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diff --git a/old/60090-h/60090-h.htm b/old/60090-h/60090-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 62151b3..0000000 --- a/old/60090-h/60090-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13567 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> -<head> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> -<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Dim Lantern, by Temple Bailey</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3,h4 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - - -table { - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; -} - - .tdr {text-align: right;} - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; -} - - -.xlarge {font-size: 150%;} -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.gap {padding-right: 5em;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} - - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} - - - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - padding:0.5em; - margin-bottom:5em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - - 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>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Dim Lantern, by Temple Bailey, -Illustrated by Coles Phillips</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: The Dim Lantern</p> -<p>Author: Temple Bailey</p> -<p>Release Date: August 11, 2019 [eBook #60090]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIM LANTERN***</p> -<p> </p> -<h3>E-text prepared by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_frontispiece.jpg" alt="" /></div> -<p class="caption">IN HER ORANGE CLOAK SHE SHONE THROUGH THE<br /> -VEIL OF MIST, LUMINOUS</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - - -<h1>The<br /> -<span class="xlarge">DIM LANTERN</span></h1> - -<p>BY<br /> - -<span class="large">TEMPLE BAILEY</span><br /> -<br /> -<i>Author of “The Gay Cockade,”<br /> -“The Trumpeter Swan,”<br /> -“The Tin Soldier,” etc.</i></p> - -<p>Illustrated by<br /> -<span class="large">COLES PHILLIPS</span></p> -<br /> -<p><span class="large">THE PENN PUBLISHING<br /> -COMPANY PHILADELPHIA<br /> - -1923</span></p></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_colophon.jpg" alt="" /></div> - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"> -COPYRIGHT<br /> -1922 BY<br /> -THE PENN<br /> -PUBLISHING<br /> -COMPANY</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_logo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p class="center">The Dim Lantern<br /> -<br /> -Made in the U. S. A.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">Contents</h2></div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td class="tdr">I.</td><td> <span class="smcap">In Which Philomel Sings</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_7"> 7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">II.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Princess Passes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24"> 24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">III.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Jane Knits</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34"> 34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Beauty Waits</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_44"> 44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">V.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Ugly Duckling</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60"> 60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VI.</td><td> “<span class="smcap">Stay in the Field, Oh, Warrior!</span>”</td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70"> 70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Famished Pilgrim</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81"> 81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">VIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Jane as Deputy</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97"> 97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">IX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Scarecrow</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_105"> 105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">X.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Baldy as Ambassador</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_119"> 119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Dim Lantern</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_134"> 134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Ice Palace</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_155"> 155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Jane Pours Tea</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170"> 170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Telegram</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_183"> 183</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Evans Plays the Game</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192"> 192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Costume Ball</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_204"> 204</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">News for the Town-Crier</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_214"> 214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">An Interlude</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227"> 227</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XIX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Surrender</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_240"> 240</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Paper Lace</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_248"> 248</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Voices in the Dark</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_258"> 258</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">At the Old Inn</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_268"> 268</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Spring Comes to Sherwood</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_278"> 278</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Haunted</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_297"> 297</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXV.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Again the Lantern</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_304"> 304</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXVI.</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Discordant Note</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_316"> 316</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXVII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Flight</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_327"> 327</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXVIII.</td><td> <span class="smcap">In the Pine Grove</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_335"> 335</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="tdr">XXIX.</td><td> <span class="smcap">Jane Dreams</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_340"> 340</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> - - - -<p class="ph1">The Dim Lantern</p> - - - -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br /> - -<small>IN WHICH PHILOMEL SINGS</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Sherwood Park</span> is twelve miles from Washington. -Starting as a somewhat pretentious suburb -on the main line of a railroad, it was blessed with -easy accessibility until encroaching trolleys swept -the tide of settlement away from it, and left it high -and dry—its train service, unable to compete with -modern motor vehicles, increasingly inefficient.</p> - -<p>Property values, inevitably, decreased. The little -suburb degenerated, grew less fashionable. -People who might have added social luster to its -gatherings moved away. The frame houses, which -at first had made such a brave showing, became a -bit down at the heel. Most of them, built before -the revival of good taste in architecture, seemed -top-heavy and dull with their imitation towers, -their fretted balconies, their gray and brown coloring, -their bands of contrasting shingles tied like -sashes around their middles.</p> - -<p>The Barnes cottage was saved from the universal -lack of loveliness by its simple lines, its white paint -and green blinds. Yet the paint had peeled in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -places, and the concrete steps which followed the -line of the two terraces were cracked and worn.</p> - -<p>Old Baldwin Barnes had bought his house on the -instalment plan, and his children were still paying -for it. Old Baldwin had succumbed to the deadly -monotony of writing the same inscription on red -slips through thirty years of faithful service in the -Pension Office, and had left the world with his -debts behind him.</p> - -<p>He had the artistic temperament which his son -inherited. Julia was like her mother who had died -two years before her husband. Mrs. Barnes had -been unimaginative and capable. It was because -of her that Julia had married an architect, and was -living in a snug apartment in Chicago, that Baldwin -Junior had gone through college and had some -months at an art school before the war came on, -and that Jane, the youngest, had a sense of thrift, -and an intensive experience in domestic economy.</p> - -<p>As for the rest of her, Jane was twenty, slender -as a Florentine page, and fairly pretty. She was -in love with life and liked to talk about it. Young -Baldwin said, indeed, with the frankness of a -brother, that Jane ran on like a babbling brook.</p> - -<p>She was “running on” this November morning, -as she and young Baldwin ate breakfast together. -Jane always got the breakfast. Sophy, a capable -negro woman, came over later to help with the -housework, and to put the six o’clock dinner on the -table. But it was Jane who started the percolator,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -poached the eggs, and made the toast on the electric -toaster, while young Baldwin read the <i>Washington -Post</i>. He read bits out loud when he was -in the mood. He was not always in the mood, and -then Jane talked to him. He did not always listen, -but that made no difference.</p> - -<p>Jane had named the percolator “Philomel,” because -of its purling harmonies.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you love it, Baldy?”</p> - -<p>Her brother, with one eye on the paper, was eating -his grapefruit.</p> - -<p>“Love what?”</p> - -<p>“Philomel.”</p> - -<p>“Silly stuff——”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t. I like to hear it sing.”</p> - -<p>“In my present mood I prefer a hymn of hate.”</p> - -<p>She buttered a slice of toast for him. “Well, of -course, you’d feel like that.”</p> - -<p>“Who wouldn’t?” He took the toast from her, -and buried himself in his paper, so Jane buttered -another slice for herself and ate it in protesting silence—plus -a poached egg, and a cup of coffee rich -with yellow cream and much sugar. Jane’s thinness -made such indulgence possible. She enjoyed -good food as she enjoyed a new frock, violets in the -spring, the vista from the west front of the Capitol, -free verse, and the book of Job. There were really -no limits to Jane’s enthusiasms. She spoke again -of the percolator. “It’s as nice as a kettle on the -hob, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>Young Baldwin read on.</p> - -<p>“I simply <i>love</i> breakfast,” she continued.</p> - -<p>“Is there anything you don’t love, Janey?” with -a touch of irritation.</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>“You.”</p> - -<p>He stared at her over the top of the sheet. “I -like that!”</p> - -<p>“Well, you won’t talk to me, Baldy. It isn’t my -fault if you hate the world.”</p> - -<p>“No, it isn’t.” He laid down the paper. “But -I’ll tell you this, Janey, I’m about <i>through</i>.”</p> - -<p>She caught her breath, then flung out, “Oh, -you’re not. Be a good sport, Baldy. Things are -bound to come your way if you wait.”</p> - -<p>He gave a short laugh and rose. “I wish I had -your optimism.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you had.”</p> - -<p>They faced each other, looking for the moment -rather like two young cockerels. Jane’s bobbed -hair emphasized the boyish effect of her straight, -slim figure. Baldy towered above her, his black -hair matching hers, his eyes, too, matching—gray -and lighted-up.</p> - -<p>Jane was the first to turn her eyes away. She -looked at the clock. “You’ll be late.”</p> - -<p>He got his hat and coat and came back to her. -“I’m a blamed sorehead. Give me a kiss, Janey.”</p> - -<p>She gave it to him, and clung to him for a moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -“Don’t forget to bring a steak home for -dinner,” was all she said, but he was aware of the -caress of those clinging fingers.</p> - -<p>It was one of his grievances that he had to do -the marketing—one could not depend on Sherwood’s -single small store—so Baldy with dreams -in his head drove twice a week to the butcher’s -stall in the old Center Market to bring back chops, -or a porterhouse, or a festive small roast.</p> - -<p>He had no time for it in the mornings, however. -His little Ford took him over the country roads -and through the city streets and landed him at the -Patent Office at a quarter of nine. There, with a -half hour for lunch, he worked until five—it was -a dog’s life and he had other aspirations.</p> - -<p>Jane, left to herself, read the paper. One headline -was sensational. The bride of a fashionable -wedding had been deserted at the altar. The bridegroom -had failed to appear at the church. The -guests waiting impatiently in the pews had been informed, -finally, that the ceremony would be postponed.</p> - -<p>Newspaper men hunting for the bridegroom -learned that he had left a note for his best man—and -that he was on his way to southern waters. -The bride could not be seen. Her uncle, who was -also her guardian, and with whom she lived, had -stated that there was nothing to be said. That was -all. But society was on tiptoe. Delafield Simms -was the son of a rich New Yorker. He and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -bride were to have spent their honeymoon on his -yacht. Edith Towne had a fortune to match his. -Both of them belonged to old and aristocratic families. -No wonder people were talking.</p> - -<p>There was a picture of Miss Towne, a tall, fair -girl, in real lace, orange blossoms, seed pearls——.</p> - -<p>Pride was in every line of her. Jane’s tender -fancy carried her to that first breathless moment -when the bride had donned that gracious gown and -had surveyed herself in the mirror. “How happy -she must have been.” Then the final shuddering -catastrophe.</p> - -<p>Sophy arrived at this moment, and Jane told her -about it. “She’ll never dare trust anybody, will -she?”</p> - -<p>Sophy was wise, and she weighed the question -out of her wide experience of human nature. She -could not read or write, and she was dependent on -those around her for daily bulletins of the way the -big world went. But she had worked in many -families and had had a family of her own. So she -knew life, which is a bigger thing sometimes than -books.</p> - -<p>“Yo’ kain’t ever tell whut a woman will do, Miss -Janey. Effen she a trustin’ nature, she’ll trus’ and -trus’, and effen she ain’ a trustin’ nature, she won’t -trus’ nohow.”</p> - -<p>“But what do you suppose made him do it?”</p> - -<p>“Nobody knows whut a man’s gwine do, w’en it -comes to gittin’ married.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>“But to leave her like that, Sophy. I should -think she’d die.”</p> - -<p>“Effen the good Lord let women die w’en men -’ceived them,” Sophy proclaimed with a chuckle, -“dere wouldn’ be a female lef’ w’en the trump -sounded.” Her tray was piled high with dishes, as -she stood in the dining-room door. “Does you-all -want rice puddin’ fo’ dinnah, Miss Janey?”</p> - -<p>And there the subject dropped. But Jane -thought a great deal about it as she went on with -her work.</p> - -<p>She told her sister, Julia, about it when, late that -afternoon, she wrote her weekly letter.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“The worst of it must have been to lose her faith -in things. I’d rather be Jane Barnes without any -love affair than Edith Towne with a love affair like -that. Baldy told me the other day that I am not -unattractive! Can’t you see him saying it? And -he doesn’t think me pretty. Perhaps I’m not. But -there are moments, Judy, when I like myself——!</p> - -<p>“Baldy nearly had a fit when I bobbed my hair. -But I did it and took the consequences, and it’s no -end comfortable. Baldy at the present moment is -mid-Victorian. It is his reaction from the war. -He says he is dead sick of flappers. That they are -all alike—and make no appeal to the imagination! -He came home the other night from a dance and -read Tennyson—can you fancy that after the way -he used to fling Amy Lowell at us and Carl Sandburg? -He says he is so tired of short skirts and -knees and proposals and cigarettes that he is going -to hunt with a gun, if he ever decides to marry, for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -an Elaine or a Griselda! But the worst of it is, he -takes it out on me! I wish you’d see the way he -censors my clothes and my manners, and I sit here -like a prisoner in a tower with not a man in sight -but Evans Follette, and he is just a heartache, -Judy.</p> - -<p>“Baldy has had three proposals; he said that the -first was stimulating, but repetition ‘staled the interest’! -Of course he didn’t tell me the names of -the girls. Baldy’s not a cad.</p> - -<p>“But he is discouraged and desperately depressed. -He has such a big talent, Judy, and -he just slaves away at that old office. He says -that after those years in France, it seems like a -cage. I sometimes wonder what civilization is, -anyhow, that we clip the wings of our young eagles. -We take our boys and shut them up, and they pant -for freedom. Is that all that life is going to mean -for Baldy—eight hours a day—behind bars?</p> - -<p>“Yet I am trying to keep him at it until the -house is paid for. I don’t know whether I am right—but -it’s all we have—and both of us love it. He -hasn’t been able lately to work much at night, he’s -dead tired. But there’s a prize offer of a magazine -cover design, and I want him to compete. He says -there isn’t any use of his trying to do <i>anything</i> unless -he can give all of his time to it.</p> - -<p>“Of course you’ve heard all this before, but I -hear it every day. And I like to talk things out. -I must not write another line, dearest. And don’t -worry, Baldy will work like mad if the mood strikes -him.</p> - -<p>“Did I tell you that Evans Follette and his -mother are to dine with us on Thanksgiving Day? -We ought to have six guests to make things go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -But nobody will fit in with the Follettes. You -know why, so I needn’t explain.</p> - -<p>“Kiss both of the babies for me. Failing other -young things, I am going to have a Christmas tree -for the kitten. It’s a gay life, darling.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="gap">“Ever your own,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Jane</span>.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>The darkness had come by the time she had finished -her letter. She changed her frock for a thinner -one, wrapped herself in an old cape of orange-hued -cloth, and went out to lock up her chickens. -She had fed them before she wrote her letter, but -she always took this last look to be sure they were -safe.</p> - -<p>She passed through the still kitchen, where old -Sophy sat by the warm, bright range. There were -potatoes baking, and Sophy’s famous pudding. -“How good everything smells,” said Jane.</p> - -<p>She smiled at Sophy and went on. The wind -was blowing and the sky was clear. There had -been no snow, but there were little pools of ice -about, and Jane took each one with a slide. She -felt a tingling sense of youth and excitation. Back -of the garage was a shadowy grove of tall pines -which sang and sighed as the wind swept them. -There was a young moon above the pines. It -seemed to Jane that her soul was lifted to it. She -flung up her arms to the moon, and the yellow cape -billowed about her.</p> - -<p>The shed where the chickens were kept was back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -of the garage. When Jane opened the door, her -old Persian cat, Merrymaid, came out to her, and a -puff-ball of a kitten. Jane snapped on the lights -in the chicken-house and the biddies stirred. When -she snapped them off again, she heard them settle -back to sheltered slumber.</p> - -<p>The kitten danced ahead of her, and the old cat -danced too, as the wind whirled her great tail -about. “We won’t go in the house—we won’t go -in the house,” said Jane, in a sort of conversational -chant, as the pussies followed her down a path -which led through the pines. She often walked -at this hour—and she loved it best on nights like -this.</p> - -<p>She felt poignantly the beauty of it—the dark -pines and the little moon above them—the tug of -the wind at her cloak like a riotous playmate.</p> - -<p>Baldy was not the only poet in the family, but -Jane’s love of beauty was inarticulate. She would -never be able to write it on paper or draw it with a -pencil.</p> - -<p>Down the path she went, the two pussy-cats like -small shadows in her wake, until suddenly a voice -came out of the dark.</p> - -<p>“I believe it is little Jane Barnes.”</p> - -<p>She stopped. “Oh, is that you, Evans? Isn’t it -a heavenly night?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t talk that way.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>“Because an evening like this is like wine—it -goes to my head.”</p> - -<p>“You are like wine,” he told her. “Jane, how -do you do it?”</p> - -<p>“Do what?”</p> - -<p>“Hold the pose of youth and joy and happiness?”</p> - -<p>“You know it isn’t a pose. I just feel that way, -Evans.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, I believe you do.”</p> - -<p>He limped a little as he walked beside her. He -was tall and gaunt. Almost grotesquely tall. Yet -when he had gone to war he had not seemed in the -least grotesque. He had been tall but not thin, and -he had gone in all the glory of his splendid youth.</p> - -<p>There was no glory left. He was twenty-seven. -He had fought and he would fight again for the -same cause. But his youth was dead, except when -he was with Jane. She revived him, as he said, -like wine.</p> - -<p>“I was coming over,” he began, and broke off as -a sibilant sound interrupted him.</p> - -<p>“Oh, are the cats with you? Well, Rusty must -take the road,” he laughed as the little old dog -trotted to neutral ground at the edge of the grove. -Rusty was friends with Merrymaid, except when -there were kittens about. He knew enough to avoid -her in days of anxious motherhood.</p> - -<p>Jane picked up the kitten. “They would come.”</p> - -<p>“All animals follow you. You’re sort of a domestic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -Circe—with your dogs and chickens and -pussy-cats in the place of tigers and lions and -leopards.”</p> - -<p>“I’d love to have lived in Eden,” said Jane, unexpectedly, -“before Eve and Adam sinned. What -it must have meant to have all those great beasts -mild-mannered and purring under your hand like -this kitten. What a dreadful thing happened, -Evans, when fear came into the world.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you say that now, Jane?” His -voice was sharp.</p> - -<p>“Shouldn’t I have said it? Oh, Evans, you can’t -think I had you in mind——”</p> - -<p>“No,” with a touch of weariness, “but you are -the only one, really, who knows what a coward I -am——”</p> - -<p>“Evans, you’re not.”</p> - -<p>“You’re good to say it, but that’s what I came -over for. I am up against it again, Jane. Some -cousins are on from New York—they’re at the New -Willard—and Mother and I went in to see them -last night. They have invited us to go back with -them. They’ve a big house east of Fifth Avenue, -and they want us as their guests indefinitely. -They think it will do me a lot of good—get me out -of myself, they call it. But I can’t see it. Since I -came home—every time I think of facing mobs of -people”—again his voice grew sharp—“I’m -clutched by something I can’t describe. It is perfectly -unreasonable, but I can’t help it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>For a moment they walked in silence, then he -went on—“Mother’s very keen about it. She -thinks it will set me up. But I want to stay here—and -I thought if you’d talk to her, she’ll listen to -you, Jane—she always does.”</p> - -<p>“Does she know how you feel about it?”</p> - -<p>“No, I think not. I’ve never told her. I’ve -only spilled over to you now and then. It would -hurt Mother, no end, to know how changed I am.”</p> - -<p>Jane laid her hand on his arm. “You’re not. -Brace up, old dear. You aren’t dead yet.” As she -lifted her head to look up at him, the hood of her -cape slipped back, and the wind blew her soft, thick -hair against his cheek. “But I’ll talk to your -mother if you want me to. She is a great darling.”</p> - -<p>Jane meant what she said; she was really very -fond of Mrs. Follette. And in this she was unlike -the rest of the folk in Sherwood. Mrs. Follette -was extremely unpopular in the Park.</p> - -<p>They had reached the kitchen door. “Won’t you -come in?” Jane said.</p> - -<p>“No, I’ve got to get back. I only ran over for a -moment. I have to have a daily sip of you, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy’s bringing a steak for dinner. Help us -eat it.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry, but Mother would be alone.”</p> - -<p>“When shall I talk to her?”</p> - -<p>“There’s no hurry. The cousins are staying on -for the opening of Congress. Jane dear, don’t despise -me——” His voice broke.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>“Evans, as if I could.”</p> - -<p>Again her hand was on his arm. He laid his -own over it. “You’re the best ever, Janey,” he -said, huskily—and presently he went away.</p> - -<p>Jane, going in, found that Baldy had telephoned. -“He kain’t git here until seven,” Sophy told -her.</p> - -<p>“You had better run along home,” Jane told her. -“I’ll cook the steak when it comes.”</p> - -<p>Sophy was old and she was tired. Life hadn’t -been easy. The son who was to have been the prop -of her old age had been killed in France. There -was a daughter’s daughter who had gone north and -who now and then sent money. Old Sophy did not -know where her granddaughter got the money, but -it was good to have it when it came. But it was -not enough, so old Sophy worked.</p> - -<p>“I hates to leave you here alone, Miss Janey.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, run along, Sophy. Baldy will come before -I know it.”</p> - -<p>So Sophy went and Jane waited. Seven o’clock -arrived, with the dinner showing signs of deterioration. -Jane sat at the front window and watched. -The old cat watched, too, perched on the sill, and -gazing out into the dark with round, mysterious -eyes. The kitten slept on the hearth. Jane grew -restless and stood up, peering out. Then all at -once two round moons arose above the horizon, -were lost as the road dipped down, showed again -on the rise of the hill, and lighted the lawn as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -Baldy’s car made a half circle and swept into the -garage.</p> - -<p>Jane went through the kitchen to the back door, -throwing an appraising glance at the things in the -warming oven, and stood waiting on the threshold, -hugging herself in the keenness of the wind.</p> - -<p>Presently her brother’s tall form was silhouetted -against the silvery gray of the night.</p> - -<p>“I thought you were never coming,” she said to -him.</p> - -<p>“I thought so, too.” He bent and kissed her; -his cheek was cold as it touched hers.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you nearly frozen?”</p> - -<p>“No. Sorry to be late, honey. Get dinner on -the table and I’ll be ready——”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid things won’t be very appetizing,” -she told him; “they’ve waited so long. But I’ll -cook the steak——”</p> - -<p>He had gone on, and was beyond the sound of her -voice. She opened the fat parcel which he had deposited -on the kitchen table. She wondered a bit -at its size. But Baldy had a way of bringing home -unexpected bargains—a dozen boxes of crackers—unwieldy -pounds of coffee.</p> - -<p>But this was neither crackers nor coffee. The -box which was revealed bore the name of a fashionable -florist. Within were violets—single ones—set -off by one perfect rose and tied with a silver ribbon.</p> - -<p>Jane gasped—then she went to the door and -called:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>“Baldy, where’s the steak?”</p> - -<p>He came to the top of the stairs. “Great guns,” -he said, “I forgot it!”</p> - -<p>Then he saw the violets in her hands, laughed -and came down a step or two. “I sold a loaf of -bread and bought—white hyacinths——”</p> - -<p>“They’re heavenly!” Her glance swept up to -him. “Peace offering?”</p> - -<p>There were gay sparks in his eyes. “We’ll call -it that.”</p> - -<p>She blew a kiss to him from the tips of her fingers. -“They are perfectly sweet. And we can -have an omelette. Only if we eat any more eggs, -we’ll be flapping our wings.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care what we have. I am so hungry I -could eat a house.” He went back up the stairs, -laughing.</p> - -<p>Jane, breaking eggs into a bowl, meditated on -the nonchalance of men. She meditated, too, on -the mystery of Baldy’s mood. The flowers were -evidence of high exaltation. He did not often lend -himself to such extravagance.</p> - -<p>He came down presently and helped carry in the -belated dinner. The potatoes lay like withered -leaves in a silver dish, the cornbread was a wrinkled -wreck, the pudding a travesty. Only Jane’s -omelette and a lettuce salad had escaped the blight -of delay.</p> - -<p>Then, too, there was Philomel, singing. Jane -drew a cup of coffee, hot and strong, and set it at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -her brother’s place. The violets were in the center -of the table, the cats purring on the hearth.</p> - -<p>Jane loved her little home with almost passionate -intensity. She loved to have Baldy in a mood -like this—things right once more with his world.</p> - -<p>She knew it was so by the ring of his voice, the -cock of his head—hence she was not in the least -surprised when he leaned forward under the old-fashioned -spreading dome which drenched him with -light, and said, “I’ve such a lot to tell you, Jane; -the most amazing thing has happened.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br /> - -<small>A PRINCESS PASSES</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">When</span> young Baldwin Barnes had ridden out of -Sherwood that morning on his way to Washington, -his car had swept by fields which were crisp and -frozen; by clumps of trees whose pointed tops cut -into the clear blue of the sky; over ice-bound -streams, all shining silver in the early sunlight.</p> - -<p>It was very cold, and his little car was open to -the weather. But he felt no chill. He wore the -mustard-colored top-coat which had been his lieutenant’s -garb in the army. The collar was turned -up to protect his ears. His face showed pink -and wedge-shaped between his soft hat and his -collar.</p> - -<p>He had the eye of an artist, and he liked the ride. -Even in winter the countryside was attractive—and -as the road slipped away, there came a few big -houses surrounded by wide grounds, with glimpses -through their high hedges of white statues, of -spired cedars, of sun-dials set in the midst of dead -gardens.</p> - -<p>Beyond these there was an arid stretch until the -Lake was reached, then the links of one country -club, the old buildings of another, and at last on -the crest of a hill, a view of the city—sweeping on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -the right towards Arlington and on the left towards -Soldiers’ Home.</p> - -<p>Turning into Sixteenth Street, he crossed a -bridge with its buttresses guarded by stone panthers—and -it was on this bridge that his car -stopped.</p> - -<p>Climbing out, he blamed Fate furiously. Years -afterward, however, he dared not think of the difference -it might have made if his little flivver had -not failed him.</p> - -<p>He raised the hood and tapped and tinkered. -Now and then he stopped to stamp his feet or beat -his hands together. And he said things under his -breath. He would be late at the office—life was -just one—darned thing—after another!</p> - -<p>Once when he stopped, a woman passed him. -She was tall and slender and wrapped up to her -ears in moleskin. Her small hat was blue, from -her hand swung a gray suede bag, her feet were in -gray shoes with cut-steel buckles.</p> - -<p>Baldy’s quick eyes took in the details of her costume. -He reflected as he went back to work that -women were fools to court death in that fashion, -with thin slippers and silk stockings, in this bitter -weather.</p> - -<p>He found the trouble, fixed it, jumped into his -car and started his motor. And it was just as he -was moving that his eye was caught by a spot of -blue bobbing down the hill below the bridge. The -woman who had passed him was making her way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -slowly along the slippery path. On each side of -her the trees were brown and bare. At the foot of -the hill was a thread of frozen water.</p> - -<p>It was not usual at this time to see pedestrians -in that place. Now and then a workman took a -short cut—or on warm days there were picnic -parties—but to follow the rough paths in winter -was a bleak and arduous adventure.</p> - -<p>He stayed for a moment to watch her, then suddenly -left his car and ran. The girl in the blue hat -had caught her high heels in a root, had stumbled -and fallen.</p> - -<p>When he reached her, she was struggling to her -feet. He helped her, and picked up the bag which -she had dropped.</p> - -<p>“Thank you so much.” Her voice was low and -pleasing. He saw that she was young, that her -skin was very fair, and that the hair which swept -over her ears was pale gold, but most of all, he saw -that her eyes were burning blue. He had never -seen eyes quite like them. The old poets would -have called them sapphire, but sapphires do not -flame.</p> - -<p>“It was so silly of me to try to do it,” she was -protesting, “but I thought it might be a short -cut——”</p> - -<p>He wondered what her destination might be that -this remote path should lead to it. But all he said -was, “High heels aren’t made for—mountain -climbing——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>“They aren’t made for anything,” she said, looking -down at the steel-buckled slippers, “useful.”</p> - -<p>“Let me help you up the hill.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to go up.”</p> - -<p>He surveyed the steep incline. “I am perfectly -sure you don’t want to go down.”</p> - -<p>“I do,” she hesitated, “but I suppose I can’t.”</p> - -<p>He had a sudden inspiration. “Can I take you -anywhere? My little flivver is up there on the -bridge. Would you mind that?”</p> - -<p>“Would I mind if a life-line were thrown to me -in mid-ocean?” She said it lightly, but he fancied -there was a note of high hope.</p> - -<p>They went up the hill together. “I want to get -an Alexandria car,” she told him.</p> - -<p>“But you are miles away from it.”</p> - -<p>“Am I?” She showed momentary confusion. -“I—hoped I might reach it through the Park——”</p> - -<p>“You might. But you might also freeze to death -in the attempt like a babe in the wood, without any -robins to perform the last melancholy rites. What -made you think of such a thing?”</p> - -<p>He saw at once his mistake. Her voice had a -touch of frigidity. “I can’t tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” he said abruptly. “You must forgive -me.”</p> - -<p>She melted. “No, it is I who should be forgiven. -It must look strange to you—but I’d rather -not—explain——”</p> - -<p>On the last steep rise of the hill he lifted her over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -a slippery pool, and as his hand sank into the soft -fur of her wrap, he was conscious of its luxury. It -seemed to him that his mustard-colored coat fairly -shouted incongruity. His imagination swept on to -Raleigh, and the velvet cloak which might do the -situation justice. He smiled at himself and smiling, -too, at her, felt a tingling sense of coming circumstance.</p> - -<p>It was because of that smile, and the candid, boyish -quality of it, that she trusted him. “Do you -know,” she said, “I haven’t had a thing to eat this -morning, and I’m frightfully hungry. Is there any -place that I could have a cup of coffee—where you -could bring it out to me in the car?”</p> - -<p>“Could I?” the morning stars sang. “There’s -a corking place in Georgetown.”</p> - -<p>“Without the world looking on?”</p> - -<p>“Without <i>your</i> world looking on,” boldly.</p> - -<p>She hesitated, then told the truth. “I’m running -away——”</p> - -<p>He was eager. “May I help?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps you wouldn’t if you knew.”</p> - -<p>“Try me.”</p> - -<p>He helped her into his car, tucked the rug about -her, and put up the curtains. “No one can see you -on the back seat,” he said, and drove to Georgetown -on the wings of the wind.</p> - -<p>He brought coffee out to her from a neat shop -where milk was sold, and buns, and hot drinks, to -motormen and conductors. It was a clean little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -place, fresh as paint, and the buttered rolls were -brown and crisp.</p> - -<p>“I never tasted anything so good,” the runaway -told Baldy. “And now I am going to ask you to -drive me over the Virginia side—I’ll get the trolley -there.”</p> - -<p>When at last he drew up at a little way station, -and unfastened the curtain, he was aware that she -had opened the suede bag and had a roll of bills in -her hand. For a moment his heart failed him. -Was she going to offer him money?</p> - -<p>But what she said, with cheeks flaming, was: -“I haven’t anything less than ten dollars. Do you -think they will take it?”</p> - -<p>“It’s doubtful. I have oodles of change.” He -held out a handful of silver.</p> - -<p>“Thank you so much, and—you must let me have -your card——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, please——”</p> - -<p>Her voice had an edge of sharpness. “Of course -it must be a loan.”</p> - -<p>He handed her his card in silence. She read the -name. “Mr. Barnes, you have been very kind. I -am tremendously grateful.”</p> - -<p>“It was not kindness—but now and then a princess -passes.”</p> - -<p>For a breathless moment her amazed glance met -his—then the clang of a bell heralded an approaching -car.</p> - -<p>As he helped her out hurriedly she stumbled over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -the rug. He caught her up, lifted her to the -ground, and motioned to the motorman.</p> - -<p>The car stopped and she mounted the steps. -“Good-bye, and thank you so much.” He stood -back and she waved to him while he watched her -out of sight.</p> - -<p>His work at the office that morning had dreams -for an accompaniment. He went out at lunch-time -but ate nothing. It was at lunch-time that he -bought the violets—paying an unthinkable price -for them, and not caring.</p> - -<p>He had wild thoughts of following the road to -Alexandria—of finding his Juliet on some balcony -and climbing up to her. Or of sending the flowers -forth addressed largely to “A Princess who passed.” -One could not, however, be sure of an uncomprehending -mail service. He would need more definite -appellation.</p> - -<p>He had not, indeed, bought the flowers for Jane. -He had had no thought of his sister as he passed the -florist’s window. He had been drawn into the shop -by the association of ideas—when he entered all the -scent and sweetness seemed to belong to a garden -in which his lady walked.</p> - -<p>He did not eat any lunch, and he took the box of -violets back with him to the office, wrapped to prodigious -size to protect it from the cold. It was an -object of much curiosity to his fellow-clerks as it -sat on the window-sill. They all wanted to know -who it was for, and one of the abhorred flappers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -who, at times, took Baldy’s dictation, tried to peep -between the covers.</p> - -<p>He felt that her glance would be desecration. -What did she know of delicate fragrances? Her -perfumes were oriental, and she used a lipstick!</p> - -<p>He managed, however, to carry the thing off -lightly. He was, in the opinion of the office, a gay -and companionable chap. They knew nothing of -his reactions. And he was popular.</p> - -<p>So now he said to the girl, “If you’ll let -that alone, I’ll bring a box of chocolates for the -crowd.”</p> - -<p>“Why can’t I look at it?”</p> - -<p>“Because curiosity is a deadly sin. You know -what happened to Bluebeard’s wife?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Bluebeard.” She had read of him, she -thought, in the Paris papers. He had killed a lot -of wives. She giggled a little in deference to the -spiciness of the subject. Then pinned him down to -his promise of sweets. “You know the kind we -like?”</p> - -<p>“This week?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Butter creams.”</p> - -<p>“Last week it was the nut kind. One never -knows. I should think you ought to standardize -your tastes.”</p> - -<p>“That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? It’s much -more exciting to change.”</p> - -<p>He went back to his work and forgot her. She -was one of the butterflies who had flitted to Washington<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -during the war, and had set that conservative -city by the ears in defiance of tradition.</p> - -<p>It was these young women who had eaten their -lunches within the sacred precincts of Lafayette -Square, draping themselves on its statues at noon-time, -and strewing its immaculate sward with -broken boxes and bags, who had worn sheer and insufficient -clothing, had motored under the moon -and without a moon, unchaperoned, until morning, -and had come through it all a little damaged, perhaps, -as to ideals, but having made a definite impress -on the life of the capital. The days of the -cave-dwellers were dead. For better, for worse, -the war-worker and the women of old Washington -had been swept out together from a safe and snug -harbor into the raging seas of social readjustment.</p> - -<p>It was after office that Baldy carried the flowers -to his car. He set the box on the back seat. In -the hurry of the morning he had forgotten the rug -which still lay where his fair passenger had stumbled -over it. He picked it up and something -dropped from its folds. It was the gray suede bag, -half open, and showing the roll of bills. Beneath -the roll of bills was a small sheer handkerchief, a -vanity case with a pinch of powder and a wee puff, -a new check-book—and, negligently at the very bottom, -a ring—a ring of such enchantment that as it -lay in Baldy’s hand, he doubted its reality. The -hoop was of platinum, slender, yet strong enough -to bear up a carved moonstone in a circle of diamonds.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -The carving showed a delicate Psyche—with -a butterfly on her shoulder. The diamonds -blazed like small suns.</p> - -<p>Inside the ring was an inscription—“Del to -Edith—Forever.”</p> - -<p><i>Del to Edith?</i> Where had he seen those names? -With a sudden flash of illumination, he dropped -the ring back into the bag, stuffed the bag in his -pocket, and made his way to a newsboy at the -corner.</p> - -<p>There it was in startling headlines: <i>Edith Towne -Disappears. Delafield Simms’ Yacht Said to Have -Been Sighted Near Norfolk!</i></p> - -<p>So his passenger had been the much-talked-about -Edith Towne—deserted at the moment of her marriage!</p> - -<p>He thought of her eyes of burning blue,—the -fairness of her skin and hair—the touch of haughtiness. -Simms was a cur, of course! He should -have knelt at her feet!</p> - -<p>The thing to do was to get the bag back to -her. He must advertise at once. On the wings of -this decision, his car whirled down the Avenue. -The lines which, after much deliberation, he pushed -across the counter of the newspaper office, would be -ambiguous to others, but clear to her. “Will passenger -who left bag with valuable contents in Ford -car call up Sherwood Park 49.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br /> - -<small>JANE KNITS</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">“Is</span> she really as beautiful as that?” Jane demanded.</p> - -<p>“As what?”</p> - -<p>“Her picture in the paper.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t I said enough for you to know it?”</p> - -<p>Jane nodded. “Yes. But it doesn’t sound real -to me. Are you sure you didn’t dream it?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say I didn’t. Isn’t that the proof?” The -gray bag lay on the table in front of them, the ring -was on Jane’s finger.</p> - -<p>She turned it to catch the light. “Baldy,” she -said, “it’s beyond imagination.”</p> - -<p>“I told you——”</p> - -<p>“Think of having a ring like this——”</p> - -<p>“Think,” fiercely, “of having a lover who ran -away.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jane, “there are some advantages -in being—unsought. I’m like the Miller-ess of -Dee—</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“I care for nobody—</div> -<div class="verse">No, not I,</div> -<div class="verse">Since nobody</div> -<div class="verse">Cares—</div> -<div class="verse">For me——!”</div> -</div></div> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>She sang it with a light boyish swing of her body. -Her voice was girlish and sweet, with a touch of -huskiness.</p> - -<p>Baldy flung his scorn at her. “Jane, aren’t you -ever in earnest?”</p> - -<p>“Intermittently,” she smiled at him, came over -and tucked her arm in his. “Baldy,” she coaxed, -“aren’t you going to tell her uncle?”</p> - -<p>He stared at her. “Her uncle? Tell him what?”</p> - -<p>“That you’ve found the bag.”</p> - -<p>He flung off her arm. “Would you have me turn -traitor?”</p> - -<p>“Heavens, Baldy, this isn’t melodrama. It’s -common sense. You can’t keep that bag.”</p> - -<p>“I can keep it until she answers my advertisement.”</p> - -<p>“She may never see your advertisement, and the -money isn’t yours, and the ring isn’t.”</p> - -<p>He was troubled. “But she trusted me. I can’t -do it.”</p> - -<p>Jane shrugged her shoulders, and began to clear -away the dinner things. Baldy helped her. Old -Merrymaid mewed to go out, and Jane opened the -door.</p> - -<p>“It’s snowing hard,” she said.</p> - -<p>The wind drove the flakes across the threshold. -Old Merrymaid danced back into the house, bright-eyed -and round as a muff. The air was freezing.</p> - -<p>“It is going to be a dreadful night,” young Baldwin, -heavy with gloom, prophesied. He thought of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -Edith, in the storm in her buckled shoes. Had -she found shelter? Was she frightened and alone -somewhere in the dark?</p> - -<p>He went into the living-room, whence Jane presently -followed him. Jane was knitting a sweater -and she worked while Baldy read to her. He read -the full account of Edith Towne’s flight. She had -gone away early in the morning. The maid, taking -her breakfast up to her, had found the room empty. -She had left a note for her uncle. But he had not -permitted its publication. He was, they said, wild -with anxiety.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet he’s an old tyrant,” was Baldy’s comment.</p> - -<p>Frederick Towne’s picture was in the paper. “I -like his face,” said Jane, “and he doesn’t seem so -frightfully old.”</p> - -<p>“Why should she run away from him, if he -wasn’t a tyrant?” he demanded furiously.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t scold me.” Jane was as vivid as an -oriole in the midst of her orange wools.</p> - -<p>She loved color. The living-room was an expression -of it. Its furniture was old-fashioned but not -old-fashioned enough to be lovely. Jane had, however, -modified its lack of grace and its dull monotonies -by covers of chintz—tropical birds against -black and white stripes—and there was a lamp of -dull blue pottery with a Chinese shade. A fire in -the coal grate, with the glow of the lamp, gave the -room a look of burnished brightness. The kitten,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -curled up in Jane’s lap, played cozily with the -tawny threads.</p> - -<p>“Don’t scold me,” said Jane, “it isn’t my fault.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not scolding, but I’m worried to death. -And you aren’t any help, are you?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him in astonishment. “I’ve tried -to help. I told you to call up.”</p> - -<p>Young Baldwin walked the floor.</p> - -<p>“She trusted me.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t get anywhere with that,” said Jane -with decision. “The thing to do is to tell Mr. -Towne that you have news of her, and that you’ll -give it only under promise that he won’t do anything -until he has talked it over with you.”</p> - -<p>“That sounds better,” said young Baldwin; -“how did you happen to think of it?”</p> - -<p>“Now and then,” said Jane, “I have ideas.”</p> - -<p>Baldy went to the telephone. When he came -back his eyes were like gray moons. “He promised -everything, and he’s coming out——”</p> - -<p>“Here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he wouldn’t wait until to-morrow. He’s -wild about her——”</p> - -<p>“Well, he would be.” Jane mentally surveyed -the situation. “Baldy, I’m going to make some -coffee, and have some cheese and crackers.”</p> - -<p>“He may not want them.”</p> - -<p>“On a cold night like this, I’ll say he will; anybody -would.”</p> - -<p>Baldy helped Jane get out the round-bellied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -silver pot, the pitchers and tray. The young people -had a sense of complacency as they handled the -old silver. Frederick Towne could have nothing of -more distinguished history. It had belonged to their -great-grandmother, Dabney, who was really D’Aubigne, -and it had graced an Emperor’s table. Each -piece had a monogram set in an engraved wreath. -The big tray was so heavy that Jane lifted it with -difficulty, so Baldy set it for her on the little mahogany -table which they drew up in front of the -fire. There was no wealth now in the Barnes family, -but the old silver spoke of a time when a young -hostess as black-haired as Jane had dispensed lavish -hospitality.</p> - -<p>Frederick Towne had not expected what he -found—the little house set high on its terraces -seemed to give from its golden-lighted window -squares a welcome in the dark. “I shan’t be long, -Briggs,” he said to his chauffeur.</p> - -<p>“Very good, sir,” said Briggs, and led the way -up the terrace.</p> - -<p>Baldy ushered Towne into the living-room, and -Frederick, standing on the threshold, surveyed a -coziness which reminded him of nothing so much as -a color illustration in some old English magazine. -There was the coal grate, the table drawn up to the -fire, the twinkling silver on its massive tray, violets -in a low vase—and rising to meet him a slender, -glowing child, with a banner of orange wool behind -her.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>“Jane,” said young Barnes, “may I present Mr. -Towne?” and Jane held out her hand and said, -“This is very good of you.”</p> - -<p>He found himself unexpectedly gracious. He -was not always gracious. He had felt that he -couldn’t be. A man with money and position had -to shut himself up sometimes in a shell of reserve, -lest he be imposed upon.</p> - -<p>But in this warmth and fragrance he expanded. -“What a charming room,” he said, and smiled at -her.</p> - -<p>Her first view of him confirmed the opinion she -formed from his picture. He was apparently not -over forty, a stocky, well-built, ruddy man, with -fair hair that waved crisply, and with clear blue -eyes, lighter, she learned afterward, than Edith’s, -but with just a hint of that burning blue. He had -the air of indefinable finish which speaks of a life -spent in the right school and the right college, and -the right clubs, of a background of generations of -good blood and good breeding. He wore evening -clothes, and one knew somehow that dinner never -found him without them.</p> - -<p>Yet in spite of these evidences of pomp and circumstance, -Jane felt perfectly at ease with him. -He was, after all, she reflected, only a gentleman, -and Baldy was that. The only difference lay in -their divergent incomes. So, as the two men talked, -she knitted on, with the outward effect of placidity.</p> - -<p>“Do you want me to go?” she had asked them,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -and Towne had replied promptly, “Certainly not. -There’s nothing we have to say that you can’t -hear.”</p> - -<p>So Jane listened with all her ears, and modified -the opinion she had formed of Frederick Towne -from his picture and from her first glimpse of him. -He was nice to talk to, but he might be hard to live -with. He had obstinacy and egotism.</p> - -<p>“Why Edith should have done it amazes me.”</p> - -<p>Jane, naughtily remembering the Admiral’s song -from Pinafore which had been her father’s favorite, -found it beating in her head—<i>My amazement, -my surprise, you may learn from the expression of -my eyes——</i></p> - -<p>But no hint of this showed in her manner.</p> - -<p>“She was hurt,” she said, “and she wanted to -hide.”</p> - -<p>“But people seem to think that in some way it is -my fault. I don’t like that. It isn’t fair. We’ve -always been the best of friends—more like brother -and sister than niece and uncle.”</p> - -<p>“But not like Baldy and me,” said Jane to herself, -“not in the least like Baldy and me.”</p> - -<p>“Of course Simms ought to be shot,” Towne told -them heatedly.</p> - -<p>“He ought to be hanged,” was Baldy’s amendment.