hilariously: -“Twelve little Jurymen all in a row. Twelve little -heads all in a row.” Then the foreman was asked for -the verdict. He cleared his throat, and without moving -a muscle of his face, remarked,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guilty.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The district attorney sat down suddenly and hid -his face with a convulsive hand. Patience resumed -her seat with a mien as stolid as that of the twelve -jurors. Bourke’s face blanched, but he sprang to his -feet and demanded that the jury be polled. Each -solemn “Yes,” twelve and unhesitating, sounded like a -knell. Then Bourke demanded a Stay, which was -granted by the impassive judge, and Patience was led -through the silent crowd from the court room to her -cell. Tarbox escorted her mutely, his face turned -away. At the door of her cell he attempted to speak, -but gave it up and retreated hastily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience threw off her hat and sat down on the edge -of the bed. The verdict, she knew now, had not been -a surprise. But she thought little of the verdict. She -was waiting for something else. It came in a moment. -She heard a quick impatient step on the ground below, -then a rapid ascent of stair, a word or two at the door, -Tarbox’s retreating step.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke was in the cell. His face was white, but -that of Patience as she rose and confronted him was -not.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care!” she said. “I don’t care! I believe -I am happier than any woman alive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The red sprang to his face. He took her outstretched -hands and held them to lips and eyes for a -moment, then caught her in his arms and kissed her -until the rest of the world lay dull, and all life was in -that quiet cell.</p> - -<h2>XIX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A year later they took her to Sing Sing. The General -Term had refused her a new trial, the Court of Appeals -had sustained the lower court. Bourke had won -nothing but additional glory.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He did not go with her to Sing Sing. She saw him -alone for an hour before Tarbox came to take her -away. Her composure was greater than his. He was -torn with horror and defeat, and his surpassing love -for the woman. Not that he had given up hope by -any means, nor the fight; but he knew the fearful odds, -and he cursed the law which he had outwitted and -played with so often and so brilliantly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wish we were back in the middle ages,” he said -savagely, “when a man took his rights and regulated -justice by brute force. We are not half men now that -we are under the yoke of a thing that operates blindly, -and strikes by chance where it should strike, in nine -cases out of ten. Good God! Good God! it seems -incredible that I can <span class='it'>let</span> you go, that I shall stand by -and see Tarbox lead you away. Think of the combined -intellect of the world and the centuries having done -no more for man than that. I must stand aside and -see you go to a hideous cell in the Death House—O -my God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had awakened the woman down to the depths; -to-day he called to life the maternal instinct in her. -She put her arms about him with the passionate -strength of one who would transmit courage and hope -through physical pressure.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Listen,” she said; “I don’t mind one cell more -than another—and I know, I <span class='it'>know</span>, that you will save -me. I feel it. I am not going to die. You are a -man of genius. Everybody says that—everybody—I -know that you will have an inspiration at the last -minute. And I have been happy, happy, happy! -Don’t forget that—not ever. I would go through -twenty times what I have suffered in all my life for this -past year. Don’t you think I can live on that for a -month or two? Why, I can feel your touch, the -pressure of your arms for hours after you leave me. -I shall be with you every minute—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He threw back his head, shaking it with a brief -violent motion characteristic of him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well,” he said, “very well; it is not for me -to be weak when you are strong. Perhaps it is because -the prize is so great that the fight is so long and desperate. -Oh, you wonderful woman!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell me,” he said after a moment, “that it has all -been as perfect to you as to me. I want to hear you -say that, but I know it, I know it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh,—I—I—”</p> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<p class='pindent'>Tarbox came and took her away. He looked as if -he had lost home and friends and fortune, and did not -speak from White Plains to Sing Sing. The details of -the trip interested her less than such details are supposed -to interest the condemned that look their last -on sky and land; her head ached, and the glare of the -Hudson blinded her; but as the train neared Sing -Sing she opened her eyes suddenly, then sat forward -with a note of admiration.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The river was covered with a dense rosy mist which -half obscured the opposite shore, giving it the effect of -an irregular group of islands. Above was a calm lake -of yellow fire surrounded by heavy billows of boiling -gold; beyond, storm clouds, growing larger and darker.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As they drove, a few moments later, to the prison, -the great grey battlemented pile was swimming in the -same rosy glow. Patience murmured satirically:</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“‘The splendour falls on castle walls.’”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Tarbox looked at her in amazement. “Oh,” he -said, “how do you manage it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“All hope is not gone,” she replied; “there is still -the governor.” But she knew how slender that hope -was. The governor was on the eve of re-election; public -feeling was multiplied against her; the “Eye” was -clamouring for her life, and strutting like a turkey cock; -the “Eye” and Tammany Hall were one; the governor -was the creature of Tammany Hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The warden was in his office. He greeted her with -elaborate politeness, albeit puffed with alcohol and -pride. She handed him what valuables she had not -presented to Tarbox, and answered his questions in a -manner not calculated to placate his Irish dignity. -Then she turned to say good-bye to Tarbox, but he -had disappeared. The head-keeper, a big kindly man, -who pressed her arm in a paternal manner, led her -down long echoing corridors, past rows and tiers of -cells, and yards full of Things in striped garments, and -talked to her in the manner one adopts to a frightened -child, until she said:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I am not going to have hysterics; nor am I at all -sure that I am to be executed—but please don’t -imagine that I don’t appreciate your kindness.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I like that,” he said. “To tell the truth -the prospect of having a woman here has half scared -me out of my wits. But if you won’t take on, I’ll do -everything I can to make you comfortable. We’ve -put a woman servant in there to wait on you. I hope -myself it won’t be for long. The evidence is pretty -black, but some of us has our opinion all the same.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Must I go into the Death House? I think I -shouldn’t mind it so much if they’d put me anywhere -else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid you must, ma’am. That’s the custom -in these parts.” He opened a door with a huge key, -and Patience did not need to be told that she was -in the famous Death House.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A long corridor with a high window at either end; -on one side a row of cells separated from the main -corridor by an iron fence sufficiently removed from the -cells to make space for a narrow promenade. Where -the middle cell should have been was a dark arched -stone passage terminated by a stout oaken door. -Patience knew that it led to the execution room. Two -guards walked up and down the corridor. At the end, -a sullen-looking woman stood over a stove, making tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve got the house all to yourself,” said the -keeper, with an attempt at jocularity. “If there’d -been any men here I guess you’d have been sent to -Dannemora, but it’s always Sing Sing for the swells, -when it’s possible, you know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He opened the gate of the iron fence and led her -down to the cell at the extreme end. It was large and -well lighted, but very different from the cell at White -Plains.