</p> - -<p>Jane’s needles clicked, but she said nothing. She -was dying to tell these bloodthirsty males what she -thought of them. What good would it do to shoot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -Delafield Simms? A woman’s hurt pride isn’t to -be healed by the thought of a man’s dead body.</p> - -<p>Young Baldwin brought out the bag. “It is one -that Delafield gave her,” Frederick stated, “and I -cashed a check for her at the bank the day before -the wedding. I can’t imagine why she took the -ring with her.”</p> - -<p>“She probably forgot to take it off; her mind -wasn’t on <i>rings</i>.” Jane’s voice was warm with -feeling.</p> - -<p>He looked at her with some curiosity. “What -was it on?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, her heart was broken. Nothing else mattered. -Can’t you see?”</p> - -<p>He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. “I -don’t believe it was broken. I hardly think she -loved him.”</p> - -<p>Baldy blazed, “But why should she marry him?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, it was a good match. A very good -match. And Edith’s not in the least emotional——”</p> - -<p>“Really?” said Jane pleasantly.</p> - -<p>Baldy was silent. Was Frederick Towne blind -to the wonders that lay behind those eyes of burning -blue?</p> - -<p>Jane swept them back to the matter of the bag. -“We thought you ought to have it, Mr. Towne, but -Baldy had scruples about revealing anything he -knows about Miss Towne’s hiding-place. He feels -that she trusted him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>“You said you had advertised, Mr. Barnes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the one thing is to get her home. Tell -her that if she calls you up.” Frederick looked -suddenly tired and old.</p> - -<p>Baldy, leaning against the mantel, gazed down at -him. “It’s hard to decide what I ought to do. -But I feel that I’m right in giving her a chance first -to answer the advertisement.”</p> - -<p>Towne’s tone showed a touch of irritation. “Of -course you’ll have to act as you think best.”</p> - -<p>And now Jane took things in her own hands. -“Mr. Towne, I’m going to make you a cup of coffee.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be very grateful,” he smiled at her. -What a charming child she was! He was soothed -and refreshed by the atmosphere they created. -This boy and girl were a friendly pair and he loved -his ease. His own house, since Edith’s departure, -had been funereal, and his friends had been divided -in their championship between himself and Edith. -But the young Barneses were so pleasantly responsive -with their lighted-up eyes and their little -air of making him one with them. Edith had always -seemed to put him quite definitely on the -shelf. With little Jane and her brother he had a -feeling of equality of age.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he spoke impulsively, “may I tell -you all about it? It would relieve my mind immensely.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>To Jane it was a thrilling moment. Having -poured the coffee, she came out from behind her -battlement of silver and sat in her chintz chair. -She did not knit; she was enchanted by the tale -that Towne was telling. She sat very still, her -hands folded, the tropical birds about her. To -Frederick she seemed like a bird herself—slim and -lovely, and with a voice that sang!</p> - -<p>Towne was not an impressionable man. His -years of bachelorhood had hardened him to feminine -arts. But here was no artfulness. Jane assumed -nothing. She was herself. As he talked to -her, he became aware of some stirred emotion. An -almost youthful eagerness to shine as the hero of -his tale. If he embroidered the theme, it was for -her benefit. What he told was as he saw it. But -what he told was not the truth, nor even half of it.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br /> - -<small>BEAUTY WAITS</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Edith Towne</span> had lived with her Uncle Frederick -nearly four years when she became engaged to -Delafield Simms. Her mother was dead, as was -her father. Frederick was her father’s only -brother, and had a big house to himself, after his -mother’s death. It seemed the only haven for his -niece, so he asked her, and asked also his father’s -cousin, Annabel Towne, to keep house for him, and -chaperone Edith.</p> - -<p>Annabel was over sixty, and rather indefinite, -but she served to play propriety, and there was -nothing else demanded of her in Frederick’s household -of six servants. She was a dried-up and -desiccated person, with fixed ideas of what one -owed to society. Frederick’s mother had been like -that, so he did not mind. He rather liked to think -that the woman of his family kept to old ideals. It -gave to things an air of dignity.</p> - -<p>Edith, when she came, was different. So different -that Frederick was glad that she had three -more years at college before she would spend the -winters with him. The summers were not hard to -arrange. Edith and Annabel adjourned to the -Towne cottage on an island in Maine—and Frederick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -went up for week-ends and for the month of -August. Edith spent much time out-of-doors with -her young friends. She was rather fond of her -Uncle Fred, but he did not loom large on the horizon -of her youthful occupations.</p> - -<p>Then came her winter at home, and her consequent -engagement to Delafield Simms. It was because -of Uncle Fred that she became engaged. She -simply didn’t want to live with him any more. She -felt that Uncle Fred would be glad to have her go, -and the feeling was mutual. She was an elephant -on his hands. Naturally. He was a great old -dear, but he was a Turk. He didn’t know it, of -course. But his ideas of being master of his own -house were perfectly archaic. Cousin Annabel and -the servants, and everybody in his office simply -hung on his words, and Edith wouldn’t hang. She -came into his bachelor Paradise like a rather troublesome -Eve, and demanded her share of the universe. -He didn’t like it, and there you were.</p> - -<p>It was really Uncle Fred who wanted her to -marry Delafield Simms. He talked about it a lot. -At first Edith wouldn’t listen. But Delafield was -persistent and patient. He came gradually to be -as much of a part of her everyday life as the meals -she ate or the car she drove. Uncle Fred was always -inviting him. He was forever on hand, and -when he wasn’t she missed him.</p> - -<p>They felt for each other, she decided, the thing -called “love.” It was not, perhaps, the romance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -which one found in books. But she had been -taught carefully at college to distrust romance. -The emphasis had been laid on the transient quality -of adolescent emotion. One married for the -sake of the race, and one chose, quite logically, -with one’s head instead, as in the old days, with the -heart.</p> - -<p>So there you had it. Delafield was eligible. He -was healthy, had brains enough, an acceptable code -of morals—and was willing to let her have her own -way. If there were moments when Edith wondered -if this program was adequate to wedded bliss, she -put the thought aside. She and Delafield liked -each other no end. Why worry?</p> - -<p>And really at times Uncle Fred was impossible. -His mother had lived until he was thirty-five, she -had adored him, and had passed on to Cousin Annabel -and to the old servants in the house the formula -by which she had made her son happy. Her -one fear had been that he might marry. He was -extremely popular, much sought after. But he -had kept his heart at home. His sweetheart, he -had often said, was silver-haired and over sixty. -He basked in her approbation; was soothed and -sustained by it.</p> - -<p>Then she had died, and Edith had come, and -things had been different.</p> - -<p>The difference had been demonstrated in a dozen -ways. Edith was pleasantly affectionate, but she -didn’t yield an inch. “Dear Uncle Fred,” she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -would ask, when they disagreed on matters of manners -or morals, or art or athletics, or religion or the -lack of it, “isn’t my opinion as good as yours?”</p> - -<p>“Apparently my opinion isn’t worth anything.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes it is—but you must let me have mine.”</p> - -<p>Her independence met his rules and broke them. -Her frankness of speech came up against his polite -reticences and they both said things.</p> - -<p>Frederick, of course, blamed Edith when she -made him forget his manners. They had, he held, -been considered perfect. Edith retorted that they -had, perhaps, never been challenged. “It is easy -enough, of course, when everybody gives in to you.”</p> - -<p>She had brought into his house an atmosphere of -modernity which appalled him. She went and -came as she pleased, would not be bound by old -standards.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Uncle Fred,” she would say when he protested, -“the war changed things. Women of to-day -aren’t sheep.”</p> - -<p>“The women of our family,” her uncle would begin, -to be stopped by the scornful retort, “Why do -you want the women of your family to be different -from the others you go with?”</p> - -<p>She had him there. His sophistication matched -that of the others of his set. Socially he was -neither a Puritan nor a Pharisee. It was only -under his own roof that he became patriarchal.</p> - -<p>Yet, as time went on, he learned that Edith’s -faults were tempered by her fastidiousness. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -did not confuse liberty and license. She neither -smoked nor drank. There was about her dancing -a fine and stately quality which saved it from sensuousness. -Yet when he told her things, there was -always that irritating shrug of the shoulders. -“Oh, well, I’m not a rowdy,—you know that. But -I like to play around.”</p> - -<p>His pride in her grew—in her burnished hair, the -burning blue of her eyes, her great beauty, the fineness -of her spirit, the integrity of her character.</p> - -<p>Yet he sighed with relief when she told him of -her engagement to Delafield Simms. He loved her, -but none the less he felt the strain of her presence -in his establishment. It would be like sinking back -into the luxury of a feather bed, to take up the old -life where she had entered it.</p> - -<p>And Edith, too, welcomed her emancipation. -“When I marry you,” she told Delafield, “I am -going to break all the rules. In Uncle Fred’s house -everything runs by clockwork, and it is he who -winds the clock.”</p> - -<p>Delafield laughed and kissed her. He was like -the rest of the men of his generation, apparently -acquiescent. Yet the chances were that when -Edith was his wife, he, too, would wind the clock!</p> - -<p>Their engagement was one of mutual freedom. -Edith did as she pleased, Delafield did as he -pleased. They rarely clashed. And as the wedding -day approached, they were pleasantly complacent.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>Delafield, dictating a letter one day to Frederick -Towne’s stenographer, spoke of his complacency. -He was writing to Bob Sterling, who was to be his -best man, and who shared his apartment in New -York. Delafield was an orphan, and had big money -interests. He felt that Washington was tame compared -to the metropolis. He and Edith were to -live one block east of Fifth Avenue, in a house that -he had bought for her.</p> - -<p>When he was in Washington he occupied a desk -in Frederick’s office. Lucy Logan took his dictation. -She had been for several years with Towne. -She was twenty-three, well-groomed, and self-possessed. -She had slender, flexible fingers, and Delafield -liked to look at them. She had soft brown -hair, and her profile, as she bent over her book, was -clear-cut and composed.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Edith and I are great pals,” he dictated. “I -rather think we are going to hit it off famously. -I’d hate to have a woman hang around my neck. -And I want you for my best man. I know it is asking -a lot, but it’s just once in a lifetime, old chap.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Lucy wrote that and waited with her pencil -poised.</p> - -<p>“That’s about all,” said Delafield.</p> - -<p>Lucy shut up her book and rose.</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute,” Delafield decided. “I want to -add a postscript.”</p> - -<p>Lucy sat down.</p> - - - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>“By the way,” Delafield dictated, “I wish you’d -order the flowers at Tolley’s. White orchids for -Edith of course. He’ll know the right thing for -the bridesmaids—I’ll get Edith to send him the -color scheme——”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Lucy’s pencil dashed and dotted. She looked -up, hesitated. “Miss Towne doesn’t care for orchids.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>She fluttered the leaves of her notebook and -found an order from Towne to a local florist. “He -says here, ‘Anything but orchids—she doesn’t like -them.’”</p> - -<p>“But I’ve been sending her orchids every week.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she didn’t want to tell you——”</p> - -<p>“And you think I should have something else for -the wedding bouquet?”</p> - -<p>“I think she might like it better.” There was a -faint flush on her cheek.</p> - -<p>“What would you suggest?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t be sure what Miss Towne would like.”</p> - -<p>“What would you like?” intently.</p> - -<p>She considered it seriously—her slender fingers -clasped on her book. “I think,” she told him, -finally, “that if I were going to marry a man I -should want what he wanted.”</p> - -<p>He laughed and leaned forward. “Good heavens, -are there any women like that left in the -world?”</p> - -<p>Her flush deepened, she rose and went towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -the door. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything.”</p> - -<p>His voice changed. “Indeed, I am glad you -did.” He had risen and now held the door open -for her. “We men are stupid creatures. I should -never have found it out for myself.”</p> - -<p>She went away, and he sat there thinking about -her. Her impersonal manner had always been perfect, -and he had found her little flush charming.</p> - -<p>It was because of Lucy Logan, therefore, that -Edith had white violets instead of orchids in her -wedding bouquet. And it was because, too, of Lucy -Logan, that other things happened. Three of -Edith’s bridesmaids were house-guests. Their -names were Rosalind, Helen and Margaret. They -had, of course, last names, but these have nothing -to do with the story. They had been Edith’s classmates -at college, and she had been somewhat democratic -in her selection of them.</p> - -<p>“They are perfect dears, Uncle Fred. I’ll have -three cave-dwellers to balance them. Socially, I -suppose, it will be a case of sheep and goats, but the -goats are—darling.”</p> - -<p>They were, however, the six of them, what Delafield -called a bunch of beauties. Their bridesmaid -gowns were exquisite—but unobtrusive. The -color scheme was blue and silver—and the flowers, -forget-me-nots and sweet peas. “It’s a bit old-fashioned,” -Edith said, “but I hate sensational effects.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>Neither the sheep nor the goats agreed with her. -Their ideas were different—the goats holding out -for something impressionistic, the sheep for ceremonial -splendor.</p> - -<p>There was to be a wedding breakfast at the house. -Things were therefore given over early to the decorators -and caterers, and coffee and rolls were -served in everybody’s room. Belated wedding -presents kept coming, and Edith and her bridal attendants -might be seen at all times on the stairs or -in the hall in silken morning coats and delicious -caps.</p> - -<p>When the wedding bouquet arrived Edith sought -out her uncle in his study on the second floor.</p> - -<p>“Look at this,” she said; “how in the world did -it happen that he sent white violets? Did you tell -him, Uncle Fred?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Sure?”</p> - -<p>“Cross my heart.”</p> - -<p>They had had their joke about Del’s orchids. -“If he knew how I hated them,” Edith would say, -and Uncle Fred would answer, “Why don’t you tell -him?”</p> - -<p>But she had never told, because after all it didn’t -much matter, and if Delafield felt that orchids were -the proper thing, why muddle up his mind with her -preferences?</p> - -<p>“Anyhow,” she said now, “I am glad my wedding -bouquet is different.” As she stood there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -lovely in her sheer draperies, the fragrant mass of -flowers in her arms, her eyes looked at him over the -top, wistfully. “Uncle Fred,” she asked, unexpectedly, -“do you love me?”</p> - -<p>“Of course——”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t say it that way——” Her voice -caught.</p> - -<p>“How shall I say it?”</p> - -<p>“As if you—cared.”</p> - -<p>He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. -“My dear child,” he said, “I do.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve been no end good to me,” she said, and -dropped the bouquet on a chair and clung to him, -sobbing.</p> - -<p>He held her in his arms and soothed her. “Being -a bride is a bit nerve-racking.”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “And I mustn’t let my eyes get -red.”</p> - -<p>She kissed him shyly on the cheek. They had -never indulged much in kisses. He felt if she had -always been as sweetly feminine, he should have -been sorry to have her marry.</p> - -<p>He did not see her again until she was in her -wedding gown, composed and smiling.</p> - -<p>“Has Del called you up?” he asked her.</p> - -<p>“No, why should he?”</p> - -<p>He laughed. “Oh, well, you’ll have plenty to -say to each other afterward.” But the thought intruded -that with such a bride a man might show -himself, on this day of days, ardent and eager.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>Rosalind and Helen and Margaret, shimmering, -opalescent, their young eyes radiant under their -wide hats, joined the other bridesmaids in the great -limousine which was to take them to the church. -Cousin Annabel went with other cousins. Edith -and her uncle were alone in their car. Frederick’s -man, Briggs, who had been the family coachman in -the days of horses, drove them.</p> - -<p>Washington was shining under the winter sun -as they whirled through the streets to the old -church. “Happy is the bride the sun shines on,” -said Frederick, feeling rather foolish. It was -somewhat difficult to talk naturally to this smiling -beauty in her bridal white. She seemed miles removed -from the aggressive maiden with whom he -had fought and made up and fought again.</p> - -<p>The wedding party was assembled in one of the -side rooms. Belated guests trickled in a thin -stream towards the great doors that opened and -shut to admit them to the main auditorium. A -group of servants, laden with wraps, stood at the -foot of the stairs. As soon as the procession -started they would go up into the gallery to view -the ceremony.</p> - -<p>In the small room was almost overpowering fragrance. -The bridesmaids, in the filtered light, were -a blur of rose and blue and white. There was -much laughter, the sound of the organ through the -thick walls.</p> - -<p>Then the ushers came in.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>“Where’s Del?”</p> - -<p>The bridegroom was, it seemed, delayed. They -waited.</p> - -<p>“Shall we telephone, Mr. Towne?” someone -asked at last.</p> - -<p>Frederick nodded. He and his niece stood apart -from the rest. Edith was smiling but had little to -say. She seemed separated from the others by the -fact of the approaching mystery.</p> - -<p>The laughter had ceased; above the whispers -came the tremulous echo of the organ.</p> - -<p>The usher who had gone to the telephone returned -and drew Towne aside.</p> - -<p>“There’s something queer about it. I can’t get -Del or Bob. They may be on the way. But the -clerk seemed reticent.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go to the ’phone myself,” said Frederick. -“Where is it?”</p> - -<p>But he was saved the effort, for someone, watching -at the door, said, “Here they come,” and the -room seemed to sigh with relief as Bob Sterling entered.</p> - -<p>No one was with him, and he wore a worried -frown.</p> - -<p>“May I speak to you, Mr. Towne?” he asked.</p> - -<p>Edith was standing by the window looking out at -the old churchyard. The uneasiness which had infected -the others had not touched her. Slender -and white she stood waiting. In a few minutes -Del would walk up the aisle with her and they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -would be married. In her mind that program was -as fixed as the stars.</p> - -<p>And now her uncle approached and said something. -“Edith, Del isn’t coming——”</p> - -<p>“Is he ill?”</p> - -<p>“I wish to Heaven he were dead.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, Uncle Fred?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you—presently. But we must get away -from this——”</p> - -<p>His glance took in the changed scene. A blight -had swept over those high young heads. Two of -the bridesmaids were crying. The ushers had withdrawn -into a huddled group. The servants were -staring—uncertain what to do.</p> - -<p>Somebody got Briggs and the big car to the door.</p> - -<p>Shut into it, Towne told Edith:</p> - -<p>“He’s backed out of it. He left—this.” He -had a note in his hand. “It was written to Bob -Sterling. Bob was with him at breakfast time, -and when he came back, this was on Del’s dresser.”</p> - -<p>She read it, her blue eyes hot:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“I can’t go through with it, Bob. I know it’s a -rotten trick, but time will prove that I am right. -And Edith will thank me.</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Del.</span>”</p></blockquote> - -<p>She crushed it in her hand. “Where has he -gone?”</p> - -<p>“South, probably, on his yacht.”</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t there any word for me?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Is there any other—woman?”</p> - -<p>“It looks like it. Bob is utterly at sea. So is -everybody else.”</p> - -<p>All of her but her eyes seemed frozen. The -great bouquet lay at her feet where she had dropped -it. Her hands were clenched.</p> - -<p>Towne laid his hand on hers. “My dear—it’s -dreadful.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t what?”</p> - -<p>“Be sorry.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s a cur——”</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t do any good to call him names, Uncle -Fred.”</p> - -<p>“I think you must look upon it as a great escape, -Edith.”</p> - -<p>“Escape from what?”</p> - -<p>“Unhappiness.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I can ever escape from the -thought of this?” The strong sweep of her arm -seemed to indicate her bridal finery.</p> - -<p>He sat in unhappy silence, and suddenly she -laughed. “I might have known when he kept sending -me orchids. When a man loves a woman he -knows the things she likes.”</p> - -<p>It was then that Towne made his mistake. “You -ought to thank your lucky stars——”</p> - -<p>She blazed out at him, “Uncle Fred, if you say -anything more like that,—it’s utterly idiotic. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -you won’t face <i>facts</i>. Your generation never does. -I’m not in the least thankful. I’m simply furious.”</p> - -<p>There was an hysterical note in her voice, but he -was unconscious of the tension. She was not taking -it in the least as he wished she might. She -should have wept on his shoulder. Melted to tears -he might have soothed her. But there were no -tears in those blue eyes.</p> - -<p>She trod on her flowers as she left the car. Looking -straight ahead of her she ascended the steps. -Within everything was in readiness for the wedding -festivities. The stairway was terraced with -hydrangeas, pink and white and blue. In the -drawing-room were rose garlands with floating ribbons. -And there was a vista of the dining-room—with -the caterer’s men already at their posts.</p> - -<p>Except for these men, a maid or two—and a detective -to keep his eye on things, the house was -empty. Everybody had gone to the wedding, and -presently everybody would come back. The house -would be stripped, the flowers would fade, the caterers -would carry away the wasted food.</p> - -<p>Edith stopped at the foot of the stairs. “How -did they announce it at the church?”</p> - -<p>“That it had been postponed. It was the only -thing to do at the moment. Of course there will -be newspaper men. We’ll have to make up a -story——”</p> - -<p>“We’ll do nothing of the kind. Tell them the -truth, Uncle Fred. That I’m not—wanted. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -I was kept—waiting—at the church. Like the -heroine in a movie.”</p> - -<p>She stood on the steps above him, looking down. -She was as white as her dress.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to see anybody. I don’t mind losing -Del. He doesn’t count. He isn’t worth it. -But can you imagine that any man—<i>any</i> man, -Uncle Fred, could have kept <i>me</i>—waiting?”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br /> - -<small>THE UGLY DUCKLING</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> thing that Frederick Towne got out of his -niece’s flight was this. “She wouldn’t let anybody -sympathize with her. Simply locked the door -of her room, and in the morning she was gone. It -has added immeasurably to the gossip.”</p> - -<p>His listeners had, however, weighed him in the -balance of understanding and sympathy, and had -found him wanting. The youth in them sided with -Edith. But none of this showed in their manner. -They were polite and hospitable to the last. Frederick, -ushered out into the storm by Baldy, still -saw Jane like a bird, warm in her nest.</p> - -<p>“You see,” Baldy said to his sister, when he -came back, “how he messed things up.”</p> - -<p>Jane nodded. “He doesn’t know——”</p> - -<p>“<i>Unemotional</i>”—Baldy’s voice seemed to call on -all the gods to listen, “you should see her eyes——”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s rather an old dear,” said Jane, and -having thus disposed airily of the great Frederick -Towne, she went about the house setting things to -right for the night.</p> - -<p>“Merrymaid’s out,” she told her brother; “you’d -better get her.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>He opened the door and the storm seemed to -whirl in upon him. He called the old cat and was -presently aware, as he stood on the porch, that she -danced about him in the dark. He chased her -blindly, and at last got his hands on her. She was -wet to the thighs, where she had waded in the -drifts, but galvanized like a small electric motor by -the intense chill of the night.</p> - -<p>The wind shrieked and seemed to shake the -world. Before Baldy entered the house he turned -and faced the night—“<i>Edith</i>” was his voiceless -cry, “<i>Edith—Edith——</i>”</p> - -<p>By morning the violence of the storm had spent -itself. But it was still bitterly cold. The snow -was blue beneath the leaden sky. The chickens, -denied their accustomed promenade, ate and drank -and went to sleep again in the strange dusk. -Merrymaid and the kitten having poked their noses -into the frigid atmosphere withdrew to the snug -haven of a basket beneath the kitchen stove. Sophy -sent word that her rheumatism was worse, and that -she could not come over. Jane, surveying the accumulated -piles of dishes, felt a sense of unusual -depression. While Frederick Towne had talked -last night she had caught a glimpse of his world—the -great house—six servants—gay girls in the -glamour of good clothes, young men who matched -the girls, money to meet every emergency—a world -in which nobody had to wash dishes—or make soup -out of Sunday’s roast.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>She was cheered a bit, however, by the announcement -that her brother had decided to stay home -from the office.</p> - -<p>“I’ll have a try at that magazine cover——”</p> - -<p>Her spirits rose. “Wouldn’t it be utterly perfect -if you got the prize——?”</p> - -<p>“Not much chance. The thing I need is a good -model——”</p> - -<p>“And I won’t do?” with some wistfulness.</p> - -<p>They had talked of it before. Baldy refused to -see possibilities in Jane. “Since you bobbed your -hair, you’re too modern——” She was, rather, -medieval, with her straight-cut frocks and her -straight-cut locks. But she was a figure so familiar -that she failed to appeal to his imagination.</p> - -<p>“Editors like ’em modern, don’t they?”</p> - -<p>But his thoughts had winged themselves to that -other woman whom his fancy painted in a thousand -poses.</p> - -<p>“If Edith Towne were here—I’d put her on a -marble bench beside a sapphire sea.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you couldn’t get an editor in the world -to look at it. Sapphire seas and classic ladies are -a million years behind the times——”</p> - -<p>“They are never behind the times——”</p> - -<p>Jane shrugged, and changed the subject. “Darling—if -you’ll put your mind to mundane things -for a moment. To-morrow is Thanksgiving Day, -the Follettes are to dine with us, and we haven’t -any turkey.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>“Why haven’t we?”</p> - -<p>“You were to get it when you went to town, and -now you’re not going——”</p> - -<p>“I am <i>not</i>—not for all the turkeys in the world. -We can have roast chickens. That’s simple enough, -Janey.”</p> - -<p>“It may seem simple to you. But who’s going -to cut off their heads?”</p> - -<p>“Sophy,” said Baldy. Having killed Germans -in France he refused further slaughter.</p> - -<p>“Sophy has the rheumatism——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, we can feast our souls——” Young -Baldwin’s mood was one of exaltation.</p> - -<p>Jane leaned back in her chair and looked at him. -“Your perfectly poetic solution may satisfy you, -but it won’t feed the Follettes.”</p> - -<p>With some irritation, therefore, he promised, if -all else failed, to himself decapitate the fowls. -“But your mind, Jane, never soars above -food——”</p> - -<p>Jane, with her chin in her hands, considered -this. “A woman,” she said, “who keeps house for -a poet—must anchor herself to—something. Perhaps -I’m like a captive balloon—if you cut the -cable, I’ll shoot straight up to the skies——”</p> - -<p>She liked that thought of herself, and smiled -over it, after Baldy had left her. She wondered -if the cable would ever be cut. If the captive balloon -would ever soar.</p> - -<p>So she went about her simple tasks, putting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -bone on to boil for soup, preparing the vegetables -for it—wondering what she would have for dessert—with -all his scorn of domestic details, Baldy was -apt to be fastidious about his sweets—and coming -finally to her sweeping and dusting in the front -part of the house.</p> - -<p>The telephone rang and she answered it. Evans -was at the other end of the wire.</p> - -<p>“Mother wants to speak to you.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette asked if she might change her plans -for Thanksgiving. “Will you and your brother -dine with us, instead of our coming to you? Our -New York cousins find that they have the day free, -unexpectedly. They had been asked to a house -party in Virginia, but their hostess has had to postpone -it on account of illness.”</p> - -<p>“Is it going to be very grand? I haven’t a thing -to wear.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be foolish, Jane. You always look like -a lady.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Follette.” Jane hoped that -she didn’t look as some ladies look. But there -were, of course, others. It was well for her at the -moment, that Mrs. Follette could not see her eyes.</p> - -<p>“And I thought,” went on the unconscious -matron, “that if you were not too busy, you might -go with Evans to the grove and get some greens. -I’d like the house to look attractive. Is the snow -too deep?”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit. When will he come?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>“You’d better arrange with him. Here he is.”</p> - -<p>Evans’ voice was the only unchanged thing about -him. The sound of it at long distance always -brought the old days back to Jane.</p> - -<p>“After lunch?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Give me time to dress.”</p> - -<p>“Three?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>When luncheon was over, Jane went up-stairs to -get into out-of-door clothes. At the foot of the -stairs she had a glimpse of herself in the hall -mirror. She wore a one-piece lilac cotton frock—with -a small square apron, and an infinitesimal -bib. It was a nice-looking little frock, but she had -had it for a million years. That was the way with -all her clothes. The suit she was going to put on -had been dyed. It had been white in its first incarnation. -It was now brown. There was no telling -its chromatic future.</p> - -<p>She heard steps on the porch, and turned to open -the door for Evans.</p> - -<p>But it was not Evans. Briggs, Frederick -Towne’s chauffeur, stood there with a box in his -arms. “Mr. Towne’s compliments,” he said, “and -shall I set it in the hall?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, thank you.” Her surprise brought the -quick color to her cheeks. She watched him go -back down the terrace, and enter the car, then she -opened the box.</p> - -<p>Beneath clouds of white tissue paper she came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -upon a long, low basket, heaped with grapes and -tangerines, peaches and pomegranates. Tucked in -between the fruits were shelled nuts in fluted paper -cases, gleaming sweets in small glass jars, candied -pineapples and cherries, bunches of fat raisins, -stuffed dates and prunes.</p> - -<p>Jane talked to the empty air. “How dear of -him——”</p> - -<p>The white tissue paper fell in drifts about her -as she lifted the basket from the box.</p> - -<p>There was a little note tied to the handle. -Towne’s personal paper was thick and white. Jane -was aware of its expensiveness and it thrilled her. -His script was heavy and black—the note had, -unquestionably, an air.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Barnes</span>:</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed your -hospitality last night—and you were good to listen -to me with so much sympathy. I am hoping that -you’ll let me come again and talk about Edith. -May I? And here’s a bit of color for your Thanksgiving -feast.</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="gap">“Gratefully always,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Frederick Towne</span>.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Jane stood staring down at the friendly words. -It didn’t seem within reason that Frederick Towne -meant that he wanted to come—to see her. And -she really hadn’t listened with sympathy. But—oh, -of course, he could come. And it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -heavenly to have a thing like this happen on a day -like this.</p> - -<p>As she straightened up with the basket in her -hands, she saw herself again in the long mirror—a -slender figure in green—bobbed black hair—golden -and purple fruits. She gasped and gazed again. -There was Baldy’s picture ready to his hand—November! -Against a background of gray—that -glowing figure—Baldy could idealize her—make -the wind blow her skirts a bit—give her a fluttering -ribbon or two, a glorified loveliness.</p> - -<p>She sought him in his studio. “I’ve got something -to show you, darling-dear.”</p> - -<p>He was moody. “Don’t interrupt me, Jane.”</p> - -<p>She rumpled up his hair, which he hated. “Mr. -Towne sent us some fruit, Baldy, and this.” She -held out the note to him.</p> - -<p>He read it. “He doesn’t say a word about me.”</p> - -<p>“No, he doesn’t,” her eyes were dancing; -“Baldy, it’s your little sister, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“You didn’t do a thing but sit there and -knit——”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he liked to see me—knitting——”</p> - -<p>Baldy passed this over in puzzled silence.</p> - -<p>“Where’s the fruit?”</p> - -<p>“In the house.”</p> - -<p>He rose. “I’ll go in with you——” He felt out -of sorts, discouraged. The morning had been -spent in sketching vague outlines—a sweep of fair -hair under a blue hat—detached feet in shoes with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -shining buckles—a bag that hung in the air without -hands. At intervals he had stood up and looked -out at the blank snow and the dull sky. The room -was warm enough, but he shivered. He suffered -vicariously for Edith Towne. He had hoped that -she might telephone. He had stayed home really -for that.</p> - -<p>His studio was in the garage and was heated by -a little round stove. Jane said the garage reminded -her of the Boffins’ parlor—a dead line was -drawn between art and utility. Baldy’s rug and -old couch and paints and brushes flung a challenge -as it were to the little Ford, the lawn mower, the -garden hose and the gasoline cans.</p> - -<p>“I have spent three hours doing nothing,” he -said, as he shut the door behind him; “not much -encouragement in that.”</p> - -<p>“I have a model for you.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll show you.”</p> - -<p>He followed her in, full of curiosity.</p> - -<p>She showed him the fruit, then picked up the -basket. “Look in the mirror, not at me,” she commanded.</p> - -<p>Reflected there in the clear glass, so still that -she seemed fixed in paint, Baldy really gave for the -first time an artist’s eye to the possibilities of his -little sister. In the midst of all that crashing -color——!</p> - -<p>“Gosh,” he cried, “you’re good-looking!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>His air of utter astonishment was too much for -Jane. She set the basket on the steps, and laughed -until she cried.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see anything funny,” he told her.</p> - -<p>“Well, you wouldn’t, darling.”</p> - -<p>She wiped her eyes with her little handkerchief, -and sat up. “I am just dropping a tear for the -ugly duckling.”</p> - -<p>“Have I made you feel like that?”</p> - -<p>“Sometimes.”</p> - -<p>Their lighted-up eyes met, and suddenly he -leaned down and touched her cheek—a swift caress. -“You’re a little bit of all right, Janey,” which was -great praise from Baldy.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br /> - -<small>“STAY IN THE FIELD, OH, WARRIOR!”</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Follette</span> had been born in Maryland with -a tradition of aristocratic blood. It was this tradition -which had upheld her through years of -poverty after the Civil War. A close scanning of -the family tree might have disclosed ancestors who -had worked with their hands. But these, Mrs. Follette’s -family had chosen to ignore in favor of one -grandfather who had held Colonial office, and who -had since been magnified into a personage.</p> - -<p>On such slight foundation, Mrs. Follette had -erected high towers of social importance. As a -wife of a government clerk, her income was limited, -but she lived on a farm, back of Sherwood -Park, which she had inherited from her father. -The farm was called Castle Manor, which dignified -it in the eyes of the county. Mrs. Follette’s friends -were among the old families who had occupied the -land for many generations. She would have nothing -to do with the people of Sherwood Park. She -held that all suburbs are negligible socially. People -came to them from anywhere and went from -them to be swallowed up in obscurity. There was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -no stability. She made an exception, only, of the -Baldwin Barneses. There was good Maryland -blood back of them, and more than that, a Virginia -Governor. To be sure they did not care for these -things; old Baldwin’s democracy had been almost -appalling. But they were, none the less, worth -while.</p> - -<p>Mr. Follette, during his lifetime, had walked a -mile each morning to take the train at Sherwood -Park, and had walked back a mile each night, until -at last he had tired of two peripatetic miles a day, -and of eight hours at his desk, and of eternally putting -on his dinner coat when there was no one to -see, and like old Baldwin Barnes, he had laid him -down with a will.</p> - -<p>At his death all income stopped, and Mrs. Follette -had found herself on a somewhat lonely peak -of exclusiveness. She could not afford to go with -her richer neighbors, and she refused to consider -Sherwood seriously. Now and then, however, she -accepted invitations from old friends, and in return -offered such simple hospitality as she could -afford without self-consciousness. She might be a -snob, but she was, to those whom she permitted to -cross her threshold, an incomparable hostess. She -gave what she had without apology.</p> - -<p>She had, too, a sort of admirable courage. Her -ambitions had been wrapped up in her son. What -her father might have been, Evans was to be. -They had scrimped and saved that he might go to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -college and study law. Then, at that first dreadful -cry from across the seas, he had gone. There had -been long months of fighting. He had left her in -the flower of his youth, a wonder-lad, with none to -match him among his friends. He had come back -crushed and broken. He, whose career lay so close -to his heart—could do now no sustained work. -Mentally and physically he must rest. He might -be years in getting back. He would never get back -to gay and gallant boyhood. That was gone forever.</p> - -<p>Yet if Mrs. Follette’s heart had failed her at -times, she had never shown it. She was making the -farm pay for itself. She supplied the people of -Sherwood Park and surrounding estates with milk. -But she never was in any sense—a milkwoman. It -was, rather, as if in selling her milk she distributed -favors. It was on this income that she subsisted, -she and her son.</p> - -<p>It was because of Mrs. Follette’s social complexes -that Jane had been forced to limit her invitations -for the Thanksgiving dinner. She would -have preferred more people to liven things up for -Evans and Baldy, but Mrs. Follette’s prejudices -had to be considered.</p> - -<p>Evans, democratic, like his father, laughed at his -mother’s assumptions. But he rarely in these days -set himself against her. It involved always a contest, -and he was tired of fighting.</p> - -<p>That was why he had asked Jane to help him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -in the stand he had taken against the New York -trip. He felt that he could never hold out against -his mother’s arguments.</p> - -<p>“She’d keep eternally at it, and I’d have to give -in,” he told himself with the irritability which was -so new to him and so surprising. As a boy he had -been good-tempered even in moments of disagreement -with his mother.</p> - -<p>Going down to luncheon, he hoped the subject -would not come up. The afternoon was before him, -and Jane. He wanted no cloud to mar it.</p> - -<p>On the steps he passed Mary, his mother’s maid, -making the house immaculate for the guests of to-morrow. -She was singing an old song, linking herself -musically with the black men of generations -back. Mary was over sixty, and her voice was thin -and piping. Yet there was, after all, a sort of fierce -power in that thin and piping voice.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Stay in the fiel’,</div> -<div class="verse">Stay in the fiel’, oh, wah-yah—</div> -<div class="verse">Stay in the fiel’</div> -<div class="verse">Till the wah is ended.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Again Evans felt that sense of unaccountable irritation. -He wished that Mary wouldn’t sing....</p> - -<p>Later as he and Jane swung along together in -the clear cold Jane said:</p> - -<p>“I’ve such a lot to tell you——”</p> - -<p>She told it in her whimsical way—Baldy’s adventure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -Frederick Towne’s visit, the basket of -fruit.</p> - -<p>“Baldy is simply mad about Edith Towne. He -hasn’t been able to talk of anything else. Of course, -he’ll have to get over it but he isn’t looking ahead.”</p> - -<p>“Why should he get over it?”</p> - -<p>Her chin went up. “He’s a clerk in the departments, -and she a—plutocrat——”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she won’t look at it like that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but she has <i>men</i> at her feet. And Baldy’s -a boy. Evans, if I had lovely dresses ’n’ everything, -I’d have men at my feet.”</p> - -<p>“Why should you want them at your feet?”</p> - -<p>“Every woman does. We want to grind ’em -under our heels,” she stamped in the snow to show -him; “but Baldy and I are a pair of Cinderellas, -minus—godmothers——”</p> - -<p>She was in a gay mood. She was wrapped in -her old orange cape, and the sun, breaking the bank -of sullen clouds in the west, seemed to turn her -lithe young body into flame.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you <i>love</i> a day like this, Evans?” She -pressed forward up the hill with all her strength. -Evans followed, panting. At the top they sat down -for a moment on an old log—which faced the long -aisles of snow between thin black trees. The vista -was clear-cut and almost artificial in its restraint -of color and its wide bare spaces.</p> - -<p>Evans’ little dog, Rusty, ran back and forth—following -this trail and that. Finally in pursuit of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -a rabbit, he was led far afield. They heard him -barking madly in the distance. It was the only -sound in the stillness.</p> - -<p>“Jane,” Evans said, “do you remember the last -time we were here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” The light went out of her eyes.</p> - -<p>“As I look back it was heaven, Jane. I’d give -anything on God’s earth if I was where I was -then.”</p> - -<p>All the blood was drained from her face. -“Evans, you wouldn’t,” passionately, “you -wouldn’t give up those three years in France——”</p> - -<p>He sat very still. Then he said tensely, “No, I -wouldn’t, even though it has made me lose you—Jane——”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t say such things——”</p> - -<p>“I must. Don’t I know? You were such an -unawakened little thing, my dear. But I could -have—waked you. And I can’t wake you now. -That’s my tragedy. You’ll never wake up—for -me——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t——”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s true. Why not say it? I’ve come -back a—scarecrow, the shadow of a man. And -you’re just where I left you—only lovelier—more -of a woman—more to be worshipped—Jane——”</p> - -<p>As he caught her hand up in his, she had a sudden -flashing vision of him as he had been when he -last sat with her in the grove—the swing of his -strong figure, his bare head borrowing gold from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -the sun—the touch of assurance which had been -so compelling.</p> - -<p>“I never knew that you cared——”</p> - -<p>“I knew it, but not as I did after your wonderful -letters to me over there. I felt, if I ever came -back, I’d move heaven and earth.” He stopped. -“But I came back—different. And I haven’t any -right to say these things to you. I’m not going to -say them—Jane. It might spoil our—friendship.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing can spoil our friendship, Evans——”</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on hers. “Then you are -mine—until somebody comes along and claims -you?”</p> - -<p>“There isn’t anybody else,” she turned her -fingers up to meet his, “so don’t worry, old dear,” -she smiled at him but her lashes were wet. Her -hand was warm in his and she let it stay there, and -after a while she said, “I have sometimes thought -that if it would make you happy, I might——”</p> - -<p>“Might—love me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “I didn’t say it for that. I -just had to have the truth between us. And I don’t -want—pity. If—if I ever get back—I’ll make you -love me, Jane.” There was a hint of his old masterfulness—and -she was thrilled by it.</p> - -<p>She withdrew her hand and stood up. “Then -I’ll—pray—that you—get back——”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean it, Janey?”</p> - -<p>“I mean it, Evans.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>“Then pray good and hard, my dear, for I’m going -to do it.”</p> - -<p>They smiled at each other, but it was a sacred -moment.</p> - -<p>The things they did after that were rendered unimportant -by the haze of enchantment which hung -over Evans’ revelation. No man can tell a woman -that he loves her, no woman can listen, without a -throbbing sense of the magnitude of the thing -which has happened. From such beginnings is -written the history of humanity.</p> - -<p>Deep in a hollow where the wind had swept up -the snow, and left the ground bare they found -crowfoot in an emerald carpet—there were holly -branches dripping red berries like blood on the -white drifts. They filled their arms, and at last -they were ready to go.</p> - -<p>Evans whistled for Rusty but the little dog did -not come. “He’ll find us; he knows every inch of -the way.”</p> - -<p>But Rusty did not find them, and they were -on the ridge when that first awful cry came to -them.</p> - -<p>Jane clutched Evans. “What is it—oh, what <i>is</i> -it?”</p> - -<p>He swallowed twice before he could speak. “It’s—Rusty—one -of those steel traps”—he was panting -now—his forehead wet—“the negroes put them -around for rabbits——” Again that frenzied cry -broke the stillness. “They’re hellish things——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>Jane began to run in the direction of the sound. -“Come on, Evans—oh, come quick——”</p> - -<p>He stumbled after her. At last he caught at her -dress and held her. “If he’s hurt I can’t stand -it.”</p> - -<p>It was dreadful to see him. Jane felt as if -clutched by a nightmare. “Stay here, and don’t -worry. I’ll get him out——”</p> - -<p>It was a cruel thing to face. There was blood -and that little trembling body. The cry reduced -now to an agonized whimpering. How she opened -the trap she never knew, but she did open it, and -made a bandage from her blouse which she tore -from her shoulders regardless of the cold. And -after what seemed to be ages, she staggered back to -Evans with her dreadful burden wrapped in her -cape. “We’ve got to get him to a veterinary. Run -down to the road and see if there’s a car in -sight.”</p> - -<p>There was a car, and when Evans stopped it, two -men came charging up the bank. Jane gave the dog -into the arms of one of them. “You’ll have to go -with them, Evans,” she said and wrapped herself -more closely in her cape. “There are several doctors -at Rockville. You’d better ask the station-master -about the veterinary.”</p> - -<p>After they had gone, she stood there on the ridge -and watched the car out of sight. She felt stunned -and hysterical. It had been awful to see Rusty, but -the most awful thing was that vision of Evans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -stumbling through the snow. A broken body is for -tears—a broken spirit is beyond tears.</p> - -<p>She shuddered and pressed her hands against her -eyes. Then she went down the hill and across the -road in the darkening twilight. She crept into the -house. Baldy must not see her; there was blood on -her cape and her clothes were torn, and Baldy -would ask questions, and he would call Evans a—coward....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was late when Evans came to Castle Manor -with his dog in his arms. Rusty was comfortable -and he had wagged a grateful tail. The pain had -gone out of his eyes and the veterinary had said -that in a few days the wound would heal. There -were no vital parts affected—and he would give -some medicine which would prevent further suffering.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette was out, and old Mary was in the -kitchen, singing. She stopped her song as Evans -came through. He asked her to help him and she -brought a square, deep basket and made Rusty a -bed.</p> - -<p>“You-all jes’ put him heah by the fiah, and I’ll -look atter him.”</p> - -<p>Evans shook his head. “I want him in my room. -I’ll take care of him in the night.”</p> - -<p>He carried the dog up-stairs with him, knelt beside -him, drew hard deep breaths as the little fellow -licked his hand.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span>“What kind of a man am I?” Evans said sharply -in the silence. “God, what kind of a man?”</p> - -<p>Through the still house came old Mary’s thin and -piping song:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Stay in the fiel’,</div> -<div class="verse">Stay in the fiel’, oh, wah-yah—</div> -<div class="verse">Stay in the fiel’</div> -<div class="verse">Till the wah is ended.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Evans got up and shut the door....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br /> - -<small>A FAMISHED PILGRIM</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span> was waked usually by the hoarse crow of -an audacious little rooster, who sent his challenge -to the rising sun.</p> - -<p>But on Thanksgiving morning, she found herself -sitting up in bed in the deep darkness—slim -and white and shivering—oppressed by some phantom -of the night.</p> - -<p>She came to it gradually. The strange events of -yesterday. Evans. Her own share in his future.</p> - -<p>Her room was icy. She climbed out of bed, and -closed the windows, lighted the lamp on her little -table, wrapped herself in a warm robe, and sat up -among her pillows, to think the thing out.</p> - -<p>The lamp had a yellow shade, and shone like a -full moon among the shadows. Jane, just beyond -the circle of light, was a spectral figure with her -black hair and the faint blue of her gown.</p> - -<p>Her own share in Evans’ future? Had she really -linked her life with his? She had promised to pray -that he might get back—she had pledged youth, -hope and constancy to his cause. And she had -promised before she had seen that stumbling figure -in the snow!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>In the matters of romance, Jane’s thoughts had -always ventured. She had dreamed of a gallant -lover, a composite hero, one who should combine the -reckless courage of a Robin Hood with the high -moralities of a Galahad. With such a lover one -might gallop through life to a piping tune. Or if -the Galahad predominated in her hero, to an inspiring -processional!</p> - -<p>And here was Evans, gray and gaunt, shaken by -tremors, fitting himself into the background of her -future. And she didn’t want him there. Oh, not -as he had been out there in the snow!</p> - -<p>Yet she was sorry for him with a sympathy that -wrung her heart. She couldn’t hurt him. She -wouldn’t. Was there no way out of it?</p> - -<p>Her hands went up to her face. She had a simple -and childlike faith. “Oh, God,” she prayed, -“make us all—happy——”</p> - -<p>Her cheeks were wet as she lay back on her pillows. -And a certain serenity followed her little -prayer. Things would work together in some way -for good.... She would let it rest at that.</p> - -<p>When at last the rooster crowed, Jane cast off -the covers and went to the windows, drawing back -the curtains. There was a faint whiteness in the -eastern sky—amethyst and pearl, aquamarine, the -day had dawned!</p> - -<p>Well, after all, wasn’t every day a new world? -And this day of all days. One must think about -the thankful things!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>She discussed that with Baldy at the breakfast -table.</p> - -<p>Baldy scoffed. “I’m not a hypocrite. It has -been a rotten year.”</p> - -<p>“Well, money isn’t everything, and we have each -other.”</p> - -<p>“Money is a lot. And just because we haven’t -all been killed off is no special reason why we -should thank the Lord.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy, I want to thank him for the little -things. Our little house, and warmth and light, -and you, coming home at night——”</p> - -<p>“My dear child, we don’t own the house, and I’m -really not much when I get here.”</p> - -<p>“That isn’t true, Baldy. And aren’t you thankful -that you have me?”</p> - -<p>There was a quaver in her voice, and he was not -hard-hearted. Neither was he in a mood for sentiment.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, old dear? Want me to -throw bouquets at you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do. I’m low in my mind this morning.”</p> - -<p>He saw that she meant it. “Anything happened, -Janey?” he asked in a different tone.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing to talk about. But—I wish I had -a shoulder to weep on, Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“Weep on mine.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “No. You’d be about as -comforting as a wooden Indian.”</p> - -<p>“I like that,” hotly.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>“Your intentions are good. But your mind isn’t -on me. It’s on Edith Towne.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you think that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’ve one ear cocked towards the telephone——”</p> - -<p>He flushed. “Well, who wouldn’t? I want to -hear from her.”</p> - -<p>He wanted to hear so much that he did not go to -church lest he miss her call. But Jane went, and -sat in the Barnes’ pew, and was thankful, as she -had said, for love and warmth and light.</p> - -<p>Throughout the sermon, she stared at the stained -glass window which was just above the Follette -pew. It was a memorial to two lads who had lost -their lives in France. The window showed the -young heroes as shining knights—and that was the -way people thought about them. They had been, -really, rather commonplace fellows. But death had -transfigured them. They would remain always in -the eyes of this world as young and splendid.</p> - -<p>And there beneath them sat this morning a man -who had, too, been young and splendid. But who -was wrapped in no shining armor of illusion. He -had come back a hero, but had been among them -long enough to lose his halo. It was manifestly -unfair. Jane resolved that she would keep in her -heart always that vision of Evans as a shining -knight. Whoever else forgot, she would not forget.</p> - -<p>Evans, with his mother in the pew, looked -straight ahead of him. He seemed worn and weary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -—a dark shadow set against the brightness of those -comrades on the glowing glass.</p> - -<p>After church, he waited in the aisle for Jane. -“I’ll walk down with you. Mother is going to ride -with Dr. Hallam.”</p> - -<p>They walked a little way in silence, then he said, -“Rusty is comfortable this morning.”</p> - -<p>“Your mother told me over the telephone.”</p> - -<p>He limped along at her side. “Jane, I didn’t -sleep last night—thinking about it. It is a thing -I can’t understand. A dreadful thing.”</p> - -<p>“I understand. You love Rusty. It was because -you love him so much——”</p> - -<p>“But to let a woman do it. Jane, do you remember—years -ago? That mad dog?”</p> - -<p>She did remember. Evans had killed it in the -road to save a child. It had been a horrible experience, -but not for a moment had he hesitated.</p> - -<p>“I wasn’t afraid then, Janey.”</p> - -<p>“This was different. You couldn’t see the thing -you loved hurt. It wasn’t fear. It was affection.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t gloss it over. I know what you felt. -I saw it in your eyes.”</p> - -<p>“Saw what?”</p> - -<p>“Contempt.”</p> - -<p>She turned on him. “You didn’t. Perhaps, just -at first. I didn’t understand....” She fought -for self-control, but in spite of it, the tears rolled -down her cheeks.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>“Don’t, Janey, don’t.” He was in an agony of -remorse. “I’ve made you cry.”</p> - -<p>She blinked away the tears. “It wasn’t contempt, -Evans.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it should have been. Why not? No man -who calls himself a man would have let you do -it.”</p> - -<p>They had come to the path under the pines, and -were alone in that still world. Jane tucked her -hand in the crook of Evans’ arm. “Dear boy, stop -thinking about it.”</p> - -<p>“I shall never stop.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to promise me that you’ll try. -Evans, you know we are going to fight it out together....”</p> - -<p>His eyes did not meet hers. “Do you think I’d -let you? Well, you think wrong.” He began to -walk rapidly, so that it was hard to keep pace with -him. “I’m not worth it.”</p> - -<p>And now quite as suddenly as she had cried, she -laughed, and the laugh had a break in it. “You’re -worth everything that America has to give you.” -She told him of the things she had thought of in -church. “You are as much of a hero as any of -them.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head. “All that hero stuff is dead -and gone, my dear. We idealize the dead, but not -the living.”</p> - -<p>It was true and she knew it. But she did not -want to admit it. “Evans,” she said, and laid her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -cheek for a moment against the rough sleeve of his -coat, “don’t make me unhappy. Let me help.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know what you are asking. You’d -grow tired of it. Any woman would.”</p> - -<p>“Why look ahead? Can’t we live for each day?”</p> - -<p>She had lighted a flame of hope in him. “If I -might——” eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Why not? Begin right now. What are you -thankful for, Evans?”</p> - -<p>“Not much,” uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll tell you three things. Books and -your mother and me. Say that over—out loud.”</p> - -<p>He tried to enter into her mood. “Books and -my mother and Jane.”</p> - -<p>She caught at another thought. “It almost -rhymes with Stevenson’s ‘books and food and summer -rain,’ doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. What a man he was—cheerful in the face -of death. Jane, I believe I could face death more -cheerfully than life——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say such things”—they had come to the -little house on the terrace, “don’t say such things. -Don’t think them.”</p> - -<p>“As a man thinks—— Do you believe it?”</p> - -<p>“I believe some of it.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll talk about it to-night. No, I can’t come -in. Dinner is at seven.” He lingered a moment -longer. “Do you know what a darling you are, -Jane?”</p> - -<p>She stood watching him as he limped away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -Once he turned and waved. She waved back and -her eyes were blurred with tears.</p> - -<p>In Jane’s next letter to Judy she told about the -dinner.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“I didn’t know what to wear. But Baldy insisted -on my old white. In his present mid-Victorian -mood he would like me in ‘book-muslin,’ -if things were made of it. It is a wispy rag of -chiffon, and I was hard up for slippers, so Baldy -painted a pair of gray suede with silver paint, and -I made a flat band of silver leaves for my hair.</p> - -<p>“The effect wasn’t bad, even Baldy admitted it, -and Evans quoted Shelley—something about ‘an -orbed maiden with white fire laden.’ Evans and -Baldy are having a perfect orgy of Keats and -Shelley. They soar over our heads. They hate -realism and pessimism—they say it is a canker at -the heart of civilization. That all healthy nations -are idealistic and optimistic. It is only when countries -are senile that they grow cynical and sour. -You should hear them.</p> - -<p>“We had a delicious dinner. It seems to me, -Judy, that my mind dwells a great deal on things -to eat. But, after all, why shouldn’t I? Housekeeping -is my job.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Follette doesn’t attempt to do anything -that she can’t do well, and it was all so simple and -satisfying. In the center of the table was some of -the fruit that Mr. Towne sent in a silver epergne, -and there were four Sheffield candlesticks with -white candles.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Follette carved the turkey. Evans can’t -do things like that—she wore her perennial black -lace and pearls, and in spite of everything, Judy, I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -can’t help liking her, though she is such a beggar -on horseback. They haven’t a cent, except what -she makes from the milk, but she looks absolutely -the lady of the manor.</p> - -<p>“The cousins are very fashionable. One of them, -Muriel Follette, knows Edith Towne intimately. -She told us all about the wedding, and how people -are blaming Edith for running away and are feeling -terribly sorry for Mr. Towne. Of course they -didn’t know that Baldy and I had ever laid eyes -on either of them. But you should have seen -Baldy’s eyes, when Muriel said things about Edith. -I was scared stiff for fear he’d say something. You -know how his temper flares.</p> - -<p>“Well, Muriel said some catty things. That -everybody is sure that Delafield Simms is in love -with someone else, and that they are saying Edith -might have known it if she hadn’t always looked -upon herself as the center of the universe. And -they feel that if her heart is broken, the decent -thing would be to mourn in the bosom of her family. -Of course I’m not quoting her exact words, -but you’ll get the idea.</p> - -<p>“And Baldy thinks his queen can do no wrong, -and was almost <i>bursting</i>. Judy, he walks in a -dream. I don’t know what good it is going to do -him to feel like that. He will have to always worship -at a distance like Dante. Or was it Abelard? -I always get those <i>grande passions</i> mixed.</p> - -<p>“Anyhow, there you have it. Edith Towne rode -in Baldy’s Ford, and he has hitched that little -wagon to a star!</p> - -<p>“Well, after dinner, we set the victrola going -and Baldy had to dance with Muriel. She dances -extremely well, and I know he enjoyed it, though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -he wouldn’t admit it. And Muriel enjoyed it. -There’s no denying that Baldy has a way with him.</p> - -<p>“After they had danced a while everybody played -bridge, except Evans and me. You know how I -hate it, and it makes Evans nervous. So we went -in the library and talked. Evans is dreadfully -discouraged about himself. I wish that you were -here and that we could talk it over. But it is hard -to do it at long distance. There ought to be some -way to help him. Sometimes it seems that I -can’t stand it when I remember what he used -to be.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Evans had carried Jane off to the library high-handedly. -“I want you,” was all the reason he -vouchsafed as they came into the shabby room with -its leaping flames in the fireplace, its book-lined -walls, its imposing portrait above the mantel.</p> - -<p>The portrait showed Evans’ grandfather, and beneath -it was a photograph of Evans himself. The -likeness between the two men was striking—there -was the same square set of the shoulders, the same -bright, waved hair, the same air of youth and high -spirits. The grandfather in the portrait wore a -blue uniform, the grandson was in khaki, but they -were, without a question, two of a kind.</p> - -<p>“You belong here, Jane,” said Evans, “on -one side of the fireplace, with me on the other. -That’s the way I always see you when I shut my -eyes.”</p> - -<p>“You see me now with your eyes wide -open——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>“Yes. Jane, I told Mother this afternoon that -I wouldn’t go to New York. So that’s settled, without -your saying anything.”</p> - -<p>“How does she feel about it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, she still thinks that I should go. But I’ll -stay here,” he moved his head restlessly. “I want -to be where you are, Jane. And now, my dear, -we’re going to talk things out. You know that yesterday -you made a sort of—promise. That you’d -pray for me to get back—and that if I got back—well, -you’d give me a chance. Jane, I want your -prayers, but not your promise.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“I am not fit to think of any woman. When I -am—well—if I ever am—you can do as you think -best. But you mustn’t be bound.”</p> - -<p>She sat silent, looking into the fire.</p> - -<p>“You know that I’m right, don’t you, dear?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do, Evans. I thought of it, too, last -night. And it seems like this to me. If we can -just be friends—without bothering with—anything -else—it will be easier, won’t it?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you how gladly I’d bother, as you -call it. But it wouldn’t be fair. You are young, -and you have a right to happiness. I’d be a -shadow on your—future——”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t——”</p> - -<p>He dropped on the rug at her feet. “Well, we’ll -leave it at that. We’re friends, forever,” he reached -up and took her hands in his, “forever?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>“Always, Evans——”</p> - -<p>“For better, for worse—for richer, for poorer?”</p> - -<p>“Of course——”</p> - -<p>They stared into the fire, and then he said softly, -“Well, that’s enough for me, my dear, that’s -enough for me——” and after a while he began to -speak in broken sentences. “‘Ah, silver shrine, -here will I take my rest.... After so many -hours of toil and quest.... A famished pilgrim....’ -That’s Keats, my dear. Jane, do -you know that you are food and drink?”</p> - -<p>“Am I?” unsteadily.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear little thing, if I had you always by -my fire I could fight the world.”</p> - -<p>When Jane and Baldy reached home that night, -Baldy stamped up and down the house, saying -things about Muriel Follette. “A girl like that to -criticise.”</p> - -<p>“She danced well,” said Jane, who had taken -off the silver wreath, and had kicked off the silver -slippers, and was curled up in a big chair as comfortable -as a white cat.</p> - -<p>“What right had she to say things?”</p> - -<p>“People are saying them.”</p> - -<p>“Did she have to repeat them?”</p> - -<p>“Darling Baldy, she didn’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Know what?”</p> - -<p>“How you felt about it.”</p> - -<p>He stopped and stood in front of her. “How do -you know what I feel?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>“Oh, well, you seem to have made yourself Miss -Towne’s champion.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve done nothing of the kind, Jane. But I -have a human interest in a fellow creature.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jane, “I have a human interest, -too.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you ever serious, Janey?”</p> - -<p>“It’s better to laugh than to cry.” There was a -little catch in her voice.</p> - -<p>Baldy wound the clock, and she watched -him.</p> - -<p>“What time is it?”</p> - -<p>“Twelve-thirty.”</p> - -<p>She yawned. “I’m going to bed.”</p> - -<p>The telephone rang, and Baldy was off like a -shot. Jane uncurled herself from her chair and -lent a listening ear. It was a moment of exciting -interest. Edith Towne was at the other end of the -wire!</p> - -<p>Jane knew it by Baldy’s singing voice. He didn’t -talk like that to commonplace folk who called him -up. She was devoured with curiosity.</p> - -<p>He came in, at last, literally walking on air. -And just as Jane had felt that his voice sang, so she -felt now that his feet danced.</p> - -<p>“Janey, it was Edith Towne.”</p> - -<p>“What did she say?”</p> - -<p>“Just saw my advertisement. Paper delayed——”</p> - -<p>“Where is she?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>“Beyond Alexandria. But we’re not to give it -away.”</p> - -<p>“Not even to Mr. Towne?”</p> - -<p>“No. She’s asked me to bring her bag, and some -other things.”</p> - -<p>He threw himself into a chair opposite Jane, one -leg over the arm of it. He was a careless and picturesque -figure. Even Jane was aware of his youth -and good looks.</p> - -<p>Edith had, as it seemed, asked him to have Towne -send the ring back to Delafield—to have her wedding -presents sent back, to have a bag packed with -her belongings.</p> - -<p>“I am going to take it to her on my car——”</p> - -<p>“And you a perfect stranger. I think it’s utterly -mad, Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“Why mad? And she doesn’t feel that I’m a -perfect stranger.”</p> - -<p>“Oh!”</p> - -<p>“And it is because I am a perfectly disinterested -person.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not disinterested.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you say that?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you know, Baldy. You’re terribly smitten.”</p> - -<p>For a moment his eyes blazed, then he swaggered. -“If I am, what then? I’d rather worship a woman -like that for the rest of my life than marry anybody -I’ve ever seen——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>“You don’t know a thing about her except that -she has lovely eyes.”</p> - -<p>She had risen, and as she stood in front of him -there was again that effect of two young cockerels -on the edge of an encounter. Then they were -saved by their sense of humor. “Oh, go to bed,” -young Baldwin told her; “you’re jealous, Janey.”</p> - -<p>She started up the stairs but before she had -reached the landing he called after her. “Jane, -what have you on hand for to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>She leaned over the rail and looked down at him. -“Friday? Feed the chickens. Feed the cats. -Help Sophy clean the silver. Drink tea at four -with Mrs. Allison, and three other young things of -eighty.”</p> - -<p>“Well, look here. I don’t want to face Towne. -He’ll say things about Edith—and insist on her -coming back—she says he will, and that’s why she -won’t call him up. And you’ve got more diplomacy -than I have. You might make it all seem—reasonable. -Will you do it, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you want me to call on him -at his office?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Go in with me in the morning.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy, are you shirking? Or do you really -think me as wonderful as your words seem to imply?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you’re going to put it like that.”</p> - -<p>She smiled down at him. “Let’s leave it then -that I am—wonderful. But suppose Mr. Towne<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -doesn’t fall for your plan? Perhaps he won’t let -her have the bag or a check-book or money or—anything——”</p> - -<p>Jane saw then a sudden and passionate change -in her brother. “If he doesn’t let her have it, I -will. I may be poor but I’ll beg or borrow rather -than have her brought back to face those—cats—until -she wants to come.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - -<small>JANE AS DEPUTY</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Frederick Towne</span> never arrived in his office until -ten o’clock. So Jane was ahead of him. She -sat in a luxurious outer room, waiting.</p> - -<p>To the right was a great open space—with desks -boxed in by glass partitions. The wall paper was -green, so that the people at the desks had the effect -of fish in an aquarium. There was the constant -staccato tap of typewriters, and now and -then a girl got up, swam as it were, out of one of -the glass boxes and into another.</p> - -<p>The girls were most of them well dressed. Much -better dressed than Jane who had on a cheap gray -suit and a soft little hat of the same color. One -of the girls, fair-haired and slender, was in the -nearest glass box. She wore a black serge frock -and a string of ivory beads. She looked to Jane -much more distinguished than any of the others.</p> - -<p>When Frederick came in he saw Jane at once, -and held out his hand smiling. “You’ve heard -from Edith?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Last night. Too late to let you know.”</p> - -<p>“Good. We’ll go into my room.” He led the -way, and Jane was at once aware of the effect of -his cordial manner upon the fish who had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -swimming in and out of the aquarium. Between -the time of Frederick’s entrance and the moment -when he closed the door upon them, they seemed -to hang suspended. She supposed that after that -they swam again.</p> - -<p>If the outer room had resembled an aquarium, -Frederick’s was like a forest—there was a plant or -two and more green paper—the shine of old mahogany—and -in one of the shadowy corners a -bronze elephant.</p> - -<p>Jane was thrilled by a sense of things happening. -Outwardly calm, she was inwardly stirred by -excitement.</p> - -<p>She sat in a big leather chair which nearly swallowed -her up, and stated her errand.</p> - -<p>“Baldy thought I’d better come, he’s so busy, -and anyhow he thinks I have more tact.” She -tilted her chin at him and smiled.</p> - -<p>“And you thought it needed tact.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t you, Mr. Towne? We really -haven’t a thing to do with it, and I’m sure you -think so. Only now we’re in it, we want to do the -best we can.”</p> - -<p>“I see. Since Edith has chosen you and your -brother as ambassadors, you’ve got to use diplomacy.”</p> - -<p>“She didn’t choose me, she chose Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“But why can’t she deal directly with me?”</p> - -<p>“She ran away from you. And she isn’t ready -to come back.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>“She ought to come back.”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t think so. And she’s afraid you’ll -insist.”</p> - -<p>“What does she want me to do?”</p> - -<p>“Send her the bag with the money and the check-book, -and let Baldy take out a lot of things. -She gave him a list; there’s everything from toilet -water to talcum.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose I refuse to send them?”</p> - -<p>“You can, of course. But you won’t, will -you?”</p> - -<p>“No, I suppose not. I shan’t coerce her. But -it’s rather a strange thing for her to be willing to -trust all this to your brother. She has seen him -only once.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jane, with some spirit, “you’ve -seen Baldy only once, and wouldn’t you trust -him?”</p> - -<p>She flung the challenge at him, and quite surprisingly -he found himself saying, “Yes, I would.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jane, “of course.”</p> - -<p>He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. -Again he was aware of quickened emotions. She -revived half-forgotten ardors. Gave him back his -youth. She used none of the cut and dried methods -of sophistication. She was fearless, absolutely -alive, and in spite of her cheap gray suit, altogether -lovely.</p> - -<p>So it was with an air of almost romantic challenge -that he said, “What would you advise?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>“I’d let her alone, like little Bo-Peep. She’ll -come home before you know it, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>“I wish that I could think it—however, it’s a -great comfort to know that she’s safe. I shall give -it out that she is visiting friends, and that I’ve -heard from her. And now, about the things she -wants. It seems absolutely silly to send them.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think it’s silly.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, clothes make such a lot of difference to a -woman. I can absolutely change my feelings by -changing my frock.”</p> - -<p>“What kind of feelings do you have when you -wear gray?”</p> - -<p>“Cool and comfortable ones—do you know the -delightful things that are gray? Pussy-willows, -and sea-gulls, and rainy days—and oh, a lot of -things”—she surveyed him thoughtfully, “and old -Sheffield, and—well, I can’t think of everything.” -She rose. “I’ll leave the list with you and you can -telephone Baldy when to come for them.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t go. I want to talk to you.”</p> - -<p>“But you’re busy.”</p> - -<p>“Not unless I want to be.”</p> - -<p>“But I am. I have to go to market——”</p> - -<p>“Briggs can take you over. I’ll call up the -garage.”</p> - -<p>“Briggs! Can you imagine Briggs driving -through the streets of Washington with a pound -of sausage and a three-rib roast?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>“Do you mean that you are going to take your -parcels back with you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. There aren’t any deliveries in Sherwood.”</p> - -<p>He hesitated for a moment, then touched her -shoulder lightly with his forefinger. “Look here. -Let Briggs take you to market, then come back here, -and we’ll run up to the house, get the things for -lunch at Chevy Chase, and put you down, sausages, -bags and all, at your own door in Sherwood.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” She was all shining radiance.</p> - -<p>“Really. You’ll do it then? Sit down a moment -while I call up Briggs.”</p> - -<p>He called the garage and turned again to Jane. -“I’ll dictate some important letters, and be ready -for you when you get back.”</p> - -<p>Jane, being shown out finally by the elegant Frederick, -was again aware of the interest displayed by -the fish in the aquarium. She was also aware that -the girl in black serge with the white beads had -risen, and that Towne was saying, “When I come -back you can take my letters, Miss Logan.”</p> - -<p>He went all the way down to the first floor of the -big building, and Jane and her cheap gray suit -were once more under observation, this time by -people on the sidewalk, as Briggs and Towne got -her into the car. She rode away in great state and -elegance. She was not quite sure whether she was -really Jane Barnes. It seemed much more likely -that she was Cinderella in a coach made out of a -pumpkin, and that Briggs had been metamorphosed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -from a rat. She leaned against the luxury of the -fawn-colored cushions, and overlooked the outside -world of pedestrians. Until to-day she had been -one of them, but now she rode above them—the -limousine was like some stately galleon breasting -the tides of traffic. Jane’s imagination carried her -far. Even when she came to the market the enchantment -persisted, especially when Briggs -proved to be perfectly human and helpful instead -of the automaton she had thought him. “If you -don’t mind my going in with you, Miss,” he said, -“I’d like it.”</p> - -<p>So Jane went through the fine old market, with -its long aisles brilliant with the bounty of field and -garden, river, and bay and sea. There were red -meats and red tomatoes and red apples, oranges -that were yellow, and pumpkins a deeper orange. -There were shrimps that were pink, and red-snappers -a deeper rose. There was the gold of butter -and the gold of honey—the green of spinach, the -green of olives and the green of pickles in bowls of -brine, there was the brown of potatoes overflowing -in burlap bags, and the brown of bread baked to -crustiness—the brown of the plumage of dead -ducks—the white of onions and the white of roses.</p> - -<p>Jane bought modestly and Briggs carried her -parcels. He even made a suggestion as to the cut -of the steak. His father, it seemed, had been a -butcher.</p> - -<p>They drove back then for Frederick. Briggs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -went up for him, and returned to say that Mr. -Towne would be down in a moment.</p> - -<p>Frederick was, as a matter of fact, finishing a -letter to Delafield Simms:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“I am assuming that you will get your mail -at the Poinciana, but I shall also send a copy to -your New York office. Edith has asked me to return -the ring to you. I shall hold it until I learn -where it may be delivered into your hands.</p> - -<p>“As for myself, I can only say this—that my first -impulse was to kill you. But perhaps I am too -civilized to believe that your death would make -things better. You must understand, of course, -that you’ve put yourself beyond the pale of decent -people.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Lucy’s pencil wavered—a flush stained her -throat and cheeks—then she wrote steadily, as -Frederick’s voice continued:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“You will find yourself blackballed by several of -the clubs. Whatever your motive, the world sees -no excuse.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>He stopped. “Will you read that over again, -Miss Logan?”</p> - -<p>So Lucy read it—still with that hot flush on her -cheeks, and when she had finished Frederick said, -“You can lock the ring in the safe until I give you -further instructions.”</p> - -<p>A clerk came in to say that the car was waiting, -and presently Frederick Towne went away and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -Lucy was left alone in the great room, which was -not to her a forest of adventure, as it had seemed -to Jane, but a great prison where she tugged at her -chains.</p> - -<p>She thought of Delafield Simms sailing fast to -southern waters. Of those purple seas—the blazing -stars in the splendid nights. Delafield had told -her of them. They had often talked together.</p> - -<p>She turned the ring around on her finger, studying -the carved figure. The woman with the butterfly -wings was exquisite—but she did not know her -name. She slipped the ring on the third finger of -her left hand. Its diamonds blazed.</p> - -<p>She locked it presently in the safe—then came -back and read the letter which Towne had signed. -She sealed it and stamped the envelope. Then she -wrote a letter of her own. She made a little ring -of her hair, and fastened it to the page. Beneath -it she wrote, “Lucy to Del—forever.” She kissed -the words, held the crackling sheet against her -heart. Her eyes were shining. The great room was -no longer a prison. She saw beyond captivity to -the open sea.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br /> - -<small>THE SCARECROW</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Mrs. Allison</span> and the three old ladies with whom -Jane was to drink tea, were neighbors. Mrs. Allison -lived alone, and the other three lived in the -homes of their several sons and daughters. They -played cards every Friday afternoon, and Jane always -came over when Mrs. Allison entertained and -helped her with the refreshments. They were very -simple and pleasant old ladies with a nice sense of -their own dignity. They resented deeply the fact -of Mrs. Follette’s social condescensions. The lady -of the manor spoke to them when she met them on -the street or in church, but she never invited them -to her house. She was, in effect, the chatelaine, -while they were merely Smith and Brown and Robinson!</p> - -<p>Well, at any rate, they had Jane. Some of the -other young people scorned these elderly tea-parties, -and if they came, were apt to show it in their -manner. But Jane was never scornful. She always -had the time of her life, and the old ladies -felt particularly joyous and juvenile when she was -one of them.</p> - -<p>But this afternoon Jane was late. Tea was always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -served promptly at four. And it happened -that there were popovers. So, of course, they -couldn’t wait.</p> - -<p>“I telephoned to Sophy,” said Mrs. Allison, -“and Jane has gone to town. I suppose something -has kept her. Anyhow we’ll start in.”</p> - -<p>So the old ladies ate the popovers and drank hot -sweet chocolate, and found them not as delectable -as when Jane was there to share them.</p> - -<p>Things were, indeed, a bit dull. They discussed -Mrs. Follette, whose faults furnished a perpetual -topic. Mrs. Allison told them that the young Baldwins -had dined at Castle Manor on Thanksgiving. -And that there had been other guests.</p> - -<p>“How can she afford it,” was the unanimous -opinion, “with that poor boy on her hands?”</p> - -<p>“He’s hanging around now, waiting for Jane’s -train,” said Mrs. Allison, bringing in hot supplies -from the kitchen. “He met the noon train, too.”</p> - -<p>The old ladies knew that Evans was in love with -Jane. He showed it, unmistakably. But they -hoped that Jane wouldn’t look at him. He was -dear and good, and had been wonderful once upon -a time. But that time had passed, and it was impossible -to consider Mrs. Follette as Jane’s mother-in-law!</p> - -<p>“He’s sitting up there on the terrace,” Mrs. Allison -further informed them. “Do you think I’d -better ask him to come over?”</p> - -<p>They thought she might, but her hospitable purpose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -was never fulfilled, for as she stepped out on -the porch, a long, low limousine stopped in front -of the house, and out of it came Jane in all the -glory of a great bunch of orchids, and with a man -by her side, whose elegance measured up to the -limousine and the lovely flowers.</p> - -<p>They came up the path and Jane said, “Mrs. -Allison, may I present Mr. Towne, and will you -give him a cup of tea?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, I will,” Mrs. Allison seemed to rise on -wings of gratification, “only it is chocolate and -not tea.”</p> - -<p>And Frederick said that he adored chocolate, and -presently Mrs. Allison’s little living-room was all -in a pleasant flutter; and over on Jane’s terrace, -Evans Follette sat, a lonely sentinel, and pondered -on the limousine, and the elegance of Jane’s escort.</p> - -<p>Once old Sophy called to him, “You’ll ketch your -death, Mr. Evans.”</p> - -<p>He shook his head and smiled at her. A man -who had lived through a winter in the trenches -thought nothing of this. Physical cold was easy -to endure. The cold that clutched at his heart was -the thing that frightened him.</p> - -<p>The early night came on. There were lights now -in Mrs. Allison’s house, and within was warmth -and laughter. The old ladies, excited and eager, -told each other in flashing asides that Mr. Towne -was the <i>great</i> Frederick Towne. The one whose -name was so often in the papers, and his niece,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -Edith, had been deserted at the altar. “You know, -my dear, the one who ran away.”</p> - -<p>When Jane said that she must be getting home, -they pressed around her, sniffing her flowers, saying -pleasant things of her prettiness—hinting of -Towne’s absorption in her.</p> - -<p>She laughed and sparkled. It was a joyous experience. -Mr. Towne had a way of making her -feel important. And the adulation of the old ladies -added to her elation.</p> - -<p>As Frederick and Jane walked across the street -towards the little house on the terrace, a gaunt -figure rose from the top step and greeted them.</p> - -<p>“Evans,” Jane scolded, “you need a guardian. -Don’t you know that you shouldn’t sit out in such -weather as this?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not cold.”</p> - -<p>She presented him to Frederick. “Won’t you -come in, Mr. Towne?”</p> - -<p>But he would not. He would call her up. Jane -stood on the porch and watched him go down -the steps. He waved to her when he reached his -car.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Evans,” she said, “I’ve had such a day.”</p> - -<p>They went into the house together. Jane lighted -the lamp. “Can’t you dine with us?”</p> - -<p>“I hoped you might ask me. Mother is staying -with a sick friend. If I go home, I shall sup on -bread and milk.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>“Sophy’s chops will be much better.” She held -her flowers up to him. “Isn’t the fragrance -heavenly?”</p> - -<p>“Towne gave them to you?”</p> - -<p>She nodded. “Oh, I’ve been very grand and gorgeous—lunch -at the Chevy Chase club—a long -drive afterward——” she broke off. “Evans, you -look half-frozen. Sit here by the fire and get -warm.”</p> - -<p>“I met both trains.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Evans</i>—why will you do such things?”</p> - -<p>“I wanted to see you.”</p> - -<p>“But you can see me any time——”</p> - -<p>“I cannot. Not when you are lunching with -fashionable gentlemen with gold-lined pocket-books.” -He held out his hands to the blaze. “Do -you like him?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Towne? Yes, and I like the things he does -for me. I had to pinch myself to be sure it was -true.”</p> - -<p>“If what was true?”</p> - -<p>“That I was really playing around with the -great Frederick Towne.”</p> - -<p>“You talk as if he were conferring a favor.”</p> - -<p>She had her coat off now and her hat. She came -and sat down in the chair opposite him. “Evans,” -she said, “you’re jealous.” She was still vivid with -the excitement of the afternoon, lighted up by it, -her skin warmed into color by the swift flowing -blood beneath.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>“Well, I am jealous,” he tried to smile at her, -then went on with a touch of bitterness, “Do you -know what I thought about as I sat watching the -lights at Mrs. Allison’s? Well, as I came over to-day -I passed a snowy field—and there was a scarecrow -in the midst of it, fluttering his rags, a lonely -thing, an ugly thing. Well, we’re two of a kind, -Jane, that scarecrow and I.”</p> - -<p>Her shocked glance stopped him. “Evans, you -don’t know what you are saying.”</p> - -<p>He went on recklessly. “Well, after all, Jane, -the thing is this. It’s a man’s looks and his money -that count. I’m the same man inside of me that I -was when I went away. You know that. You -might have loved me. The thing that is left you -don’t love. Yet I am the same man——”</p> - -<p>As he flung the words at her, her eyes met his -steadily. “No,” she said, “you are not the same -man.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“The man of yesterday did not think—dark -thoughts——”</p> - -<p>The light had gone out of her as if he had blown -it with a breath. “Jane,” he said, unsteadily, “I -am sorry——”</p> - -<p>She melted at once and began to scold him, almost -with tenderness. “What made you <i>look</i> at -the scarecrow? Why didn’t you turn your back on -him, or if you <i>had</i> to look, why didn’t you wave and -say, ‘Cheer up, old chap, summer’s coming, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -you’ll be on the job again’? To me there’s something -debonair in a scarecrow in summer—he -dances in the breeze and seems to fling defiance to -the crows.”</p> - -<p>He fell in with her mood. “But his defiance is -all bluff.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know? If he keeps away a crow, -and adds an ear of corn to a farmer’s store—hasn’t -he fulfilled his destiny?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, if you want to put it that way. I suppose -you are hinting that I can keep away a crow or -two——”</p> - -<p>“I’m not hinting, I am telling it straight -out.”</p> - -<p>They heard Baldy’s step in the hall. Jane, rising, -gave Evans’ head a pat as she passed him. -“You are thinking about yourself too much, old -dear; stop it.”</p> - -<p>Baldy, ramping in, demanded a detailed account -of Jane’s adventure.</p> - -<p>“And I took Briggs to market,” she told him -gleefully, midway of her recital; “you should have -seen him. He carried my parcels—and offered advice——”</p> - -<p>Baldy had no ears for Briggs’ attractions. “Did -you get the things Miss Towne wanted?”</p> - -<p>“We did. We went to the house and I waited in -the car while Mr. Towne had the bags packed. He -wanted me to go in but I wouldn’t. We brought -her bags out with us.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>“Who’s we?”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Towne and I, myself,” she added the spectacular -details.</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you’ve been playing around -with him all day?”</p> - -<p>“Not all day, Baldy. Part of it.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure that I like it.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“A man like that. He might fill your head with -ideas.”</p> - -<p>“I hope my head is filled with ideas, Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“You know what I mean.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that I might think he would fall in -love with me. Well, I don’t. But he likes to play -and so do I. I hope he’ll do it some more. And -you and Evans are a pair of croakers. Here, I’ve -been having the time of my life, and you’re both -trying to take the joy out of it.”</p> - -<p>They began to protest. She flung off their apologies. -“Oh, let’s eat dinner. Between the two of -you you’ve spoiled my day.”</p> - -<p>But she was too light-hearted to hold resentment, -and by the time the coffee came she was -herself again. After dinner, Baldy telephoned -Edith, and came back to set the victrola going to -a most riotous tune and danced with Jane. It was -an outlet for his emotions. <i>Edith ... Edith -... Edith</i> ... was the tune to which he -danced.</p> - -<p>Then he made Jane play his accompaniment and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -sang the passionate lines of a poet much derided -by the moderns:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“She is coming, my own, my sweet,</div> -<div class="verse">Were it ever so airy a tread,</div> -<div class="verse">My heart would hear her and beat,</div> -<div class="verse">Had it lain for a century dead,</div> -<div class="verse">Would start and tremble under her feet,</div> -<div class="verse">And blossom in purple and red.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>The waves of lovely sound rose higher and higher, -seemed to break over and engulf them:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“My heart would hear her and beat....</div> -<div class="verse">Would start and tremble under her feet,</div> -<div class="verse">And blossom in purple and red.”</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Evans, walking home an hour later, took the -path which led beneath the pines. The old trees -showed thin and black against the moon-bright sky. -Beyond the pines was the field with the scarecrow. -Evans might have avoided it by following the road, -but he was drawn to it by a sort of sinister attraction, -and by the memory of the things he had said -to Jane.</p> - -<p>Under the moon the scarecrow took on more than -ever the semblance of a man. Lightly clad in straw -hat and pajamas, it seemed to shiver and shake in -the bleak and bitter night.</p> - -<p>Evans leaned on a fence post and surveyed his -fantastic prototype. The air was very still—no -sound but the faint whistle of the wind.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>Then out of the stillness—clear as a bell—Jane’s -husky voice. “<i>The man of yesterday did not think -dark thoughts.</i>”</p> - -<p>He seemed to answer her. “Why shouldn’t I -think them? My dreams are dead. And oh, my -dear, what have you to do with dead dreams?”</p> - -<p>He had thought he would be satisfied just to have -her near him. But he knew now that he would not -be satisfied. He had known it from the moment he -had seen her with Towne. Always hereafter there -would be the fear that she might be taken from -him. And it was Frederick Towne who might take -her. He had everything to offer. Any girl’s head -might be turned.</p> - -<p>Towne’s infatuation was evident. And Jane was -exquisite—in mind and soul as well as body. It -wasn’t a thing for a man to miss.</p> - -<p>He was chilled to the bone when at last he took -leave of the ghostly figure in the straw hat. The -old scarecrow seemed to lean towards him wistfully -as he went away.... Oh, the thing was -so human—he wanted to offer it shelter, a warm -hearth.... He flung back at it as the best he -could do, Jane’s words, “Cheer up, old chap, summer’s -coming.”</p> - -<p>When he reached home, Evans went at once to -the library. Rusty was in his basket by the fire. -He lifted himself stiffly and whined. Evans knelt -beside the basket, and held up a saucer of milk -that the old dog might drink. Then he took a book<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -from the shelf and sat down to read. His mother -had not returned. She had telephoned to him at -Jane’s that she might be late.</p> - -<p>But he could not read. He sat with his book in -his hand, and looked up at the portrait of his grandfather, -and at the photograph of himself. After a -while he rose and took the photograph from the -shelf, observing it at close range.</p> - -<p>What a gallant young chap he had been, and -what a pair he and Jane would have made! There -was no vanity in that—he would have matched his -youth with hers in those days. Oh, the man in the -picture was a fit mate for Jane!</p> - -<p>The man who held the picture in his hand was a -mate for—nobody!</p> - -<p>With a sudden furious gesture, he flung it from -him—the glass broke against the wall when it -struck.</p> - -<p>Rusty whined in his basket, his nose over the -edge of it. His master stood as still as a statue in -the center of the hearth.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When Mrs. Follette returned, her son met her at -the door. If he was pale, she did not speak of it. -“I am half-frozen, Evans; we came in an open car.”</p> - -<p>“Sit down by the fire, and I’ll get you some hot -milk.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you would. I must not risk a cold.”</p> - -<p>It was a fact that she could not. She was up -early every morning, directing the men who worked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -for her, and superintending the careful handling of -the milk. Evans had offered, repeatedly, to help -her, but she liked to do it herself. She was very -competent, and she had built up her own business -while her son was in the war. It seemed best to -carry it on without him. She did not like to think -of Evans as a milkman. A woman did not so easily -lose caste—distinguished Englishwomen had gone -into all kinds of occupations. The thing was to do -it with an air. She had decided shrewdly that she -must in some way differentiate her product from -that of the ordinary dairyman, so she had called -it <span class="smcap">Gold Seal</span> milk, and each bottle was closed with -a small gold seal bearing her family crest. Evans -had laughed at her, but her shrewdness had been -justified. She kept her cows in fine condition and -sent her cards to doctors. The cards, too, bore the -gold seal. And soon her reputation was established. -Big cars stopped at her door, and people -who came expecting to find a crude countrywoman -were ushered into the old library with its portraits -and an imposing background of books. There Mrs. -Follette, in quiet black with white cuffs and collars, -her gray hair high, received them. Her customers -went away impressed and told others.</p> - -<p>Outwardly calm on such occasions, Mrs. Follette -was inwardly excited. She had a feeling that the -situation smacked of Marie Antoinette at Little -Trianon. She was glad she had thought of selling -milk—it seemed to link her subtly with royalty.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>She had a royal air now as she sat before the -fire. She always dressed for dinner. Her shabby -black gown showed a round of white neck. She -wore a string of jet beads and her satin slippers -were adorned with jet buckles. She had pretty -feet—and she surveyed them complacently. Then -her eyes traveled beyond them to something that -lay in a far corner.</p> - -<p>She went over to it and picked it up. It was the -photograph of Evans which had always stood on -the mantel. The broken glass fell from it with a -tinkling sound. She had it in her hand when Evans -came in.</p> - -<p>“How in the world did it happen?”</p> - -<p>He set the small tray carefully on the table. “I -threw it.”</p> - -<p>“But—my dear boy, why?”</p> - -<p>He stood looking at her. She saw his paleness. -“Oh, well, for a moment I was a—fool.”</p> - -<p>She was not an imaginative woman. But she -knew what he meant. And her chin quivered. She -was no longer royal. She was the mother of a hurt -child. “I hoped things might—grow easier——”</p> - -<p>“They grow harder——”</p> - -<p>He sat down on the rug at her feet as he had sat -through the years of little boyhood. Her left hand -with its old-fashioned diamond rings hung by her -side. He took it in his. “Don’t worry, Mumsie, -I told you I was a—fool. And it was all over in a -second——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>She knew it was not over, but she drank her milk. -Then she drew his head against her knees, and told -him about her visit and her sick friend. Nothing -more was said of the picture, but all through her -recital he clung to her hand.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br /> - -<small>BALDY AS AMBASSADOR</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Baldy Barnes</span> faring forth to find Edith Towne -on Sunday morning was a figure as old as the ages—youth -in quest of romance.</p> - -<p>It was very cold and the clouds were heavy with -wind. But neither cold nor clouds could damp his -ardor—at his journey’s end was a lady with eyes -of burning blue.</p> - -<p>People were going to church as he came into the -city and bells were ringing, but presently he rode -again in country silences. He crossed the long -bridge into Virginia and followed the road to the -south.</p> - -<p>It was early and he met few cars. Yet had the -way been packed with motors, he would have still -been alone in that world of imagination where he -saw Edith Towne and that first wonderful moment -of meeting.</p> - -<p>So he entered Alexandria, passing through the -narrow streets that speak so eloquently of history. -Beyond the town was another stretch of road -parallel to the broad stream, and at last an ancient -roadside inn, of red brick, with a garden at the -back, barren now, but in summer a tangle of bloom, -with an expanse of reeds and water plants, extending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -out into the river, and a low spidery boat-landing, -which showed black at this season above the -ice.</p> - -<p>For years the old inn had been deserted, until -motor cars had brought back its vanished glories. -Once more its wide doors were open. There was -nothing pretentious about it. But Baldy knew its -reputation for genuine hospitality.</p> - -<p>He wondered how Edith had kept herself hidden -in such a place. It was amazing that no one had -discovered her. That some hint of her presence -had not been given to the newspapers.</p> - -<p>He found her in a quaint sitting-room up-stairs. -“I think,” she said to him, as he came in, “that -you are very good-natured to take all this trouble -for me——”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t any trouble.” His assurance was gone. -With her hat off she was doubly wonderful. He -felt his youth and inexperience, yet words -came to him, “And I didn’t do it for you, I did it -for myself.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “Do you always say such nice -things?”</p> - -<p>“I shall always say them to you. And you -mustn’t mind. Really,” Jane would have recognized -returning confidence in that cock of the head, -“I’m just a page—twanging a lyre.”</p> - -<p>They laughed together. He was great fun, she -decided, different.</p> - -<p>“You are wondering, I fancy, how I happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -to come here,” she said, leaning back in her chair, -her burnished hair against its faded cushions. -“Well, an old cook of Mother’s, Martha Burns, is -the wife of the landlord. She will do anything for -me. I have had all my meals up-stairs. I might -be a thousand miles away for all my world knows -of me.”</p> - -<p>“I was worried to death when I thought of you -out in the storm.”</p> - -<p>“And all the while I was sitting with my feet -on the fender, reading about myself in the evening -papers.”</p> - -<p>“And what you read was a-plenty,” said Baldy, -slangily. “Some of those reporters deserve to be -shot.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they had to do it,” indifferently, “and what -they have said is nothing to what my friends are -saying. It’s a choice morsel. Every girl who ever -wanted Del’s millions is crowing over the way he -treated me.”</p> - -<p>The look in his eyes disconcerted her. “Do you -really think that?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. We’re a greedy bunch.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like to hear you say such things.