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to lock me in?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, ma’am, I must. If everything ain’t comfortable, -just let me know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The key grated in the lock. The head-keeper -with an encouraging smile walked away. Patience -crouched in a corner, for the first time fully realising -the awfulness of her position, her imagination leaping -to the room beyond the passage. What did it look -like, that horrible chair? How long—how long—the -hideously practical details of electric execution—the -awful mystery of it—the new death to which imagination -had not yet become accustomed—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no sound but the monotonous pacing of -the death watch. The world beyond those stone -walls might have sprung away into space, leaving the -great beautiful prison alone on a whirling fragment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sprang to her feet and clenched her hands. -“I’ll not go mad and make an everlasting fool of -myself,” she thought. “If I have to die, I’ll die with -my head up and my eyes dry. If I have the blood of -the aristocrat in me I’ll prove it then, not die like a -flabby woman of the people. The people! O God, -how I hate the people!”</p> - -<h2>XX</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>A great petition was sent to the governor. It was -signed uniformly by men and women of the upper -class.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not the aristocrats that do the electing in the -United States. The lower classes were against her to a -man. Her personality enraged them; her unreligion, -her disdainful bearing, her intellect, her position, -antagonised the superstitious and ambitious masses -more than her crime. Inevitable result: the governor -refused to pardon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora returned to Peele Manor from town in April. -Bourke’s attempts to see her were frustrated by a bodyguard -of servants. He took up his residence in the -little village adjoining the grounds. He hardly knew -what he hoped. But Honora Mairs was the last and -only resource, and he could not keep away from her -vicinity. He did not go to Sing Sing. It had been -agreed between himself and Patience that he should -stay away: they had no desire to communicate through -iron bars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The execution was set for the seventh of May. On -the evening of the sixth, while walking down the single -street of the village Bourke came face to face with the -new priest of the district.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tim Connor!” he exclaimed, forgetting for the -moment, in the sudden retrospect which this man’s face -unrolled, the horror that held him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, it’s me, sure enough, Garan, and I’ve been -hunting for you these two days. I heard you were here, -but faith, I’ve been busy!—not to say I’ve been away -for two weeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How long have you been here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Six months, come June, it is since I left old Ireland; -and I’m wanting to tell you that the creek we -used to wade in is as tempting to the boys as ever, -and that the bog you pulled me out of has moved on a -mile and more. Twenty times I’ve been for going -across the country to call on you and have a good grip -of the hand, and to bless you again for letting me live -to do good work; but I was caught in a net here—But -what’s the matter—Are you ill?—Oh, sure! sure! -This terrible business! I remember! Poor young -thing!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He laid his arm about the shoulders of the other man -and guided him to his house. There, in his bare little -study, he brewed an Irish toddy, and the two men drank -without a spoken toast to the old times when they had -punched each other’s head, fought each other’s battles, -and shared each other’s joys, two affectionate rollicking -mischievous Irish lads.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The priest spoke finally.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nothing else is talked of here in the village,” he -said; “but you don’t hear a word of it mentioned over -at the house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What house?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Peele Manor, to be sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you go there?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Occasionally—to dine; or to talk with Miss Mairs. -We are amiable friends, although she doesn’t confess -to me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke raised his head slowly. Something seemed -to swirl through his heavy heart.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is Honora Mairs a Catholic?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She is indeed, and, like all converts, full to the brim -and running over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke leaned forward, his hand clinching about his -chin, his elbow pressing his knee with such force that -his arm vibrated. He had been raised a Catholic—he -knew its grip. His mind was trained to grasp opportunities -on the moment, to work with the nervous yet -mathematical rapidity of electric currents. And like -all great lawyers he was a great actor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tim,” he said meditatively, “I’m feeling terribly -bad over that poor girl I couldn’t save.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure and I should think you would, Garan. My -heart’s breaking for her myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did you read the trial, Tim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, faith, I didn’t. I’ve been too busy with these -godless folk. Sure they get away from us priests when -they get into America. It’s only one more drop to -hell.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re right, Tim, you’re right. You always saw -things at a glance. But I’ve got a great work for you -to do,—a great work for you and for the Church.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You have, Garan? You have? Out with it, my -boy.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you remember the time when Paddy Flannagan -was accused of murdering his old grandmother for the -sake of the money in her stocking?” continued Bourke, -in the same half absent tone, and lapsing gradually into -brogue. “He was convicted, you know, and the whole -town was set on him, and we two boys were the worst -of the lot. Do you remember how we used to hoot -under his jail window at night? And then, quite by -accident, at the last minute, two days before he was -going to be hanged, you discovered the man that had -committed the murder, and you ran as fast as your legs -could carry you to save Paddy, shouting all the way,—and -that it was the happiest day of your life?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes!” exclaimed the priest, his face aglow. -Bourke had thrown himself back in his chair, his eyes -dwelling on his old friend with a smile of affectionate -satisfaction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a grand thing to save a human life, isn’t it, -Tim?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is, indeed; the grandest, next to saving an immortal -soul.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going to give you a chance to do both,—the -soul of one woman and the life of another.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Garan, Garan, what do you mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just let me tell you a few things first, a few things -you don’t know already.” He gave a concise but -picturesque and thrilling account of Patience’s life and -of her trial. As he repeated Honora’s testimony, the -priest, who had followed his recital with profound interest, -leaned forward with sombre brows.