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Because—you aren’t greedy. You know it. It -wasn’t his millions you were after.”</p> - -<p>“What was I after? I wish you’d tell me. I -don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I think you just followed the flock.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -Other girls got married. So you would marry. -You didn’t know anything about love—or you -wouldn’t have done it.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know I’ve never been in love?”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t it true?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it is. I don’t know, really.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll know some day. And you mustn’t ever -think of yourself as mercenary. You’re too wonderful -for that—too—too fine——”</p> - -<p>She realized in that moment that the boy was in -earnest. That he was not saying pretty things to -her for the sake of saying them. He was saying -them all in sincerity. “It is nice of you to believe -in me. But you don’t know me. I am like the little -girl with the curl. I can be very, very good, but -sometimes I am ‘horrid.’”</p> - -<p>“You can’t make me think it.” He handed her a -packet of letters. “Your uncle sent these. There’s -one from Simms on top.”</p> - -<p>“I think I won’t read it. I won’t read any of -them. It has been heavenly to be away from things. -I feel like a disembodied spirit, looking on but having -nothing to do with the world I have left.”</p> - -<p>They were smiling now. “I can believe that,” -Baldy said, “but I think you ought to read Simms’ -letter. You needn’t tell me you haven’t any curiosity.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have,” she broke the envelope. “More -than that I am madly curious. I wouldn’t confess -it though to anyone—but you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>“They can cut me up in little pieces—before I -break my silence.”</p> - -<p>Again they laughed together. Then she broke -the seal of the letter. Read it through to herself, -then read it a second time aloud.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Now that it is all over, Edith, I want to tell -you how it happened. I know you think it is a -rotten thing I did. But it would have been worse -if I had married you. I am in love with another -woman, and I did not find it out until the day of -our wedding.</p> - -<p>“She isn’t in the least to blame, and somehow -I can’t feel that I am quite the cad that everybody -is calling me. Things are bigger sometimes than -ourselves. Fate just took me that morning—and -swept me away from you.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t her fault. She wouldn’t go away with -me, although I begged her to do it. And she was -right of course.</p> - -<p>“She is poor, but she isn’t marrying me for my -money. The world will say she is—but the world -doesn’t recognize the <i>real thing</i>. It has come to -me, and if it ever comes to you, you’re going to -thank me for this—but now you’ll hate me, and -I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful, wonderful woman—and -I find no excuse for myself, except the one -that it would have been a crime under the circumstances -to tie us to each other.</p> - -<p>“In spite of everything,</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="gap">“Faithfully,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Del</span>.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence, as she finished.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -Then Edith said, “So that’s that,” and tore the -letter into little shreds. Her blue eyes were like -bits of steel.</p> - -<p>“He’s right,” said Baldy. “I’d like to kill him -for making you unhappy—but the thing was bigger -than himself.”</p> - -<p>She shrugged her shoulders. “Of course if you -are going to condone—dishonor——”</p> - -<p>He was leaning forward hugging his knees. “I -am not condoning anything. But—I know this—that -some day if you ever fall in love, you’ll forgive——”</p> - -<p>“I am not likely to fall in love,” coldly, “I’m too -sensible——”</p> - -<p>He studied her with his bright gray eyes. “Oh, -no, you’re not. You’re not in the least—sensible. -You think you are because the men you’ve met have -been poor sticks who couldn’t make you care——”</p> - -<p>“I’ve met some of the most distinguished men in -America—and a few of them have fallen in love -with me——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know. You’ve had strings of lovers—you’re -too tremendously lovely not to have. But -they’ve all been afraid of you. No caveman stuff—or -anything like that. Isn’t that the truth?”</p> - -<p>“I should hate a caveman.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, but you wouldn’t be indifferent, and -you’d end by caring——”</p> - -<p>“I dislike brutal types—intensely——”</p> - -<p>He sat with his chin in his hand, his shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -hunched up like a faun or Pan at his pipes. “All -cavemen aren’t brutal types. Some day I’m going -to paint a picture of a man carrying off a woman. -And I’m going to make him a slender young god—and -she shall be a rather substantial goddess—but -she’ll go with him—his spirit shall conquer -her——”</p> - -<p>She looked at him in surprise. “Then you -paint?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say I do. Terrible things—magazine covers. -But in the back of my mind there are masterpieces——”</p> - -<p>He was a whimsical youngster, she decided. But -no end interesting. “I don’t believe your things -are terrible. And I shall want to see them——”</p> - -<p>“You are going to see them. I have a studio in -our garage. I sometimes wonder what happens at -night when my little Ford is left alone with my fantasies. -It must feel that it is fighting devils——”</p> - -<p>He broke off to say, “I’m as garrulous as Jane. -Please don’t let me talk any more about myself.”</p> - -<p>“Is Jane your sister?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And now let’s get down to realities. -Your uncle wants you to come home.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going. I know Uncle Fred. He’ll -make me feel like a returned prodigal. He’ll kill -the fatted calf, but I’ll always know that there -were husks——”</p> - -<p>“And hogs,” Baldy supplemented, dreamily. -“Some people are like that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>“He’s always been worshipped by women. And -I didn’t fall at his feet. That’s why we didn’t get -on. He ruled his mother and his servants—and he -couldn’t rule me. And he’d run away to his affinities -to be comforted, and they’d tell him what a cat -I was——”</p> - -<p>“Affinities?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I call them that, because there has always -been a procession of them. Women he adores for -the moment. But it never lasts, and they spoil -him to death—and I won’t spoil him. I like my -own way, too, sometimes, and I fight for it. And -I am the only person in the world who makes Uncle -Frederick lose his temper. And he hates that. -His manners are lovely as a rule, but he simply -blows up when we get into an argument.”</p> - -<p>She was not a goddess—she was intensely human—a -soul fighting to be free, and he wanted to help -her fight.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” he said suddenly, “if I were you -I’d go back.”</p> - -<p>“I will not.”</p> - -<p>“I think you ought. Face things out. Let your -uncle understand that there are to be no postmortems. -It is the only thing to do. You can’t stay -here forever.”</p> - -<p>“Did Uncle Fred make you his ambassador?” -coldly.</p> - -<p>“He did not. When I came, I felt that I would -do anything to keep you away from home as long as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -you liked. But I don’t feel that way now. You’ll -just sit here and grow bitter about it—instead of -thanking God on your knees.”</p> - -<p>He flung it at her, unexpectedly. There was a -moment’s intense silence. Then he said, “Oh, I -hope you don’t think I am preaching——”</p> - -<p>“No—no——” and suddenly her head went -down on her arm, that beautiful burnished head.</p> - -<p>She was crying!</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” he told her, huskily.</p> - -<p>And again there was silence.</p> - -<p>She hunted for her handkerchief, and he handed -her his. “You needn’t be sorry,” she said; “it -seems—rather refreshing to have someone say -things like that. Oh, I wonder if you know how -hard we are—and cynical—the people of my set. -And I don’t believe any of us ever—thank God.”</p> - -<p>She wiped her eyes, found her own handkerchief, -and handed his back to him. She did not know -how he treasured it—afterward—a chalice for her -tears. She found it many years later—shut away -in a box with a sprig of heliotrope.</p> - -<p>They talked for an hour after that. “There is -no reason why you should hurry back,” Baldy said, -“but I’d let your uncle tell people where you are. -Then the papers will drop it, don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>“I see. Of course I’ve been silly—but you can’t -think how I suffered.”</p> - -<p>She would not have admitted it to anyone else. -But she met his sincerity with her own.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>“I was going to have our lunch served up here,” -she said, “but I think I won’t. The dining-room -down-stairs is charming—and if anyone comes in -that I know—I shan’t care—as long as I’m going -back.”</p> - -<p>The mammoth fireplace in the old dining-room -had been restored to ancient uses. Martha and her -husband had recognized its value as a background, -so meat was roasted on the spit—a turkey to-day as -it happened. The tables were lighted by high white -candles—and there were old hunting prints on the -walls.</p> - -<p>The food was delicious, and having settled her -problems, Edith showed herself delightfully gay -and girlish. There was heliotrope in a Sheffield -bowl on their table. “Martha grows old-fashioned -flowers in pots,” Edith said. She picked out a -spray for him and he put it in his coat. “It’s my -favorite.” She told him about Delafield’s orchids. -“Think of all those months,” she said, “and he -never knew the flowers I like.”</p> - -<p>There were other people in the room, but it was -not until the end of the meal that anyone came -whom Edith recognized.</p> - -<p>“Eloise Harper—and she sees me,” was her -sudden remark. “Now watch me carry it -off.”</p> - -<p>She stood up and waved to a party of four people, -two men and two women, who stood in the -door.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>They saw her at once, and the effect of their coming -was a stampede.</p> - -<p>“Blessed child,” said the girl who was in the -lead, “have you eloped? And is this the man?”</p> - -<p>“This is Mr. Barnes,” said Edith, “who comes -from my uncle. I am to go back. But I have had -a corking adventure.”</p> - -<p>Only Baldy knew what was in her heart, and how -hard it was to face them. But on the surface she -was as sparkling as the rest of them. “I shall -probably be in the papers again to-morrow morning. -You know you won’t be able to keep it, Eloise.”</p> - -<p>Eloise, red-haired and vivid in a cloak and turban -of wood-brown, seemed to stand mentally on tiptoe. -“I wouldn’t miss the talk I am going to have with -the reporters to-night.”</p> - -<p>One of the men of the party protested. “Don’t -be an idiot, Eloise.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I owe Edith something. Don’t I, darling?”</p> - -<p>“You do.” There was a flame in back of Edith’s -eyes. “She liked Delafield before I did.”</p> - -<p>“Cat,” said Eloise lightly. “I liked his yacht, -but Benny’s is bigger, isn’t it, Benny?” She -turned to the younger man of the party who had -not spoken.</p> - -<p>“I’ll say it is,” Benny agreed, cheerfully, “and -it isn’t just my yacht that she’s after. She has -a real little case on me.”</p> - -<p>The second woman, older than Eloise, tall and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -fair-haired in smoke-gray with a sweep of dull blue -wing across her hat, said, “Edith, you bad child, -your uncle has been frightfully worried.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, you’d know, Adelaide. And it does -him good to be worried. I am an antidote for the -rest of you.”</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed except Baldy. He ran his -fingers with a nervous gesture through his hair. -He was like a young eagle with a ruffled crest.</p> - -<p>Martha came up to arrange for a table. “Bring -your coffee over and sit with us,” Eloise said; “we -want to hear all about it.”</p> - -<p>Edith shook her head. “I don’t belong to your -world yet. And I’ve had a heavenly time without -you.”</p> - -<p>They went on laughing. Silence settled on the -two they left behind. And out of that silence Edith -asked, “You didn’t like the things we said?”</p> - -<p>“Hateful!”</p> - -<p>“Do you always show what you feel like that?”</p> - -<p>“Jane says I do.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if it had been anybody but Eloise Harper -and Adelaide Laramore. Adelaide is Uncle Fred’s -latest.”</p> - -<p>She rose. “Let’s go up-stairs. If I stay here I -shall want to throw things at their heads. And I -don’t care to break Martha’s dishes.”</p> - -<p>They stopped at the other table, however, for a -light word or two, then went up to Edith’s sitting-room -on the second floor. When they were once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -more by the fire, she said, “And now what do you -think of me? Nice temper?”</p> - -<p>“I think,” he said, promptly, “that they probably -deserved it.”</p> - -<p>She laid her hand for a fleeting moment on his -arm. “You are rather a darling to say that. I was -really horrid.”</p> - -<p>When he was ready at last to go, she decided, -“Tell Uncle Frederick to send Briggs out for me -in the morning. I might as well have it over, now -that Eloise is going to spread the news.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d go in with me—to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I couldn’t——”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>She weighed it—“And surprise Uncle Fred?”</p> - -<p>“I think we’d better telephone, so he can kill the -fatted calf.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He doesn’t like things sprung on him. -Hurts his dignity—but he’s rather an old dear, and -I love him—do you ever quarrel with the people you -love?”</p> - -<p>“Jane and I fight. Great times.”</p> - -<p>“I have a feeling I shall like Jane.”</p> - -<p>“You will. She’s the best ever. Not a beauty, -but growing better-looking every day. Bobbed her -hair—and I nearly took her head off. But she’s -rather a peach.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll have you both down for dinner some day. -I think we are going to be friends”—again that -light touch on his arm.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>He caught her hand in his. “I shall only ask -that you let the page twang his lyre.” Then with -a deeper note, “Miss Towne, I can’t tell you how -much your friendship would mean.”</p> - -<p>“Would it? Oh, I am going to have some good -times with you and your little sister, Jane. I am -so tired of people like Eloise and Adelaide, and -Benny and—Del....”</p> - -<p>On this same afternoon little Lucy Logan was -writing to Delafield Simms.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“It seems like a dream, lover, that you are to -come for me in February, and that then we’ll be -married. And that all the rest of my life I am to -belong to you.</p> - -<p>“Del, it isn’t because you are rich. Of course -I shall adore the things you can do for me. I am -not going to pretend that I shan’t. But if you -were poor, I’d work for you—live for you. Oh, -Del, I do hope that you will believe it.</p> - -<p>“The other day, Mr. Towne said in one of his -letters that you had always been fickle, that there -had been lots of girls, Eloise Harper before Edith. -And I wanted to scream right out and say, ‘It isn’t -true. He hasn’t ever really cared before this.’ -But of course I couldn’t. But I broke a pencil -point, and as for Mr. Towne, who is he to say such -things about you? I haven’t taken his letters for -the last three years for nothing. There’s always -somebody—the last one was Mrs. Laramore, and -now he has his eye on a little Jane Barnes, whose -brother found Miss Towne’s bag and the ring. -She’s rather a darling, but I hope she won’t think -he is in earnest.</p></blockquote> - - - -<blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>“And now, my dear and my darling, good-night. -I wonder how I dare call you that. But I am -always saying it to myself, and at night I ask God -to keep you—safe.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Five days later, Delafield read Lucy’s letter. He -was on his yacht in southern waters. His man had -been sent in for the mail.</p> - -<p>When he had finished, Delafield lay back in his -deck chair and thought about it. Queer thing for -him to fall like that for little Lucy. He had not -believed that it was in him to care in that way for -a woman. But he did. The letter lay like a live -warm thing under his hand. It seemed to beat -with his heart as Lucy’s heart had beat against his -own on that last morning in Frederick Towne’s -office, while his bride waited.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI<br /> - -<small>THE DIM LANTERN</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span>, in Baldy’s absence, dined on Sunday with -the Follettes, in the middle of the day. In the afternoon -she and Evans went for a walk, and came -home to tea in the library.</p> - -<p>Stretched in a long leather chair, Evans read to -Jane and his mother “The Eve of St. Agnes.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“How bitter cold it was!</div> -<div class="verse">The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold:</div> -<div class="verse">The hare limp’d trembling through the frozen grass,</div> -<div class="verse">And silent were the flock in woolly fold.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Jane, curled up on the couch in her favorite attitude, -listened to that incomparable description of -stark winter weather, and was glad of the warmth -and coziness. She was glad, too, of this pleasant -company—Mrs. Follette was a great dear, with her -duchess air, and her devotion to Evans. And -Evans, reading in that thrilling and unchanged -voice, was at his best.</p> - -<p>As for Mrs. Follette, she was always glad to have -Jane visit them. The child was so cheerful, and -Evans needed cheer. Then, too, Jane was a delightful -compromise between the girl of yesterday -and the ultra-modern maiden who shocked Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> -Follette not only by her lack of reverence but by -her lack of reticence.</p> - -<p>Jane might have bobbed hair, but she did not -have a bobbed-hair mind. The meaning of this -conclusion was quite clear to Mrs. Follette, however -obscure it might be to others. Girls who cut -off their hair, as a rule, went farther—Jane stopped -at her hair.</p> - -<p>Then, too, Jane had what might be called old-fashioned -domestic qualities. She kept her little -house as spick and span as she kept herself. In -winter everything was burnished and bright; in -summer crisp curtains waved in the warm breeze; -there were cool shadows within the clean, quiet -rooms.</p> - -<p>At the moment, Mrs. Follette was weighing seriously -the fact of Jane as a wife for Evans. She -was pretty as well as cheerful. Had good manners. -Of course, in the old days, Evans would, inevitably, -have looked higher. There had been plenty of rich -girls eager to attract him. He had had unlimited -invitations. Women had, in fact, quite run after -him. Florence Preston had rather made a fool of -herself. And Florence’s father had millions.</p> - -<p>But now——? Mrs. Follette knew how little -Evans had at the moment to offer. She hated to -admit it, but the truth was evident. Watching the -two young people, she decided that should Evans -care for Jane, she would erect no barriers. As for -Jane, marriage with Evans would be, in a way, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -rise in the world. She would live at Castle Manor -instead of at Sherwood Park.</p> - -<p>The poem had reached a point where Mrs. Follette -felt that she ought to protest. She was not -quite sure that she approved of the situation it outlined. -The verse of the moment, for example—Porphyro’s -plea to the maid, old Angela:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“To lead him in close secrecy,</div> -<div class="verse">Even to Madelaine’s chamber and there hide</div> -<div class="verse">Him in a closet of such privacy,</div> -<div class="verse">That he might see her beauty unspy’d</div> -<div class="verse">And win, perhaps, that night, a peerless bride.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Stripped of all its fine words, it was an impossible -situation.</p> - -<p>Apparently, however, the young people were -without self-consciousness....</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Out went the taper, as she hurried in:</div> -<div class="verse">Its little smoke in pallid moonshine died——”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Evans looked up. “Could there be anything -lovelier than that last line?”</p> - -<p>Jane’s eyes had dreams in them. “Don’t stop,” -she said.</p> - -<p>He read on.... “She closed the door ...” -his voice took now a deeper note.</p> - - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,</div> -<div class="verse">And on her silver cross soft amethyst,</div> -<div class="verse">And on her hair a glory like a saint:</div> -<div class="verse">She seemed a splendid angel, newly drest,</div> -<div class="verse">Save wings for heaven; Porphyro grew faint:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></div> -<div class="verse">She knelt so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>“Evans,” said his mother, as he paused again, -“that poem doesn’t seem to me exactly proper.”</p> - -<p>He gave her a surprised glance. “Don’t spoil it -for us, Mumsie.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well,” Mrs. Follette shrugged her nice -shoulders, “we won’t argue. But when I was a -girl we didn’t read things like that.”</p> - -<p>“But this was written before you were a girl.”</p> - -<p>“What difference does that make?”</p> - -<p>“But the richness and color. You see it, Jane, -don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Finish it, Evans.”</p> - -<p>And when he came to the end, she said, “If only -life were like that.”</p> - -<p>“Like what?”</p> - -<p>“High romance. Porphyro says negligently, -‘For o’er the southern moors I have a home for -thee.’ But lovers of to-day have to think of rent -and food and clothes. And hotel bills for the -honeymoon.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you women”—he sat up flaming—“are -you conspiring to spoil my poem? Jane, it is the -dreams of men and women which shape their lives.”</p> - -<p>As his eyes met hers something stirred within -her like the flutter of a bird’s wings lifted to the -sun....</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>It was after five when Baldy telephoned triumphantly: -“Jane, Edith Towne has agreed to -go home to-night. And I’m to take her. I called -up Mr. Towne and told him and he wants you to -be there when we come. He’ll send Briggs for you -and we are all to have dinner together.”</p> - -<p>“But, Baldy, I don’t know Edith Towne. Why -doesn’t he ask some of her own friends?”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t want ’em. Hates them all, and -anyhow he has asked you. Why worry?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll have to go home and dress.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re to let him know at once where -Briggs can get you. I told him you were at the -Follettes’.”</p> - -<p>Jane went back and repeated the conversation to -Evans and his mother. Mrs. Follette was much -interested. The Townes were most important people. -“How nice for you, Jane.”</p> - -<p>But Evans disagreed with her. “What makes -you say that, Mother? It isn’t nice. It will simply -be upsetting.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why you say that, Evans,” Jane -argued. “I am not easily upset.”</p> - -<p>“But with all that money. You can’t keep up -with them.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t put ideas into Jane’s head,” his mother -remonstrated; “a lady is always a lady.”</p> - -<p>But Jane sided now with Evans. “I see what -he means, Mrs. Follette. I haven’t the clothes. I -haven’t a thing to wear to-night.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>“Oh, I wasn’t thinking of your looks.” Evans -got up and stood on the hearth-rug. “But people -like that! Jane, I wish you wouldn’t go.”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him with her chin tilted. “I -don’t see how I can refuse.”</p> - -<p>“Of course she can’t. Evans, don’t be so unreasonable,” -Mrs. Follette interposed; “it will be -a wonderful thing for Jane to know Edith.”</p> - -<p>“Will it be such a wonderful thing for her to -know Frederick Towne?” He flung it at them.</p> - -<p>Jane demanded, “Don’t you want me to have any -good times?”</p> - -<p>He stared at her for a moment, and when he -spoke it was in a different tone. “Yes, of course. -I beg your pardon, Janey.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette, having effaced herself for the moment -from the conversation, decided that things -between her son and little Jane Barnes might reach -a climax at any moment. “I believe he’s half in -love with her,” she told herself in some bewilderment.</p> - -<p>As for Frederick Towne, she didn’t consider him -for a moment. Jane was a pretty child. But Frederick -Towne could have his pick of women. There -would be nothing serious in this friendship with -Jane.</p> - -<p>Jane called up Towne. “It was good of you to -ask me,” she said. “I am at the Follettes’, but I’ll -go home and dress and Briggs can come for me -there.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>“Come as you are.”</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t say that if you could see me. I -took a walk with Evans this afternoon and I show -the effects of it.”</p> - -<p>“Evans? Oh, Casabianca?”</p> - -<p>“What makes you call him that?”</p> - -<p>“I thought of it when I saw him waiting for -you at the top of the terrace. ‘The boy stood on -the burning deck——’” he laughed.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think that’s funny at all,” said Jane, -frankly.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you? Well, I beg your pardon. I’ll beg -it again when I get you here. Briggs will reach -Sherwood at about seven. I would drive out myself, -but I’ve an awful cold, and the doctor tells -me I must stay in. And Cousin Annabel is sick in -bed with a cold, so you must take pity on me and -keep me company....”</p> - -<p>Jane hung up the receiver. It would, she decided, -be an exciting adventure. But she was not -sure that she liked Frederick Towne....</p> - -<p>Evans walked home with her. The air was -warmer than it had been for days, and faint mists -had risen. The mist thickened finally to a fog -which rolled over them as if blown from the high -seas. Yet the sea was miles away, and the fog was -born in the rivers and streams, and in the melting -snows.</p> - -<p>They found it somewhat difficult to keep to the -road. They were almost smothered in the thick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -gray masses. Their voices had a muffled sound. -Evans’ hand was on Jane’s arm so that they might -keep together.</p> - -<p>“Jane,” he said, “I made a fool of myself about -Towne. But honestly—I was afraid——”</p> - -<p>“Of what?”</p> - -<p>“That he might fall in love with you——”</p> - -<p>“He’s not thinking of me, Evans, and besides -he’s too old——”</p> - -<p>“Do you really feel that way about it, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Of course—silly.”</p> - -<p>He could not see her face—but the words in her -laughing lovely voice gave him a sense of reassurance.</p> - -<p>“Janey,” he said, “if I could only have you like -this always. Shut away from the world.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want to be shut away. I should -feel—caged——”</p> - -<p>“Not if you cared.”</p> - -<p>There was in his tone the huskiness of intense -feeling. She was moved by it. “Oh, I know what -you mean. But love won’t come to me like that—shut -in. I shall want freedom, and sunshine. I’ll -be a gull over the sea—a ship in full sail—a gypsy -on the road—but I’ll never be a ghost in a fog.”</p> - -<p>His hand dropped from her arm. “Perhaps -you’ll be a princess in a castle. Towne can make -you that.”</p> - -<p>“Why do you keep harping on Mr. Towne? I -don’t like it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>“Because—oh, I think everybody wants -you——”</p> - -<p>And now it was she who caught at his arm in -the mist, and leaned on it. “I’m not the least in -love with Frederick Towne. And I shall never -marry a man I don’t love, Evans.”</p> - -<p>When they came to the little house they found -old Sophy nodding in the kitchen. She always -stayed with Jane when Baldy was away. So -Evans said “Good-night” and started back.</p> - -<p>He found the path between the pines, walked a -few steps and stumbled. He sat down on the log -that had tripped him. He had no wish to go on. -His depression was intense. Night was before him -and darkness. Loneliness. And Jane would be -with Frederick Towne.</p> - -<p>He had for Jane a feeling of hopeless adoration. -She would never be his. For how could he try to -keep her? “I’ll be a gull over the sea—a ship in -full sail—a gypsy on the road—never a ghost in a -fog.”</p> - -<p>And he was just a ghost in a fog! Oh, what was -the use of ever “climbing up the climbing wave”? -One must have something of hope to live on. A -dream or two—ahead.</p> - -<p>How long he sat there he did not know. And -all at once he was aware of a pale blur against the -prevailing gloom. And then he heard Jane’s voice -calling, “Evans? Evans?”</p> - -<p>He answered and she came up to him. “Your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -mother telephoned—that you had not come home—and -she was worried.”</p> - -<p>She was holding the lantern up to the length of -her arm. In her orange cloak she shone through -the veil of mist, luminous.</p> - -<p>“My dear,” she said, gently, “why are you sitting -here?”</p> - -<p>“Because there isn’t any use in going on.”</p> - -<p>She lowered the lantern so that it shone on his -face. What she saw there frightened her. “Are -you feeling this way because of me?” she asked in -a shaking voice.</p> - -<p>“Because of everything.”</p> - -<p>“Evans, I won’t go to the Townes if you want -me to stay.”</p> - -<p>He looked up at her as she bent above him with -the lantern. She seemed to shine within and without, -like some celestial visitor.</p> - -<p>“Would you stay, Jane, if I wanted it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>He stood up. “I don’t want it. Not really. -I’m not quite such a selfish pig,” his smile was -ghastly.</p> - -<p>She was silent for a moment, then she said, “I’m -going home with you, Evans. Wait until I tell -Sophy to send Briggs after me.”</p> - -<p>He tried to protest, but she was firm. “I’ll be -back in a minute.”</p> - -<p>She returned presently, the lantern in one hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -and her slipper bag in the other. “I put on heavier -shoes. I should ruin my slippers.”</p> - -<p>As they trod the path together, the light of the -lantern shone in round spots of gold, now in front -of them, now behind them. The fog pressed close, -but the path was clear.</p> - -<p>“Evans,” said Jane, “I want you to promise me -something.”</p> - -<p>“Anything, except—not to love you.”</p> - -<p>“It has nothing to do with love of me, but it has -something to do with love of God.”</p> - -<p>He knew how hard it was for her to say that. -Jane did not speak easily of such things.</p> - -<p>She went on with some hesitation. Her -voice, muffled by the fog, had a muted note of -music.</p> - -<p>“Evans, you mustn’t let what I do make you or -break you. Whether I love you or not, you must -go on. You—you couldn’t hold me if you weren’t -strong enough, even if I was your wife. And there -is strength in you, if you’ll only believe it. Oh, -you must believe it, Evans. And you mustn’t make -me feel responsible. I can’t stand it. To feel all -the time that I am hurting—you.”</p> - -<p>She was sobbing. A little incoherent.</p> - -<p>“And you <i>are</i> captain of your soul, Evans. You. -Not anyone else. I can’t be. I can be a help, and -oh, I will help all I can. You know that. But—I -love you like a big brother—not in any other -way. If anything should happen to you, it would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -be dreadful for me, just as it would be dreadful if -anything happened to Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“Janey, my dear, don’t,” for she was clinging to -his arm, crying as if her heart would break.</p> - -<p>“But I do care for you so much, Evans. I was -frantic when your mother telephoned. I wasn’t -quite dressed and I made Sophy get the lantern, -and then I ran down the path, and looked for you.”</p> - -<p>He stopped and laid his hand on her shoulder. -Her weakness, her broken words had roused in him -a sudden protective tenderness.</p> - -<p>“My little girl,” he said, “don’t. God helping -me, I’m going to get back. And you are going to -light my way. Jane, do you know when I saw -you coming towards me with that dim lantern it -seemed symbolic. Hope held out to me—seen -through a fog, faintly. But a light, nevertheless.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Evans, if I could love you, I would, you -know that.”</p> - -<p>“I know. You’d tie up the broken wings of -every bird. You’d give crutches to the lame, and -food to the hungry. And that’s the way you feel -about me.”</p> - -<p>He had let her go now, and they stood apart, -shrouded in ghostly white.</p> - -<p>“God helping me,” he said again, “I’ll get back. -That’s a promise, Janey, and here’s my hand upon -it.”</p> - -<p>She gave him her hand. “God helping us both,” -she said.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>He lifted her hand and kissed it. Then, in silence, -they walked on, until they reached the -house....</p> - -<p>The Towne car was waiting, and Mrs. Follette -in a flurry welcomed them. “I don’t see why you -didn’t ride over with him.”</p> - -<p>“He hadn’t come, and we preferred to -walk.”</p> - -<p>“What was the matter with you, Evans?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing much, Mother. I’m sorry you were -fussed.” He gave her no further explanation.</p> - -<p>Jane put on her slippers and went off in the -great car. And then Evans said, “I’m going over -to Hallam’s.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you well, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“I want to talk to him.” He saw her anxious -look, and bent and kissed her. “Don’t worry, -Mumsie, I’m all right.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Hallam’s old estate adjoined the Follette -farm. The doctor was a nerve specialist, and went -every morning to Washington, coming back at -night to the quiet of his charming home. He was -unmarried and was looked after by men-servants. -He had been much interested in Evans’ case, and -had in fact had charge of it.</p> - -<p>The doctor was by the library fire, smoking a -cigar and reading a brown book. He welcomed -Evans heartily. “I was wondering when you -would turn up again.” He showed the title of his -book, “Boswell. There was a man. As great as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -the man he wrote about, and we are just beginning -to find it out.”</p> - -<p>“Rare edition?” Evans sat down.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Got it at Lowdermilk’s yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve oodles of old books on our shelves. -Ought to sell them, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t sell one of mine.” Hallam was emphatic. -“I’d rather murder a baby.”</p> - -<p>Evans flamed suddenly. “I’d sell mine, if I -could get the things I want.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want anything as much as I want my -books.”</p> - -<p>“I do. I want life as I used to live it.”</p> - -<p>The doctor sat up and looked at him. “You -mean before the war?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Good.”</p> - -<p>“I’m tired of being half a man. If there’s any -way out of it, I want you to tell me.”</p> - -<p>The doctor’s eyes were bright with interest. He -knew the first symptoms of recovery in such cases. -The neurasthenic quality of Evans’ trouble had -robbed him of initiative. His waking-up was a -promising sign.</p> - -<p>“The thing to do, of course, is to get to work. -Why don’t you open an office?”</p> - -<p>“A fat chance I’d have of getting clients.”</p> - -<p>“I think they’d come.”</p> - -<p>The doctor smoked for a time in silence, then -he said, “Decide on something hard to do, and do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -it. Do it if you feel you are going to die in the -attempt.”</p> - -<p>There was something inspiring to Evans in the -idea. Hard things. That was it. He poured out -the story of the past few days. The awful scene -with Rusty. To-night in the fog under the pines. -“Wanted more than anything to drop myself in -the river.”</p> - -<p>He was walking the floor, back and forth, limping -to one edge of the rug, then limping to the -other. “Then Jane came. Little Jane Barnes. -You know her, and she told me—where to get off—said -I was—captain of my soul——” He -stopped in front of the doctor, and smiled whimsically. -“Are any of us captains of our souls, doctor?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be darned if I know.” The doctor was intensely -serious. “Will power has a lot to do with -things. The trouble is when your will won’t -work——”</p> - -<p>“Mine seems to be working on one cylinder.” -Again Evans was pacing the rug. “But that idea -of an office appeals to me. It will take a bit of -money, though. And it is rather a problem to -know where to get it.”</p> - -<p>“Sell some of the old books. I’ll buy them.”</p> - -<p>Light leaped into Evans’ eyes. “It would be -one way, wouldn’t it? Mother would rather hate it. -But what’s a library against a life?” He seemed to -fling the question to a listening universe.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>The doctor laughed. “She’ll be sensible if you -put it up to her. And you must frivol a bit. Play -around with the girls.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want any girls except Jane.”</p> - -<p>“Little Jane Barnes. Well, she’ll do.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say she will.”</p> - -<p>The doctor, watching him as he walked back -and forth, said, “The thing to do is to map out a -normal day. Make it pretty close to the program -you followed before the war. You haven’t happened -to keep a diary, have you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. It’s a clumsy record. Mother started -me when I was a kid.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what we want. Read it every night, and -do some of the things the next day that you did -then. You will find you can stick closer than you -think. And it will give you a working plan.”</p> - -<p>Evans sat down and discussed the idea. It was -late when he rose to leave.</p> - -<p>“It will be slow,” was Hallam’s final admonition, -“but I believe you can do it. And when -things go wrong, just honk and I’ll lend you some -gas,” his big laugh boomed out, as they stood in -the door together. “Nasty night.”</p> - -<p>“I have a lantern.” Evans picked it up from the -porch.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When Evans reached home his mother called -from up-stairs, “I thought you were never coming.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>“Hallam and I had a lot to talk about.”</p> - -<p>He came running up, and entering her room -found her propped up on her pillows.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette in bed lost nothing of her dignity. -Her gray hair at night was braided and wound into -a coronet above her serene forehead. She wore -something knitted in white and black about her -shoulders. There was a prayer-book on her bedside -table—and pineapple posts to her bed. She -had inherited her religion and her furniture from -her ancestors, and she kept them both in order.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” said Evans, and stood looking down -at her, “Hallam wants me to sell some of the old -books and use the money to open an office.”</p> - -<p>“What kind of office?”</p> - -<p>“Law. In town.”</p> - -<p>“But are you well enough, Evans?”</p> - -<p>“He says that I am. He says that I must think -that I am well, Mother.”</p> - -<p>“But——”</p> - -<p>“Dearest, don’t spoil it with doubts. It’s my -life, Mother.”</p> - -<p>There was a look on his face which she had not -seen since his return. Uplifted, eager. A light in -his eyes, like the light which had shone in the eyes -of a boy.</p> - -<p>She found it difficult to speak. “My dear, the -books are yours. Do as you think best.”</p> - -<p>He leaned over and kissed her, lifting her a bit. -There was energy as well as affection in the quick<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -caress. She drew herself away laughing, breathless. -“How strong you are.”</p> - -<p>“Am I? Well, I think I am. And I am going -to conquer the world, Mumsie.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His exaltation lasted during the reading of the -diary. It was a fat little book, and the pages were -written close in his fine firm script. He found -things between the leaves—a four-leaved clover -Jane had sent him when he made the football team. -A rose, colorless and dry. Florence Preston had -given it to him.</p> - -<p>He dropped the rose in the waste-basket. How -could he ever have thought of Florence? Love -wasn’t a thing of blue eyes and pale gold hair. It -was a thing of fire and flame and fighting.</p> - -<p>Fighting! That was it. With your back to the -wall—and winning!</p> - -<p>For some day he meant to win Jane. Did she -think she could be in the world and not be his? -And if she loved strength she should have it. He -bent his head in his hands—his hands clasped -tensely. There was a prayer in his heart. His -whole being ached with the agony of his effort.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God, let me fight and win. Bring me back -to the full measure of a man.”</p> - -<p>Again he opened the book. Bits of printed verse -dropped out of it. Jane had sent him this, “<i>One -who never turned his back, but marched breast-forward.</i>”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>Well, he had turned his back. That day in the -snow. The thought gripped him. Made him white -and sick. He stood up, praying again in an agony -of mind, “Bring me back.”</p> - -<p>He opened the book and read of Jane, and of -himself as he had once been. He skipped the record -of his college days, except where he found such -reference as this: “Little Jane is growing up. She -met me at the station and held out her hand to me. -I used always to kiss her, but this time I didn’t -dare. She was different somehow, but some day -I’ll kiss her.”</p> - -<p>And this: “Jane is rather a darling. But I am -beginning to believe that I like ’em fair.” That -was when he had a terrible crush on Florence Preston, -whose coloring was blue and gold. But it -hadn’t lasted, and he had come back to Jane with -a sense of refreshment.</p> - -<p>He found at last the pages given over to those -first days after he had been admitted to the Washington -bar, and had hung out his shingle.</p> - -<p>“Sat at my desk all the morning. Great bluff. -One client received with great effect of busy-ness. -Had lunch with a lot of fellows—pancakes and -sausages—ate an armful. Tea with three débutantes -at the Shoreham—peaches. Dance at the -Oakleys’ in Georgetown. Corking time. One -deadly moment when the butler took my overcoat. -Poor people ought not to dance where there are -butlers.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>Remembering that incident, he leaned back in -his chair and laughed. The Oakleys had all the -money in the world, and a background of aristocracy. -Evans’ overcoat was rusty and shiny at the -elbows. The butler, a recent importation from -London, had been imposing in knee-breeches and -many buttons. His manner had been perfect, but -Evans had been aware of the servant’s scorn of -rustiness and shininess. Then his own good sense -had come to the rescue, and he had gone in and had -danced with as light heels as the rest of them.</p> - -<p>He found more than one reference to his poverty. -“I shall have to stop eating, or I can’t wear my -evening clothes. And I can’t afford new ones. -Jane says she hates to have me lose weight—that -I look big and beautiful now like Michelangelo’s -David at the Corcoran. I don’t know whether she -is in earnest. One never knows. Her eyes never -tell.”</p> - -<p>And again: “If I had money enough, I’d ask -Jane to marry me. But I can’t pay for Huyler’s -and matinée tickets. And anyhow, I’m sure she -wouldn’t have me. Not right off the bat. We’re -made for each other all right. And some day, if -she doesn’t know it, I’ll make her.”</p> - -<p>There were spring days with Jane. “Gee, but -it’s good to be alive. Jane and I walked down to -the glen this morning. Picked wild flowers, dogtooth -violets, hepatica, anemones; and we sang—with -nobody to hear us. I let out my voice—in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -the Toreador’s song, and Jane sat there and looked -and listened, and said when I had finished, ‘It’s -like the opera, Evans.’ I believe she meant it, and -she didn’t want me to stop.... I felt pretty -fine to have her there, liking it.... Oh, she’s -a darling. I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t.”</p> - -<p>Autumn came: “Jane and I went to-day to -gather fox grapes. Mother is making jelly and so -is Jane. The vines were a great tangle. Shut in -among them we seemed a thousand miles away -from the world. Jane made herself a wreath of -grape leaves, and looked like a nymph of the woods. -I told her so and she gazed at me with those great -gray eyes of hers and said, ‘Evans, when the gods -were young they must have lived like this—with -grapes for their food, and the birds to sing for -them, and the little wild things of the wood for -company. It would be heavenly, wouldn’t it?’ -She’s a queer kid. Life with her wouldn’t be humdrum. -She’s so intensely herself.”</p> - -<p>“We talked a bit about the war. I told her I -should go if France needed me. I am not going -to wait until this country gets into it. We owe a -debt to France....”</p> - -<p>He stopped there, and closed the book. He did -not care to read farther. Oh, his debt to France -had been paid. And after that day with Jane -among the tangled vines things had moved faster—and -faster.</p> - -<p>He didn’t want to think of it....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII<br /> - -<small>THE ICE PALACE</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">The</span> evening wrap which Jane wore with her old -white chiffon was of a bright Madonna blue with a -black fur collar. Jane, as has been said, loved clear -color, and when she dyed dingy things she brought -them forth lovely to the eye and tremendously -picturesque.</p> - -<p>The first effect on Frederick Towne of her bobbed -black head above the fur collar was enchanting. It -was only later that he discovered her shabbiness. -That initial glimpse had, however, shown him what -money could do for her.</p> - -<p>Frederick’s house was a place where polished -floors seemed to dissolve in pools of golden light, -where a grand staircase led up to balconies, where -the ceilings were almost incredibly high, the vistas -almost incredibly remote. Frederick, coming towards -her through those pools of golden light—blonde, -big and smiling, brought a swift memory of -another blonde and heroic figure, not in evening -clothes—but in silver armor—“Nun sei bedankt, -mein lieber Schwan,” Lohengrin! That was it.</p> - -<p>“A fat Lohengrin,” she amended, maliciously.</p> - -<p>Unaware of this devastating estimate, Frederick -welcomed her with the air of a Cophetua. He was -unconscious of his attitude of condescension. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -was much attracted, but he knew, of course, that -his interest in her would be a great thing for the -little girl.</p> - -<p>And he <i>was</i> interested. A queer thing had happened -to him—a thing which clashed with all his -theories, broke down the logic of his previous arguments. -He had fallen in love with little Jane -Barnes, at first sight if you please—like a crude -boy. And he wanted her for his wife. It was an -almost unbelievable situation. There had been so -many women he might have married. Lovelier -women than Jane, wittier, more distinguished, -richer—of more assured social standing. He could -have had the pick of them, yet not one of them had -he wanted. Here was little Jane Barnes, bobbed -hair, boyish, slender, quaint in her cheap clothes, -and he could see no one else at the head of his -table, no one else by his side in the big car, no one -else to share the glamorous days of honeymoon, -and the life which was to follow.</p> - -<p>He had always had his own way, and he intended -to have it now. Edith had, of course, -thwarted him in some things, and she was still on -his hands. Yet the matter would, without doubt, -right itself. There were other eligible suitors; it -was not to be supposed that a beauty and an heiress -would remain long unwed.</p> - -<p>And in the meantime, he would set himself to the -wooing of Jane. The end was, of course, inevitable. -But Jane would not fall into his arms at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -first word. Her attitude towards him was absolutely -impersonal. She had no blushes, no small -flirtatious tricks. She was as cool as some lovely -garden flower with the morning dew upon it. But -he fancied she might flame.</p> - -<p>And so when young Baldwin had telephoned of -Edith’s plans, there had leaped into Towne’s mind -the realization of his opportunity. He would see -Jane among his household gods. And he would -see her alone. He had sent Briggs in time to have -her there before the others arrived.</p> - -<p>And now Fate had played further into his hands. -“I’ve had another message from Edith,” he told -her; “we’ll have to eat dinner without them. The -fog caught them south of Alexandria, and they -went into a ditch. They will eat at the nearest -hotel while the car is being fixed up.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy’s car always breaks at psychological moments,” -said Jane. “If it hadn’t broken down on -the bridge, he wouldn’t have found your niece.”</p> - -<p>“And I wouldn’t have known you”—he was -smiling at her. “Who would ever have believed -that so much hung on so little.”</p> - -<p>And now Waldron, the butler, announced dinner—and -Jane entering the dining-room felt dwarfed -by the Gargantuan tables, the high-backed ecclesiastical -chairs, the tall silver candlesticks with -their orange candles.</p> - -<p>“Your color,” Towne told her. “You see I remembered -your knitting——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>“I’m crazy about brilliant wools,” said Jane; -“some day I am going to open a shop and sell -them.”</p> - -<p>But he knew that she would not open a shop. -“You were like some lovely bird,—an oriole, perhaps, -with your orange and black.”</p> - -<p>“I dye things,” said Jane, frankly; “you should -see some of my clothes when they come out. Joseph’s -coat isn’t in it.”</p> - -<p>Frederick liked her frankness. He knew people -who would have been ashamed to admit their poverty -before Waldron and the maids. To Jane, servants -had neither eyes nor ears—in that she showed -her accustomedness. People who had never been -served were self-conscious.</p> - -<p>“The next time you see this dress,” Jane was -saying, “it will be as blue as my coat. And I’ll -have a girdle of copper ribbon, and Baldy will paint -my shoes with copper paint.”</p> - -<p>She smiled at him with her chin tilted in her -bird-like way. She was really having the time of -her life. She was thrilled and fascinated by the -beauty of her surroundings, and gradually Frederick -began to take on something of the fascination.</p> - -<p>Against his own background, he showed at his -best. Without one word of fulsome flattery, he -made little Jane feel that she was an honored guest. -He talked extremely well, and though she was alone -with him put her absolutely at her ease.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>The food was delicious. There had been a celestial -canape, a heavenly soup, fish that were pale -pink and smothered in tartare sauce.</p> - -<p>“He is awfully nice,” Jane told herself out of -her supreme content, as Waldron passed squabs on -a silver platter. She referred of course to Towne -and not to Waldron but, remembering her own old -Sophy’s shortcomings, she found time, also, to commend -to herself the butler’s expertness.</p> - -<p>After dinner they sat in the great drawing-room—a -portentous place—with low-hung crystal chandeliers—pale -rugs—pale walls—with one corner -redeemed from the general chilliness by a fireplace -of yellow Italian marble, and a huge screen of peacock -feathers in a mahogany frame.</p> - -<p>“I call this room the Ice Palace,” Frederick told -her. “Mother furnished it in the early eighties—and -she would never change it. And now I rather -hate to have it different. I warmed this corner -with the fireplace and the screen. Edith always -sits in the library on the other side of the hall, but -Mother and I had our coffee here, and I prefer to -continue the old custom.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s eyes opened wide. “Don’t you and your -niece drink your coffee together?”</p> - -<p>“Usually, but there have been times,” he laughed -as he said it, “when each of us has sat on opposite -sides of the hall in lonely state.”</p> - -<p>Jane laughed too. “Baldy and I do things like -that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>“And now,” he said, “we can talk about Edith. -I suppose I’ll have to kill the fatted calf. That’s -what your brother said.”