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That woman lied,” concluded Bourke, abruptly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m afraid so. I’m afraid so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And if she doesn’t open her accursed perjured lips -between now and to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, -that woman up there—” he caught the priest’s shoulders -suddenly, his face contracting with agony—“the -woman I love, Tim, will be murdered. My God, man, -don’t you see what you’ve got to do?”</p> - -<h2>XXI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora was lying on a couch in her celestial bedroom. -No incense burned. The screen was folded closely -about the altar. The windows were open. The pure -air of spring, the peaceful sounds of night,—disturbed -now and again by the hideous shriek of an engine,—the -delicate perfume of flowers, played upon her irritated -senses. She held a bottle of smelling salts in her -hand. On the table beside her was a jolly looking -bottle of Benedictine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was a tap at the door. Honora answered -wearily. A maid entered.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s Father Connor, miss, and he wants to see you -particular.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell him I cannot see him—no, tell him to come -up.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She rose hurriedly and smoothed her hair. Mr. and -Mrs. Peele had gone South. She was alone in the -house, and welcomed the brief distraction of the priest’s -visit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You will pardon me for asking you to come up -here,” she said as he entered. “But I am in dishabille, -and I did not want to keep you waiting. How -kind of you to come!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sure it is always a pleasure to see you anywhere, -Miss Mairs,” he said, taking the seat she indicated. -“What should I do without you in this godless place?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Several candles burned. The moonlight wandered -in, making a ghastly combination. Honora lay back -in her chair, looking very pale and beautiful. The -priest’s profile was toward her for a moment after he -ceased speaking, a strong lean determined profile. -She watched it warily. But he turned suddenly to her -and smiled, and told her an absurd episode of one of -his village delinquents.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Faith, Miss Mairs,” he concluded, “you’ve got to -help me. They’re too much for one poor priest. I’m -not one to flatter, but your face would be enough to -make a sinner think of heaven—sure it’s the face of -an angel! Between the two of us and with the Grace -of God we’ll reform the village and drive the dirty -politicians into the Church or out of the country.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora smiled radiantly, and held out her hand. -“I will work with you,” she said. “I intend to devote -my life to the Church.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He held her hand closely, in a strong masculine clasp.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I believed it of you. But why don’t you go to -confession, my child?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The muscles under Honora’s fair skin contracted -briefly, and she attempted to withdraw her hand; but -the priest held it closely.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall go to you next week.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To-night,” he said with soft insistence; “to-night. -Do you know it was that brought me here to-night? -I’ve been knowing ever since I came that something -troubled you—was eating your heart out—but I -didn’t like to speak. I thought every day you would -come to me, and I didn’t like to intrude. But to-night -I said, ‘I will!’ I couldn’t get up my courage -when I first came in; but I’m glad I’ve spoken, for I -know you’ll be after confessing now. Poor girl! But -remember, dear child, the comfort and consolation our -blessed Church has for every sinner. Come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora turned her face away, and shook her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The priest put out a long arm, and grasping the screen -drew it away from the altar. Then he leaned forward, -and laying his hands on her shoulders drew her slowly -forward and pressed her to her knees. He laid his -hand on her head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Confess,” he said, solemnly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Honora suddenly burst into wild sobbing, and -confessed that Beverly Peele had dropped his own -morphine that night, that his shaking hand had refused -to obey his will, and that, blind with pain, he had poured -a fourth of the contents into the glass, mixed it with -water, and gulped it down; that she had not gone to -his assistance because she wished him to die, and the -responsibility to fall upon his wife.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she sprang to her feet and smote her hands -together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did not intend to confess until all was over, but—I—Oh—it -has been horrible here alone these two -days—but I would not yield to superstition and go -away—and you found me in a weak moment.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She walked up and down the room, talking the more -rapidly, the more unreservedly, as the priest made no -comment. And after all the years of immobility it was -joy to speak out everything in her crowded heart and -brain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I am not a monster, I am not abnormal, I am -merely a result. It began—when did it begin? I was -a child when I came here—I remember little that -happened before—it has always been the <span class='it'>rôle</span> of the -poor cousin, I remember no other—no other! never! -never! I had to learn patience at an age when other -children are clamouring for their little desires. I had -to learn humility when other children—while I watched -my cousins take all the goods and joys of childhood -as their divine right. While their little world was at -their feet I was learning to cringe and watch and wait -and smile upon people I hated, and listen to people -that bored me to death, and suffer vicariously for all -the shortcomings of the Peele family when my aunt was -in one of her cold rages. It was early that I learned -the lesson that if I would occupy a supportable position -in life I must ‘work’ people; I must cultivate will and -tact—how I hate the loathsome word—and study the -natures of those about me, and play upon them; that -I must acquire absolute self repression, be a sort of -automaton, that, being once wound up properly, never -makes a false move. I believe that was one thing which -drove me to the Catholic Church,—the unspeakable -relief that I should find in confession,—that and one -other thing—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She paused abruptly, and pressed her hands to her -face, to which the blood had sprung.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I loved Beverly Peele,” she continued violently. -“I do not know when it began; when I was old -enough to fall in love, I suppose, and that is young -enough with a woman. When we were children we -used to play at being married. Even after he was -grown and was rather wild, he used to come back to me -in the summer time and tell me that he cared for no -one else. I knew all his faults, his weaknesses, his -limitations, mental and moral and spiritual,—none -better. But I loved him. I worshipped him. He -was not even a companion to me, for I was always -intellectually ambitious. Not a taste but music did we -have in common. I have seen him in raging tempers -that would make any other woman despise him—when -he seemed an animal, a savage. But nothing made any -difference to me. A woman loves or she does not love—that -is the beginning and the end. There is no more -relation between cause and effect in an infatuated -woman’s mind than—Oh, well, I can’t be finding -similes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One night he came in here. The next night I -kissed the pillow his head would lie on. For a year I -was happy; for another I alternated between joy and -anguish, jealousy and peace, despair and hope. Then -a year of misery, during which he brutally cast me off. -It was that which drove me to the Catholic Church—not -only the peace it promised, but the knowledge that -with baptism my sin would be washed away—for when -happiness went remorse began. I have not a brain of -iron, like that woman he married. She could snap her -past in two and fling it behind her. She could snap -her fingers at moral laws, if it suited her purpose, and -know no regret, provided she had had nothing to regret -meanwhile. That was one reason why I hated her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, how I hated her! How I hated her! Beverly -never had any reserve, and he made love to her -before my eyes. He was infatuated. His affection for -me was an incidental fancy compared to his mad passion -for that woman. And month after month! Month -after month! And I loved him still!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I never dared say to myself that when the time -came I should have vengeance, for such a resolution I -should be obliged to confess; and the priest would -make me promise to thrust it out, or refuse me absolution. -But down in my heart I knew that when the -hour came the temptation would conquer. It came -first when I let him drink the morphine. And when I -saw her in court, when her lover gave me that sudden -suggestion, when I knew that I could send her to that -horrible chair—” She threw out her arms and laughed -hysterically, “O God, I was almost happy again.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The priest rose and stood before her. There were -tears in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor woman!” he said. “Poor woman!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Honora’s face convulsed, but she shut her lips resolutely -and tapped the floor with her foot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There is pardon and peace in the Church,” he continued -softly; “and not only for the sake of that poor -girl at Sing Sing, battling to-night with horror and terror, -sleepless, listening to the solemn tramp of the -death watch, counting the hours that are marching her -to that hideous death, but for the future peace of -your own soul, speak out and save her. Think of the -years of torment, of remorse, when you will not have -the excitement of the present, the pressure of your -wrongs to sustain you. Speak out, and I will give you -absolution, and your soul shall know peace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Honora threw back her head and laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No! No!” she said. “I am not so weak as -that. I have no intention of going to pieces at the last -moment. It is only her death that will give me -peace.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent his long body backward, drawing himself up -to his full imposing height.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And have you thought of what will be the penalty?” -he said, in a low voice, and with an intonation that was -almost a chant.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She shuddered, but dragged her eyes away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t care!” she said passionately. “I don’t -care!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are sure?” he said, in the same voice.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drew two short breaths. “Oh, go away and -leave me,” she said. “Why did you come here? I -did not intend to confess until all was over.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you expected absolution?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I would have done any penance. I would have -burnt my flesh with red-hot irons—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He gave a short, scornful laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The Church wants no such makeshift penances,” he -said passionately. “It has no use for the sinner that -commits deliberate crime to-day and comes cringing -and triumphant to the confessional to-morrow. We -have no use for such as you,” he suddenly shouted, -flinging out his arm and pointing his index finger at -her. “You are a disgrace to the Church, a pollution; -you are the lips of the leper upon the pure body of a -Saint. We have no place for such as you. We have -only one method by which to deal with you and such -as you—” He curved his body, and his voice fell to -a hollow monotone: “Ex-commu-nica-tion.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The woman stared at him with pale distended eyes, -no breath issuing from her dry lips, then sank to the -floor, a miserable, collapsed, quivering heap. The -priest went to the window and called to a man who -stood on the walk below.</p> - -<h2>XXII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke was pacing up and down among the trees, his -eyes seldom absent from the man standing motionless -in front of the house, or from the light in Honora -Mairs’ window. He struck a match every few moments -and looked at his watch. He lit a cigar, then -found himself biting rapidly along its length with vicious -energy. He flung it away and lit another, puffed at it -violently, then let it fall to the ground as he pressed his -hands suddenly to his eyes, shutting out the picture of -Patience in her cell.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All the agony and doubt and despair of the past year -were crowded into this hour. Would the priest succeed? -Was he clever enough to outwit a clever and implacable -woman? If he had only caught her in a moment -of weakness. But was there any weakness in that -organisation of knit and tempered steel? “He’ll -blarney her,” he thought, with sudden hope,—“but -bah! you can’t blarney a snake. That will go so far -with her and no farther. Only acting can save us. If -he can act well enough to fill the stage on which this -terrible tragedy is set, and conquer that woman’s imagination, -he can save my poor girl, but not otherwise.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His hands clutched the bushes as he passed. He -kicked the gravel from his feet. He cursed aloud, not -knowing what he was saying. He felt an intolerable -thirst; his eyeballs burned; his heart hammered -spasmodically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked at his watch. It was twelve o’clock. -His spinning brain conceived the wild project of forcing -himself up to that lighted room at the corner of the -house and putting the woman to the torture. And at -that moment he saw the priest lean out of the window -and speak to the notary public, who immediately -entered the house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A half hour later the priest came out of the front -door and toward him. He held a paper in his hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke was waiting at the door. He took the affidavit -from the priest, glanced over it, and thrust it into -his pocket.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come,” he said. “I’ll get one of the men here -to hitch up a team and drive us to the One Hundred -and Twenty-fifth Street station. There we’ll take the -train for Forty-second Street, and at the Grand Central -the train for Albany. No south bound local will pass -here for an hour. I happen to know that the governor -is in Albany to-night attending a banquet.”</p> - -<h2>XXIII</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience had given up hope at last. Its death had -been accompanied by wonder rather than by despair. -Her remarkable experience with Bourke had led her to -idealise him even beyond the habit of woman, and her -faith in his ability to save her had been absolute. Nevertheless, -woman like, she wove elaborate excuses for -him, and loved him none the less.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The day had dragged itself into twenty years. The -chaplain had called and been dismissed. The warden -had visited her and uttered the conventional -words of sympathy, to which Patience had listened -without expression, loathing the coarse ungrammatical -brute. The head-keeper she liked, for she was the -first to recognise true sympathy and nobility within -whatever bark. Miss Beale had come and wept and -kissed her hands through the bars.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Patience! Patience!” she sobbed. “If it could -only be said that you died like a Christian!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It can be said that I died like an American gentlewoman -of the nineteenth century,” replied Patience. -“I am quite satisfied to know that they will be obliged -to say that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Miss Beale shook her head vigorously. “You will -fail when the time comes,” she said. “Only the Lord -can sustain you. Please, Patience, let me pray with -you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Please let me die in peace,” said Patience, wearily, -“and consistently. I shall not make a spectacle of -myself. Don’t worry.