</p> - -<p>“That sounds like Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“Does it? Well, he told me the thing that decided -her was some friends who came out and saw -her in the dining-room. She’s been all the time -with Martha, her mother’s old cook, whose husband -keeps a country hotel beyond Alexandria. And -Adelaide Laramore and Eloise Harper and a couple -of men were lunching there. I am sorry it happened. -Eloise is a regular town-crier. She’ll tell -the world.”</p> - -<p>He beat his fist against the arm of his chair. “I -hate to have the thing in the papers.”</p> - -<p>“It will soon die down,” said Jane, “when she -comes home.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be glad to have her. But I don’t quite -see why I am to kill the fatted calf. She won’t act -in the least like a prodigal.”</p> - -<p>“Why should you care how she acts? You want -her back. Isn’t that enough?”</p> - -<p>He liked her crisp common sense. Her fearless -expression of opinion. Most of the women he knew -were afraid not to agree with him. That was the -trouble with Adelaide. She leaned to him always -like a lily, charming, feminine, soft as milk. But -Jane did not lean. She was, he told himself, a cup -of elixir held to his lips. He drank as it were of -her youth.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>They finished their coffee and he smoked a cigar. -Edith and Baldy telephoned that the thing was -more serious than they had anticipated. That perhaps -he had better send Briggs.</p> - -<p>“So that means I’m going to have you to -myself for an hour longer,” Frederick told Jane. -“I hope you are as happy in the prospect as I am.”</p> - -<p>“I am having a joyous time. I feel like Cinderella -at the ball.”</p> - -<p>He laughed at that. “You’re a refreshing child, -Jane.” He had never before called her by her first -name.</p> - -<p>“Am I? But I’m not a child. I’m as old as the -hills.”</p> - -<p>“Not in years.”</p> - -<p>“In wisdom. I know how to make ends meet, -and how to order meals, and how to plan my own -dresses, and a lot of things that your Edith doesn’t -have to think about.”</p> - -<p>“And yet you are happy.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say I am.”</p> - -<p>He laughed but did not continue the subject. -“I’ve a rather wonderful collection of earrings. -Would you like to look at them? Queer fad, isn’t -it? But I’ve picked them up everywhere.”</p> - -<p>“Why earrings?”</p> - -<p>“Other things are commonplace—brooches, necklaces, -tiaras. But there’s romance in the jewels -that women have worn in their ears. You’ll see.”</p> - -<p>He went into another room and brought back a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -tray. It was lined with velvet and the earrings -were set up on tiny cushions. It was a unique display. -Cameos from ancient Rome, acorns of human -hair in the horrible taste of the sixties—gypsy -hoops of gold—coral roses in delicate fretted -wreaths—old French jewels—rubies, emeralds, -sapphires, and seed pearls, larger pearls set alone -to show their beauty, and a sparkling array of -modern things, diamonds in platinum—long pendants -of jade and jet—opals dripping like liquid -fire along slender chains.</p> - -<p>She hung over them.</p> - -<p>“Which do you like best?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“The pearls?”</p> - -<p>He was doubtful. “Not the white ones. -These——” he picked up a pair of sapphires set in -seed pearls—rather barbaric things that hung -down for an inch or more. “They’ll suit your -style. Have you ever worn earrings?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Try them.”</p> - -<p>He helped her to adjust them—and his hand -touched her smooth warm cheek. He was conscious -of her closeness, but gave no sign.</p> - -<p>There was a little mirror above the mantel. -“Look at yourself,” he said.</p> - -<p>She tilted her head so that the jewels shook. -The blue lights of the stones made her skin incandescent.</p> - -<p>Frederick surveyed her critically. “You ought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -to have a more sophisticated gown. Silver brocade -with a wisp of a train.”</p> - -<p>“It changes me, doesn’t it? I am not sure that -I like them.”</p> - -<p>“I do. Edith has always wanted those earrings. -But I won’t let her have them. I am saving them -for—my wife.”</p> - -<p>“You ought to have wives to wear them—like -Solomon.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean that you are recommending it?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not. Only one woman couldn’t ever -wear them all, could she?”</p> - -<p>“She might.” Again he was pleased by her lack -of self-consciousness. What a joy she was after -Adelaide.</p> - -<p>As if the name had brought her, a voice spoke -from the door. “I wouldn’t let Waldron announce -me, Ricky; may I come in?”</p> - -<p>She stopped as she saw Jane. “Oh, you’re not -alone?”</p> - -<p>“This is Miss Barnes, Adelaide. I think you -met her brother to-day at luncheon. Edith telephoned -that you and Eloise had found her.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I came about, to warn you. Eloise -has the reporters on her trail. She’ll be over in a -minute. But the harm will be done, I am afraid, -before you can stop her.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m resigned. Edith’s coming back to-night. -Miss Barnes’ brother is bringing her.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” Adelaide Laramore was appraising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -Jane. A shabby child. From the threshold she had -had a moment of jealousy. But the moment was -past. Frederick was extremely fastidious. He -adored beauty and this Barnes child was not beautiful.</p> - -<p>What Mrs. Laramore failed to see was that -Jane’s beauty was of a very special kind. It was -not standardized. It was not marcelled and cold-creamed, -and rouged and powdered. But it had -to do with lighted-up eyes, with youth and a free -spirit. And it was these things in her which had -attracted Frederick.</p> - -<p>Jane was unfastening the earrings. “Aren’t -they heavenly, Mrs. Laramore?”</p> - -<p>“The sapphires?” Mrs. Laramore sat down on -the couch. Her evening wrap slipped back, showing -her white neck. Her fair hair was swept up -from her forehead. She had a long face, with pink -cheeks and pencilled eyebrows. She was like a portrait -on porcelain, and she knew it, and emphasized -the effect. “The sapphires? Yes. They’re the -choice of the lot.”</p> - -<p>She went on to speak of Eloise. “She is simply -hopeless. She has told the most hectic tales and -all the papers have sent men out to the Inn.”</p> - -<p>“Well, they escaped. They started early and -have been hung up at Alexandria.”</p> - -<p>“Eloise and Benny and the Captain dined with -me. She was still telephoning when I left. I told -her that I did not sanction it, and that I should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -come straight over and tell you. But she laughed -and said she didn’t care. That she thought it was -great fun and that you were a good sport.”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t see her,” shortly; “she ought to know -better. Setting reporters on Edith like a pack of -wolves.”</p> - -<p>“I told her how you would feel,” Adelaide reiterated.</p> - -<p>“I should see her if I were you, Mr. Towne,” -said a crisp, young voice.</p> - -<p>Adelaide turned with a gasp. With her slippered -feet crossed in front of her, Jane looked like -a child. For the first time Mrs. Laramore got a -good view of those candid gray eyes. They had a -queer effect on her. Eyes like that were most uncommon. -Fearless. The girl was not afraid of -Frederick. She was not afraid of anyone.</p> - -<p>“Why should I see her?” Frederick demanded.</p> - -<p>“Won’t it just add to her sense of melodrama if -you don’t? And why should you care? Your niece -is coming home. And that’s the end of it.”</p> - -<p>“You mean,” Frederick demanded, “that I am -to carry it off with an air?”</p> - -<p>Jane nodded. “Make comedy of it instead of -tragedy.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide slipping out of her wrap was revealed -as elegant and distinguished in silver and black.</p> - -<p>“May I have a cigarette, Ricky, to settle my -nerves? Eloise is tremendously upsetting.” Adelaide -was plaintive.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>Jane watched her with lively curiosity. The -women she knew did not smoke. Baldy’s flappers -did, but they were abnormal and of a new generation. -Mrs. Laramore was old enough to be Jane’s -mother, and Jane had a feeling ... that -mothers ... shouldn’t smoke....</p> - -<p>But none the less, Adelaide Laramore and her -exotic ways were amusing. She had a brittle and -artificial look, like the Manchu lady in the Museum, -or something in wax.</p> - -<p>Jane was brought back from her meditation by -the riotous entrance of Eloise and the two men.</p> - -<p>“I knew Adelaide was telling tales.”</p> - -<p>“I told you I was coming, Eloise.”</p> - -<p>Eloise stared at Jane when Frederick presented -her. “You look like your brother. Twins?”</p> - -<p>“No.” Jane decided that she liked Miss Harper -better than she did Mrs. Laramore—which wasn’t -saying—much....</p> - -<p>“The reporters are on their way to Alexandria—full -cry.” Eloise all in emerald green, with her -red hair in a classic coiffure, was like some radiant -witch, exultant of evil. “You mustn’t scold me, -Frederick. It was terribly exciting to tell them, -and I adore excitement.”</p> - -<p>“They aren’t there.”</p> - -<p>“Where are they?”</p> - -<p>Frederick chanted composedly, “We three know -... but we will never tell....”</p> - -<p>“Adelaide will, when I get her alone.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>“I will not.”</p> - -<p>“Then Miss Barnes will. Do you know how -young you look, Miss Barnes? I feel as if you’d -tell me anything for a stick of candy.”</p> - -<p>They roared at that. And Jane said, “Nobody -ever made me do anything I didn’t want to do.”</p> - -<p>And now Benny and the Captain looked at her, -and looked again. What a voice the child had, and -eyes!</p> - -<p>Eloise, on the couch, hugged her knees and surveyed -her gold slippers. “They are putting my -picture in the paper and Adelaide’s. They saw -one on my desk——”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Laramore cried out, “Benny, why did you -let her do it?” and there was a great uproar—in -which Eloise could be heard saying:</p> - -<p>“And they are going to have a picture of the -Inn, and one of your brother if they can get it, -Miss Barnes.”</p> - -<p>Jane began to feel uncomfortable. She was, she -told herself, as much out of place as a pussy-cat in -a Zoo. These women and these men reminded her -somehow of the great sleek animals who snarled at -each other in the Rock Creek cages. Frederick did -not snarl. But she had a feeling he might if Eloise -kept at him much longer.</p> - -<p>It was in the midst of the hubbub that Edith -entered. She walked in among them as composedly -as she had faced them at the Inn.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” she said, “you sound like a jazz band.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -She went straight up to Frederick and kissed him. -“I suppose Eloise is shouting the news to the -world.” She tucked her hand in his arm. “There -are more than a million reporters outside. Mr. -Barnes is keeping them at bay.”</p> - -<p>“Where did they find you?”</p> - -<p>“Heard of us, I suppose, at the Alexandria hotel. -We didn’t realize it until we reached here, and then -they piled out and began to ask questions.”</p> - -<p>Frederick lifted her hand from his arm. “I’ll -go and send them away.”</p> - -<p>Eloise jumped up. “I’ll go with you.”</p> - -<p>And then Frederick snarled, “Stay here.”</p> - -<p>But neither of them went, for Baldy entered, -head cocked, eyes alight—Jane knew the signs.</p> - -<p>“They’ve gone,” he said. “I told you I’d get -rid of them, Miss Towne.”</p> - -<p>He nodded to them all. Absolutely at his ease, -lifted above them all by the exaltation of his mood. -Finer, Jane told herself, than any of them—his -beautiful youth against their world-weariness.</p> - -<p>Edith was smiling at Jane. “I knew you at -once. You are like your brother.”</p> - -<p>They were alike. A striking pair as they stood -together. “It is because of Mr. Barnes and his -sister that we got in touch with Edith,” Frederick -explained. He had regained his genial manner.</p> - -<p>“Oh, really.” Adelaide knew that she and her -friends ought to go at once. Edith looked tired, -and Eloise at moments like this was impossible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -But she hated to leave anyone else in the field. -“Can’t I give you a lift?” she asked Jane, sweetly, -“you and your brother.”</p> - -<p>But it was Frederick who answered. “Miss -Barnes lives at Sherwood Park. Briggs will take -her out.”</p> - -<p>So Adelaide went away, and Eloise and the two -men, and Edith turned to her uncle and said, “I’m -sorry.”</p> - -<p>Her face was white and her eyes were shining, -and all of a sudden she reached up her arms and -put them about his neck and sobbed as if her heart -would break.</p> - -<p>And then, and not until then, little Jane knew -that Edith was not like one of the animals at the -Zoo.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII<br /> - -<small>JANE POURS TEA</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">In</span> Jane’s next letter to Judy she told her how -the evening with the Townes had ended.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Edith insisted that I should stay all night. -She’s a perfect darling, so absolutely and utterly -exquisite, and yet so human. She and her uncle -simply can’t look at things from the same angle. -And they are both to blame. Anything sets them -off,—you should have seen them—like people in a -play.</p> - -<p>“I slept in the spare room—and well, I lay -awake half the night looking at it, and admiring -myself in one of Edith’s nighties! I never saw -such underthings, Judy! For a princess! Her -room is all rose and silver and ivory, and the room -I slept in is in pale yellow—with a canopy to my -bed of gold brocade.</p> - -<p>“Edith and I had breakfast together. Everything -brought up on a tray and set in her little -sitting-room, and we wore lace caps and breakfast -coats, and looked—superlative! Edith is the most -beautiful person—like one of the Viking women—with -her hair in thick fair braids. I told her that, -and she laughed. ‘What a pair of poets you are,’ -she said, ‘you and your brother.’</p> - -<p>“It was good to hear her laugh. She cried -dreadfully the night before. Coming back was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -hard for her—and then Mr. Towne got on her -nerves. They both wanted me to stay, and Baldy -stayed, too, and I know his head bumped the clouds. -And this morning on his way to the office, he -bought a bunch of heliotrope for Edith and sent it -up to her.</p> - -<p>“The trouble with Edith is that her life hasn’t -been <i>real</i>, Judy. Not in the way that your life and -mine and Baldy’s is real. She has never had any -work to do, and nothing has ever depended upon -her. Think of it. There’s no reason why she -can’t stay in bed all day if she wants to. And she -can gratify any mood of the moment. The consequence -is that half the time she is bored stiff. She -says that was the reason she became engaged to -Delafield Simms. Anything for a change.</p> - -<p>“It looks as if she and I were going to be frightfully -friendly. She told me that she wants me for -a friend. That Eloise Harper and her kind are -horrible to her after the things that have happened.</p> - -<p>“To-morrow afternoon she and her uncle are -coming out here to tea, and I’m going to have the -Follettes over. Mrs. Follette will love it. But -Evans won’t. He doesn’t like Mr. Towne.</p> - -<p>“And now, my dearest-dear, I am worried about -that hint in your last letter that you are not well. -Take care of yourself, and remember I have only -one precious sister, and the kiddies have only one -mother. We need you in our young lives, and you -mustn’t work too hard.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>When she had written the last line, Jane sat -very still at her desk. She was thinking of Evans. -She hadn’t seen him for three days. Not since the -Sunday night she had gone to the Townes. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -night in the fog had impressed her strangely. She -had felt for Evans something that had nothing to -do with admiration for him nor respect nor charm. -His weakness had drawn her to him, as a mother -might be drawn to a child. His struggle was, she -felt, something which she must share. Not as his -wife! No.... That kind of love was different. -If only he would let her be his little sister, -Jane.</p> - -<p>He had not even called her up. When she had -invited him and his mother to tea with the Townes, -Mrs. Follette had answered, and had accepted for -both of them. Evans, she said, was in Washington, -and would be out on the late train.</p> - -<p>When he arrived ahead of the others on the afternoon -of her tea, Jane said, “Where have you been? -Do you know it has been four days since we’ve seen -each other?”</p> - -<p>“Weren’t you glad to get rid of me? I’ve -thought of you every minute.” He dropped into a -seat beside her.</p> - -<p>She was gazing at him with lively curiosity. -“How nice you look.”</p> - -<p>“New suit. Like it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And you act as if somebody had left you -a million dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Wish he had. I bought this outfit with a first -edition ‘Alice in Wonderland,’” he laughed and -explained. “I’ve been getting rid of some of our -rare books. I feel plutocratic in consequence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -Five hundred dollars, if you please, for that old -Hogarth, with the scathing Ruskin inscription. -And I’m going to open an office, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“In Washington?”</p> - -<p>“On Connecticut Avenue. Same building, same -room, where I started.”</p> - -<p>“Evans, how splendid!”</p> - -<p>“Yes. You did it, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“I? How?”</p> - -<p>“The night of the fog. I never realized before -what a walking-stick I’ve been—leaning on you. -Henceforth you’re the Lady of the Lantern. It -won’t be so fatiguing.”</p> - -<p>He was smiling at her, and she smiled back. Yet -quite strangely and inconsistently, she felt as if -in changing his attitude towards her, he had robbed -her of some privilege. “I didn’t mind being a -walking-stick.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I minded. After this I’ll walk alone. -And I’m going to work hard, and play around a -bit. Will you have tea with me to-morrow, Jane? -At the Willard? To celebrate my first tottering -steps.”</p> - -<p>She agreed, eagerly. “It will be like old times.”</p> - -<p>“Minus a lot, old lady.”</p> - -<p>That was the way he had talked to her years -ago. The plaintive note was gone.</p> - -<p>“Take the three-thirty train and I’ll meet you. -I’ll pay for the taxi with what’s left of ‘Alice.’”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be too extravagant.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>“Nothing is too good for you, Jane. I can’t say -it as I want to say it, but you’ll never know what -you seemed to me on Sunday as you came through -the mist.”</p> - -<p>His voice shook a little, but he recovered himself -in a moment. “Here come the Townes.” He -rose as Edith entered with young Baldwin.</p> - -<p>After that Evans followed Baldy’s lead as a dispenser -of hospitality. The two of them passed -cups, passed thin bread and butter, passed little -cakes, passed lemon and cream and sugar, flung -conversational balls as light as feathers into the -air, were, as Baldy would have expressed it, “the -life of the party.”</p> - -<p>“Something must have gone to Casabianca’s -head,” Frederick Towne remarked to Jane. “Have -you ever seen him like this?”</p> - -<p>“Years ago. He was tremendously attractive.”</p> - -<p>“Do you find him attractive now?” with a touch -of annoyance.</p> - -<p>“I find him—wonderful”—her tone was defiant—“and -I’ve known him all my life.”</p> - -<p>“If you had known me all your life would you -call me wonderful?”</p> - -<p>She looked at him from behind her battlements -of silver. “How do I know? People have to prove -themselves.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Hallam had driven Mrs. Follette over. He -rarely did social stunts, but he liked Jane. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -he had been interested enough in Evans to want to -glimpse him in his new rôle.</p> - -<p>Strolling up to the tea-table, he was aware at -once of a situation which might make for comedy, -or indeed for tragedy. It was evident that Towne -was much attracted to little Jane Barnes. If Jane -reciprocated, what of young Follette?</p> - -<p>Hallam knew Towne, and himself a bachelor of -quite another type, without vanity where women -were concerned, he had a feeling of contempt -for a man whose reputation was linked with a -long line of much-talked about ladies. And now -little Jane was the reigning queen. He didn’t -like the idea of her youth, and Towne’s late -forties.</p> - -<p>“I saw Mrs. Laramore yesterday,” he said, -abruptly, “lovely as ever——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course.” Towne wished that Hallam -wouldn’t talk about Adelaide. He wished that all -of the others would go away and leave him alone -with Jane.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Laramore,” said Jane unexpectedly, -“makes me think of the lady of Shallott. I don’t -know why. But I do. I have really never seen -such a beautiful woman. But she doesn’t seem -real. I have a feeling that if anything hit her, she’d -break like china.”</p> - -<p>They laughed at her, and Edith said, “Adelaide -will never break. She’ll melt. She’s as soft as -wax.” Then pigeonholing Mrs. Laramore for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -more vital matters. “Uncle Fred, I am going out -to Baldy’s studio; he’s painting Jane.”</p> - -<p>Frederick was at once interested. “Her portrait?”</p> - -<p>“No. A sketch for a magazine competition,” -Baldy explained.</p> - -<p>“May I see it?”</p> - -<p>Baldy, yearning for solitude and Edith, gave reluctant -consent. “Come on, everybody.”</p> - -<p>So everybody, including Dr. Hallam and Mrs. -Follette, made their way to the garage.</p> - -<p>Edith and young Baldwin arrived first. “And -this is where you work,” she said, softly.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Look here, will you sit here so that I can -feast my eyes on you? I’ve dreamed of you in that -chair—in classic costume. Do you know that you -were made for a goddess?”</p> - -<p>“I know that you are a romantic boy.”</p> - -<p>Yet as she sat in the garden seat which he had -transformed into a throne for her by throwing a -rug over it and setting it up above the others on a -small platform, she sighed a little.</p> - -<p>Here in this small room he spent his spare moments. -He looked out through that small square -window on the rains and snow, and the young green -of the spring—and he tried to paint his dreams, -yet was held back because he was chained to the -galley of a Government job. And if he was not -chained, what might he not do? If someone waved -a wand and set him free? And if the someone who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -waved a wand loved him? Inspired him? Might -he not give to the world some day a masterpiece? -Well, why not? She found herself thrilling -with the thought. To be a torch and light the -way!</p> - -<p>“How old are you?” she asked him.</p> - -<p>“Twenty-five.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it. I’m twenty-two, and I feel a -thousand years older than you.”</p> - -<p>“You will always be—ageless.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “How old is Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Twenty. Yet people take us for twins.”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t look it and neither do you.”</p> - -<p>The others came in and Edith went back to her -thoughts. He wasn’t too young. She was glad of -that....</p> - -<p>The sketch of Jane was on an easel. There she -stood, a slender figure in her lilac frock—bobbed -black hair, lighted-up eyes—the lifted basket with -its burden of gold and purple and green!</p> - -<p>Towne stood back and looked at it. Jane at his -side said, “That’s some of the fruit you sent.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” Frederick had no eyes for anything -but Jane, in her lilac frock. Jove, but the boy had -caught the spirit of her!</p> - -<p>He turned to Baldy. “It is most unusual. And -I want it.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” said Baldy, crisply. “I am sending it -off to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“How much is the prize?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>“Two thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p>“I will write a check for that amount if you -will let me have this.”</p> - -<p>“I am afraid I can’t, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I feel this way about it. It isn’t worth -two thousand dollars. But if I win the prize it -may be worth that to the magazine—the advertising -and all that.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that splitting hairs?”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps, but it’s the way I feel.”</p> - -<p>“But if you don’t win the prize you won’t have -anything.”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ll be out two thousand dollars.” The -lion in the Zoo was snarling.</p> - -<p>And above him, breathing an upper air, was this -young eagle. “I’ll be glad to give the sketch to -you if it comes back,” said Baldy, coolly, “but I -rather think it will stick.”</p> - -<p>It was, in a way, a dreadful moment for Towne. -There was young Baldwin sitting on the edge of -the table, swinging a leg, debonair, defiant. And -Edith laughing in her sleeve. Frederick knew that -she was laughing. He was as red as a turkey cock.</p> - -<p>It was Jane who saved him from apoplexy. She -was really inordinately proud of Baldy, but she -knew the dangers of his mood. And she had her -duties as hostess.</p> - -<p>“Baldy wants to see himself on the news stands,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -she said, soothingly; “don’t deprive him of that -pleasure, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind, Jane,” exclaimed her -brother.</p> - -<p>“Baldy, I won’t quarrel with you before people. -We must reserve that pleasure until we are alone.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not quarrelling.”</p> - -<p>Jane held up a protesting hand. “Oh, let’s run -away from him, Mr. Towne. When he begins like -that, there’s no end to it.”</p> - -<p>She carried Frederick back to the house, and -Evans, looking after them, said vindictively to Hallam, -“Old Midas got his that time.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Hallam chuckled. “You don’t hate him, do -you? Evans, don’t let him have Jane. He isn’t -worth it.”</p> - -<p>“Neither am I,” said Evans. “But I would -know better how to make her happy.”</p> - -<p>Back once more in the bright little living-room, -Towne said to Jane, “May I have another cup of -tea?”</p> - -<p>“It’s cold.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care. I like to see you pour it with -your lovely hands.”</p> - -<p>She spread her hands out on the shining mahogany -of the tea-table. “Are they lovely? Nobody -ever told me.”</p> - -<p>His hand went over hers. “The loveliest in the -world.”</p> - -<p>She sat there in a moment’s breathless silence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -Then she drew her hands away. Touched a little -bell. “I’ll have Sophy bring us some hot water.”</p> - -<p>Sophy came and went. Jane poured hot tea with -flushed cheeks.</p> - -<p>He took the cup when she handed it to him. -“Dear child, you’re not offended?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not a child, Mr. Towne.” Her lashes were -lowered, her cheeks flushed.</p> - -<p>He put his cup down and leaned towards her. -“You are more than a child to me—a beloved -woman. Jane, you needn’t be afraid of me.... -I want you for my wife!”</p> - -<p>Her astonished eyes met his. “But we haven’t -known each other a week.”</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t love you more if I had known you a -thousand years.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Towne—please.” He was very close to her.</p> - -<p>“Kiss me, Jane.”</p> - -<p>She held her slender figure away from him. -“You must not.”</p> - -<p>“I must.”</p> - -<p>“No, really.... Please,” she was breathing -quickly. “Please.” She was on her feet, the -tea-table between them.</p> - -<p>He saw his mistake. “Forgive me.”</p> - -<p>Her candid eyes met his. “Mr. Towne, would -you have acted like this ... with Edith’s -friends?”</p> - -<p>Edith’s friends! The child’s innocence! Adelaide’s -kisses went for a song. Eloise frankly offered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -hers. Edith was saved by only some inner -grace.</p> - -<p>“Jane, they are not worth your little finger. I -put you above all. On a pedestal. Honestly. And -I want you to marry me.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t love you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll make you. I have everything to give you.”</p> - -<p>Had he? What of Robin Hood and Galahad? -What of youth and youth’s audacity, high resolves, -flaming dreams?</p> - -<p>She felt something of this subconsciously. But -she would not have been a feminine creature had -she not felt the flattery of his pursuit.</p> - -<p>“Jane, I’ll make life a fairy tale. We’ll travel -everywhere. Sail strange seas. Wouldn’t you love -it—all those countries you have never seen—and -just the two of us? And all the places you have -read about? And when we come home I’ll build -you a house—wherever you say—with a great garden.”</p> - -<p>He was eloquent, and the things he promised -were woven into the woof of all her girlish imaginings.</p> - -<p>“I ought not to listen,” she said, tremulously.</p> - -<p>But he knew that she had listened. He was wise -enough to leave it—there.</p> - -<p>He rose as he heard the others coming back. -“Will you ride with me to-morrow afternoon? -Don’t be afraid of me. I’ll promise to be good.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry. I’m to have tea in town with Evans.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>“Can’t you break the engagement?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t break engagements.” The cock of her -head was like Baldy’s.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you don’t. Some day you’ll be breaking -them for me.” But he liked her independence. It -promised much that would be stimulating. And -he would always be the Conqueror. He liked to -think that he would be—the Conqueror.</p> - -<p>So he went away secure in the thought of Jane’s -final surrender. There was everything in it for her, -and the child must see it. Her hesitation was natural. -She couldn’t, of course, come at the first -crook of his finger. But she would come.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV<br /> - -<small>A TELEGRAM</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">“Janey——!”</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, Baldy.” Jane sat up in bed, dreams still in -her eyes. She had been late in getting to sleep. -There had been so much to think of—Frederick -Towne’s proposal—the startling change in -Evans——</p> - -<p>“It’s a telegram. Open the door, dear.”</p> - -<p>She caught up her dressing-gown and wrapped it -around her. “A telegram?” She was with him -now in the hall. “Baldy, is it Judy?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. She’s ill. Asks if you can come on and -look after the kiddies.”</p> - -<p>“Of course.” She swayed a little. “Hold on to -me a minute, Baldy. It takes my breath away.”</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t be scared, old girl.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be all right in ... a minute....”</p> - -<p>His arms were tight about her. “It seems as if -I should go, too, Janey.”</p> - -<p>“But you can’t. I’ll get things ready and ride -in with you in the morning. I’ll pack my trunk -if you’ll bring it down from the attic. I can sleep -on the train to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>And when he had brought it she made him go -back to bed. The house was very still. Merrymaid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -waked by the unusual excitement, came up-stairs -and sat, round-eyed, by Jane, watching her -fold her scant wardrobe and purring a song of consolation. -Jane found time now and then to stop -and smooth the sleek head, and once she picked -Merrymaid up in her arms, and the tears dripped -on the old cat’s fur.</p> - -<p>Philomel sang very early the next morning. It -was Baldy who made the coffee, and who telephoned -Sophy and the Follettes. Mrs. Follette insisted -that Baldy should stay at Castle Manor in Jane’s -absence. “It will do Evans good, and we’d love to -have him.”</p> - -<p>So that was settled. And Evans came over while -the young people were breakfasting.</p> - -<p>“Don’t worry about anything,” he said. “Baldy -and I will look after the chickens—and take the -little cats over to Castle Manor. I’ll wrap them -all in cotton wool rather than have anything happen -to them. So don’t worry.”</p> - -<p>The thing she worried about was Judy. “She -told me in one of her letters that she wasn’t well.”</p> - -<p>Baldy went to bring his car around, and Evans -stood with his hand on the back of Jane’s chair, -looking down at her. “You’ll write to me, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, of course.”</p> - -<p>He shifted his hand from the chair back to her -shoulder. “Dear little girl, if my blundering -prayers will help you any—you’ll have them.”</p> - -<p>She turned in her chair and looked up at him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -She could not speak. Their eyes met, and once -more Jane had that breathless sense of fluttering -wings within her that lifted to the sun.</p> - -<p>Then Baldy was back, and the bags were ready, -and there was just that last hand-clasp. “God -bless you, Jane....”</p> - -<p>Frederick Towne was at the train. He had been -dismayed at the news of Jane’s departure. “Do -you mean that you are going to stay indefinitely?” -he had asked over the wire.</p> - -<p>“I shall stay as long as Judy needs me.”</p> - -<p>Frederick had flowers for her, books and a big -box of sweets. People in the Pullman stared at -Jane in the midst of all her magnificence. They -stared too, at Towne, and at Briggs, who rushed in -at the last moment with more books from Brentano.</p> - -<p>Edith and Baldy were on the platform. Edith -had come down with Towne. So Frederick, alone -with Jane, said, “I want you to think of the things -we talked about yesterday——”</p> - -<p>“Please, not now. Oh, I’m afraid——”</p> - -<p>“Of me? You mustn’t be.”</p> - -<p>“Not of you—of everything—Life.”</p> - -<p>He took her hand and held it. “Is there anything -else I can do for you? Everything I have -is—yours, you know—if you want it.”</p> - -<p>He had to leave her then, with a final close clasp -of the hand. She saw him presently standing beside -Baldy on the station platform—the center of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -the eyes of everybody—the great Frederick -Towne!</p> - -<p>As the city slipped away and she leaned her head -against the cushions and looked out at the flying -fields—it seemed a stupendous thing that a man -like Towne should have laid his fortune at her feet. -Yet she had no sense of exhilaration. She liked -the things he had to offer—yearned for them—but -she did not want him at her side.</p> - -<p>In her sorrow her heart turned to the boy who -had stumbled over the words, “If my blundering -prayers will help you——”</p> - -<p>She found herself sobbing—the first tears she -had shed since the arrival of the telegram.</p> - -<p>When she reached Chicago, her brother-in-law, -Bob Heming, met her. “Judy’s holding her own,” -he said, as he kissed her. “It was no end good of -you to come, Janey.”</p> - -<p>“Have you a nurse?”</p> - -<p>“Two. Day nurse and night nurse. And a -maid. Judy is nearly frantic about the expense. -It isn’t good for her, either, to worry. That’s half -the trouble. I tried to make her get help, but she -wouldn’t. But I blame myself that I didn’t insist.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t blame yourself, Bob. Judy wouldn’t. -She told me she could get along. And when Judy -decides a thing, no one can change her.”</p> - -<p>“Well, times have been hard. And business bad. -And Judy knew it. She’s such a good sport.”</p> - -<p>They were in a taxi, so when tears came into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -Heming’s eyes, he made no effort to conceal -them.</p> - -<p>“I’m just about all in. You can’t understand -how much it means to me to have you here.”</p> - -<p>“And now that I am here,” said Jane, with a -gallantry born of his need of her, “things are going -to be better.”</p> - -<p>The apartment was simply furnished and bore the -stamp of Judy’s good taste. A friend had taken -the children out to ride, so the rooms were very -quiet as Jane went through them.</p> - -<p>Judy in bed was white and thin, and Jane wanted -to weep over her, but she didn’t. “You blessed old -girl,” she said, “you’re going to get well right -away.”</p> - -<p>“The doctor thinks I may have to have an operation. -That’s why I felt I must wire you.” Judy -was anxious. “I couldn’t leave the babies with -strangers. And it was so important that Bob -should be at his work.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said Jane; “do you think anything -would have made me stay away?”</p> - -<p>Judy gave a quick sigh of relief. How heavenly -to have Janey! And what a dear she was with her -air of conquering the world. Jane had always been -like that—with that conquering air. It cheered -one just to look at her.</p> - -<p>The babies, arriving presently in a rollicking -state of excitement over the advent of Auntie Jane, -showed themselves delightful and adoring.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>“Junior,” said Jane, “are you glad I’m here?”</p> - -<p>“Did you bring me anything?”</p> - -<p>“Something—wonderful——”</p> - -<p>“What?”</p> - -<p>She opened her bag, and produced Towne’s box -of sweets. “May I give him a chocolate, Judy?”</p> - -<p>“One little one, and just a taste for baby. Jane, -where did you get that gorgeous box?”</p> - -<p>“Frederick Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Really? My dear, your letters have been tremendously -interesting. Haven’t they, Bob?”</p> - -<p>Her husband nodded. He was sitting by the bedside -holding her hand. “Towne’s a pretty big -man.”</p> - -<p>In a moment of vaingloriousness, Jane wanted -to say to them, “What do you think of your ugly -duckling? Mr. Towne wants her to be his wife.” -But of course she didn’t. Not before Bob. She’d -tell Judy, later, of course.</p> - -<p>The nurse came in then, and Jane went with Bob -and the babies to the dining-room.</p> - -<p>Junior over his bread and milk was frankly -critical. “I didn’t think you’d be so old. Mother -said you’d play with me.”</p> - -<p>“I can play splendid games, Junior.”</p> - -<p>“Can you? What kind?”</p> - -<p>“Well, there’s one about a pussy-cat. And I’m -the big cat and you’re the little cat—and my name -is Merrymaid.”</p> - -<p>“What is the little cat’s name?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>“We’ll have to find one. We can’t just call -him Kitty, can we?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we can. My name’s Kitty, and your name -is Merrymaid, and—what do we do, Aunt Janey?”</p> - -<p>“We drink milk,” promptly.</p> - -<p>“An’ what else?”</p> - -<p>“We play with balls—I’ll show you after dinner.”</p> - -<p>“I want you to show me now.”</p> - -<p>His father interposed. “Aunt Janey’s tired. -Wait till she’s had her dinner.”</p> - -<p>Junior drank his milk thoughtfully. “I’m a -kitty—and you’re a cat. Why don’t you drink -milk, too, Aunt Janey?”</p> - -<p>Jane smiled at Bob. “Do I have to answer all -his questions?”</p> - -<p>“Whether you do or not, he’ll keep on asking.”</p> - -<p>But after dinner, Junior went to sleep in Jane’s -arms, having been regaled on a rapturous diet of -“The Three Bears” and “The Little Red Hen.”</p> - -<p>“They’re such beauties, Judy,” said Jane, as she -went back to her sister. “But they don’t look like -any of the Barnes.”</p> - -<p>“No, they’re like Bob, with their white skins and -fair hair. I wanted one of them to have our coloring. -Do you know how particularly lovely you are -getting to be, Janey?”</p> - -<p>“Judy, I’m not.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are. And none of us thought it. And -so Mr. Towne wants to marry you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>“How do you know?”</p> - -<p>“It is in your eyes, dear, and in the cock of your -head. You and Baldy always look that way when -something thrilling happens to you. You can’t -fool me.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’m not in love with him. So that’s that, -Judy.”</p> - -<p>“But—it’s a great opportunity, isn’t it, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose it is,” slowly, “but I can’t quite see -it.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s too old for one thing.”</p> - -<p>“Only forty——? Rich men don’t grow old. -And he could give you everything—everything, -Janey.” Judy’s voice rose a little. “Jane, you -don’t know what it means to want things for those -you love and not be able to have them. Bob did -very well until the slump in business. But since -the babies came—I have worked until—well, until -it seemed as if I couldn’t stand it. Bob’s such a -darling. I wouldn’t change <i>anything</i>. I’d marry -him over again to-morrow. But I do know this, -that Frederick Towne could make life lovely for -you, and perhaps you won’t get another chance to -marry a man like that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t—don’t.” It seemed dreadful to Jane -to have Judy talk that way, as if life had in some -way failed her. Life mustn’t fail, and it wouldn’t -if one had courage. Judy was sick, and things -didn’t look straight.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>“See here, old dear,” Jane said, “go to sleep and -stop thinking about how to make ends meet. That’s -my job, and I’ll do it.”</p> - -<p>And Judy slipping away into refreshing slumber -had that vision before her of Jane’s young strength—of -Jane’s gay young voice like the sound of silver -trumpets....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV<br /> - -<small>EVANS PLAYS THE GAME</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Life</span> for Evans Follette after Jane went away -became a sort of game in which he played, as he -told himself grimly, a Jekyll and Hyde part. Two -men warred constantly within him. There was -that scarecrow self which nursed mysterious fears, -a gaunt gray-haired self, The Man Who Had Come -Back From the War. And there was that other, -shadowy, elusive, The Boy Who Once Had Been. -And it was the Boy who took on gradually shape -and substance fighting for place with the dark giant -who held desperately to his own.</p> - -<p>Yet the Boy had weapons, faith and hope. The -little diary became in a sense a sacred book. -Within its pages was imprisoned something that -beat with frantic wings to be free. Evans, shrinking -from the program which he compelled himself -to follow, was faced with things like this. “Gee, I -wish the days were longer. I’d like to dance -through forty-eight hours at a stretch. Jane is -getting to be some little dancer. I taught her the -new steps to-night. She’s as graceful as a willow -wand.”</p> - -<p>Well, a man with a limp couldn’t dance. Or -could he?</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>A Thomas Jefferson autograph went therefore to -pay for twenty dancing lessons. Would the great -Democrat turn in his grave? Yet what were ink -scratches made by a dead hand as against all the -meanings of love and life?</p> - -<p>Evans bought a phonograph, and new records. -He practised at all hours, to the great edification of -old Mary, who washed dishes and scrubbed floors in -syncopated ecstasies.</p> - -<p>He took Baldy and Edith to tea at the big hotels, -and danced with Edith. He apologized, but kept -at it. “I’m out of practice.”</p> - -<p>Edith was sympathetic and interested. She invited -the two boys to her home, where there was a -music room with a magical floor. Sometimes the -three of them were alone, and sometimes Towne -came in and danced too, and Adelaide Laramore -and Eloise Harper.</p> - -<p>Towne danced extremely well. In spite of his -avoirdupois he was light on his feet. He exercised -constantly. He felt that if he lost his waist line -all would be over. He could not, however, always -control his appetite. Hence the sugar in his tea, -and other indulgences.</p> - -<p>Baldy wrote to Jane of their afternoon frivols.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“You should see us! Eloise Harper dancing -with Evans, and old Towne and his Adelaide! And -Edith and I! We’re a pretty pair, if I do say it. -We miss you, and always wish you were with us. -Sometimes it seems almost heartless to do things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -that you can’t share. But it’s doing a lot for -Evans. Queer thing, the poor old chap goes at it -as if his life depended upon it.</p> - -<p>“We are invited to dine with the Townes on -Christmas Eve. Some class, what? By we, I -mean myself and the Follettes. Edith and Mrs. -Follette see a lot of each other, and Mrs. Follette -is tickled pink! You know how she loves that sort -of thing—Society with a big S.</p> - -<p>“There will be just our crowd and Mrs. Laramore -for dinner, and after that a big costume ball.</p> - -<p>“I shall go as a page in red. And Evans will be -a monk and sing Christmas carols. Edith Towne -is crazy about his voice. He sat down at the piano -one day in the music room, and she heard him. -Jane, his voice is wonderful—it always was, you -know, but we haven’t heard it lately. Poor old -chap—he seems to be picking up. Edith says it -makes her want to cry to see him, but she’s helping -all she can.</p> - -<p>“Oh, she’s a dear and a darling, Janey. And I -don’t know what I am going to do about it. I have -nothing to offer her. But at least I can worship -... I shan’t look beyond that....</p> - -<p>“And now, little old thing, take care of yourself, -and don’t think we’re playing around and forgetting -you, for we’re not. Even Merrymaid and the kit-cat -look pensive when your name is mentioned. -They share the library hearth with Rusty. The -old fellow is on his feet now, not much the worse -for his accident.</p> - -<p>“Love to Judy and Bob, and the kiddies. And -a kiss or two for my own Janey.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Jane, having read the letter, laid it down with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -sense of utter forlornness. Evans and Eloise -Harper! Towne and his Adelaide! A Christmas -costume ball! Evans singing for Edith Towne!</p> - -<p>Evans’ own letters told her little. They were -dear letters, giving her news of Sherwood, full of -kindness and sympathy, full indeed of a certain -spiritual strength—that helped her in the heavy -days. But he had sketched very lightly his own -activities.—He had perhaps hesitated to let her -know that he could be happy without her.</p> - -<p>But Evans was not happy. He did the things he -had mapped out for himself, but he could not do -them light-heartedly as the Boy had done. For -how could he be light-hearted with Jane away? He -had moments of loneliness so intense that they -almost submerged him. He came therefore upon -one entry in his diary with eagerness.</p> - -<p>“Had a day with the Boy Scouts. Hiked up -through Montgomery County. Caught some little -shiners in the creek and cooked them. Grapes thick -in the Glen. The boys were like small Bacchuses, -and draped themselves in fruit and leaves. They -are fine fellows. I have no patience with people -who look upon boys as nothing but small animals. -Why their dreams! And shy about them! Now -and then they open their hearts to me—and I can -see the fineness that’s under the outer crust. -They lie under the trees with me, and we talk as -we follow the road.”</p> - -<p>Boys——! That was it! He’d get in touch with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -them again. And he did. There were two, Sandy -Stoddard and Arthur Lane, who came over and sat -by the library fire with Rusty and the two cats, and -popped corn, and wanted to hear about the war.</p> - -<p>At first when they spoke of it, Evans would not -talk—but a moment arrived when he found flaming -words to show them how he felt about it.</p> - -<p>“I know a lot of fellows,” said Sandy Stoddard, -“who say that America wouldn’t have gone into it -if she’d known a lot of things. And that most of -the men who came back feel that they were just—fooled——”</p> - -<p>“If they feel that way, they are fools themselves,” -said Evans, shortly.</p> - -<p>“Well, they’re all throwing bricks at us now,” -said Sandy. “France and Great Britain, and the -rest of them. When you read the papers you feel -as if America was pretty punk——”</p> - -<p>“Sandy,” said Evans, slowly, reaching for the -right words because this boy must know the truth—“America -is never punk. We’re human, like the -rest of the world. We’re selfish like everybody -else. But we’re kind. And most of us still believe -in God. I’ve gone through a lot,” he was flushed -with the sense of the intimacy of his confession; -“you boys can’t ever know what I’ve gone through -unless you go through it some day yourselves. But -every night I thank God on my knees that I was a -part of a crusade that believed it was fighting for -the right. Those of us who went in with that idea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -came out of it with that idea. That’s all I can say -about it—and I’d do it again.”</p> - -<p>As he stood there on the hearth-rug, the boys -gazed at him with awe in their eyes. They knew -patriotic passion when they saw it, and here in this -broken man was a dignity which seemed to make -him a tower above them. They felt for the moment -as if his head touched the stars.</p> - -<p>“Don’t misunderstand me,” Evans continued; -“war is hell. And most of us found horrors worse -than any dreadful dream. But we learned one -thing, that death isn’t awful. It is kind and beneficent. -And there’s something beyond.”</p> - -<p>“Gee,” said Sandy Stoddard, “I’m glad you said -that.”</p> - -<p>But Arthur Lane did not speak. He saw Evans -through a haze of hero-worship. He saw him, too, -with a halo of martyrdom. The glass of the photograph -on the mantel had been mended. There was -the young soldier handsome and brave in his uniform. -And here was his ghost—come back to say -that it was all—worth while....</p> - -<p>Association with these boys cleared up many -things for Evans. They had ideals which must not -be shattered. Not to their young eagerness must -be brought the pessimism of a disordered mind—and -tortured soul. They must have the truth. -And the truth was this. That men who had laid -down their lives to save others had seen an unforgetful -vision. He wondered how many of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -comrades, even now, in the cynicism of after-war -propaganda would sacrifice the memory of that high -moment....</p> - -<p>Besides the boys, Evans had another friend. He -played a whimsical game with the scarecrow. He -went often and leaned over the fence that shut in -the frozen field. He hunted up new clothes and -hung them on the shaking figure—an overcoat and -a soft hat. It seemed a charitable thing to clothe -him with warmth. In due time someone stole the -overcoat, and Evans found the poor thing stripped. -It gave him a sense of shock to find two crossed -sticks where once had been the semblance of a man. -But he tried again. This time with an old bathrobe -and a disreputable cap. “It will keep you -warm until spring, old chap....”</p> - -<p>The scarecrow and his sartorial changes became -a matter of much discussion among the negroes. -Since Evans’ visits were nocturnal, the whole thing -had an effect of mystery until the bathrobe proclaimed -its owner. “Mist’ Evans done woh’ dat -e’vy day,” old Mary told Mrs. Follette. “Whuffor -he dress up dat ol’ sca’crow in de fiel’?”</p> - -<p>“What scarecrow?”</p> - -<p>Old Mary explained, and that night Mrs. Follette -said to her son, “The darkies are getting superstitions. -Did you really do it?”</p> - -<p>His somber eyes were lighted for a moment. -“It’s just a whim of mine, Mumsie. I had a sort -of fellow feeling——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>“How queer!”</p> - -<p>“Not as queer as you might think.” He went -back to his book. No one but Jane should know -the truth.</p> - -<p>And so he played the game. Working in his -office, dancing with Edith and Baldy, chumming -with the boys, dressing up the scarecrow. It seemed -sometimes a desperate game—there were hours in -which he wrestled with doubts. Could he ever get -back? Could he? There were times when it -seemed he could not. There were nights when -he did not sleep. Hours that he spent on his -knees....</p> - -<p>So the December days sped, and it was just a -week before Christmas that Evans read the following -in his little book. “Dined with the Prestons. -Told father’s ham story.—Great hit. Potomac -frozen over. Skated in the moonlight with -Florence Preston.—Great stunt—home to hot -chocolate.”</p> - -<p>Once more the Potomac was frozen over. Florence -Preston was married. But he mustn’t let the -thing pass. The young boy Evans would have -tingled with the thought of that frozen river.</p> - -<p>It was after dinner, and Evans was in his room. -He hunted up Baldy. “Look here, old chap, there’s -skating on the river. Can’t we take Sandy and -Arthur with us and have an hour or two of it? -Your car will do the trick.”