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>After Miss Beale had gone the prison barber came -and shaved a bald spot on the back of her head. She -kept her face in the shadow, her teeth set, her skin -thrilling with horror.</p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat on the edge of her bed until midnight. In -the past two months, despite her faith in Bourke, she -had deliberately allowed her mind to dwell upon the -execution until fear had worn blunt. She was conscious -of none to-night. Moreover, she had the poise of -one that has lived close to the great mysteries of life. -Were she free she might have a lifetime of happiness -with Bourke, but in degree there were many hours of -the past year that in mortal limitations could never -be surpassed. The people had won their fight, but -she felt that she had cheated them at every other point. -For, after all, happiness is of kind, not of quantity. -They could strike from her many years of life, but had -she not lived? And a few years more or less—what -mattered it? One must die at the last. She had -realised an ideal. She had known love in its profoundest -meaning, in its most delicate vibrations. A thousand -years could give her no more than that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she lifted her head. The rain was dashing -against her high window and against the windows of the -corridor. She flushed and trembled and held her -breath expectantly. In a moment she lay along the -bed, and in a moment more forgot her evil state. -Memories without form trooped through her brain: -snatches and flashes of childhood and adolescence, -glimmers of dawn, and stirrings of deeps, vistas of -enchanted future, the rising and receding, rising and -receding of Mystery, the vague pleasurable loneliness—the -protest of separateness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she pressed her face into the pillows, weeping -wildly that she should see Bourke no more. The rain -gave him to her in terrible mockery. Every part of -her demanded him. She cared nothing for the morrow; -she had thought of no to-morrows when with -him. Morrows were naught, for there was always the -last; but the present are always there to fulfil or torment. -She shuddered once. The rain had given her -back the power to long and dream; and to longing -and dreaming there could be no fulfilment, not in this -world, now nor ever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She beat her clenched hand against the bed, not -in fear, but in passionate resentment that she with -her magnificent endowment for happiness should be -snuffed out in her youth, and that there was no power -on earth to assuage her lover’s agony. She wondered -where he was, what he was doing. She knew that -there was no sleep for him.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her philosophy deserted her, as philosophy will -when the sun is under the horizon. She ceased to be -satisfied with what had been; the great love in her -soul cried out and demanded its eternal rights. And -her fainting courage demanded the man. . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her thoughts suddenly took a whimsical turn. What -should she be like in eternity shorn of her stronger -part?—for assuredly in her case the man and the woman -were one. Was space full of those incomplete shapes?—roaming—roaming—for -what?—and whither? She -recalled a painting of Vedder’s called “Identity” and -Aldrich’s verses beneath:—</p> - -<div class='blockquote0r9'> - -<div class='poetry-container' style=''><div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line0'>“Somewhere, in desolate, wind-swept space,</p> -<p class='line0'>   In Twilight land, in No-man’s land,</p> -<p class='line0'> Two wandering shapes met face to face,</p> -<p class='line0'>   And bade each other stand.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>“‘And who are you?’ cried one, agape,</p> -<p class='line0'>   Shuddering in the gloaming light,</p> -<p class='line0'> ‘I know not,’ said the second shape,</p> -<p class='line0'>  ‘I only died last night.’”</p> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>The picture had fascinated her profoundly until she -had suddenly noticed that one of the shapes looked as -if she had left her teeth on her death-bed. She laughed -aloud suddenly. . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the first time she felt curious about the hereafter. -Poetry had demonstrated to her that hereafter of some -sort there must be: the poet sees only the soul of his -creations, makes the soul talk as it would if untrammelled -of flesh, and in unconscious forecast of its freedom. -Browning, alone, would have taught her this. -His greater poems were those of another and loftier -world. No wonder poets were a mad unhappy race -with their brief awakenings of the cosmic sense, their -long contemplations of what should be, in awful contrast -to what is. . . .</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience suddenly turned from the thoughts of the -hereafter in shuddering horror. Then, as now, she -should be alone. Perhaps it would be as well, if she -were to look like that shape. . . . But she should -know soon enough!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Whimsies deserted her as abruptly as they had come. -She realised with terrible vividness all that she was -leaving, the sweetness of it, the beauty of it—and the -awful part allotted to the man.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had imagined that in her last night on earth—if -it came to that—her mind would dwell on the great -problems of life; but she cried herself to sleep.</p> - -<h2>XXIV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke and the priest arrived in Albany at two minutes -past eight in the morning. A hack carried them to the -governor’s house in less than ten minutes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke’s ring was answered immediately. He had -his card ready, also that of the priest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take these to the governor,” he said to the butler. -“We must see him at once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The governor took the 8.13 express for New -York.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke uttered an oath which the priest did not -rebuke.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Did he leave an answer to a telegram he received -between two and five this morning?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, sir; no telegrams are ever sent here—by special -orders, sir. They are all sent to the State House.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke’s skin turned grey; his eyes dulled like -those of a dying man. But only for a moment. His -brain worked with its customary rapidity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Come,” he said to the priest. “There is only one -thing to do.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To the hackman he said: “Twenty dollars if you -get to the station in five minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He and the priest jumped into the hack. The -driver lashed the horses. They dashed down the steep -hills of Albany. Two policemen rushed after them, -shouting angrily; but the horses galloped the faster, -the driver bounding on his seat. People darted shrieking -out of their way. Other teams pulled hastily aside, -oaths flying.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They reached the station in exactly four minutes and -a half. Bourke had little money with him, but he was -well known, and known to be wealthy. In less than -five minutes the superintendent, in regard for a check -for two hundred and fifty dollars, had ordered out the -fastest engine in the shop. In ten minutes more it was -ready, and the message had flashed along the line to -make way for “45.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By this time every man in the yard was surging about -the engine in excited sympathy. As the engineer gave -the word and Bourke and the priest climbed in, the -men cheered lustily. Bourke raised his hat. Father -Connor waved them his blessing. The engine sprang -down the road in pursuit of the New York express.