</p> - -<p>Baldy laid down his book. “I have no philanthropies<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -on a night like this. Moonlight. I’ll take -you and the boys and then I’ll go and get Edith -Towne.” He was on his feet. “I’ll call her up -now——”</p> - -<p>The small boys were rapturous and riotous over -the plan. When they reached the ice, and Evans’ -lame leg threatened to be a hindrance, the youngsters -took him between them, and away they sailed -in the miraculous world—three musketeers of good -fellowship and fun.</p> - -<p>Baldy having brought Edith, put on her skates, -and they flew away like birds. She was all in -warm white wool—with white furs, and Baldy wore -a white sweater and cap. The silver of the night -seemed to clothe them in shining armor.</p> - -<p>Baldy said things to her that made her pulses -beat. She found herself a little frightened.</p> - -<p>“You’re such a darling poet. But life isn’t in -the least what you think it.”</p> - -<p>“What do I think it?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all mountains and peaks and moonlight -nights.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it can be——”</p> - -<p>“Dear child, it can’t. I have no illusions.”</p> - -<p>“You think you haven’t.”</p> - -<p>It was late when at last they took off their skates -and Edith invited them all to go home with her. -“We’ll have something hot. I’m as hungry as a -dozen bears.”</p> - -<p>The boys giggled. “So am I,” said Sandy Stoddard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -But Arthur said nothing. His eyes were -occupied to the exclusion of his tongue. Edith -looked to him like some angel straight from heaven. -He had never seen anyone so particularly lovely.</p> - -<p>So, packed in Baldy’s Ford, they made the -journey. The two small boys had an Arabian -Nights’ feeling as they were led through the great -hall with its balconies, thence to the huge kitchen.</p> - -<p>The servants had gone to bed, all except Waldron—who -led the way, and offered his services.</p> - -<p>“No, we’ll do it ourselves, Waldron,” Miss Towne -told him. “Is Uncle Fred in?”</p> - -<p>“No, Miss Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if he comes, tell him where we are.”</p> - -<p>“Very good, Miss Towne,” and Waldron backed -out impressively, the round eyes of the little boys -upon him.</p> - -<p>Edith gave them the freedom of the amazing refrigerator, -which was white as milk and as big as a -house, and they brought forth with some hesitation -viands which seemed as unreal as the rest of it—cold -roast chickens with white frills on their legs, -a plate of salad with patterns on top of it in red -peppers and little green buttons which Evans said -were capers—the remains of a glorified sort of -Charlotte Russe—a castellated affair with candied -fruits.</p> - -<p>“Do they eat things like this every day?” Sandy -asked Evans, with something like awe, “or am I -dreamin’?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>Evans nodded. “Some feast, isn’t it, old chap?” -He was warmed by the radiance of the freckled -boyish face.</p> - -<p>Arthur Lane, always less talkative, had little to -say. He was steeping himself in atmosphere. He -had never been in a house like this. The kitchen -with its panelled ceiling, its white enamel, its -gleaming nickel, its firm, white painted furniture—its -white and brown tiling. It was all as utterly -fascinating as the things he read about in the fairy -books.</p> - -<p>“Now the kitchen,” he said at last to Towne, -“what’s it so big for? Ain’t there only three of -them in the family?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there are six of us at home, and you could -put four of our kitchens into this. And that refrigerator—it’s -so big you could live in it. You -know, Mr. Follette, it’s bigger than our scout -tents.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is,” Evans smiled at him. “Well, when -people have so much money, they think they need -things.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like it.” The boy was eager. “Wouldn’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure.”</p> - -<p>“Gee—well, I am——” and young Arthur went -over to thrash it out with Sandy.</p> - -<p>Evans, left to himself, wondered. Did he want -money? A great fortune? With Jane? The huge<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -silent house with all its servants? Jane, herself, -trailing up the stairs in all the dazzling draperies -imposed upon her by fashionable modistes? Jane, -miles away from him at the end of that massive -table in the great dining-room?</p> - -<p>Were these his dreams? For Jane?</p> - -<p>He knew they were not. When he thought of -her, he thought of a little house. Of a living-room -where a fire burned bright whose windows looked -upon a little garden—crocuses and hyacinths in the -spring, roses in June, snow in winter, with all the -birds coming up for Jane to feed them. A library -with books to the ceiling, and himself reading to -Jane. A kitchen, a shining place, with a crisp -maid to save Jane from drudgery. Two crisp -maids, perhaps, some day, if there were kiddies.</p> - -<p>He asked no more than that. Why, it was all -the world for a man....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI<br /> - -<small>THE COSTUME BALL</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">So</span> Christmas Eve came, and the costume ball at -the Townes’. There were, as Baldy had told Jane, -just six of them at dinner. Cousin Annabel was -still in bed, and it was Adelaide Laramore who -made the sixth. Edith had told Mrs. Follette -frankly that she wished Adelaide had not been -asked.</p> - -<p>“But she fished for it. She always does. She -flatters Uncle Fred and he falls for it.”</p> - -<p>Baldy brought Evans and Mrs. Follette in his -little Ford. They found Mrs. Laramore and Frederick -already in the drawing-room. Edith had not -come down.</p> - -<p>“She is always late,” Frederick complained, -“and she never apologizes.”</p> - -<p>Baldy, silken and slim, in his page’s scarlet, stood -in the hall and watched Edith descend the stairs. -She seemed to emerge from the shadows of the -upper balcony like a shaft of light. She was all in -silvery green, her close-clinging robe girdled with -pearls, her hair banded with mistletoe.</p> - -<p>He met her half-way. “You shouldn’t have worn -it,” he said at once.</p> - -<p>“The mistletoe? Why not?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>“You will tempt all men to kiss you.”</p> - -<p>“Men must resist temptation.”</p> - -<p>“Well, queens command,” he smiled at her, -“and queens ask——”</p> - -<p>She was doubtful of his meaning. “Do you -think that I would ever ask for kisses?”</p> - -<p>“You may. Some day.”</p> - -<p>Her blue eyes burned. “I think you don’t quite -know what you are saying.”</p> - -<p>“I do, dear lady. But we won’t quarrel about -it.”</p> - -<p>She switched to less dangerous topics. “I’m late -for dinner. Is Uncle Fred roaring?”</p> - -<p>“More or less. And Mrs. Laramore is purring.”</p> - -<p>They rather wickedly enjoyed their laugh at the -expense of an older generation, and went in together -to find Frederick icy with indignation.</p> - -<p>Waldron announced dinner, and Frederick with -Mrs. Follette on his arm preceded the others. -Baldy and Edith came last.</p> - -<p>“How many dances are you going to give me?”</p> - -<p>“Not as many as I’d like. Being hostess, I shall -have to divide myself among many.”</p> - -<p>“Cut yourself up into little stars as it were. -Well, you know what Browning says of a star? -‘Mine has opened its soul to me—therefore I love -it’!”</p> - -<p>His tone was light, but her heart missed a beat. -There was something about this boy so utterly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -engaging. He had set her on a pedestal, and he -worshipped her. When she said that she was not -worth worshipping, he told her, “You don’t -know——”</p> - -<p>She was unusually silent during dinner. With -Evans on one side of her and Baldy on the other -she had little need to exert herself. Baldy was -always adequate to any conversational tax, and -Evans, in spite of his monk’s habit, was not austere. -He was, rather, like some attractive young friar -drawn back for the moment to the world.</p> - -<p>He showed himself a genial teller of tales—and -capped each of Frederick’s with one of his own. -His mother was proud of him. She felt that life -was taking on new aspects—this friendship with the -Townes—her son’s increasing strength and social -ease—the lace gown which she wore and which had -been bought with a Dickens’ pamphlet. What more -could she ask? She was serene and satisfied.</p> - -<p>Adelaide, on the other side of Frederick Towne, -was not serene and satisfied. She was looking -particularly lovely with a star of diamonds in her -hair and sheer draperies of rose and faintest green. -“I am anything you wish to call me,” she had said -to Frederick when she came in—“an ‘Evening -Star’ or ‘In the Gloaming’ or ‘Afterglow.’ Perhaps -‘A Rose of Yesterday’——” she had put it -rather pensively.</p> - -<p>He had been gallant but uninspired. “You are -too young to talk of yesterdays,” he had said, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -his glance had held not the slightest hint of gallantry. -She felt that she had, perhaps, been unwise -to remind him of her age.</p> - -<p>She was still more disturbed, when, towards the -end of dinner, he rose and proposed a toast. “To -little Jane Barnes, A Merry Christmas.”</p> - -<p>They all stood up. There was a second’s silence. -Evans drank as if he partook of a sacrament.</p> - -<p>Then Edith said, “It seems almost heartless to -be happy, doesn’t it, when things are so hard for -her?”</p> - -<p>Adelaide interposed irrelevantly, “I should hate -to spend Christmas in Chicago.”</p> - -<p>There was no response, so she turned to Frederick. -“Couldn’t Miss Barnes leave her sister for -a few days?”</p> - -<p>“No,” he told her, “she couldn’t.”</p> - -<p>She persisted, “I am sure you didn’t want her to -miss the ball.”</p> - -<p>“I did my best to get her here. Talked to her -at long distance, but she couldn’t see it.”</p> - -<p>“You are so good-hearted, Ricky.”</p> - -<p>Frederick could be cruel at moments, and her -persistence was irritating. “Oh, look here, Adelaide, -it wasn’t entirely on her account. I want her -here myself.”</p> - -<p>She sat motionless, her eyes on her plate. When -she spoke again it was of other things. “Did you -hear that Delafield is coming back?”</p> - -<p>“Who told you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>“Eloise Harper. Benny’s sister saw Del at -Miami. She is sure he is expecting to marry the -other girl.”</p> - -<p>“Bad taste, I call it.”</p> - -<p>“Everybody is crazy to know who she is.”</p> - -<p>“Have they any idea?”</p> - -<p>“No. Benny’s sister said he talked quite -frankly about getting married. But he wouldn’t -say a word about the woman.”</p> - -<p>“I hardly think he will find Edith heart-broken.” -Towne glanced across the table. Edith was not -wearing the willow. No shadow marred her lovely -countenance. Her eyes were clear and shining -pools of sweet content.</p> - -<p>Her uncle was proud of that high-held head. He -and Edith might not always hit it off. But, by -Jove, he was proud of her.</p> - -<p>“No, she’s not heart-broken,” Adelaide’s cool -tone disturbed his reflections, “she is getting her -heart mended.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“They are an attractive pair, little Jane and -her brother. And the boy has lost his head.”</p> - -<p>“Over Edith? Oh, well, she plays around with -him; there’s nothing serious in it.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be too sure. She’s interested.”</p> - -<p>“What makes you insist on that?” irritably.</p> - -<p>“I know the signs, dear man,” the cat seemed to -purr, but she had claws.</p> - -<p>And it was Adelaide who was right. Edith had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -come to the knowledge that night of what Baldy -meant to her.</p> - -<p>As she had entered the ballroom men had -crowded around her. “Why,” they demanded, “do -you wear mistletoe, if you don’t want to pay the -forfeit?”</p> - -<p>Backed up against one of the marble pillars, she -held them off. “I do want to pay it, but not to any -of you.”</p> - -<p>Her frankness diverted them. “Who is the -lucky man?”</p> - -<p>“He is here. But he doesn’t know he is lucky.”</p> - -<p>They thought she was joking. But she was not. -And on the other side of the marble pillar a page in -scarlet listened, with joy and fear in his heart. -“How fast we are going. How fast.”</p> - -<p>There was dancing until midnight, then the curtains -at the end of the room were drawn back, and -the tree was revealed. It towered to the ceiling, a -glittering, gorgeous thing. It was weighted with -gifts for everybody, fantastic toys most of them, expensive, -meaningless.</p> - -<p>Evans, standing back of the crowd, was aware of -the emptiness of it all. Oh, what had there been -throughout the evening to make men think of the -Babe who had been born at Bethlehem?</p> - -<p>The gifts of the Wise Men? Perhaps. Gold -and frankincense and myrrh? One must not judge -too narrowly. It was hard to keep simplicities in -these opulent days.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>Yet he was heavy-hearted, and when Eloise Harper -charged up to him, dressed somewhat scantily -as a dryad, and handed him a foolish monkey -on a stick, she seemed to suggest a heathen saturnalia -rather than anything Christian and civilized.</p> - -<p>“A monkey for a monk,” said Eloise. “Mr. Follette, -your cassock is frightfully becoming. But -you know you are a whited sepulchre.”</p> - -<p>“Am I?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. I’ll bet you never say your prayers.”</p> - -<p>She danced away, unconscious that her words -had pierced him. What reason had she to think -that any of this meant more to him than it did -to her? Had he borne witness to the faith that was -within him? And was it within him? And if not, -why?</p> - -<p>He stood there with his foolish monkey on his -stick, while around him swirled a laughing, shrieking -crowd. Why, the thing was a carnival, not a -sacred celebration. Was there no way in which he -might bear witness?</p> - -<p>Edith had asked him to sing the old ballads, -“Dame, get up and bake your pies,” and “I saw -three ships a-sailing.” Evans was in no mood for -the dame who baked her pies on Christmas day in -the morning, or the pretty girls who whistled and -sang—on Christmas day in the morning.</p> - -<p>When all the gifts had been distributed the lights -in the room were turned out. The only illumination<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -was the golden effulgence which encircled the -tree.</p> - -<p>In his monk’s robe, within that circle of light, -Evans seemed a mystical figure. He seemed, too, -appropriately ascetic, with his gray hair, the weary -lines of his old-young face.</p> - -<p>But his voice was fresh and clear. And the song -he sang hushed the great room into silence.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O little town of Bethlehem,</div> -<div class="verse">How still we see thee lie,</div> -<div class="verse">Above thy deep and dreamless sleep,</div> -<div class="verse">The silent stars go by;</div> -<div class="verse">Yet in thy dark streets shineth,</div> -<div class="verse">The everlasting light,</div> -<div class="verse">The hopes and fears of all the years</div> -<div class="verse">Are met in thee to-night.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>He sang as if he were alone in some vast arched -space, beneath spires that reached towards Heaven, -behind some grille that separated him from the -world.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“For Christ is born of Mary,</div> -<div class="verse">And gathered all above,</div> -<div class="verse">While mortals sleep, the angels keep</div> -<div class="verse">Their watch of wondering love.</div> -<div class="verse">O, morning stars together</div> -<div class="verse">Proclaim the holy birth!</div> -<div class="verse">And praises sing to God the King</div> -<div class="verse">And peace to men on earth.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>And now it seemed to him that he sang not to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -that crowd of upturned faces, not to those men and -women in shining silks and satins, not to Jane who -was far away, but to those others who pressed close—his -comrades across the Great Divide!</p> - -<p>So he had sung to them in the hospital, sitting up -in his narrow bed—and most of the men who had -listened were—gone.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“O, holy child of Bethlehem,</div> -<div class="verse">Descend to us, we pray,</div> -<div class="verse">Cast out our sin and enter in,</div> -<div class="verse">Be born in us to-day.</div> -<div class="verse">We hear the Christmas angels</div> -<div class="verse">The great glad tidings tell:</div> -<div class="verse">‘Oh come to us, abide with us,</div> -<div class="verse">Our Lord Emmanuel.’”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>As the last words rang out his audience seemed -to wake with a sigh.</p> - -<p>Then the lights went up. But the monk had -vanished!</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Evans left word with Baldy that he would go -home on the trolley. “I am not quite up to the -supper and all that. Will you look after Mother?”</p> - -<p>“Of course. Say, Evans, that song was top -notch. Edith wants you to sing another.”</p> - -<p>“Will you tell her I can’t? I’m sorry. But the -last time I sang that was for the fellows—in -France. And it—got me——”</p> - -<p>“It got me, too,” Baldy confided; “made all this -seem—silly.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>So Evans left behind him all the youth and -laughter and light-heartedness, and took the last -trolley out to Castle Manor. He had a long walk -after the ride, but the cold air was stimulating, the -sky was full of stars and the night was very still. -Oh, how good it was to be out in that still and star-lighted -night!</p> - -<p>When he reached Castle Manor he passed the -barn on his way to the house. He opened the door -and looked in. There was a lantern, faintly lit, -and he could see the cows resting on their beds of -straw—great dim creatures, smelling of milk and -hay—calm-eyed, inscrutable.</p> - -<p>He entered and sat down. He felt soothed and -comforted by the tranquillity of the dumb beasts—the -eloquent silence.</p> - -<p>He was glad he had escaped from the clamor of -the costume ball—from Eloise and her kind.</p> - -<p>Yet the Man born at Bethlehem had not escaped. -He had gone among the multitudes—speaking.</p> - -<p>Well ... it couldn’t be expected, could it, -that men in these days would say to a girl like -Eloise Harper, “For unto you is born this day in -the city of David, a Saviour which is Christ the -Lord”?</p> - -<p>People didn’t say such things in polite society -... and if they didn’t, why not? And if they -did, would the world listen?</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII<br /> - -<small>NEWS FOR THE TOWN-CRIER</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was just before New Year’s that Lucy Logan -brought a letter for Frederick Towne to sign, and -when he had finished she said, “Mr. Towne, I’m -sorry, but I’m not going to work any more. So -will you please accept my resignation?”</p> - -<p>He showed his surprise. “What’s the matter? -Aren’t we good enough for you?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t that.” She stopped and went on, “I’m -going to be married, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Married?” He was at once congratulatory. -“That’s a pleasant thing for you, and I mustn’t -spoil it by telling you how hard it is going to be to -find someone to take your place.”</p> - -<p>“I think if you will have Miss Dale? She’s -really very good.”</p> - -<p>Frederick was curious. What kind of lover had -won this quiet Lucy? Probably some clerk or -salesman. “What about the man? Nice fellow, I -hope——”</p> - -<p>“Very nice, Mr. Towne,” she flushed, and her -manner seemed to forbid further questioning. She -went away, and he gave orders to the cashier to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -that she had an increase in the amount of her -final check. “She will need some pretty things. -And when we learn the date we can give her a -present.”</p> - -<p>So on Saturday night Lucy left, and on the following -Monday a card was brought up to Edith -Towne.</p> - -<p>She read it. “Lucy Logan? I don’t believe I -know her,” she said to the maid.</p> - -<p>“She says she is from Mr. Towne’s office, and -that it is important.”</p> - -<p>Now Josephine, the parlor maid, had a nice sense -of the proprieties which she had learned from Waldron, -who was not on duty in the front of the house -in the morning. So she had given Lucy a chair in -the great hall. Waldron had emphasized that business -callers and social inferiors must never be ushered -into the drawing-room. The grade below -Lucy’s was, indeed, sent around to a side door.</p> - -<p>However, there Lucy sat—in a dark blue cape -and a small blue hat, and she rose as Edith came up -to her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, let’s go where we can be comfortable,” -Edith said, and led the way through the gray and -white drawing-room beyond the peacock screen, to -the glowing warmth of the fire.</p> - -<p>They were a great contrast, these two women. -Edith in a tea-gown of pale yellow was the last -word in modishness. Lucy, in her modest blue, -had no claims to distinction.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>But Lucy was not ill at ease. “Miss Towne,” -she said, “I have resigned from your uncle’s office. -Did he tell you?”</p> - -<p>“No. Uncle Fred rarely speaks about business.”</p> - -<p>With characteristic straightforwardness Lucy -came at once to the point. “I have something I -must talk over with you. I don’t know whether I -am doing the wise thing. But it is the only honest -thing.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t imagine what you can have to say.”</p> - -<p>“No you can’t. It’s this——” she hesitated, -then spoke with an effort. “I am the girl Mr. -Simms is in love with. He wants to come back and -marry me.”</p> - -<p>Edith’s fingers caught at the arm of the chair. -“Do you mean that it was because of you—that -he didn’t marry me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He used to come to the office when he -was in Washington and dictate letters. And we -got in the way of talking to each other. He seemed -to enjoy it, and he wasn’t like some men—who are -just—silly. And I began to think about him a lot. -But I didn’t let him see it. And—he told me afterward, -he was always thinking of me. And the -morning of your wedding day he came down to the -office—to say ‘Good-bye.’ He said he—just had to. -And—well, he let it out that he loved me, and didn’t -want to marry you. But he said he would have to -go on with it. And—and I told him he must not, -Miss Towne.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>Edith stared at her. “Do you mean that what -he did was your fault?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” Lucy’s face was white, “if you want to -put it that way. I told him he hadn’t any right to -marry you if he loved me.” She hesitated, then -lifted her eyes to Edith’s with a glance of appeal. -“Miss Towne, I wonder if you are big enough to -believe that it was just because I cared so much—and -not because of his money?”</p> - -<p>It was a challenge. Edith had been ready to -pour out her wrath on the head of this girl to whom -she owed the humiliation of the past weeks, but -there was about Lucy a certain sturdiness, a courage -which was arresting.</p> - -<p>“You think you love him?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“I know I do. And you don’t. You never have. -And he didn’t love you. Why—if he should lose -every cent to-morrow, and I had to tramp the road -with him, I’d do it gladly. And you wouldn’t. -You wouldn’t want him unless he could give you -everything you have now, would you? Would you, -Miss Towne?”</p> - -<p>Edith’s sense of justice dictated her answer. -“No,” she found herself unexpectedly admitting. -“If I had to tramp the roads with him, I’d be bored -to death.”</p> - -<p>“I think he knew that, Miss Towne. He told me -that if he didn’t marry you, your heart wouldn’t be -broken. That it would just hurt your pride.”</p> - -<p>Edith had a moment of hysterical mirth. How<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -they had talked her over. Her lover—and her -uncle’s stenographer! What a tragedy it had been! -And what a comedy!</p> - -<p>She leaned forward a little, locking her fingers -about her knees. “I wish you’d tell me all about -it.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know just what to tell. Except that -we’ve been writing to each other. I said that we -must wait three months. It didn’t seem fair to you -to have him marry too soon.”</p> - -<p>Uncle Fred’s stenographer sorry for her! “Go -on,” Edith said, tensely.</p> - -<p>So Lucy told the simple story. And in telling it -showed herself so naive, so steadfast, that Edith -was aware of an increasing respect for the woman -who had taken her place in the heart of her lover. -She perceived that Lucy had come to this interview -in no spirit of triumph. She had dreaded it, but -had felt it her duty. “I thought it would be -easier for you if you knew it before other people -did.”</p> - -<p>Edith’s forehead was knitted in a slight frown. -“The whole thing has been most unpleasant,” she -said. “When are you going to marry him?”</p> - -<p>“I told him on St. Valentine’s day. It seemed—romantic.”</p> - -<p>Romance and Del! Edith had a sudden illumination. -Why, this was what he had wanted, and -she had given him none of it! She had laughed at -him—been his good comrade. Little Lucy adored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -him—and had set St. Valentine’s day for the wedding!</p> - -<p>There was nothing small about Edith Towne. -She knew fineness when she saw it, and she had a -feeling of humility in the presence of little Lucy. -“I think it was my fault as much as Del’s,” she -stated. “I should never have said ‘Yes.’ People -haven’t any right to marry who feel as we did.”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” Lucy said rapturously, “how dear of you -to say that. Miss Towne, I always knew you were—big. -But I didn’t dream you were so beautiful.” -Tears wet her cheeks. “You’re just—marvellous,” -she said, wiping them away.</p> - -<p>“No, I’m not.” Edith’s eyes were on the fire. -“Normally, I am rather proud and—hateful. If -you had come a week ago——” Her voice fell -away into silence as she still stared at the fire.</p> - -<p>Lucy looked at her curiously. “A week ago?”</p> - -<p>Edith nodded. “Do you like fairy tales? Well, -once there was a princess. And a page came and -sang—under her window.” The fire purred and -crackled. “And the princess—liked the song——”</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Lucy, under her breath.</p> - -<p>“Well, that’s all,” said Edith; “I don’t know the -end.” She stretched herself lazily. Her loose -sleeves, floating away from her bare arms, gave the -effect of wings. Lucy, looking at her, wondered -how it had ever happened that Delafield could have -turned his eyes from that rare beauty to her own -undistinguished prettiness.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>She stood up. “I can’t tell you how thankful I -am that I came.”</p> - -<p>“You’re not going to run away yet,” Edith told -her. “I want you to have lunch with me. Upstairs. -You must tell me all your plans.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t many. And I really oughtn’t to -stay.”</p> - -<p>“Why not? I want you. Please don’t say no.”</p> - -<p>So up they went, with the perturbed parlor maid -speaking through the tube to the pantry. “Miss -Towne wants luncheon for two, Mr. Waldron. In -her room. Something nice, she says, and plenty -of it.”</p> - -<p>Little Lucy had never seen such a room as the -one to which Edith led her. The whole house was, -indeed, a dream palace. Yet it was the atmosphere -with which her lover would soon surround her. -She had a feeling almost of panic. What would -she do with a maid like Alice, who was helping -Josephine set up the folding-table, spread the -snowy cloth, bring in the hot silver dishes?</p> - -<p>As if Edith divined her thought, she said when -the maids had left, “Lucy, will you let me advise?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, Miss Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t try to be—like the rest of us. Like Del’s -own crowd, I mean. He fell in love with you because -you were different. He will want you to -stay—different.”</p> - -<p>“But I shall have so much to learn.”</p> - -<p>Edith was impatient. “What must you learn?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -Externals? Let them alone. Be yourself. You -have dignity—and strength. It was the strength in -you that won Del. You and he can have a life together -that will mean a great deal, if you will make -him go your way. But you must not go his——”</p> - -<p>Lucy considered that. “You mean that the -crowd he is with weakens him?”</p> - -<p>“I mean just that. They’re sophisticated beyond -words. You’re what they would call—provincial. -Oh, be provincial, Lucy. Don’t be afraid. But -don’t adopt their ways. You go to church, don’t -you? Say your prayers? Believe that God’s in -His world?”</p> - -<p>Lucy’s fair cheeks were flushed. “Why, of -course I do.”</p> - -<p>“Well, we don’t—not many of us,” said Edith. -“The thing you have got to do is to interest Del in -something. Don’t just go sailing away with him -in his yacht. Buy a farm over in Virginia, and -help him make a success of it.”</p> - -<p>“But he lives in New York.”</p> - -<p>“Of course he does. But he can live anywhere. -He’s so rich that he doesn’t have to earn anything, -and his office is just a fiction. You must make him -work. Go in for a fad; blooded horses, cows, black -Berkshires. Do you know what a black Berkshire -is, Lucy?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s a kind of a pig. And that’s the thing -for you and Del. He really loves fine stock. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -you and he—think of it—riding over the country—planning -your gardens—having a baby or two.” -Edith was going very fast.</p> - -<p>“It sounds heavenly,” said Lucy.</p> - -<p>“Then make it Heaven. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, you -lucky girl—you are going to marry the man you -love. Live away from the world—share happiness -and unhappiness——” She rose from the table -restlessly, pushing back her chair, dropping her -napkin on the floor. “Do you know how I envy -you?”</p> - -<p>She went to the window and stood looking out. -“And here I sit, day after day, like a prisoner in a -tower—and my page sings—that was the beginning -of it—and it will be the end.”</p> - -<p>“No,” Lucy was very serious, “you mustn’t let it -be the end. You—you must open the window, Miss -Towne.”</p> - -<p>Edith came back to the table. “Open the window?” -Her breath came fast. “Open the window. -Oh, little Lucy, how wise you are....”</p> - -<p>When Lucy had gone, Alice came in and dressed -Edith’s hair. She found her lady thoughtful. -“Alice, what did they do with my wedding -clothes?”</p> - -<p>It was the first time she had mentioned them. -Alice, sticking in hairpins, was filled with eager -curiosity.</p> - -<p>“We put them all in the second guest-suite,” she -said; “some of them we left packed in the trunks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -just as they were, and some of them are hung on -racks.”</p> - -<p>“Where is the wedding dress?”</p> - -<p>“In a closet in a white linen bag.”</p> - -<p>“Well, finish my hair and we will go and look -at it.”</p> - -<p>Alice stuck in the last pin. “The veil is over a -satin roller. I did it myself, and put the cap part -in a bonnet-box.”</p> - -<p>As they entered it, the second guest-suite was -heavy with the scent of orange blooms. “How -dreadful, Alice,” Edith ejaculated. “Why didn’t -you throw the flowers away?”</p> - -<p>“Miss Annabel wouldn’t let me. She said you -might not want things touched.”</p> - -<p>“Silly sentimentality.” Edith was impatient.</p> - -<p>The room was in all the gloom of drawn curtains. -The dresses hung on racks, and, encased in white -bags, gave a ghostly effect. “They are like rows of -tombstones, Alice.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Towne,” said Alice, dutifully.</p> - -<p>The maid brought out the wedding dress and laid -it on the bed.</p> - -<p>Edith, surveying it, was stung by the memory of -the emotions which had swayed her when she had -last worn it. It had seemed to mock her. She had -wanted to tear it into shreds. She had seen her -own tense countenance in the mirror, as she had -controlled herself before Alice. Then, when the -maid had left, she had thrown herself on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -bed, and had writhed in an agony of humiliation.</p> - -<p>And now all her anger was gone. She didn’t hate -Del. She didn’t hate Lucy. She even thought of -Uncle Fred with charity. And the wedding gown -was, after all, a robe for a princess who married -a king. Not a robe for a princess who loved a -page. A tender smile softened her face.</p> - -<p>“Alice,” she said, suddenly, “wasn’t there a little -heliotrope dinner frock among my trousseau -things?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Towne. Informal.” Alice hunted -in the third row of tombstones until she found it.</p> - -<p>“I want long sleeves put in it. Will you tell -Hardinger, and have him send a hat to match?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Towne.”</p> - -<p>The heliotrope frock had simple and lovely lines. -It floated in sheer beauty from the maid’s hands as -she held it up. “There isn’t a prettier one in the -whole lot, Miss Edith.”</p> - -<p>“I like it,” the fragrance of heliotrope was -wafted from hidden sachets, “and as for the wedding -gown,” Edith eyed it thoughtfully, “pack it -in a box with the veil and the rest of the things. I -want Briggs to take it with the note to an address -that I will give him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Miss Towne.” Alice was much interested -in the address. She studied it when, later, -she carried the box and the note down to Briggs.</p> - -<p>Edith, having dispatched the box with a charming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -note to Lucy Logan, had a feeling of ecstatic -freedom. All the hurt and humiliation of the bridal -episode had departed. She didn’t care what -the world thought of her. Her desertion by Del -had been material for a day’s gossip—then other -things had filled the papers, had been headlined -and emphasized. And what difference did it all -make?</p> - -<p>The things that mattered were those of which -she had talked to Lucy. An old house—mutual -interests, all the rest of it. “I would tramp the -road with him,” little Lucy had said. That was -love—to count nothing hard but the lack of it.</p> - -<p>She was called to the telephone, and found Eloise -Harper at the other end. “Delafield is coming -back,” she said. “Benny has had a letter.”</p> - -<p>“Darling town-crier,” said Edith, “you are late -with your news.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by town-crier?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what we call you, dearest.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you?” dubiously. “Well, anyhow, -Delafield is on his way back, and he is going to be -married as soon as he gets here.”</p> - -<p>“But he isn’t. Not until February.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?”</p> - -<p>“The bride told me.”</p> - -<p>“Who?” incredulously.</p> - -<p>“The bride.”</p> - -<p>Eloise gasped. “Edith, do you know who she -is?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>“I do.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, I can’t. The whole world would know -it.”</p> - -<p>“I swear I——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t swear, Eloise. You might perjure yourself,” -and Edith hung up the receiver.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> - -<small>AN INTERLUDE</small></h2></div> - -<blockquote> - -<p class="right"><i>The day after Christmas.</i></p> - - - -<p><span class="smcap">“Baldy,</span> darling: The operation is over, and -the doctor gives us hope. That is the best I can tell -you. I haven’t been allowed to see Judy, though -they have let Bob have a peep at her, and she -smiled.</p> - -<p>“You can imagine that we have had little heart -for good times. But the babies had a beautiful -Christmas Day, with a tree—and stockings hung -above the gas logs. How I longed for our own little -wood fire, but the blessed darlings didn’t know -the difference. We couldn’t spend much money, -which was fortunate. The things that came from -the east were so perfect. Yours, honey-boy, only -you shouldn’t have made the check so large. I -shan’t spend it unless it is very necessary. Mr. -Towne sent flowers, loads of them—and perfectly -marvellous chocolates in a box of gold lacquer—and -Edith sent a string of carved ivory beads, and -there was a blue Keats from Evans, and a ducky -orange scarf from Mrs. Follette.</p> - -<p>“I wish you could have seen the babies. Julia -staggered around the tree on her uncertain little -feet as if she were drunk, and then settled down to -an adorable stuffed bunny, and Junior had eyes -for nothing but the red automobile that the Townes -ordered for him. I think it was dear of Edith and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -her uncle. Junior is such a charming chap, with -beautiful manners like his dad, but with a will of -his own at times.</p> - -<p>“I roasted a chicken for dinner, and—well, we -got through it all. And now the babies are in bed, -and Bob is at the hospital, and I am writing to you. -But my heart is tight with fear.</p> - -<p>“I mustn’t think about Judy.</p> - -<p>“Give my love to everybody. I have had Christmas -letters from Evans and Edith and Mr. Towne. -Baldy, Mr. Towne wants to marry me. I haven’t -told you before. It is rather like a dream and I’m -not going to think about it. I don’t love him, and -so, of course, that settles it. But he says he can -make me, and, Baldy, sometimes I wish that he -could. It would be such a heavenly thing for the -whole family. Of course that isn’t the way to look -at it, but I believe Judy wants it. She believes in -love in a cottage, but she says that love in a palace -might be equally satisfying, with fewer things to -worry about.</p> - -<p>“Somehow that doesn’t fit in with the things -I’ve dreamed. But dreams, of course, aren’t everything....</p> - -<p>“I had to tell you, dear old boy. Because we’ve -never kept things from each other. And you’ve -been so perfectly frank about Edith. Are things -a bit blue in that direction? Your letter sounded -like it.</p> - -<p>“Be good to yourself, old dear, and love me more -than ever.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Jane signed her name and stood up, stretching -her arms above her head. It was late and she was -very tired. A great storm was shaking the windows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -The wind from the lake beat against the -walls with the boom of guns.</p> - -<p>Jane pulled back the curtains—there was snow -with the storm—it whirled in papery shreds on the -shaft of light. All sounds in the street were muffled. -She had a sense of suffocation—as if the -storm pressed upon her—shutting her in.</p> - -<p>She went into the next room and looked at the -babies. Oh, what would they do if anything happened -to Judy? What would Bob do? She dared -not look ahead.</p> - -<p>She walked the floor, a tense little figure, fighting -against fear. The storm had become a whistling -pandemonium. She gave a cry of relief -when the door opened and her brother-in-law -entered.</p> - -<p>“I’m half-frozen, Janey. It was a fight to get -through. The cars are stopped on all the surface -lines.”</p> - -<p>“How is Judy?”</p> - -<p>“Holding her own. And by the way, Janey, -that friend of yours, Towne, sent another bunch of -roses. Pretty fine, I call it. She’s no end pleased.”</p> - -<p>“It’s nice of him.”</p> - -<p>“Gee, I wish I had his money.”</p> - -<p>“Money isn’t everything, Bobby.”</p> - -<p>“It means a lot at a time like this.” His face -wore a worried frown. Jane knew that Judy’s -hospital expenses were appalling, and bills were -piling up.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>“I work like a nigger,” Bob said, ruefully, “and -we’ve never been in debt before.”</p> - -<p>“When Judy is well, things will seem brighter, -Bob.” She laid her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>He looked up at her and there was fear in his -eyes. “Jane, she must get well. I can’t face losing -her.”</p> - -<p>“We mustn’t think of that. And now come on -out in the kitchen and I’ll make you some coffee.” -Jane was always practical. She knew that, -warmed and fed, he would see things differently.</p> - -<p>Yet in spite of her philosophy, Jane lay awake -a long time that night. And later her dreams were -of Judy—of Judy, and a gray and dreadful phantom -which pursued....</p> - -<p>The next day she went to the hospital and took -Junior with her.</p> - -<p>When he saw his mother in bed, Junior asked, -“Do you like it, Mother-dear?”</p> - -<p>“Like what, darling?”</p> - -<p>“Sleeping in the daytime?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t always sleep.” She looked at Jane. -“Does little Julia miss me? I think about her in -the night.”</p> - -<p>Jane knew what Judy’s heart wanted. “She does -miss you. I know it when she turns away from -me. Perhaps I oughtn’t to tell you. But I thought -you’d rather know.”</p> - -<p>“I do want to know,” said Judy, feverishly. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -don’t want them to forget. Jane, you mustn’t ever -let them—forget.”</p> - -<p>Jane felt as if she had been struck a stunning -blow. She was, for a moment, in the midst of a -dizzy universe, in which only one thing was clear. -<i>Judy wasn’t sure of getting well!</i></p> - -<p>Judy, with her brown eyes wistful, went on: -“Junior, do you want Mother back in your own -nice house?”</p> - -<p>“Will you make cookies?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, darling.”</p> - -<p>“Then I want you back. Aunt Janey made -cookies, and she didn’t know about the raisins.”</p> - -<p>“Mother knows how to give cookie-men raisin -eyes. Mothers know a lot of things that aunties -don’t, darling.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I wish you’d come back.” He stood by the -side of the bed. “I’d like to sleep with you to-night. -May I, Mother-dear?”</p> - -<p>“Not to-night, darling. But you may when I -come home.”</p> - -<p>But days passed and weeks, and Judy did not -come home. And the first of February found her -still in that narrow hospital bed. And it was in -February that Frederick Towne wrote that he was -coming to Chicago. “I shall have only a day, but -I must see you.”</p> - -<p>Jane was not sure that she wanted him to -come. He had been very good to them all, and he -had not, in his letter, pressed for an answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -unduly. But she knew if he came, he would -ask.</p> - -<p>The next time she went to the hospital, she told -Judy of his expected arrival. “To-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Jane, how delightful.”</p> - -<p>“Is it? I’m not sure, Judy.”</p> - -<p>“It would be perfect if you’d accept him, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“But I’m not in love with him.”</p> - -<p>Judy, rather austere, with her black braids on -each side of her white face, said, “Janey, do you -know that not one girl in a thousand has a chance -to marry a man like Frederick Towne?”</p> - -<p>There was a breathless excitement about the invalid -which warned Jane. “Now, darling, what -real difference will it make if I don’t marry him? -There are other men in the world.”</p> - -<p>“Bob and I were talking about it,” Judy’s voice -was almost painfully eager, “of how splendid it -would be for—all of us.”</p> - -<p><i>For all of us.</i> Judy and Bob and the babies! It -was the first time that Jane had thought of her -marriage with Towne as a way out for Judy and -Bob....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>From his hotel at the moment of arrival, Towne -called Jane up. “Are you glad I’m here?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say it that way.”</p> - -<p>“How shall I say it?”</p> - -<p>“As if you meant it. Do you know what a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -frigid little thing you are? Your letters were like -frosted cakes.”</p> - -<p>She laughed. “They were the best I could do.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it. But I am not going to talk -of that now. When can I come and see you? And -how much time have you to spare for me?”</p> - -<p>“Not much. I can’t leave the babies.”</p> - -<p>“Your sister’s children. Can’t you trust the -maids?”</p> - -<p>“Maids? Listen to the man! We haven’t any.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean to tell me that you are doing -the housework.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, why not? I am strong and well, and the -kiddies are adorable.”</p> - -<p>“We are going to change that. I’ll bring a -trained nurse up with me.”</p> - -<p>“Please don’t be a tyrant.”</p> - -<p>“Tut-tut, little girl,” she heard his big laugh -over the telephone, “I’ll bring the nurse and someone -to help her, and a load of toys to keep the kiddies -quiet. When I want a thing, Jane, I usually -get it.”</p> - -<p>He and the nurse arrived together. A competent -houseworker was to follow in a cab. Jane -protested. “It seems dreadfully high-handed.”</p> - -<p>They were alone in the living-room. Miss Martin -had, at once, carried the kiddies off to unpack -the toys.</p> - -<p>Frederick laughed. “Well, what are you going -to do about it? You can’t put me out.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>“But I can refuse to go with you”—there was -the crisp note in her voice which always stirred him.</p> - -<p>“But you won’t do that, Jane.” He held out -his hand to her, drew her a little towards him.</p> - -<p>She released herself, flushing. “I am not quite -sure what I ought to do.”</p> - -<p>“Why think of ‘oughts’? We will just play a -bit together, Jane. That’s all. And you’re such a -tired little girl, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>His sympathy was comforting. Everybody -leaned on Jane. It was delightful to shift her burdens -to this strong man who gave his commands -like a king.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am tired. And if the babies will be all -right——”</p> - -<p>“Good. Now run in and see Miss Martin, and I -think you’ll be satisfied.”</p> - -<p>Jane found Junior rapturous over a Noah’s Ark, -with all the animals clothed in fur and hair, and -the birds in feathers, and small Julia cuddled -against the nurse’s white breast, bright-eyed with -interest over the Three Kittens.</p> - -<p>“They’ll be all right, Miss Barnes,” Miss Martin -said, smiling.</p> - -<p>Jane sighed with relief. “It will seem good to -play for a bit.”</p> - -<p>“You see how I get my way,” Frederick said, as -he helped her into the big hired limousine. “I always -get it.”</p> - -<p>“It is rather heavenly at the moment,” Jane<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -admitted, “but you needn’t think that it establishes -a precedent.”</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t it be always—heavenly?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure. You have the makings of a—Turk.”</p> - -<p>Yet she laughed as she said it, and he laughed, -too. He was really very handsome, ruddy and -bright and big—and with that air of gay deference. -She liked to sit beside him, and listen to the things -he had to tell her. It was peaceful after all the -strenuous days.</p> - -<p>She was aware that if she married Towne life -would be always like this. A glorified existence. -She would be like Curlylocks of the nursery -rhyme....</p> - -<p>“What are you smiling at?” Frederick demanded. -His eyes as they met hers burned a bit. -Jane was half-buried in a black fur robe—with -only the white oval of her face and her little gray -hat showing above it.</p> - -<p>“Nursery rhymes.” The smile deepened.</p> - -<p>“Which one?”</p> - -<p>“Curlylocks.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t remember it. Oh, yes, by Jove, I do. -She was the damsel who sat on a cushion and sewed -a fine seam, and feasted on strawberries, sugar and -cream?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Good. That’s what I want to do for you. You -know it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>“Yes. But it might be—monotonous.”</p> - -<p>“What better thing could happen to you than to -have someone take care of you?”</p> - -<p>Jane sat up. “Oh, I want to <i>live</i>,” she said, almost -with fierceness. “I’d hate to think my husband -was just a sort of—feather cushion.”</p> - -<p>“Is that the way you think of me?” His vanity -was untouched. She didn’t, of course, mean it.</p> - -<p>“No. But love is life. I don’t want to miss -it.”</p> - -<p>“You won’t miss it if you marry me. I swear -it, Jane, I’ll make you love me.”</p> - -<p>He was in dead earnest. And in spite of herself -she was swayed by his attitude of conviction.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we mustn’t talk of it,” she said, a bit -breathlessly. “I’d rather not, please.”</p> - -<p>They lunched at a charming French restaurant, -where Frederick had dared Jane to eat snails. She -acquiesced rather unexpectedly. “I have always -wanted to do it,” she told him, “ever since I was a -little girl and read Hans Andersen’s story of the -white snails who lived in a forest of burdocks, and -whose claim to aristocracy was that their ancestors -had been baked and served in a silver dish.”</p> - -<p>They had a table in a corner. He ordered the -luncheon expertly.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you how much I am enjoying it,” -she said gratefully, as he once more gave her his -attention.</p> - -<p>“Do you really like it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>“Immensely.”</p> - -<p>“Why not have it for the rest of your life?”</p> - -<p>Her color deepened. “Sometimes I think it -would be——” she hesitated.</p> - -<p>“Heavenly,” he finished the sentence for her. -“Jane, you only have to say the word.”</p> - -<p>The waiter, with the first course, interrupted -them. When he once more disappeared, Frederick -persisted. “I’m going away to-morrow. Won’t -you give me my answer to-night? After lunch I’ll -take you home and you can rest a bit, and then I’ll -come for you and we’ll dine together and see a -play.”</p> - -<p>She tried to protest, but he pleaded. “This is -my day. Don’t spoil it, Jane.”</p> - -<p>It was nearly three o’clock when they left the -table, and they had a long drive before them. Darkness -had descended when they reached the house. -It was still snowing.</p> - -<p>Bob was up-stairs, walking around the little -room like a man in a dream.</p> - -<p>“I can’t tell you,” he confided to Jane after -Frederick had left, “how queer I felt when I came -in and found Miss Martin with the babies, and that -stately old woman in the kitchen. And everything -going like clockwork. Miss Martin explained, and—well, -Towne just waves a wand, doesn’t he, -Janey, and makes things happen?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know that I ought to let him do so -much,” Jane said.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>“Oh, why not, Janey? Just take the good the -gods provide....”</p> - -<p>Before Frederick Towne reached his hotel he -passed a shop whose windows were lighted against -the early darkness. In one of the windows, flanked -by slippers and stockings and a fan to match, was -a French gown, all silver and faint blue, a shining -wisp of a thing in lace and satin. Towne stopped -the car, went in and bought the gown with its -matching accessories. He carried the big box with -him to his hotel. Resting a bit before dinner he -permitted himself to dream of Jane in that gown, -the pearls that he would give her against the white -of her slender throat, the slim bareness of her arms, -the swirl of a silver lace about her ankles—the -swing of the boyish figure in its sheath of blue.</p> - -<p>He permitted himself to think of her, too, in -other gowns. His thoughts of her frocks were all -definite. He had exquisite taste. If he married -Jane, he would dress her so that people would look -at her, and look again. Even in her poverty, she -had learned to express herself in the things she -wore. His money would make possible even more -subtle expression.</p> - -<p>So he thought of her in gray chiffon, black pearls -in her ears—oh, to think of Jane in earrings!—with -a touch of jade where the draperies swung loose—and -with an oyster-white lining to the green cape -which would cover the gown—a lynx collar up to -her ears.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>Or a tea-gown of tangerine lace—with bands of -sable catching the open sleeves at the wrist—or in -white—Jane’s wedding dress must be heavy with -pearls—she lent herself perfectly to medieval effects.</p> - -<p>His mind came back to the blue and silver. It -hung on the bed-post, shimmering in the light from -his lamp. He wondered if he offered it to Jane, -would she accept? He knew she wouldn’t. Adelaide -would have made no bones about it. There -had been a lovely thing in black velvet he had given -her, too, a wrap to match.</p> - -<p>But Jane was different. She would shrug her -shoulders and with that charming independence, -decline his favors, tilting her chin, and challenging -him with her lighted-up eyes.</p> - -<p>Well, he liked her for it. Loved her for it. And -some day she would wear the blue and silver frock. -As he rose and put it back in the box, he seemed -to shut Jane in with it. There hung about it the -scent of roses. He knew of a rare perfume. He -would order a vial of it for Jane. It merely hinted -at fragrance.</p> - -<p>The evening stretched ahead of him, full of radiant -promise. He knew Jane’s strength but he was -ready for conquest.</p> - -<p>His telephone rang. And Jane spoke to him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Towne,” she said, “I can’t dine with you. -But can you come over later? Judy is desperately -ill. I’ll tell you more about it when I see you.