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Despite the flying moments, the horror that seemed -to sit grimacing upon the hour of eleven every time that -he looked at his watch, Bourke felt the exhilaration of -that ride, the enchantment of uncertainty. The morning -air was cool; the river flashed with gold; the earth -was very green. They seemed to cut the air as they -raced through fields and towns, dashed and whizzed -round curve after curve. People ran after them, some -shouting with terror, thinking it was a runaway engine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Father Connor had bought some sandwiches at the -station, and Bourke ate mechanically. He wondered if -he should ever recognise the fine flavour of food again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The priest put his lips to Bourke’s ear and spoke for -the first time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where do you expect to catch the train?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“At Poughkeepsie. It waits there ten minutes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And what shall you do if you don’t catch it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go on to Sing Sing, and do the best I can. I have -made one fatal mistake: I should have telegraphed to -Sing Sing. But I was mad, I think, until I reached -Albany, and there it is no wonder I forgot it. The -regular time for—that business is round eleven o’clock, -about a quarter past; but if the warden happens to be -drunk there’s no telling what he will take it into his -head to do. But I dare not stop.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly they shot about a curve. The engineer -shouted “There! There!” A dark speck was just -making another curve, far to the south.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The express!” cried the engineer. “We’ve side-tracked -everything else. We’ll catch her now.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>An hour later they dashed into Poughkeepsie, the -express only two minutes ahead of them. Amidst a -crowd of staring people, Bourke and the priest, begrimed, -dishevelled, leaped from the engine and -boarded a parlour car of the express. Alone, Bourke -would probably have been arrested as a madman, controlled -as was his demeanour; but the priest’s frock -forbade interference.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The governor was not in the parlour car, nor in the -next, nor in the next.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yes, he had been there, a porter replied, and would -be there again; but he had left the train as soon as it -had stopped. No, he did not know in what direction -he had gone; nor did any one else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was nothing to do but to wait. Bourke sent a -telegram to Sing Sing, but it relieved his anxiety little: -he knew the languid methods of the company’s officials -in country towns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There were five of those remaining seven minutes -when he thought he was going mad. An immense -crowd had gathered by this time about the station. -Nobody knew exactly what was the matter, and nobody -dared ask the man walking rapidly up and down the -platform, watch in hand, gripping the arm of a priest; -but hints were flying, and no one doubted that this sudden -furious incursion of a flying engine and the extraordinary -appearance of Bourke had to do with the famous -prisoner at Sing Sing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At exactly three minutes to starting time the governor -came sauntering down the street, a tooth-pick in -his mouth, his features overspread with the calm and -good-will which bespeak a recently warmed interior. -Bourke reached him almost at a bound. He was a -master of words, and in less than a minute he had -presented the governor with the facts in the case and -handed him the affidavit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good,” said the governor. “I’m glad enough to -do this. It’s you that will understand, Mr. Bourke, -that I would have been violating a sacred duty if I’d -slapped public opinion in the face before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He wrote rapidly on the back of the affidavit.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This will do for the present,” he said. “I’ll fix -it up in style when I go back. You’re a great man, -Mr. Bourke.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Bourke had gone. Whistles were sounding, -train men were yelling. He and the priest barely had -time to jump on their engine when they were ordered -to clear the track.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Bourke glanced at his watch as they sprang out of -the station. The time was twenty minutes past ten. -It was barely possible to reach Sing Sing in three quarters -of an hour. Lead was in his veins. His head felt -light. The chances for his last and paramount success -were very slim.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the great engine dashed along like an inspired -thing, and seemed to throb in sympathy. There was a -note of triumphant encouragement in its sudden piercing -shrieks. It tossed a cow off the track as lightly as -the poor brute had lately whisked a fly from its hind-quarters. -It whistled merrily to the roaring air. It -snorted disdainfully when Bourke, refusing to heed its -mighty lullaby, curved his hands about his mouth and -shouted to the engineer:—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For God’s sake, go faster!”</p> - -<h2>XXV</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>The town of Sing Sing was awake at daylight. It was -the most exciting and important day of its history. -The women, even the pitiful ones, arose with a pleasurable -flutter and donned their Sunday frocks. The -matrons dressed the children in their brightest and best, -and laid the gala cover on the baby carriage. The -men of the village took a half-holiday and made themselves -as smart as their women. The saloon keepers -stocked their shelves and spread their counters with -tempting array of corned beef, cold ham, cheese, crackers, -pickles, and pretzels.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By ten o’clock a hundred teams had driven into the -town, and were hitched to every post, housed in every -stable. A number stood along that part of the road -which commanded a view of the prison towers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The women sat about on the slope opposite the -prison, pushing the baby carriages absently back and -forth, or gossiping with animation. Other women -crowded up the bluff, settling themselves comfortably -to await, with what patience they could muster, the -elevation of the black flag.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The reporters and witnesses of the execution sat on -a railing near the main entrance, smoking cigarettes -and discussing probabilities. Inside and out the atmosphere -of intense and suppressed excitement was trying -to even the stout nerves of the head-keeper. The -assistant keepers, in bright new caps, moved about with -an air of portentous solemnity.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Never had Sing Sing seen a more beautiful day. -The sky was a dome of lapis-lazuli. The yellow sun -sparkled down on the imposing mediæval pile of towers -and turrets, on the handsome grey buildings above the -green slopes near by, on the graveyard with its few -dishonoured dead, on the gayly dressed expectant -people, as exhilaratingly as had death and dishonour -never been. The river and the wooded banks beyond -were as sweet and calm as if the great building -with the men in the watch towers were some -feudal castle, in which, perchance, a captured princess -pined.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The head-keeper walked once or twice to the telegraph -table in a corner of the office, and asked the girl -in charge if any message had come.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s the wish that’s father to the thought,” he said -to the warden; “but I can’t help hoping for a reprieve -or a commutation or something. Poor thing, I feel -awful sorry for her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Damn her,” growled his chief. “She’s too high-toned -for me. When I read the death warrant to her -this morning she turned her back on me square.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s awful proud, and I guess she has a hard time -keeping up; but it ain’t no time for resentment. I -must say I did think Mr. Bourke’d save her, and I -can’t help thinking he will yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Time’s getting short,” said the warden, with a dry -laugh. “It’s 10.40, and the execution takes place at -11.12 sharp.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Couldn’t you make some excuse to put it off a day -or so? It ain’t like Mr. Bourke.