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX<br /> - -<small>SURRENDER</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Bob</span> had cried when the news came from the hospital. -It had been dreadful. Jane had never seen -a man cry. They had been hard sobs, with broken -apologies between. “I’m a fool to act like -this....”</p> - -<p>Jane had tried to say things, then had sat silent -and uncomfortable while Bob fought for self-control.</p> - -<p>Miss Martin had gone home before the message -arrived. Bob was told that he could not see his -wife. But the surgeon would be glad to talk to -him, at eight.</p> - -<p>“And I know what he’ll say,” Bob had said to -Jane drearily, “that if I can get that specialist up -from Hot Springs, he may be able to diagnose the -trouble. But how am I going to get the money, -Janey? It will cost a thousand dollars to rush him -here and pay his fee. And my income has practically -stopped. With all these labor troubles—there’s -no building. And Judy’s nurses cost -twelve dollars a day—and her room five. Oh, -poor people haven’t any right to be sick, Janey. -There isn’t any place for them.”</p> - -<p>Jane’s face was pale and looked pinched.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> -“There’s the check Baldy sent me for Christmas, -fifty dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Dear girl, it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” thoughtfully. “Bob, do they think -that if that specialist comes it will save Judy’s -life?”</p> - -<p>“It might. It—it’s the last chance, Janey.”</p> - -<p>Janey hugged her knees. “Can’t you borrow the -money?”</p> - -<p>“I have borrowed up to the limit of my securities, -and how can I ever pay?”</p> - -<p>Her voice was grim. “We will manage to pay; -the thing now is to save Judy.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he tried, pitifully, to meet her courage. -“If they’ll get the specialist, we’ll pay.”</p> - -<p>She had risen. “I’ll call up Mr. Towne, and tell -him I can’t dine with him.”</p> - -<p>“But, Janey, there’s no reason why you -shouldn’t keep your engagement.”</p> - -<p>She had turned on him with a touch of indignation. -“Do you think I could have one happy moment -with my mind on Judy?”</p> - -<p>Bob had looked at her, and then looked away. -“Have you thought that you might get the money -from Towne?”</p> - -<p>Her startled gaze had questioned him. “Get -money from Mr. Towne?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Oh, why not, Janey? He’ll do anything -for you.”</p> - -<p>“But how could I pay him?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>There had been dead silence, then Bob said, -“Well, he’s in love with you, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“You mean that I can—marry him?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Why not? Judy says he’s crazy about -you. And, Jane, it’s foolish to throw away such a -chance. Not every girl has it.”</p> - -<p>“But, Bob, I’m not—in love with him.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll learn to care—— He’s a delightful -chap, I’d say.” Bob was eager. “Now look here, -Janey, I’m talking to you like a Dutch uncle. It -isn’t as if I were advising you to do it for our sakes. -It is for your own sake, too. Why, it would be -great, old girl. Never another worry. Somebody -always to look after you.”</p> - -<p>The wind outside was singing a wild song, a roaring, -cynical song, it seemed to Jane. She wanted to -say to Bob, “But I’ve always been happy in my -little house with Baldy and Philomel, and the -chickens and the cats.” But of course Bob could -say, “You’re not happy now, and anyhow what are -you going to do about Judy?”</p> - -<p><i>Judy!</i></p> - -<p>She had spoken at last with an effort. “I’ll tell -him to come over after dinner. We can ride for a -bit.”</p> - -<p>“Why not stay here? I’ll be at the hospital. -And the storm is pretty bad.”</p> - -<p>She had looked out of the window. “There’s no -snow. Just the wind. And I feel—stifled.”</p> - -<p>It was then that she had called up Towne. “I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -can’t dine with you.... Judy is desperately -ill....”</p> - -<p>The houseworker had prepared a delicious dinner, -but Jane ate nothing. Bob’s appetite, on the -other hand, was good. He apologized for it. “I -went without lunch, I was so worried.”</p> - -<p>Jane remembered her own lunch—how careless -she had been for the moment, forgetting her heaviness -of heart—served like a princess sheltered from -every wind that blew!</p> - -<p>And all the rest of her life might be like that! -It wouldn’t be so bad. She drank a cup of coffee, -and then another. And Frederick had said that -he could make her love him....</p> - -<p>In the center of the table were some roses that -Towne had given her. She stuck one of them in -her girdle.</p> - -<p>Bob finished his coffee, and stood up. “I must -be going. Good luck to you, old girl....” -His tone was almost cheerful. He walked around -the table and touched his lips to her cheek.</p> - -<p>When she was alone, she went in and looked at -the babies. Junior had taken some of the animals -to bed with him, and they trailed over the white -cover—tiny tigers and elephants, lions and giraffes. -Little Julia hugged her doll. How sweet she was, -and such a baby!</p> - -<p>And in the hospital Judy’s arms ached to enfold -that warm little body: Judy’s heart beat with fear -lest they should never enfold her again!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>The bell rang. Jane, going to the door, found -herself shaking with excitement.</p> - -<p>Frederick came in and took both of her hands in -his. “I’m terribly sorry about the sister. Is there -anything I can do?”</p> - -<p>She shook her head. She could hardly speak. -“I thought if you wouldn’t mind, we’d go for a -ride. And we can talk.”</p> - -<p>“Good. Get your wraps.” He released her -hands, and she went into the other room. As she -looked into the mirror she saw that her cheeks were -crimson.</p> - -<p>She brought out her coat and he held it for her. -“Is this warm enough? You ought to have a fur -coat.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I shall be warm,” she said.</p> - -<p>As he preceded her down the stairs, Towne -turned and looked up at her. “You are wearing -my rose,” he told her, ardently; “you are like a -rose yourself.”</p> - -<p>She would not have been a woman if she had not -liked his admiration. And he was strong and -adoring and distinguished. She had a sense of -almost happy excitement as he lifted her into the -car.</p> - -<p>“Where shall we drive?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Along the lake. I love it on a night like this.”</p> - -<p>The moon was sailing high in a rack of clouds. -As they came to the lake the waves writhed like -mad sea-monsters in gold and white and black.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>“Jane,” Frederick asked softly, “what made you -wear—my rose?”</p> - -<p>She sat very still beside him. “Mr. Towne,” she -said at last, “tell me how much—you love me.”</p> - -<p>He gave a start of surprise. Then he turned -towards her and took her hand in his. “Let me -tell you this! there never was a dearer woman. -Everything that I have, all that I am, is yours if -you will have it.”</p> - -<p>There was a fine dignity in his avowal. She liked -him more than ever.</p> - -<p>“Do you love me enough”—she hurried over the -words, “to help me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” He drew her gently towards him. There -was no struggle. She lay quietly against his arm, -but he was aware that she trembled.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Towne, Judy must have a great specialist -right away. It’s her only chance. If you will send -for him to-night, make yourself responsible for—everything—I’ll -marry you whenever you say.”</p> - -<p>He stared down at her, unbelieving. “Do you -mean it, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Oh, do you think I am dreadful?”</p> - -<p>He laughed exultantly, caught her up to him. -“Dreadful? You’re the dearest—ever, Jane.”</p> - -<p>Yet as he felt her fluttering heart, he released -her gently. Her eyes were full of tears. He -touched her wet cheek. “Don’t let me frighten -you, my dear. But I am very happy.”</p> - -<p>She believed herself happy. He was really—irresistible.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -A conqueror. Yet always with that -touch of deference.</p> - -<p>“Do you love me, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Not—yet.”</p> - -<p>“But you will. I’ll make you love me.”</p> - -<p>With keen intuition, with his knowledge, too, of -women, he asked for no further assurance. He -leaned back against the cushions of the car, and -holding her hand in his, made plans for their future. -He would get the ring to-morrow. He would -come again in a week. As soon as Judy was better, -he and Jane would be married.</p> - -<p>Then just before they reached home he asked for -the rose. She gave it to him, all fading fragrance. -He touched it to her lips then crushed it against -his own.</p> - -<p>“Must I be content with this?”</p> - -<p>Her quick breath told her agitation. He drew -her to him, gently. “Come, my sweet.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Oh, money, money. Jane learned that night the -power of it!</p> - -<p>Coming in with Frederick from that wild moonlighted -world, flushed with excitement, hardly -knowing this new Jane, she saw Bob transformed -in a moment from haggard hopelessness to wild -elation.</p> - -<p>Frederick Towne had made a simple statement. -“Jane has told me how serious things are, Heming. -I want to help.” Then he had asked for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -surgeon’s name; spoken at once of a change of -rooms for Judy; increased attendance. There was -much telephoning and telegraphing. An atmosphere -of efficiency. Jane, looking on, was filled -with admiration. How well he did things. And -some day he would be her husband!</p> - -<p>Towne was, indeed, at his best. Deeply in love -with her, all his generous impulses were quickened -for her service. When at last he had gone, she -went to bed, and lay awake almost until morning. -Doubts crowded upon her. Her cheeks burned as -she thought of the bargain she had made. He -would pay her sister’s bills—and she would marry -him. But it wasn’t just that! He was so tender, -so solicitous. Jane had not yet learned that one -may be in love with being loved, which is not in -the least the same as loving. Against the benefits -which Towne bestowed upon her, she could set only -her dreams of Galahad, of Robin Hood! Of romantic -adventure! Her memories—of Evans Follette.</p> - -<p>She sighed as she thought of him. He would be -unhappy. Oh, darling old Evans! She cried a -little into her pillow. She mustn’t think of him. -The thing was done. She was going to marry Frederick -Towne!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX<br /> - -<small>PAPER LACE</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was two days after Jane promised to marry -Frederick Towne that Evans bought a Valentine -for her.</p> - -<p>The shops were full of valentines—many of them -of paper lace—the fragile old-fashioned things that -had become a new fashion. They had forget-me-nots -on them and hearts with golden arrows, and -fat pink cupids.</p> - -<p>Evans found it hard to choose. He stood before -them, smiling. And he could see Jane smile as she -read the enchanting verse of the one he finally selected:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Roses red, my dear,</div> -<div class="verse">And violets blue—</div> -<div class="verse">Honey’s sweet, my dear,</div> -<div class="verse">And so are you.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>As he walked up F Street to his office, his heart -was light. It was one of the lovely days that hint -of spring. Old Washingtonians know that such -weather does not last—that March winds must -blow, and storms must come. But they grasp the -joy of the moment—masquerade in carnival spirit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>—buy -flowers from the men at the street corners—sweep -into their favorite confectioner’s to order -cool drinks, the women seek their milliner’s and -come forth bonneted in spring beauty—the men -drive to the links—and look things over.</p> - -<p>Oh, what a world it is—this world of Washington -when Winter welcomes, for the moment, -Spring!</p> - -<p>Evans wished that Jane were there to see. To -let him buy flowers for her—ices. He wondered if -the time would come when he might buy her a -spring hat. Well, why not? If things went like -this with him! He knew he was getting back. He -could see it in the eyes of women. Where once -there had been pity—was now coquettish challenge. -He was having invitations. He accepted only a -few, but they came increasingly.</p> - -<p>And clients came. Not many, but enough to -point the way to success. He had sold more of the -old books. His mother’s milk farm was becoming a -fashionable fad.</p> - -<p>Edith Towne had helped to bring Mrs. Follette’s -wares before her friends. At all hours of the day -they drove out, Edith with them. “It is such an -adorable place,” she told Evans, “and your—mother! -Isn’t she absolutely herself? Selling -milk with that empress air of hers. I simply love -her.”</p> - -<p>Evans liked Edith Towne immensely. Even -more than Baldy he divined her loneliness. “In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -that great house there isn’t a soul for real companionship. -Towne’s eaten up with egotism, and -the cousin is an echo.”</p> - -<p>Edith asked herself out to dinner very often. -“It is perfect with just the four of us,” she told -Mrs. Follette, and that lady, flattered almost to -tears, said, “Telephone whenever you can come and -take pot-luck.”</p> - -<p>Edith had planned to have dinner with them to-night. -Evans took an early train to Sherwood. -When he reached home Edith and his mother were -on the porch and the Towne car stood before the -gate.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got to go back,” Edith explained. “Uncle -Fred came in from Chicago an hour or two ago -and telephoned that he must see me.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy will be broken-hearted,” Evans told her, -smiling.</p> - -<p>“I couldn’t get him up. I tried, but they said -he had left the office. I thought I’d bring him out -with me.” She kissed Mrs. Follette. “I’ll come -again soon, dear lady. And you must tell me -when you are tired of me.”</p> - -<p>Evans went to the car with her, and came back -to find his mother in an exalted mood. “Now if -you could marry a girl like Edith Towne.”</p> - -<p>“<i>Edith</i>,” he laughed lightly. “Mother, are you -blind? She and Baldy are mad about each other.”</p> - -<p>“Of course she isn’t serious. A boy like that.”</p> - -<p>“Isn’t she? I’ll say she is.” Evans went charging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -up the stairs to dress for dinner. “I’ll be down -presently.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy may be late; we won’t wait for him,” his -mother called after him.</p> - -<p>The dining-room at Castle Manor had a bare -waxed floor, an old drop-leaf table of dark mahogany, -deer’s antlers over the mantel, and some candles -in sconces.</p> - -<p>Old Mary did her best to follow the rather formal -service on which Mrs. Follette insisted. The food -was simple, but well-cooked, and there was always -a soup and a salad.</p> - -<p>It was not until they reached the salad course -that they heard the sound of Baldy’s car. He -burst in at the front door, as if he battered it down, -stormed through the hall, and entered the dining-room -like a whirlwind.</p> - -<p>“Jane’s going to be married,” he cried, “and -she’s going to marry Frederick Towne!”</p> - -<p>Evans half-rose from his chair. Everything -turned black and he sat down. There was a loud -roaring in his ears. It was like taking ether—with -the darkness and the roaring.</p> - -<p>When things cleared he found that neither his -mother nor Baldy had noticed his agitation. His -mother was asking quick questions. “Who told -you? Does Edith know?”</p> - -<p>Baldy threw himself in a chair. “Mr. Towne -got back from Chicago this afternoon. Called me -up and said he wanted me to come over at once to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -his office. I went, and he gave me a letter from -Jane. Said he thought it was better for him to -bring it, and then he could explain.”</p> - -<p>He threw the note across the table to Mrs. Follette. -“Will you read it? I’m all in. Drove like -the dickens coming out. Towne wanted me to go -home with him to dinner. Wanted to begin the -brother-in-law business right away before I got my -breath. But I left. Oh, the darned peacock!” -Jane would have known Baldy’s mood. The tempest-gray -eyes, the chalk-white face.</p> - -<p>“But don’t you like it, Baldy?”</p> - -<p>“Like it? Oh, read that note. Does it sound -like Jane? I ask you, does it sound like <i>Jane</i>?”</p> - -<p>It did not sound in the least like Jane. Not the -Jane that Evans and Baldy knew.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Baldy, dear. Mr. Towne will tell you all about -it. I am going to marry him as soon as Judy is -better. I know you will be surprised, but Mr. -Towne is just wonderful, and it will be such a -good thing for all of us. Mr. Towne will tell you -how dreadfully ill Judy is. He wants to do everything -for her, and that will be such a help to Bob.</p> - -<p>“And so we will live happy ever after. Oh, you -blessed boy, you know how I love you. Send a -wire, and say that it is all right. Tell Evans and -Mrs. Follette. They are my dearest friends and -will always be.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>She signed herself:</p> - -<blockquote> -<p class="right"><span class="gap">“Loving you more than ever,</span><br /> -“<span class="smcap">Jane</span>.”</p></blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>Mrs. Follette looked up from the letter, took off -her reading glasses, and said complacently, “I -think it is very nice for her.” The dear lady quite -basked in the thought of her intimate friendship -with the fiancée of Frederick Towne.</p> - -<p>But the two men did not bask.</p> - -<p>“<i>Nice, for Jane?</i>” they threw the sentences at -her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, can’t you see why she has done it?” Baldy -demanded. He caught up the note, pointing an -accusing finger as he read certain phrases. “<i>It -will be such a good thing for all of us ... he -wants to do everything for her ... it will be -such a help to Bob....</i>”</p> - -<p>“Doesn’t that show,” Baldy demanded furiously, -“she’s doing it because Judy and Bob are hard up -and Towne can help—I know Jane.”</p> - -<p>Evans knew her. Hadn’t he said to her not long -ago, “You’d tie up the broken wings of every -wounded bird.... You’d give crutches to the -lame, and food to the hungry....”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see why you should object,” Mrs. Follette -was saying; “it will be a fine thing for her. -She will be Mrs. Frederick Towne!”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather have her Jane Barnes for the rest -of her life. Do you know Towne’s reputation? -Any woman can flatter him into a love affair. A -fat Lothario.” Baldy did not mince the words.</p> - -<p>“But he hasn’t married any of them,” said Mrs. -Follette triumphantly. She held to the ancient<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -and honorable theory that the woman a man marries -need not worry about past love affairs since -she had been paid the compliment of at least legal -permanency.</p> - -<p>“But Jane,” Baldy said, brokenly, “you know -her. She’s a child, a darling child. With all her -dreams——” He ran his fingers through his hair -with the effect of a ruffled eagle.</p> - -<p>Evans’ lips were dry. “What did you say to -Towne?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, what <i>could</i> I say? That I was surprised, -and all that. Something about hoping they’d be -happy. Then I beat it and got here as fast as I -could. I had to talk it over with you people -or—burst.” His eyes met Evans’ and found -there the sympathy he sought. “It’s a rotten -trick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Evans, “rotten.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Mrs. Follette, “that you must -both see it is best.” Yet her voice was troubled. -Through her complacency had penetrated the -thought of what Jane’s engagement might mean to -Evans. Yet, it might, on the other hand, be a blessing -in disguise. There were other women, richer—who -would help him in his career. And in time -he would forget Jane.</p> - -<p>Old Mary gave them their coffee. “Shall we -walk for a bit, Baldy?” Evans said, when at last -they rose.</p> - -<p>The two men made their way towards the pine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -grove. The twilight sky was a deep purple with a -thin sickle of a moon and a breathless star.</p> - -<p>And there in the little grove under the purple -sky Evans said to Baldy, “I love her.”</p> - -<p>“I know. I wish to God you had her.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps she has chosen wisely. Towne can -make things—easy.”</p> - -<p>“But you should hear what Edith says about -him. He’s an old grouch around the house. And -you know Janey? Like a bird—singing.”</p> - -<p><i>Like a bird singing!</i></p> - -<p>“Baldy,” Evans said, “I don’t agree with you -that it was—the money. That may have helped in -her decision. But I think she cares——”</p> - -<p>“For Towne—nonsense.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t nonsense. She knows nothing of love. -She may have taken the shadow for the substance. -And he can be very—charming.” It wrung his -heart to say it. But almost with clairvoyance he -saw the truth.</p> - -<p>When they returned to the house Baldy found a -message from Edith. He was to call her up.</p> - -<p>“Uncle Frederick has just told me,” she said, -“that Jane is to be my aunt. Isn’t it joyful?”</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Towne’s all right. But not for Jane.”</p> - -<p>“I see. But he’s really in love with her, poor -old duck. Talked about it all through dinner. -He’s going to try awfully hard to make her happy.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>“Then you approve?”</p> - -<p>He heard her gay laugh over the wire. “It will -be nice—to have you—in the family. I’ll be your -niece-in-law.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll be nothing of the kind.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t help being—Uncle Baldy. Isn’t that—delicious? -And now, will you come in to-night -and sit by my fire? Uncle Frederick is out.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve sat too often by your fire.”</p> - -<p>“Too often for your own peace of mind? I -know that. And I’m glad of it.” Again he heard -a ripple of laughter.</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a thing to laugh at.”</p> - -<p>She hesitated, then said in a different tone, “I -am not laughing. But I want you by my fire to-night.”</p> - -<p>It was late when Evans went up-stairs. He had -spent the evening with his mother, discussing with -her some matters where his legal knowledge helped. -They did not speak of Jane. Their avoidance of -the subject showed their preoccupation with it. -But neither dared approach it.</p> - -<p>On the bedside table in Evans’ room lay the -valentine he had bought for Jane. There it was, -with its cupids and bleeding hearts—its forget-me-nots—and -golden darts.</p> - -<p>Of course he could not send it now. He couldn’t -ever send another valentine to Jane. She belonged -to Towne.</p> - -<p>It didn’t seem credible. It was one of the things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>—like -war—that men refused to believe could ever -happen. Yet it had happened.</p> - -<p>After this Jane would be out of his life—utterly. -It was all very well to talk of friendship. But he -wouldn’t be her friend. He didn’t want to see her. -He didn’t want to hear her voice. He thought he -should die when he had to meet her as Mrs. Frederick -Towne.</p> - -<p>But what was he going to do without her? -What...?</p> - -<p>He paced the room restlessly. Ahead of him had -been always the hope that he might win her. And -now, she was won, and not by him. It was—unthinkable.</p> - -<p>His excitement increased. The valentine seemed -to mock him as it lay there fragile in its loveliness.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">“Roses red, my dear,</div> -<div class="verse">And violets blue,</div> -<div class="verse">Honey’s sweet, my dear....”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>He reached out his hand for it and tore it into -shreds. Paper lace!... Paper lace!...</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI<br /> - -<small>VOICES IN THE DARK</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Arthur Lane</span> and Sandy talked it over. “I -wonder what has happened. He looks dreadful.”</p> - -<p>The two boys were on their way to Castle Manor. -They wanted books. Evans’ library was a treasure-house -for youthful readers. It had all the old adventuring -tales. And Evans had read everything. -He would simply walk up to a shelf, lay his hand -on a book, and say, “Here’s one you’ll like.” And -he was never wrong.</p> - -<p>He had told them that the latch-string was always -out for them. And they had learned to look -for his welcome. Sometimes he asked them to stay, -and ’phoned to their parents. And then they -popped corn before the library fire, or made taffy -in the kitchen. And sometimes Baldy Barnes was -there and that wonderful Miss Towne. And Mrs. -Follette. The boys didn’t care in the least what -the rest of Sherwood thought about Mrs. Follette. -They liked her and when she made the taffy and -stood over the boiling kettle with the big spoon in -her hand, they thought her regal in spite of the -humble nature of her occupation.</p> - -<p>But of late, Evans Follette had met them with an -effort. “Look for yourselves,” he had said, when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -they asked for books, and had sat staring into the -fire. And he had not urged them to stay. His -manner had been kind but inattentive. They were -puzzled and a little hurt. “I feel sorta queer when -he acts that way,” Sandy was saying, “as if he -didn’t take any interest. I don’t even know -whether he wants us any more.”</p> - -<p>Arthur refused to believe his hero inhospitable. -“It’s just that he’s got things on his mind.”</p> - -<p>They reached the house and rang the bell. Old -Mary let them in. “He’s in the library,” she said, -and they went towards it. The door was open and -they entered. But the room was empty....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That morning Baldy had had a letter from Jane -and had handed it to Evans. It was the first long -letter since her engagement to Towne. Baldy had -written to his sister, flamingly, demanding to know -if she was really happy. And she had said:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“I shall be when Judy is better. That is all I -can think of just now. Her life is hanging in the -balance. We can never be thankful enough that -we got the specialist when we did. He had found -the trouble. The question now is whether she will -have the strength for another operation. When -she gets through with that! Well, then I’ll talk to -you, darling. I hardly know how I feel. The days -are so whirling. Mr. Towne has been more than -generous. If the little I can give him will repay -him, then I must give it, dearest. And it won’t be -hard. He is so very good to me.”</p></blockquote> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>And now this letter had come after Towne’s second -visit:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Baldy, dear, I am very happy. And I want -you to set your mind at rest. I am not marrying -Mr. Towne for what he has done for us all, but because -I love him. Please believe it. You can’t -understand what he has been to me in these dark -days. I have learned to know how kind he is—and -how strong. I haven’t a care in the world -when he is here, and everything is so—marvellous. -You should see my ring—a great sapphire, Baldy, -in a square of diamonds. He is crazy to buy things -for me, but I won’t let him. I will take things for -Judy but not for myself. You can see that, of -course. I just go everywhere with him in my cheap -little frocks, to the theatres and to all the great -restaurants, and we have the most delectable things -to eat. It is really great fun.</p> - -<p>“Judy is so happy over the whole thing, that it -is helping her to get well. She says she was half -afraid to advise me, but she knew it was for my -happiness. Bob simply walks on air. He says -when business grows better, he will pay back every -cent to Mr. Towne. And of course he must. But -we haven’t any of us been made to feel that we -ought to be grateful. Mr. Towne says that he simply -held out a friendly hand when we needed it, -and that’s all there is to it.</p> - -<p>“Well, dearest dear, I wish I could hear Philomel -sing o’ mornings, and see Merrymaid and the -kit-cat on the hearth, but best of all would be to -have your own darling self on the other side of the -table.”</p></blockquote> - - - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>Since he had heard the news of Jane’s approaching -marriage, Evans had lived in a dream. The -people about him had seemed shadow-shapes. He -had walked and talked with them, remembering -nothing afterward but his great weariness. He -had eaten his meals at stated times, and had not -known what he was eating. He had gone to his -office, and behind closed doors had sat at his desk, -staring.</p> - -<p>Nothing mattered. All incentive was gone. He -spoke of Jane to no one. Not even to his mother. -He had a morbid horror of hearing her name. -When he came across anything that reminded him -of her, he suffered actual physical pain.</p> - -<p>And now this letter! “You see what she says,” -Baldy had raged. “Of course she isn’t in love with -him. But she thinks she is. There’s nothing more -that I can do.”</p> - -<p>Evans had taken the letter to the library to read. -He was alone, except for Rusty, who had limped -after him and laid at his feet.</p> - -<p>She loved—Towne. And that settled it. “I am -marrying Mr. Towne because I love him.” Nothing -could be plainer than that. Baldy might protest. -But the words were there.</p> - -<p>As Evans sat gazing into the fire, he saw her as -she had so often been in this old room—as a child, -sprawled on the hearth-rug over some entrancing -book from his shelves, swinging her feet on the -edge of a table while he bragged of his athletic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -prowess; leaning over war-maps, while he pointed -out the fields of fighting; curled up in a corner on -the couch while he read to her—“<i>Oh, silver shrine, -here will I take my rest....</i>”</p> - -<p>He could stand his thoughts no longer. Without -hat or heavy coat, he stepped through one of the -long windows and into the night.</p> - -<p>As he walked on in the darkness, he had no -knowledge of his destination. He swept on and -on, pursued by dreadful thoughts.</p> - -<p>On and on through the blackness.... No -moon ... a wet wind blowing ... on -and on....</p> - -<p>He came to a bridge which crossed a culvert. -No water flowed under it. But down the road -which led through the Glen was another bridge, -and beneath it a deep, still pool.</p> - -<p>With the thought of that deep and quiet pool -came momentary relief from the horrors which had -hounded him. It would be easy. A second’s struggle. -Then everything over. Peace. No fears. No -dread of the future....</p> - -<p>It seemed a long time after, that, leaning against -the buttress of the bridge, he heard, with increasing -clearness, the sound of boys’ voices in the dark.</p> - -<p>He drew back among the shadows. It was Sandy -and Arthur. Not three feet away from him—passing.</p> - -<p>“Well, of course, Mr. Follette is just a man,” -Sandy was saying.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>“Maybe he is,” Arthur spoke earnestly, “but I -don’t know. There’s something about him——”</p> - -<p>He paused.</p> - -<p>“Go on,” Sandy urged.</p> - -<p>“Well, something”—Arthur was struggling to -express himself, “splendid. It shines like a -light——”</p> - -<p>Their brisk footsteps left the bridge, and were -dulled by the dirt road beyond. Sandy’s response -was inaudible. A last murmur, and then silence.</p> - -<p>Evans was swept by a wave of emotion; his heart, -warm and alive, began to beat in the place where -there had been frozen emptiness.</p> - -<p>“<i>Something splendid—that shines like a light!</i>”</p> - -<p>Years afterward he spoke of this moment to -Jane. “I can’t describe it. It was a miracle—their -coming. As much of a miracle as that light -which shone on Paul as he rode to Damascus. The -change within me was absolute. I was born again. -All the old fears slipped from me like a garment. -I was saved, Jane, by those boys’ voices in the -dark.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The next day was Sunday. Evans called up -Sandy and Arthur and invited them to supper. -“Old Mary said you were here last night, and -didn’t find me. I’ve a book or two for you. Can -you come and get them? And stay to supper. -Miss Towne will be here and her uncle.”</p> - -<p>The boys could not know that they were asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -as a shield and buckler in the battle which Evans -was fighting. It seemed to him that he could not -meet Frederick Towne. Yet it had been, of course, -the logical thing to ask him. Edith had invited -herself, and Towne had, of course, much to tell -about Jane.</p> - -<p>Evans, therefore, with an outward effect of tranquillity, -played the host. After supper, however, he -took the boys with him to the library.</p> - -<p>On the table lay a gray volume. He opened it -and showed the Cruikshank illustrations.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been reading this. It’s great stuff.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Pilgrim’s Progress,” said Sandy; “do you -like it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” Evans leaned above the book where it -lay open under the light. “Listen:</p> - -<p>“‘Then Apollyon, espying his opportunity, began -to gather up close to Christian, and wrestling with -him, gave him a dreadful fall: and with that, Christian’s -sword flew out of his hand. Then said -Apollyon, <i>I am sure of thee now</i>: and with that, he -had almost prest him to death, so that Christian -began to despair of life. But as God would have -it, while Apollyon was fetching of his last blow, -thereby to make a full end of this good Man, Christian -nimbly reached out his hand for his Sword, -and caught it, saying, <i>Rejoice not against me, O -mine Enemy! when I fall, I shall arise</i>: and with -that, gave him a deadly thrust, which made him -give back, as one that had received his mortal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -wound: Christian perceiving that, made at him -again saying, <i>Nay, in all these things we are more -than Conquerors, through him that loved us.</i> And -with that, Apollyon spread forth his Dragon’s -wings, and sped him away, that Christian saw him -no more.’”</p> - -<p>Evans’ ringing voice gave full value to the words. -It seemed to Arthur, worshipping his hero, as if -he flung a hurled defiance at some unseen foe—“<i>Rejoice -not against me, O mine Enemy! when I -fall, I shall arise!</i>”</p> - -<p>Yet when he looked up from the book Evans’ eyes -were smiling.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to take it home with you? It -is a rare edition, but you know how to handle it. -And I’d like to have you read it. Some day you -may meet Apollyon. And may find it helpful. As -I have.”</p> - -<p>Later as the boys walked home together, the -precious volume under Arthur’s arm, Sandy said, -“He’s more like himself, isn’t he? More pep.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll say he is,” but Arthur was not satisfied. -“I wish he’d told us what he meant when he talked -about meeting Apollyon.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>That night Evans found out for the first time -something about his mother. “You look tired, -dearest,” he had said, when their guests were gone, -and he and she had come into the great hall together.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>“I am tired.” She sat down on an old horsehair -sofa. “I can’t stand much excitement. It makes -me feel like an old lady.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll never grow old.” He felt a deep tenderness -for her in this moment of confessed weakness. -She had always been so strong. Had refused to -lean. She had, in fact, taken from him his son’s -prerogative of protectiveness.</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on her shoulder. “You’d better -see Hallam.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen him.”</p> - -<p>“What did he say?”</p> - -<p>“My heart——”</p> - -<p>He looked at her in alarm. “Mother! Why -didn’t you tell me?”</p> - -<p>“What was the use? There’s nothing to be worried -about. Only he says I must not push myself.”</p> - -<p>“I am worried. Let me look after the men in -the morning early. That will give you an extra -nap.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I won’t do it, Evans. You have your -work.”</p> - -<p>“It won’t hurt me. And I am going to boss you -around a bit.” He stooped and kissed her. “You -are too precious to lose, Mumsie.”</p> - -<p>She clung to him. “What would I do without -you, my dear?”</p> - -<p>He helped her up the stairs. And as she climbed -slowly, his arm about her, he thought of that dark -moment by the bridge.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>If those young voices had not come to him in the -night, this loving soul might have been stricken -and made desolate; left alone in her time of greatest -need.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII<br /> - -<small>AT THE OLD INN</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Once</span> more the Washington papers had headlines -that spoke of Delafield Simms. He had married -a stenographer in Frederick Towne’s office. And -it was Towne’s niece that he had deserted at the -altar.</p> - -<p>And most remarkable of all, Edith Towne had -been at the wedding. It was Eloise Harper who -told the reporters.</p> - -<p>“They were married at the old Inn below Alexandria -this morning, by the local Methodist clergyman. -Miss Logan is a Methodist—fancy. And -Edith was bridesmaid.”</p> - -<p>But Eloise did not know that Lucy had worn the -wedding dress and veil that Edith had given her -and looked lovely in them. And that after the -ceremony, Delafield had wrung Edith’s hand and -had said, “I shall never know how to thank you -for what you have been to Lucy.”</p> - -<p>Edith’s candid eyes had met his squarely. “You -know you are not half good enough for her, Del,” -and he had said, humbly, “I’m not and that’s the -truth. But I am going to do my darndest to be -what she thinks I am.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>Martha and her husband had served a delicious -breakfast in the big empty dining-room. Only -Edith and Baldy were there besides the bride and -groom. Lucy had very sensibly refused to have -any fuss and feathers. “If it is quiet, people won’t -have so much to say about it.”</p> - -<p>Delafield’s manner to Lucy was perfect. “What -do you think she has made me do?” he asked Edith. -“Buy a farm in Virginia. We are going to raise -pigs—black Berkshires, because Lucy likes the -slant of their ears and the curl of their tails. She -has been reading books about them, and we are -going to spend our honeymoon motoring around -the country and buying stock.”</p> - -<p>Oh, bravo, bravo, little Lucy, not to risk boring -this fashionable young husband with a conventional -honeymoon! Edith wanted to clap her hands. But -she made no sign, except to meet Lucy’s quiet -glance with a lift of the eyebrows.</p> - -<p>Edith and Baldy lingered after the bride and -groom had driven off in a great gray car—bound -for the Virginia country place which Delafield had -bought, and made ready for the occupancy in the -twinkling of an eye.</p> - -<p>“Gee, but you’re superlative,” Baldy told her as -they walked in the garden.</p> - -<p>“Am I?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. And the way you carried it off.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t carry it off. It carried itself.”</p> - -<p>“Are you sure it didn’t hurt?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>She smiled at him from beneath her big hat. -“Not a bit.”</p> - -<p>The box hedges in the garden were showing a -hint of new green. There was a plum tree blooming -prematurely. The sun made brown shadows -along the river’s edge, and the wash of the waves -from passing steamers went lip-lapping among the -reeds and rushes.</p> - -<p>The moment was ripe for romance. But Baldy -almost feverishly kept the conversation away from -serious things. They had talked seriously enough, -God knew, the other night by Edith’s fire. He had -seen her lonely in the thought of her future.</p> - -<p>“When Uncle Fred marries I won’t stay here.”</p> - -<p>He had yearned to take her in his arms, to tell -her that against his heart she should never again -know loneliness. But he had not dared. What -had he to offer? A boy’s love. Against her -gold.</p> - -<p>He told himself with some bitterness that one -fortune was enough in a family. Jane’s engagement -had changed things for her brother. The antagonism -which Baldy had always felt for Frederick -was intensified. The thought of Towne’s -money weighed heavily upon him. Jane had already -placed herself under insuperable obligations. -Even if she wished, she could not now shake herself -free.</p> - -<p>And Edith’s money? He and Jane living on the -Towne millions? He wouldn’t have it.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>So he talked of Jane. “She doesn’t want her -engagement announced until she gets back. I -think she’s right.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” Edith said lazily. “If I loved a man -I’d want to shout it to the world.”</p> - -<p>They were sitting on a rustic bench under the -blossoming plum tree. Edith’s hands were clasped -behind her head, and the winged sleeves of her -gown fell back and showed her bare arms. Baldy -wanted to unclasp those hands, crush them to his -lips—but instead he stood up, looking over the -river.</p> - -<p>“Do you see the ducks out there? Wild ones at -that. It’s a sign of spring.”</p> - -<p>She rose and stood beside him. “And you can -talk of—ducks—on a day like this?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he did not look at her, “ducks are—safe.”</p> - -<p>He heard her low laugh. “Silly boy.”</p> - -<p>He turned, his gray eyes filled with limpid light. -“Perhaps I am. But I should be a fool if I told -you how I love you. Worship you. You know it, -of course. But nothing can come of it, even if I -were presumptuous enough to think that you—care.”</p> - -<p>She swept out her hands in an appealing gesture. -“Say it. I want to hear.”</p> - -<p>She was adorable. But he drew back a little. -“We’ve gone too far and too fast. It is my fault, -of course, for being a romantic fool.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>“I’m afraid we’re a pair of romantic fools, -Baldy.”</p> - -<p>He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. -“Edith, I—mustn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Not until I have something to offer you——”</p> - -<p>“You have something to offer——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know what you mean. But—I won’t. -Somehow this affair of Jane’s with your uncle has -made me see——”</p> - -<p>“See what?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, how the world would look at it. How -<i>he’d</i> look at it.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle Frederick? He hasn’t anything to do -with it. I’m my own mistress.”</p> - -<p>“I know. But—— Oh, I can’t analyze it, -Edith. I love you—no end. More than—anything. -But I won’t ask you to marry me.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know how selfish you are?”</p> - -<p>“I know how wise I am.”</p> - -<p>She made an impatient gesture. “You’re not -thinking of me in the least. You are thinking of -your pride.”</p> - -<p>He caught her hand in his. “I <i>am</i> thinking of -my pride. Do you suppose it is easy for me to let -Jane—take money from him? To feel that there -is no man in our family who can pay the bills? I -am proud. And I’m glad of it. Edith—I want you -to be glad that I won’t take—alms.”</p> - -<p>Her wise eyes studied him for a moment. “You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -blessed boy. You blessed poet,” she sighed, “I am -proud of you, but my heart aches—for myself.”</p> - -<p>He caught her almost roughly in his arms and in -a moment released her. “I’m right, dearest?”</p> - -<p>“No, you’re not right. If we married, we’d sail -to Italy and have a villa by the sea. And you -would paint masterpieces. Do you think my -money counts beside your talent? Well, I don’t.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, let me prove my talent first. As -things are now, I couldn’t pay our passage to the -other side.”</p> - -<p>“You could. My money would be yours—your -talent mine. A fair exchange.”</p> - -<p>He stuck obstinately to his point of view. “I -won’t tie you to any promise until I’ve proved myself.”</p> - -<p>“And we’ll lose all these shining years.”</p> - -<p>“We won’t lose a moment. I’m going to work -for you.”</p> - -<p>He was, she perceived, on the heights. But she -knew the weariness of the climb.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Coming out of the garden in the late afternoon, -they were aware of other arrivals at the Inn.</p> - -<p>“Adelaide and Uncle Fred, by all the gods,” said -Edith, as they peered into the dining-room from -the dimness of the hall. “Oh, don’t let them see -us. Adelaide’s such a bromide.”</p> - -<p>They crept out, found Baldy’s car and sped towards -the city. “I should say,” Baldy proclaimed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -sternly, “that for a man who is engaged, a thing -like that is unspeakable.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Uncle Fred and Adelaide,” said Edith, -easily; “she probably asked him. And she was -plaintive. A plaintive woman always gets her -way.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide had been plaintive. And she had hinted -for the ride. “Why not an afternoon ride, Ricky? -It would rest you.”</p> - -<p>“Sorry. But I’m tied up.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t seen you for ages, Ricky.”</p> - -<p>“I know, old girl. I’ve had a thousand things.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve—missed you.”</p> - -<p>It wasn’t easy for Frederick to ignore that. -Adelaide was an attractive woman.</p> - -<p>“Oh, well. I can get away at four. We’ll have -tea at the old Inn.”</p> - -<p>“Heavenly. Ricky, I have a new blue hat.”</p> - -<p>“You could always wear blue.” He decided that -he might as well make things pleasant. There was -a shock in store for her. Of course he’d have to -tell her about Jane.</p> - -<p>So Adelaide in the new blue hat—with a wrap -that matched—with that porcelain white and pink -of her complexion—with her soft voice, and appealing -manner, had Frederick for three whole -hours to herself.</p> - -<p>She told him all the spicy gossip. Frederick, -like most men, ostensibly scorned scandal, but lent -a willing ear. What Eloise had said, what Benny<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -had said, what all the world was saying about Del’s -marriage.</p> - -<p>“And they were married here to-day. I didn’t -dream it until Eloise called me up just before -lunch. Edith had told her.”</p> - -<p>“Edith was here?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and young Barnes.”</p> - -<p>She stopped there and poured the tea. She did -it gracefully, but Frederick’s thoughts swept back -to Jane behind her battlements of silver.</p> - -<p>“Four lumps, Ricky?”</p> - -<p>“Um—yes.”</p> - -<p>“A penny for your thoughts.”</p> - -<p>“They’re not worth a penny, Adelaide. Lots of -lemon, please. And no cakes. I am trying to -keep my lovely figure.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, why worry? I like big men.”</p> - -<p>“That’s nice of you.”</p> - -<p>Martha’s little sponge cakes were light as a -feather. Adelaide broke one and ate daintily. -Then she said, “How’s little Jane Barnes?”</p> - -<p>Frederick was immediately self-conscious. -“She’s still in Chicago.”</p> - -<p>“Sister better?”</p> - -<p>“Much.”</p> - -<p>“When is she coming back?”</p> - -<p>“Jane? As soon as Mrs. Heming can be brought -home. In a few weeks, I hope.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide drank a cup of tea almost at a draught. -She was aware of an impending disclosure. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -the blow came, she took it without the flicker of an -eyelash.</p> - -<p>“I am going to marry Jane Barnes, Adelaide. -The engagement isn’t to be announced until she -returns to Washington. But I want my friends to -know.”</p> - -<p>She put her elbows on the table, clasped her -hands and rested her chin on them looking at -him with steady eyes. “So that’s the end of it, -Ricky?”</p> - -<p>“The end of what?”</p> - -<p>“Our friendship.”</p> - -<p>“Why should it be?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do you think that your little Jane is going -to let you philander?”</p> - -<p>“I shan’t want to philander. If that’s the way -you put it.”</p> - -<p>“So you think you’re in—love with her.”</p> - -<p>“I know I am,” the red came up in his cheeks, -but he stuck to it manfully. “It’s different from -anything—ever that I’ve felt before.”</p> - -<p>“They all say that, don’t they, every time?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be so—cynical.”</p> - -<p>She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not. Well, I -shall miss you, Ricky, dear.”</p> - -<p>That was all, just that plaintive note. But Adelaide’s -plaintiveness was always effective.</p> - -<p>So after tea they walked in the garden, and sat -under the plum tree, and looked out upon the river—where -the shadows were rose-red in the setting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -sun, and Adelaide said, “My life is like that—my -sun has set.”</p> - -<p>Frederick reached out a sympathetic hand. -“Don’t say that, old girl.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide lifted his hand to her cheek. “This is -really ‘good-bye,’ isn’t it, Ricky? It seems rather -queer to be saying it.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII<br /> - -<small>SPRING COMES TO SHERWOOD</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Jane</span> was home again. Judy was better. Philomel -sang. The world was a lovely place.</p> - -<p>“Oh, but it’s good to be back,” Jane was telling -Baldy at breakfast. The windows were wide open, -the fragrance of lilacs streamed in, there were pink -hyacinths on the table.</p> - -<p>“It’s heavenly.”</p> - -<p>Baldy smiled at her. “The same old Jane.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, and the light in her eyes -wavered as if some breath of doubt fanned it. -“Not quite. The winter hasn’t been easy. I’m a -thousand years older.”</p> - -<p>“And with a wedding day ahead of you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Do you like it, Baldy?”</p> - -<p>He leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. -“Not a bit—if you want the truth—I shall be -jealous of Mr. Frederick Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Silly. You know I shall never love anybody -more than you, Baldy.”</p> - -<p>She was perfectly unconscious of the revelation -she was making, but he knew—and was constrained -to say, “Then you don’t really love him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I do. He’s much nicer than I imagined he -might be.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>“Oh, well, if you think you are going to be -happy.”</p> - -<p>“I know I am—dearest,” she blew a kiss from -the tips of her fingers. “Baldy, I’m going to have -a great house with a great garden—and invite Judy -and the babies—every summer.”</p> - -<p>“Towne’s not marrying Judy and the babies. -He’s marrying you. He won’t want all of your -poor relations hanging around.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he will. He has been simply dear. I feel -as if I can never do enough for him.”</p> - -<p>She was very much in earnest. Baldy refrained -from further criticism lest he cloud the happiness -of her home-coming. The thing was done. They -might as well make the best of it. So he said, “Do -you always call him ‘Mr. Towne’?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. He scolds, but I can’t say Frederick—or -Fred. He begs me to do it—but I tell him to wait -till we’re married and then I’ll say ‘dear.’ Most -wives do that, don’t they?”</p> - -<p>“I hope mine won’t.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“I shall want my wife to invent names for me, -and if she can’t, I’ll do it for her.”</p> - -<p>Jane opened her eyes wide. “Romance with a -big R, Baldy?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, of course. I should want to be king, lover, -master—friend to the woman who cared for me. -That’s the real thing, Janey.”</p> - -<p>“Is it?” But she did not follow the subject up;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -she drew another cup of coffee for herself, and -asked finally, “When is Evans coming back?”</p> - -<p>“Not for several days. He will go to Boston -when he finishes with New York.”</p> - -<p>“I see. And he’s much better?”</p> - -<p>“I should say. You wouldn’t know him.”</p> - -<p>He rose. “I must run on. We’re to dine at -Towne’s then?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Just the five of us. It seems funny that I -haven’t met Cousin Annabel. But she’s able to -take her place at the head of the table, Mr. Towne -tells me. He told me, too, that she wants to meet -me. But I have a feeling that she won’t approve -of me, Baldy. I’m not fashionable enough.”