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not much. Off she goes at 11.12.” And he got -up heavily and shuffled out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The head-keeper took a decanter of brandy from the -sideboard and placed it, with a number of glasses, on -the table. Then he called in the newspaper men and -other witnesses.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He wandered about restlessly as the men entered and -drank in silence. He carried a stick of malacca topped -with silver. One or two of the newspaper men shuddered -as it caught their eye. They knew its hideous -portent.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Guess we’d better go,” he said, after one more -fruitless trip to the telegraph table. “It takes time -to go through those underground passages.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As the great gates were about to close behind them -he turned suddenly and called a guard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If it should so happen that Mr. Bourke should -come, or telegraph, or that anything should happen -before—11.16—I can delay it that long—just you -be on hand to make a bolt. It ain’t like Mr. Bourke -to sit down and do nothing. I feel it in my bones that -he’s moving heaven and earth this minute.”</p> - -<h2>XXVI</h2> - -<p class='pindent'>It was five minutes after eleven. Patience sat on the -edge of her bed, her hands clenched, her face grey. -But she was calm. The horror and sinking which had -almost mastered her as the warden read the death -warrant, she had fought down and under. And she had -drunk a quantity of black coffee. She had but one -thought, one desire left,—to die bravely. Even Bourke -was forgotten, and hope and regret. She was conscious -of but one passionate wish, not to quail, not for a second. -Perhaps there was a slight touch of the dramatic instinct, -even in this last extremity, for she imagined the -scene and her attitude again and again. In consequence, -there was a sense of unreality in it all. She -felt as if about to play some great final act; she could -not realise that the climax meant her own annihilation. -Physically she was very tired, and should have liked to -lie down for hours, although the coffee had routed -sleep. Once she half extended herself on the bed, -then sat erect, her mouth contracting spasmodically.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly she heard the noise of many feet shuffling -on a bare floor. She knew that it came from the -execution room. She shuddered and bit her lips. -Now and again, through the high windows, came the -shrill note of a woman’s voice, or a baby’s soft light -laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A moment later she sprang to her feet, quivering in -every nerve, her hands clenched in a final and successful -attempt at absolute self-mastery. On the door separating -the Death House from the main building, -resounded three loud raps, slow and deliberate. They -reverberated in the ears of the condemned like the -blast of the last trumpet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The door opened, and the head-keeper entered, -walking slowly, and stopping once to hold whispered -converse with the death watch. Patience controlled -an impulse to call to him to hurry and have it over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He came forward at last, tapping his malacca stick -on the floor, unlocked the door of her cell, and offered -her his arm. He bent to her ear as if to whisper something, -then evidently thought better of it, and led her -slowly to the passage facing the execution room. -Again she wanted to ask him to hurry, but dared not -speak. The death watch turned away his head. The -lace of her low shoe untied, and she stooped mechanically -and fastened it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The head-keeper asked her if she would like some -brandy,—he would send and get it for her. She -shook her head emphatically. The exaltation of heroism -was beginning to possess her, and she would give -no newspaper the chance to say that she owed her -fortitude to alcohol.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They walked down the narrow vaulted way through -which so many had gone to their last hideous moments. -The head-keeper fumbled at the lock. The door -swung open. For a moment Patience closed her eyes; -the big room of yellow wood was a blaze of sunlight. -Then she opened them and glanced curiously about -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The execution room was large and high and square -and cheerful. On the left, many feet above the floor, -was a row of windows. At the far end a number of -men that had been sitting on stools stood up hurriedly -as the prisoner entered, and doffed their hats. They -were the newspaper men. She recognised most of -them, and bent her head. At the opposite end near -the door leading to the Death House was a chair. -Patience regarded it steadily in spite of its brilliancy. -It was a solid chair of light coloured oak, like the room, -and supported on three legs. Two were at the back; -in front was one of curious construction, almost a foot -in breadth. This leg was divided in two at the extremity. -Half way up there was a cross piece which spread -the full width of the chair. To this was fastened the -straps to hold the ankles of the condemned. The -chair stood on a rubber mat to ensure perfect insulation. -It was studded with small electric lamps, dazzling, -white-hot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Behind the chair was a square cupboard in which -stood the unknown, who, at a given signal, would turn -on the current.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Two prison guards stood by the chair, one behind it -and one on the right. The State electrician, two surgeons, -and a man in light blue clothes stood near.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience turned her eyes to the reporters. The -young men were very pale. They regarded her with -deep sympathy, and perhaps a bitter resentment at the -impotence of their manhood. One looked as if he -should faint, and turning his back suddenly raised something -to his lips. Even the “Eye” man still held his -hat in his hand, and had not resumed his seat. Only one -watched her with eager wolfish curiosity. He was the -youngest of them all, and it was his first great story.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience wondered if she looked ugly after her long -confinement, and possibly ridiculous, as most women -look when they have dressed without a mirror. But -there was no curve of amusement on the young men’s -faces, and they were shuffling their feet uneasily. Her -hair hung in a long braid. She looked very young.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dropped the head-keeper’s arm and walked -deliberately to the chair; but he caught her hand and -held her back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wait a minute,” he said, with affected gruffness. -He went to the chair and examined it in detail. He -asked a number of questions, which were answered by -the electrician with haughty surprise. In a moment the -reporters were staring, and like a lightning flash one brain -informed another that “something was in the wind.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the head-keeper had lingered about the chair -as long as he dared he returned to Patience, who was -standing rigidly where he had left her, and drawing a -short breath said,—</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If you have any last words, ma’am, you are at -liberty to speak.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have nothing to say,” replied Patience, wondering -if her mouth or brain were speaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, yes, speak,” exclaimed several of the reporters. -They had out their pads in an instant; but, for -once, it was not the news instinct that was alert. The -most quick-witted men in the world, they realised that -the head-keeper was endeavouring to gain time. Their -stiff felt hats dropped to the floor and bounced about. -Their hands shook a little. For perhaps the first time -in their history they were more men than journalists.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t wish to speak,” said Patience, and again -she walked toward the chair. The newspaper men -sprang forward with an uncontrollable movement, but -the guards waved them back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Be careful, young men,” said the head-keeper with -pompous severity. “Any more of that, and you go out.” -Taking advantage of the momentary scraping of boots, -he whispered in Patience’s ear, “For God’s sake speak—and -a good long one. You must have something to -say; and it’s your last chance on earth.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have nothing to say,” she replied, her brain closed -to all impressions but one. “Can’t you see that I need -all my strength? If you have any mercy in you put -me in that chair and have done with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you are not the kind to break down—my -God!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The silence of the prison, the hush without the walls, -was pierced by a single shriek, a shriek which seemed -shot from earth to heaven, a mighty shriek of furious -warning.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Every man in the room jumped. The newspaper -men drew their breath with a hard sound. Only -Patience gave no heed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s an engine,” stuttered the head-keeper, “and -there’s no train due at this hour—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The outer door was flung violently open. The warden -stamped heavily into the room. His face was -purple.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why in hell hasn’t this execution taken place?” -he roared. “Get to work!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The head-keeper’s face turned very white. His hand -shook a little. The men stared at him with jumping -nerves. Patience and the warden were the only persons -in the room unaffected by the inexplicable excitement -which had taken possession of the atmosphere.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get to work,” repeated the warden.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Patience walked to the chair and seated herself, extending -her arms in position. Once more her brain -relaxed its grasp on every thought but the determination -not to scream nor quiver. She closed her eyes and set -her teeth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The guards began to fasten the straps, but slowly, -under the significant eyes of the head-keeper. The -warden stamped up and down. The electrician came -forward. The surgeon went into an adjoining room -and cast his eyes over his instruments, laid out on a -long table.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The brain works eccentrically in such moments. -Patience’s suddenly flung upon her consciousness a -picture of Carmel tower. She speculated upon the -fate of her owl. She recalled that the Mission had -been restored, and wondered if Solomon, that proud -and elderly hermit, had turned his haughty back upon -civilisation to dwell alone in the black arbours of the -remote pine tops of the forest. She saw the spray toss -itself into scattering wraiths, as when she had knelt -there—a thousand years ago—a little lonely girl in -copper-toed boots, dreaming dreams that were pricked -with no premonition of life’s tragic horrors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She frowned suddenly, recalling her long-lived determination -to take life as a spectacular drama. Life had -gotten the best of her! Assuredly there was nothing -impersonal about this ignominious and possibly excruciating -death. The thought banished Carmel tower. -Her mind was a sudden blaze of light—white light she -thought with a stifled shrink—in which every detail of -the room was sharply accentuated. She opened her -eyes, but only a trifle, lest these men see the horror in -them. Her blood was curdling, but she knew that she -was making no sign.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her sensitised mind received the immediate impression -that the atmosphere of the room was vibrating with -excitement. She saw the head-keeper’s neck crane, his -furtive glance at the outer door. He expected some -one. Bourke!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She set her teeth. She had believed up to last night -that he would save her. Why had she doubted him for -an instant? She understood now the diplomacy of the -head-keeper. Why had she not spoken when he had -implored her?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed to her that the men fastening the straps -were racing each other. She wanted to whisper to -them to lag, but pride stayed her tongue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The warden was striding about and swearing. The -electricians and surgeons were whispering in a group.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She looked at the newspaper men. She met their -gaze of excited sympathy, understood at last the spirit -that animated them, and bowed her head. She dared -not speak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But in a moment indignation routed gratitude. Why -did they not rescue her, these young vigorous men! -They knew her to be innocent. They outmatched in -number the guards. Where was their manhood? -What had become of all the old traditions? Then her -anger left as suddenly as it had come. They were not -knights with battle axes, but the most exaggerated -product of modern civilisation. It was almost a miracle -that they passionately wished to save her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her head was drawn gently back, her eyes covered. -Something leapt and fought within her. Horror tore at -her vitals, snarling like a wolf-hound. But once more -her will rose supreme. Then, as she realised that her -last moment had come, she became possessed by one -mighty desire, to compel her imagination to give her -the phantasm, the voice, the touch of her lover.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The wrench with which she accomplished her object -was so violent, the mental concentration so overmastering, -that all other consciousness was extinguished.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly her ears were pierced by a din which -made her muscles leap against the straps. Was she in -hell, and was this her greeting? She felt a second’s -thankfulness that death had been painless.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then, out of the babel of sound she distinguished -words which made her sit erect and open her eyes, her -pulses bound, her blood leap, hot and stinging, her -whole being rebound with gladness of life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cap had been removed, the men were unbuckling -the straps. The head-keeper had flung his cap on the -floor and run his hands through his hair until it stood -up straight. Round her chair the newspaper men -were pressing, shouting and cheering, trying to get at -her hand to shake it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She smiled and held out her hand, but dared not -speak to them. Pride still lived, and she was afraid -that she should cry.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then she forgot them. A sudden parting in the -ranks showed her the open door. At the same moment -the men stopped shouting. Bourke had entered. He -had followed the guard mechanically, neither hoping -nor fearing until the far-reaching cheers sent the blood -springing through his veins once more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He was neither clean nor picturesque, but Patience -saw only his eyes. He walked forward rapidly, and -lifting her in his arms carried her from the room.</p> - -<p> </p> -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;'><a id='notes'></a><span class='bold'>Transcriber’s Note:</span><br /> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>A Table of Contents was added for the convenience of the reader.<br /> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>Hyphenation and archaic spellings have been retained -as in the original. Punctuation and type-setting errors have been corrected -without note. Other corrections are as noted below.</p> - -<div class='lgl' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'>page 301, not by a long short ==> not by a long <a href='#shot'>shot</a><br /> </p> -<p class='line'>page 343, and the diplomate kissed ==> and the <a href='#dip'>diplomat</a> kissed</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PATIENCE SPARHAWK AND HER TIMES***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 53009-h.htm or 53009-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/3/0/0/53009">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/0/53009</a></p> -<p> -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed.</p> - -<p>Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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