</p> - -<p>“Why should you be fashionable? You are all -right as you are.”</p> - -<p>“Am I? Baldy, I believe my stock has gone up -with you.”</p> - -<p>“It hasn’t, Janey. You were always a darling. -But I didn’t want to spoil you.”</p> - -<p>“As if you could,” she smiled wistfully. “Sometimes -I have a feeling, Baldy, that I should like -life to go on just as it is. Just you and me, Baldy. -But of course it can’t.”</p> - -<p>“Of course it can, if you wish it. You mustn’t -marry Towne if you have the least doubt.”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t any doubts. So don’t worry.” She -stood up and kissed him. “Briggs will come out -for me—and we are all to see a play together afterward.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>“Edith told me.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy,” she had hold of the lapel of his coat, -“how are things going with—Edith?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean, am I in love with her? I -am.”</p> - -<p>“Are you going to marry her?”</p> - -<p>“God knows.”</p> - -<p>She looked up at him in surprise. “What makes -you say it that way? Has she told you she didn’t -care?”</p> - -<p>“She has told me that she does care. But do -you think, Janey, that I’m going to take her -money?”</p> - -<p>He patted her on the cheek and was off. She -went to the top of the terrace and watched him ride -away. Then she walked in the little shaded grove -behind the house. Merrymaid followed her and -the much-matured kitten. There was a carpet underfoot -of pine needles and of fragrant young -growth. Several of her old hens scratched in the -rich mould—and their broods of tiny chicks answering -the urgent mother-cry were like bits of -yellow down blown before a breeze.</p> - -<p>Jane picked a spray of princess-pine and stuck it -in her blouse. Oh, what an adorable world! Her -world. Could there be anything better that Frederick -Towne could give her?</p> - -<p>Baldy’s words rang in her ears—“Do you think -I am going to take her money?”</p> - -<p>Yet she was taking Frederick Towne’s money.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -She wished it had not been necessary. Each day -it seemed to her that the thought burned deeper: -she was under obligations to her lover that could -be repaid only by marriage. And they were to be -married in June.</p> - -<p>Yet why should the thought burn? She loved -him. Not, perhaps, as Baldy loved Edith. But -there were respect and admiration, yes, and when -she was with him, she felt his charm, she was carried -along on the whirling stream of his own adoration -and tenderness.</p> - -<p>Yet—there were things to dread. She would -have to meet his friends. Be judged by them. -There would be formal entertaining. Edith had -said once that the demand of society on women -was really high-class drudgery. “Much worse -than washing dishes.”</p> - -<p>Jane didn’t quite believe that. Yet there must -be a happy medium. Her dreams had had to do -with a little house—a little garden.</p> - -<p>She went back to her own little house, and found -a great box of roses waiting. She spent an hour -filling vases and bowls with them. Old Sophy -coming in from the kitchen said, “Looks lak dat -Mistuh Towne’s jes’ fascinated with you, Miss -Janey.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t the roses lovely, Sophy?” Jane wanted -to tell Sophy that Mr. Towne would some day be -her husband. But she still deferred the announcement -of her engagement.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>“I’ve told one or two people,” Frederick had -said.</p> - -<p>“Whom?”</p> - -<p>“Well, Adelaide. She’s such an old friend. And -I told Annabel, of course. I don’t see why you -should care, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“I think I’m afraid that when I go into a shop -someone will say, ‘Oh, she’s going to marry Frederick -Towne, and see how shabby she is.’”</p> - -<p>“You are never shabby.”</p> - -<p>“That’s because I made myself two new dresses -while I was at Judy’s. And this is one of them.”</p> - -<p>“You have the great art of looking lovely in the -simplest things. But some day you are going to -wear a frock that I have for you.” He told her -about the silver and blue creation he had bought in -Chicago. “Now and then I take it out and look at -it. I’ve put it in your room, Jane, and it is waiting -for you.”</p> - -<p>She thought now of the blue and silver gown, as -Sophy said, “Miss Jane, I done pressed that w’ite -chiffon of yours twel it hardly hangs together.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll wear it once more, Sophy. I’m having a -sewing woman next week.”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>With the old white chiffon she wore a golden rose -or two—and sat at Frederick’s right, while on the -other end of the great table, Cousin Annabel -weighed her in the balance.</p> - -<p>Jane knew she was being weighed. Cousin Annabel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -was so blue-blooded that it showed in the -veins of her hands and nose—and her hair was -dressed with a gray transformation which quite -overpowered her thin little face with its thin little -nose.</p> - -<p>As a matter of fact, Cousin Annabel felt that -Frederick had taken leave of his senses. What -could he see in this short-haired girl—who hadn’t a -jewel, except the one he had given her?</p> - -<p>Jane wore Towne’s ring, hidden, on a ribbon -around her neck. “Some day I’ll let everybody see -it,” she had said, “but not now.”</p> - -<p>“You act as if you were ashamed of it.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not. But Cinderella must wait until the -night of the ball.”</p> - -<p>It was while they were drinking their coffee in -the drawing-room that the storm came up. It was -one of those cyclonic winds that whip off the tops -of the trees and blow the roofs from unsubstantial -edifices. The thunder was a ceaseless reverberation—the -lightning was pink and made the sky -seem like a glistening inverted shell.</p> - -<p>Cousin Annabel hated thunder-storms and -said so. “I think I shall go to my room, Frederick.”</p> - -<p>“You are not a bit safer up there than here,” -Towne told her.</p> - -<p>“But I feel safer, Frederick.” She was very decided -about it. What she meant to do was to sit in -the middle of her bed and have her maid give her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -the smelling salts. She would be thus in a sense -fortified.</p> - -<p>So she went up and Baldy and Edith wandered -across the hall to the library, where Edith insisted -they could observe other aspects of the storm.</p> - -<p>Jane and her lover were left alone, and presently -Frederick was called to the telephone.</p> - -<p>“I’m not sure that it’s safe, sir, in this storm,” -Waldron warned.</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, Waldron,” Towne said, and stepped -quickly across the polished floor.</p> - -<p>Thus it happened that Jane sat by herself in the -great drawing-room of the Ice Palace, while the -wind howled, and the rain streamed down the window -glass, and all the evil things in the world -seemed let loose.</p> - -<p>And she was afraid!</p> - -<p>Not of the storm, but of the great house. She -was so small and it was so big. Her own little cottage -clasped her in its warm embrace. This great -mansion stood away from her—as the sky stands -away from the desert. All the rest of her life she -would be going up and down those great stairs, sitting -in front of this great fireplace, presiding at the -far end of Frederick’s great table—dwarfed by it -all, losing personality, individuality, bidding good-bye -forever to little Jane Barnes, becoming until -death parted them the wife of Frederick Towne.</p> - -<p>She sat huddled in her chair, panting a little, her -eyes wide.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>“Silly,” she said with a sob.</p> - -<p>The sound of her voice echoed and reëchoed, -“<i>Silly, silly, silly.</i>”</p> - -<p>The noise without was deafening—the wind -shook the walls. She stood up, her hands clenched, -then ran swiftly into the hall.</p> - -<p>A thundering crash and the lights went out.</p> - -<p>She heard Frederick calling, “Jane, Jane!”</p> - -<p>She called back, “I’m here,” and saw the quick -spurt of a match as he lighted it, holding it up and -peering into the dark.</p> - -<p>“There you are, my dearest.” He lighted another -match and came towards her, as Waldron, -with a brace of candles, appeared in one door and -Baldy and Edith in another.</p> - -<p>Frederick lifted Jane in his strong arms. “Why, -you’re crying,” he said; “don’t, my darling, don’t.”</p> - -<p>Then Baldy came up and demanded, “What’s the -matter, Kitten? You’ve never been afraid of -storms.”</p> - -<p>She tried to smile at him. “Well, I’ve gone -through such a lot lately.” But Baldy wasn’t satisfied. -A Jane who dissolved into tears was a disturbing -and desolating object. He glowered at -Frederick, holding him responsible.</p> - -<p>At this moment Waldron reappeared to say that -Briggs had pronounced the streets impassable. -Branches had been blown down—and there was -other wreckage.</p> - -<p>“That settles it,” Frederick said. “You two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -young things may as well stay here for the night. -Jane’s not fit to go out anyhow.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m all right,” she protested.</p> - -<p>Edith suggested bridge, so they played for a -while. The big room was still lighted by the candles, -so that the shadows pressed close. Jane was -very pale, and now and then Frederick looked at -her anxiously.</p> - -<p>“You and Edith had better go up,” he said at -last. “And you must have Alice get you some hot -milk—I’ll send Waldron with a bit of cordial to set -you up.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head. “I don’t want it.”</p> - -<p>“But I want you to have it.” There was a note -of authority which almost brought her again to -tears. She hated to have anyone tell her what she -should do. She liked to do as she pleased. But -later, when the glass of cordial came up to her, she -drank it.</p> - -<p>She did not go to sleep for a long time. Edith -sat by the bed and talked to her. “I shouldn’t,” -she apologized; “Uncle Fred told you to rest.”</p> - -<p>Jane curled up among her pillows, and said rebelliously, -“Well, I don’t have to obey yet, do I?”</p> - -<p>“Don’t ever obey.” Edith, in her winged chair -with her Viking braids and the classic draperies of -her white dressing-gown, looked like a Norse goddess. -“Don’t ever obey, or you’ll make a tyrant -out of him.”</p> - -<p>“But I hate—fighting.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>“You won’t have to fight. I do it because it’s -my temperament. But you can manage him—by -letting things go a bit—and coaxing will do the -rest——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to manage—my husband,” said -Jane.</p> - -<p>“All women do——”</p> - -<p>“Would you want to manage—Baldy?”</p> - -<p>Edith flushed. “That’s different,” she evaded.</p> - -<p>“Not different. You know you wouldn’t go -through life with him, pulling wires, making a puppet -of him—of yourself—you want comradeship—understanding. -You’ll flare up now and then. -Baldy and I do. But—oh, we love each other.” -Jane’s voice shook.</p> - -<p>Edith looked at her thoughtfully. “Jane, are -you happy?”</p> - -<p>“I ought to be——”</p> - -<p>“But are you?”</p> - -<p>“I’m tired, I think. I don’t know. Ever since -I came home I’ve been nervous. Perhaps it is the -reaction.”</p> - -<p>“Jane, I’m going to say something. Don’t marry -Uncle Fred unless you’re—sure. I went through -all that with Del. And you see how little I knew -of what I had in my heart to give——” She -stopped, her lovely face suffused with blushes. -“I’ve learned—since then. And you mustn’t make -my—mistake. And, Jane dear,” she leaned over -the younger girl like some splendid angel, “don’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -worry about material things. Baldy and I will -want you always with us——”</p> - -<p>Jane sat up. “Are you going to marry Baldy?”</p> - -<p>“I am,” sighing a little, “some day, when his -ship comes in. He isn’t willing to share my cargo—yet.”</p> - -<p>“He loves you,” said Jane, “dearly.”</p> - -<p>Edith bent down and kissed her. “I know,” she -said, “and my heart sings it.”</p> - -<p>When Edith went away, they had not touched -again on the question of Jane’s marriage. Jane, -lying awake in the dark, reflected that of course -Edith could not know of her debt to Frederick. -No one knew except Baldy.</p> - -<p>In the morning Towne had gone when Jane came -down. She and Edith had had breakfast in their -rooms—and there had been a great rose on Jane’s -tray, with a note twisted about the stem—“To my -golden girl.” Her lover had called her up by -the house telephone, and had told her he was leaving -for New York at noon. “A telegram has just -come. I’ll see you the moment I get back.”</p> - -<p>Jane had a sense of relief. She would have three -days to herself. Three days at Sherwood—with -the blossoming trees, and the mating birds, and -Merrymaid and the kitten, and old Sophy with her -wise philosophy—and Baldy on the other side of -the little table—and Philomel singing....</p> - -<p>Briggs took her out at noon, and Sophy came in -to say, “Mr. Evans called you-all up. He’s back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -fum New York. He say he’ll come over to-night.”</p> - -<p>That was news indeed! Old Evans! Jane got -into the frock of faded lilac gingham and went -about the house singing. Three days! Of freedom!</p> - -<p>It was after lunch that she told the old woman, -“I’m going down in the Glen—there should be wild -honeysuckle—Sophy.”</p> - -<p>Sophy surveyed her. “The whole place is chock-full -of flowers, Miss Janey. And I’ll miss my guess -effen dey ain’ mo’ of ’em dis afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“But—wild honeysuckle, Sophy? The florists -haven’t that for me, have they?”</p> - -<p>So Jane put on a wide-brimmed hat, and away -she went down the long road with the pines on each -side of it—the wide creek, which washed in shallow -ripples over the brown stones, or eddied in still -pools under the great old willows.</p> - -<p>There were bees in the Glen and butterflies, and -a cool silence. On the other side of the creek were -pasture, and cattle grazing. But no human creature -was in sight. Jane, walking along the narrow -path, had a sense of utter peace. Here was familiar -ground. She felt the welcome of inanimate -things—the old willows, the singing stream, the -great gray rocks that stuck their heads above the -edges of the bank.</p> - -<p>On the slope of the bank she saw the rosiness of -the flowers she sought. She climbed up, picked the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -fragrant sprays and sat down under a hickory tree -to make a bouquet. From where she sat she could -view the broad stream and a rustic bridge just at a -turn of the path.</p> - -<p>And now, around the turn of the path, came suddenly -a man and two boys. They carried fishing-rods -and stopped at a jutting rock to bait their -hooks. One of the boys went out on the bridge and -cast his line. His voice came to Jane clearly.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Follette, there’s a thing I hate to do, and -that’s to bait my hook with a worm. I’d much -rather put on something that wasn’t alive. Why is -it that everything eats up something else?”</p> - -<p>Jane peered down at the man poised on the rock. -It <i>was</i> Evans! He was winding his reel against a -taut line. “I’ve caught a snag,” he said; “look out, -Sandy, there’s something on your hook.”</p> - -<p>As they landed the small catch with much excitement, -Jane was aware of the strong swing of -Evans’ figure, the brown of his cheeks, the brightness -of his glance as he spoke to the boys.</p> - -<p>He gave the death stroke to the silver flapping -fish with a jab of his knife-blade, and the boy on the -bridge complained, “There you are, killing things. -I don’t like it, do you? Everything we eat? The -woods are full of killing. It is dreadful when we -think of it.”</p> - -<p>“It is dreadful.” Evans sat down on the rock -and looked across at the boy on the bridge. “But -there are more dreadful things than death—injustice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -and cruelty, and hate. And more than all—fear. -And you must think of this, Arthur, that -what we call a violent death is sometimes the easiest. -An old animal with teeth gone, trying to exist. -That’s dreadfulness. Or an old person racked by -pains. Much better if both could have been dead -in the glory of youth.”</p> - -<p>He had always had that quick and vivid voice, -but this certainty of phrase was a resurrection. He -spoke without hesitation. Sure of himself. Sure -of the things he was about to say.</p> - -<p>“You boys needn’t think that I don’t know what -I am talking about. I do. When I came back -from France there was something wrong. I was -afraid of everything. I lived for months in dread -of my shadow. It was awful. Nothing can be -worse. Then, one night I came to see that God’s -greatest gift to man is—strength to endure.”</p> - -<p>He flung it at them—and their wide eyes answered -him. After a moment Arthur said, huskily, -“Gee, that’s great.”</p> - -<p>Sandy sighed heavily. “I saw a picture the -other day of a boy who wanted to play baseball, -and he had to hold the baby. I reckon that’s what -you mean. Most of us have to hold the baby when -we want to play baseball.”</p> - -<p>The others laughed, then young Arthur said, “It -looks to me as if life is just one darned thing after -another.”</p> - -<p>“Not quite that.” Evans stood up. “I’m afraid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span> -I’m an awful preacher,” he apologized, “but you -will ask questions.”</p> - -<p>“Most grown-ups don’t answer them,” said -Arthur, earnestly; “they just say, ‘Be good and let -who will be clever.’”</p> - -<p>“They’d better say ‘Be strong.’” Evans was -reeling in his line. “We must be getting towards -home. Do you see those shadows? We’ll be -late——”</p> - -<p>He stopped suddenly. There had been the crack -of a twig and he had turned his eyes towards the -sound. And there, poised above him, her eyes -lighted up, her hands held out to him, her hat off, -the warm wind blowing her bobbed black hair, -blowing, too, the folds of the lilac frock back from -her slender figure, stood Jane ... <i>Jane</i>....</p> - -<p>He went charging up the bank towards her.</p> - -<p>“My dear,” he said, “my dear.”</p> - -<p>That was all. But he was there, holding her -hands, devouring her with his eyes.</p> - -<p>Then he dropped her hands. “I thought you -were a ghost,” he said, a little awkwardly. “I -called you up this morning and Sophy said you -were in town.”</p> - -<p>“I came out at noon. The day was so perfect. -I had to see the Glen.”</p> - -<p>“It is perfect. When I found you were out, I -got the boys. I am taking a half-holiday after my -trip.”</p> - -<p>He was talking naturally now, smiling up at her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> -as she stood above him. She found herself trembling, -almost afraid to speak again lest her voice -betray her. She had been more shaken than he by -the encounter. She wondered at his ease.</p> - -<p>She was to wonder more, as he walked home with -her. The presence of the boys barred, of course, -personalities. But Evans’ clear eyes met hers -without a shadow of self-consciousness. He asked -her about her journey, about Judy, about the -babies, about Bob. The only subject on which he -did not touch was her marriage with Frederick -Towne.</p> - -<p>And so it happened that, woman-like, as they -walked alone at last after the boys had left them in -the little pine grove back of the house, that Jane -said, “Evans, you haven’t wished me happiness.”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, and his eyes met hers squarely. -“I think you might spare me that, Jane.”</p> - -<p>She flushed. “Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>He laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. -“Don’t be sorry, little Jane. But we won’t talk -about it. That’s the best way for both of us—not -to talk.”</p> - -<p>He stayed to dinner, stayed for an hour or two -afterward—fitting himself in pleasantly to former -niches. Jane could hardly credit the change in -him. It was, she decided, not so much a resurrection -of the body as of the spirit. His hair was gray, -and now and then his eyes showed tired, his shoulders<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> -sagged. But there was no trace of the old -timidity, the old withdrawals. He was interested, -responsive, at times buoyant. The things she had -loved in him years ago were again there. <i>This -man did not think dark thoughts!</i></p> - -<p>When he went away, she and Baldy stood together -on the terrace in the warm darkness and -watched him.</p> - -<p>“He still limps a little,” Jane said.</p> - -<p>“Yes. Shall we go in now, Jane?”</p> - -<p>“No. Let’s sit on the steps and see the moon -rise.”</p> - -<p>They sat side by side. “When is Towne coming -back?” Baldy asked.</p> - -<p>“In three days.”</p> - -<p>Tree-toads were shrilling in monotonous cadence—from -far away came the plaintive note of a whippoorwill. -But there was another plaintive note -close at hand.</p> - -<p>“Jane, you’re crying,” Baldy said, sharply. -“What’s the matter, dear?”</p> - -<p>He put his arm about her. “What’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“Baldy, I don’t want to get—married. I want -to stay with you—forever——”</p> - -<p>“You shall stay with me.”</p> - -<p>She sobbed and sobbed, and he soothed her. -“Little sister, little sister,” he said, “you are crying -too much in these days.”</p> - -<p>She sat up, wiped her eyes with his handkerchief,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -smoothed her hair with shaking hands. “It is -rather silly, Baldy.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing of the kind, Janey. I knew the whole -thing was a mistake.”</p> - -<p>She stopped him with a touch of her hand on his -arm. “Don’t,” she said, “it isn’t a mistake, Baldy. -I was just a bit—low—in my mind——”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I am going to let you marry -Towne?”</p> - -<p>There was a long silence. The bird in the Glen -said, “Whippoorwill—whippoorwill,” in dull reiteration, -the tree-toads shrilled, the rising moon -drew a line of gold across the horizon.</p> - -<p>At last Jane spoke. “Dearest, I must marry -him. There’s no way out. He’s done so much for -me—and some day, perhaps, I’ll love him.”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIV<br /> - -<small>HAUNTED</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was after the day when she had met Evans in -the Glen that Jane began to be haunted by ghosts.</p> - -<p>There was a ghost who wandered through Sherwood -on moonlights, a limping, hesitating ghost -who said, “You’re wine, Jane. I must have my -daily sip of you.”</p> - -<p>And there was a ghost who came in a fog and -said, “You are a lantern, Jane—held high.”</p> - -<p>And that ghost in the glow of the hearth-fire—“You -are food and drink to me, Jane. Do you -know it?”</p> - -<p>Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts; holding out appealing -hands to her. And always she had turned away. -But now she did not turn. Over and over again -she lent her ears to those whispering words, “Jane, -you are wine.... Jane, you are a lantern.... -You are food and drink, Jane....”</p> - -<p>Well, she was having her punishment. She had -not loved him when he needed her. And now that -she needed him, she must not love him.</p> - -<p>She hardly knew herself. All the years of her -life she had seen things straight, and she had tried -to live up to that vision. She saw them straight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -now. She did not love Frederick Towne. She had -no right to marry him. Yet she must. There was -no way out.</p> - -<p>Towne was aware of a difference in her when he -returned from New York. She was more remote. -A little less responsive. Yet these things caused -him no disquiet. Her crisp coolness had always -constituted one of her great charms. “You are -tired, dearest,” he told her. “I wish you would -marry me right away, and let me make you happy.”</p> - -<p>They were lunching at the Capitol in the Senate -restaurant. Frederick was an imposing figure and -Jane was aware of his importance. People glanced -at him and glanced again, and then told others who -he was. Some day she would be his wife, and -everybody would be telling everybody else that she -was the wife of the great Frederick Towne.</p> - -<p>The attentive waiter at her elbow laid toast on -her plate, and served Maryland crab from a silver -chafing-dish. Frederick knew what she liked and -had ordered without asking her. But the delicious -food was tasteless. She had been afraid Frederick -would say something about an immediate marriage, -and now he was saying it.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” she told him, earnestly, “you promised -I might wait until Judy could come on. In June.”</p> - -<p>“I know. But it will be very hot, and you’ll -have a whole lifetime in which to see Judy.”</p> - -<p>“But not at my wedding. She’s my only sister.”</p> - -<p>“I see,” but his voice showed his annoyance;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -“but it seems as if your family have demanded -enough of you. Can’t you think a bit about yourself—and -me?”</p> - -<p>She pressed her point. “Judy is like my mother. -I can’t be married without her and the babies.”</p> - -<p>“If the babies come, you’ll be looking after them -until the last moment, and it will be a great strain -on you, sweetheart.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it won’t be. I adore babies.”</p> - -<p>His quick jealousy flared. “I don’t,” he said, -with a touch of sulkiness. “I’m not fond of children.”</p> - -<p>She ate in silence. And presently he said repentantly, -“You must think me a great boor, Jane. -But you don’t know how much I want you.”</p> - -<p>He was like a repentant boy. She made herself -smile at him. “I think you are very patient, Mr. -Towne.”</p> - -<p>“I am not patient. I am most impatient. And -when are you going to stop calling me Mr. Towne?”</p> - -<p>“When I can call you—husband.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want to wait until then, dearest.”</p> - -<p>“But ‘Frederick’ is so long, and ‘Fred’ is so -short, and ‘Ricky’ sounds like a highball.” She -had thrown off her depression and was sparkling.</p> - -<p>“Nobody calls me ‘Ricky’ but Adelaide. I always -hated it.”</p> - -<p>“Did you?” She was demure. “I might say -‘my love,’ like the ladies in the old-fashioned -novels.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>He laughed delightedly. “Say it.”</p> - -<p>She acquiesced unexpectedly. “My love, we are -invited to a week-end with the Delafield Simms, at -their new country place, Grass Hills.”</p> - -<p>“Are we?” Then in a sudden ardent rush of -words, “Jane, I’d kiss you if the world wasn’t looking -on.”</p> - -<p>“The reporters would be ecstatic. Headlines.”</p> - -<p>“I am tired of headlines. And what do you -mean about going to Delafield Simms?”</p> - -<p>“They are asking a lot of his friends. It is his -wife’s introduction to his old crowd. Much will -depend on whether you and Edith will accept. And -it was Edith who asked me to—make you -come——”</p> - -<p>She gave him the truth, knowing it to be better -than diplomacy. “I told her that I couldn’t make -you. But perhaps if you knew I wanted it——” -She paused inquiringly.</p> - -<p>He leaned towards her across the table. “Ask -me, prettily, and I’ll do it.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” She laughed, blushed and did it. -“Will you go—my love?”</p> - -<p>“Could I say ‘no’ to that?” He radiated satisfaction. -“Do you know how charming you are, -Jane?”</p> - -<p>“Am I? But it is nice of you to go. I know -how you’ll hate it.”</p> - -<p>“Not if you are there. And now, who else are -asked?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>“Oh, Mrs. Laramore and Eloise Harper and a lot -of others. Lucy says she’ll be like a fish out of -water, but Delafield has made up his mind that his -friends shan’t think that he’s ashamed of her.”</p> - -<p>When their ices came and their coffee, Frederick -said, “I’ve got to spend a half-hour in a committee -room. Shall I take you up to the Senate Gallery?”</p> - -<p>“No—there’s nothing interesting, is there? I’ll -wait in Statuary Hall.”</p> - -<p>Jane loved the marble figures that circled the -Hall. Years ago there had not been so many. They -had been, then, perhaps, more distinctive. As a -child, she had chosen as her favorites the picturesque -Colonials, the frontiersmen in leather tunics -and coonskin caps. She had never liked the statesmen -in stiff shirts and frock coats, although she -had admitted their virtues. Even the incongruous -classic draperies were more in keeping with the -glamour which the past flung over the men who had -given their best to America.</p> - -<p>But it was Fulton who had captured her imagination, -with his little ship, and Pere Marquette -with his cross, the peace-loving Quaker who had -conquered; adventurer, pioneer, priest and prophet—builders -all of the structure of the new world.</p> - -<p>She wondered what future generations would -add to this glorious company. Would the Anglo-Saxon -give way to the Semite? Would the Huguenot -yield to the Slav? And would these newcomers -hold high the banner of national idealism? What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -would they give? And what would they take -away?</p> - -<p>There were groups of sightseers gathered about -the great room—a guide placing them here and -there on the marble blocks. The trick was to put -someone behind a mottled pillar far away, and let -him speak. Owing to some strange acoustic quality -the sound would be telephoned to the person -who stood on the whispering stone.</p> - -<p>Years ago Jane had listened while a voice had -come echoing across the hollow spaces of the great -Hall, “My country—right or wrong—my country——”</p> - -<p>Another ghost! The ghost of a boy, patriotic, -passionately devoted to the great old gods. “Of -course they were only men, Jane. Human. Faulty. -But they blazed a path of freedom for those who -followed....”</p> - -<p>When Frederick came, he found her standing before -the prim statue of Frances Willard.</p> - -<p>“Tired, sweetheart?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“I stayed longer than I expected.”</p> - -<p>“It didn’t seem long. I have had plenty of company.”</p> - -<p>He was puzzled. “What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“All these.” Her hand indicated the marble men -and women.</p> - -<p>He laughed. “Great old freaks, aren’t they?”</p> - -<p>Freaks!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>Gods!</p> - -<p>Well, of course, it all depended absolutely on the -point of view.</p> - -<p>“I like them all,” she said, sturdily, “even the -ones in the hideous frock coats.”</p> - -<p>“Surely not, my dear.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do. They may be bad art, but they’re -good Americans.”</p> - -<p>His laugh was indulgent. “After you’ve been -abroad a few times, you won’t be so provincial.”</p> - -<p>“If being provincial means loving my own, I’ll -stay provincial.”</p> - -<p>“Travel broadens the mind, changes the point of -view.”</p> - -<p>“But why should I love my country less? I -know her faults. And I know Baldy’s. But I love -him just the same.”</p> - -<p>As they walked on, he fell into step with her. -“We won’t argue. You are probably right, and if -not, you’re too pretty for me to contradict.”</p> - -<p>His gallantry was faultless, but she wanted more -than gallantry. There had been the vivid give and -take of her arguments with Evans. They had had -royal battles, youth had crossed swords with youth. -And from their disagreements had come convictions.</p> - -<p>She had once more the illusion of Frederick as a -feather cushion! He would perhaps agree with her -always!</p> - -<p>And her soul would be—smothered!</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXV<br /> - -<small>AGAIN THE LANTERN</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was the morning of the day that she was going -to the Delafield Simms, and Jane was packing her -bag. She felt unaccountably depressed. During -this week-end her engagement would be announced. -And when Judy came they would be married in the -Sherwood church.</p> - -<p>And that would be the end of it!</p> - -<p>Her lover had planned the honeymoon with enthusiasm, -“Dieppe, Jane, Avignon—the North Sea. -Such sunsets.”</p> - -<p>Jane felt that she didn’t care in the least for sunsets -or trips abroad. She was almost frightened at -her indifference to the wonders of a world of which -Frederick talked continually. Oh, what were -mountains and sea at a time like this? Her heart -should beat high—the dawns should be rosy, the -nights full of stars. But they were not. Her -heart was like a stone in her breast. The mornings -broke gray and blank. The nights were dark. -Her dreams were troubled.</p> - -<p>She knew now what had happened to her. She -had let herself be blinded by a light which she had -thought was the sun. And it was not even the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -moon! It was a big round artificial brilliance -which warmed no one!</p> - -<p>Life with Frederick Towne would be just going -up and down great stairs, eating under the eye of a -stately butler, riding on puffy cushions behind a -stately chauffeur, sitting beside a man who was -everlastingly and punctiliously polite.</p> - -<p>Oh, half the fun in the world was in the tussle -with hard things. She knew that now. Life in -the little house had been at times desperately difficult. -But it had been like facing a stiff breeze, and -coming out of it thrilled with the battle against the -elements.</p> - -<p>Yet how could she tell these things to Frederick? -He was complacent, comfortable. She was young -and he liked that. He never dreamed that he might -seem to her somewhat staid and stodgy. For a moment, -in Chicago, he had been lighted by almost -youthful fires. But in these days of daily meetings, -she had become aware of his fixed habits, his fixed -opinions, the fixed programs which must be carried -out at any cost.</p> - -<p>She had found, indeed, that she had little voice -in any plans that Frederick made for her. When -he consulted her on matters of redecorating the big -house he brought to the subject a wealth of technical -knowledge that appalled her. Jane knew -what she liked, but she did not know why she liked -it. But Frederick knew. He had the lore of period -furniture at his fingers’ ends. Rugs and tapestries—paintings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -and porcelains! He had drawings -made and water-color sketches, and brought -them out to Jane. She had a feeling that when the -house was finished it would be like some exquisitely -ordered mausoleum. There would be no chintzes, -no pussy-cats purring, no Philomel singing!</p> - -<p>As for clothes! Frederick’s mind dwelt much on -the subject. Jane was told that she must have an -ermine wrap, and one of Persian lamb. Most of -her things would be made in Paris—there was a -man over there who did things in just the right -style for her—picturesque but not sophisticated. -Frederick was already having certain jewels set -appropriately. Gray pearls and emeralds—he had -even gone to the point of getting samples of silk -and chiffon that she might see the smoke-gray and -jade color-scheme he had in mind for her.</p> - -<p>Samples!</p> - -<p>A man’s mind shouldn’t be on clothes. He -should have other things to think of.</p> - -<p>There was Evans, for example. He had described -the other night the boys’ club he was starting -in Sherwood. “In the old pavilion, Jane. It -will do as it is in summer, and in winter we’ll enclose -it. And we are to have a baseball team, and -play against the surrounding towns. You should -see my little lads.”</p> - -<p>She and Baldy had been much interested. The -three of them had put their heads together as they -sat on the porch of the little house, with the moon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -whitening the world, and the whippoorwill mourning -far away in the swamp.</p> - -<p>They had planned excitedly, and every word they -had said had been warm with enthusiasm. They -had been flushed, exultant. It would be a great -thing for Sherwood.</p> - -<p>That was the kind of thing to live for, to live -with. Ideas. Effort. She had always known it. -Yet for a moment, she had forgotten. Had thought -of herself as—Curlylocks.</p> - -<p>She flung up her hands in a sort of despair. -There was no way out of it. She was bound to -Frederick Towne by the favors she had accepted -from him. And that settled it.</p> - -<p>She went on feverishly with the packing of her -shabby suitcase. She rather glorified in its shabbiness. -<i>At least it is mine own</i>, was her attitude of -mind.</p> - -<p>As she leaned over it, the great ring that Frederick -had given her swung back and forth on its -ribbon. She tucked it into the neck of her frock -but it would not stay. At last she took it off and -was aware of a sense of freedom as if she had shed -her shackles. It winked and blinked at her on the -dresser, so she shut it in a drawer and was still -aware of it shining in the darkness, balefully!</p> - -<p>Briggs was not to come for her until four in the -afternoon. She decided to go over to Castle Manor -and talk to Mrs. Follette. She would take some -strawberries as an excuse. The strawberries in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -the Castle Manor garden were never as perfect as -those which Jane had planted. Evans said it was -because Jane coaxed things into rosiness and -roundness. But Jane had worked hard over the -beds, and she had had her reward.</p> - -<p>Carrying a basket, therefore, of red and luscious -fruit, Jane went through the pine grove along the -path that led to the Castle Manor. Under the trees -was a green light which she breasted as one breasts -the cool waters of the sea. Her breath came -quickly. In a few short weeks she would be far -away from this sweet and silent spot, with its sacred -memories.</p> - -<p>Leaving the grove, she passed the field where the -scarecrow reigned.</p> - -<p>She leaned on the fence. With the coming of -spring, the scarecrow had been decked in gay attire. -He wore a pink shirt of Evans’ and a pair of -white trousers. His hat was of straw, and as he -danced in the warm south breeze he had an air of -care-free jauntiness.</p> - -<p>Jane found herself resenting his jaunty air. She -felt that she had liked him better in his days of appealing -loneliness. She had resented, in like manner, -the change in Evans. He, too, had an air of -making a world for himself. She had no part in it, -apparently. She was, in effect, the Peri at the -gate!</p> - -<p>And she wanted to be in his world. Evans’ -world. She didn’t want to be left out. Yet she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -had chosen. And Evans had accepted her decision. -She had not thought it would be so hard to have -him—accept.</p> - -<p>His interests seemed now to include everything -but Jane. He was doing many things for the boys -of Sherwood, there was his work in town, the added -responsibility he had assumed in the affairs of the -farm.</p> - -<p>“She’s such an old darling, Jane. Doing it with -her duchess air. But she’s not strong. I’m trying -to make her let things go a bit. But she’s so proud -of her success. I wish you could see her showing -Edith Towne and her fashionable friends about the -dairy. With tea on the lawn afterward. You -must come over and join in the fun, Jane.”</p> - -<p>“I am coming,” Jane had told him, “but my -days have been so filled.”</p> - -<p>He had known who had filled them. But he had -ignored that, and had gone on with his subject. -“The idea I have now is to keep bees and sell honey. -The boys and I have some books on bee culture. -They are quite crazy about it.”</p> - -<p>It was always now the boys and himself. His -mother and himself. And once it had been himself -and Jane!</p> - -<p>Leaning on the fence, Jane spoke to the scarecrow. -“I ought to be glad but I am not.”</p> - -<p>The scarecrow bowed and danced in the breeze. -He had no heart, of course. He was made of two -crossed sticks....</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>Jane found Mrs. Follette on the wide porch. She -was snowy and crisp in white linen. She wore a -black enamel brooch, and a flat black hat which -was so old-fashioned that it took on a mid-Victorian -stateliness.</p> - -<p>“My dear child,” she said, “stay and have lunch -with me. Mary has baked fresh bread, and we’ll -have it with your berries, and some Dutch cheeses -and cream.”</p> - -<p>“I’d love it,” Jane said; “I hoped you’d ask me. -We are going at four to Delafield Simms for the -week-end. I shall have to be fashionable for forty-eight -hours, and I hate it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette smiled indulgently. “Of course, -you don’t mean it. And don’t try to be fashionable. -Just be yourself. It is only people who -have never been anybody who try to make themselves -like others.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Jane, “I’m afraid I’ve never been -anybody, Mrs. Follette. I’m just little Jane -Barnes.”</p> - -<p>Her air was dejected.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you, Jane?” Mrs. Follette -demanded.</p> - -<p>Jane clasped her hands together. “Oh, I want -my mother. I want my mother.” Her voice was -low, but there was a poignant note in it.</p> - -<p>Old Mary came out with the tray, and when she -had gone, Mrs. Follette said, “Now tell me what’s -troubling you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>“I’m afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Of what?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, of Mr. Towne’s big house, and—I think I’m -a little bit afraid of him, too, Mrs. Follette.”</p> - -<p>“Why should you be afraid?”</p> - -<p>“Of the things he’ll expect of me. The things I’ll -expect of myself. I can’t explain it. I just—feel it.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette, pouring ice-cold milk from a silver -pitcher, said, “It is a case of nerves, my dear. You -don’t know how lucky you are.”</p> - -<p>“Am I lucky?” wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Of course you are lucky. But all girls feel as -you do, Jane, when the wedding day isn’t far off. -They wonder and wonder. It’s the newness—the——”</p> - -<p>“‘Laying flesh and spirit ... in his -hands ...’” Jane quoted, with quick-drawn -breath.</p> - -<p>“I shouldn’t put it quite like that,” Mrs. Follette -said with some severity; “we didn’t talk like that -when I was a girl.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you?” Jane asked. “Well, I know you -were a darling, Mrs. Follette. And you were -pretty. There’s that portrait of you in the library -in pink.”</p> - -<p>“I looked well in pink,” said Mrs. Follette, -thoughtfully, “but the best picture that was ever -done of me is a miniature that Evans has.” She -buttered another slice of bread. She had no fear -of growing fat. She <i>was</i> fat, but she was also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -stately and one neutralized the other. To think of -Mrs. Follette as thin would have been to rob her of -her duchess rôle.</p> - -<p>Jane had not seen the miniature. She asked if -she might.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get it,” said Mrs. Follette, and rose.</p> - -<p>Jane protested, “Can’t I do it?”</p> - -<p>“No, my dear. I know right where to put my -hand on it.”</p> - -<p>She went into the cool and shadowy hall and -started up the stairs, and it was from the shadows -that Jane heard her call.</p> - -<p>There was something faint and agitated in the -cry, and Jane flew on winged feet.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Follette was holding on to the stair-rail, -swaying a little. “I can’t go any higher,” she -panted; “I’ll sit here, my dear, while you get my -medicine. It’s in my room on the dresser.”</p> - -<p>Jane passed her on the stairs, and was back -again in a moment with the medicine, a spoon, and -a glass of water. With her arm around the elder -woman she held her until the color returned to her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>“How foolish,” said Mrs. Follette at last, sitting -up. “I almost fainted. I was afraid of falling -down the stairs.”</p> - -<p>“Let me help you to your room,” Jane said, -“and you can lie on the couch—and be quiet——”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to be quiet, but I’ll lie on the -couch—if you’ll sit there and talk to me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>So with Jane supporting her, Mrs. Follette went -up the rest of the flight, and across the hall—and -was made comfortable on a couch at the foot of her -bed.</p> - -<p>Jane loved the up-stairs rooms at Castle Manor. -Especially in summer. Mrs. Follette followed the -southern fashion of taking up winter rugs and winter -curtains and substituting sheer muslins and -leaving a delightful bareness of waxed floor.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps I can tell you where to find the miniature,” -Mrs. Follette said, as Jane fanned her; “it -is in Evans’ desk set back under the row of pigeon-holes. -You can’t miss it, and I want to see it.”</p> - -<p>Jane crossed the hall to Evans’ room. It faced -south and was big and square. It had the same -studied bareness that made the rest of the house -beautiful. There was a mahogany bed and dresser, -many books, deep window-seats with faded velvet -cushions.</p> - -<p>Evans’ desk was in an alcove by the east window -which overlooked Sherwood. It was a mahogany -desk of the secretary type, and there was nothing -about it to drain the color from Jane’s cheeks, to -send her hand to her heart.</p> - -<p>Above the desk, however, where his eyes could -rest upon it whenever he raised them from his writing, -was an old lantern! Jane knew it at once. It -was an ancient ship’s lantern that she and Baldy -had used through all the years, a heritage from -some sea-going ancestor. It was the lantern she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -had carried that night she had found Evans in the -fog!</p> - -<p>Since her return from Chicago she had not been -able to find it. Baldy had complained, “Sophy -must have taken it home with her.” But Sophy -had not taken it. It was here. And Jane knew, -with a certainty that swept away all doubts, why.</p> - -<p>“<i>You are a lantern, Jane, held high....</i>”</p> - -<p>She found the miniature and carried it back to -Mrs. Follette. “I told you you were pretty and -you have never gotten over it.”</p> - -<p>She had regained her radiance. Mrs. Follette -reflected complacently that girls were like that. -Moods of the moment. Even in her own day.</p> - -<p>She spoke of it to Evans that night. “Jane had -lunch with me. She was very tired and depressed. -I told her not to worry. It’s natural she should -feel the responsibility of the future. Marriage is a -serious obligation.”</p> - -<p>“Marriage is more than that, Mother.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it’s a great adventure. The greatest adventure. -If a woman loved me, I’d want her to fly -to me—on wings. There’d be no fear of the future -if Jane loved Towne.”</p> - -<p>“But she does love him. She wouldn’t marry -him for his money.”</p> - -<p>“No, she wouldn’t,” with a touch of weariness. -“It is one of the things I can’t make clear to myself. -And I think I’d rather not talk about it, Mother.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>They were in Mrs. Follette’s room. She had told -her son about her heart attack, and he had been -anxious. But she had been quite herself after and -had made light of it. “I shall have Hallam over -in the morning,” he had insisted, and she had acquiesced. -“I don’t need him, but if it will make -you feel better.”</p> - -<p>Evans told her “good-night” presently and went -into his own room. It was flooded with moonlight. -He curled up on the cushions of the window-seat, -with his arms around his knees and thought of -Jane. He did not know that she had been that day -in his room. Yet she was there now—a shadowy -presence. The one woman in the world for him. -The woman who had lighted his way. Who still, -thank God, lighted it, though she was not his and -would never be.</p> - -<p>In a few short weeks she would be married. -Would go out of his life—forever. Yet what she -had been to him, Towne could never take away. -The little Jane of Sherwood whom Evans had -known would never belong absolutely to her husband. -Her spirit would escape him—come back -where it belonged, to the man who worshipped her.</p> - -<p>He stood up, struck a match and lighted the low -candle in the old lantern. It would burn dimly -until he was asleep. Night after night he had -opened his eyes to see it burning. It seemed to him -that his dreams were less troubled because of that -dim lantern.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVI<br /> - -<small>THE DISCORDANT NOTE</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Lucy</span> was still to Eloise Harper the stenographer -of Frederick Towne. Out of place, of course, in -this fine country house, with its formal gardens, its -great stables, its retinue of servants.</p> - -<p>“What do you do with yourselves?” she asked -her hostess, as she came down, ready for dinner, in -revealing apricot draperies and found Lucy crisp -in white organdie with a band of black velvet -around her throat.</p> - -<p>“Do?” Lucy’s smile was ingenuous. “We are -very busy, Del and I. We feed the pigs.”</p> - -<p>“Pigs?” Eloise stared. She had assumed that -a girl of Lucy’s type would affect an elaborate attitude -of leisure. And here she was, instead, fashionably -energetic.</p> - -<p>They fed the pigs, it seemed, actually. “Of -course not the big ones. But the little ones have -their bottles. There are ten and their mother died. -You should see Del and me. He carries the bottle -in a metal holder—round,”—Lucy’s hand described -the shape,—“and when they see him coming they -all squeal, and it’s adorable.”</p> - -<p>Lucy’s air was demure. She was very happy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -She was a woman of strong spirit. Already she -had interested her weak husband beyond anything -he had ever known in his drifting days of bachelorhood. -“After dinner,” she told Eloise, “I’ll show -you Del’s roses. They are quite marvellous. I -think his collection will be beyond anything in this -part of the country.”</p> - -<p>Delafield, coming up, said, “They are Lucy’s -roses, but she says I am to do the work.”</p> - -<p>“But why not have a gardener?” Eloise demanded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we have. But I should hate to have our -garden a mere matter of—mechanics. Del has -some splendid ideas. We are going to work for the -flower shows. Prizes and all that.”</p> - -<p>Delafield purred like a pussy-cat. “I shall name -my first rose the ‘Little Lucy Logan.’”</p> - -<p>Edith, locking arms with Jane, a little later, as -they strolled under a wisteria-hung trellis towards -the fountain, said, “Lucy’s making a man of him -because she loves him. And I would have laughed -at him. We would have bored each other to death.”</p> - -<p>“They will never be bored,” Jane decided, “with -their roses and their little pigs.”</p> - -<p>They had reached the fountain. It was an old-fashioned -one, with thin streams of water spouting -up from the bill of a bronzed crane. There were -goldfish in the pool, and a big green frog leaped -from a lily pad. Beyond the fountain the wisteria -roofed a path of pale light. A peacock walked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -slowly towards them, its long tail sweeping the -ground in burnished beauty.</p> - -<p>“Think of this,” said Jane, “and Lucy’s days at -the office.”</p> - -<p>“And yet,” Edith pondered, “she told me if he -had not had a penny she would have been happy -with him.”</p> - -<p>“I believe it. With a cottage, one pig, and a -rose-bush, they would find bliss. It is like that -with them.”</p> - -<p>The two women sat down on the marble coping of -the fountain. The peacock trailed by them, its -jewels all ablaze under the sun.</p> - -<p>“That peacock makes me think of Adelaide.” -Edith swept her hand through the water, scaring -the little fishes.</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“In that dress she had on to-night—bronze and -blue and green tulle. I will say this for Adelaide, -she knows how to dress.”</p> - -<p>“Does she ever think of anything else but -clothes?”</p> - -<p>“Men,” succinctly.</p> - -<p>“Oh.”</p> - -<p>“Women like Adelaide,” Edith elucidated, -“want to look well, and to be admired. They live -for it. They wake up in the morning and go to bed -with that one idea. And the men fall for it.”</p> - -<p>“Do they?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. Adelaide knows how to play on the keys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -of their vanity. You and I don’t—or won’t. When -our youth goes, Jane, we’ll have to be loved for our -virtues. Adelaide will be loved for the part she -plays, and she plays it well.”</p> - -<p>She laughed and stood up. “I am afraid your -announcement to-morrow will hurt her feelings, -Jane.”</p> - -<p>“She knows,” Jane said quietly. “Mr. Towne -told her.”</p> - -<p>“Really?” Edith stopped, and went on in a -lower tone, “Speaking of angels—here she comes.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide, in her burnished tulle, tall, slender, -graceful as a willow, was swinging along beneath -the trellis. The peacock had turned and walked -beside her. “What a picture Baldy could make of -that,” Edith said, “‘The Proud Lady.’”</p> - -<p>“Do you know,” Jane’s voice was also lowered, -“when I look at her, I feel that it is she who should -marry your uncle.”</p> - -<p>Edith was frank. “I should hate her. And so -would he in a month. She’s artificial, and you are -so adorably natural, Jane.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide had reached the circle of light that surrounded -the fountain. “The men have come and -have gone up to dress,” she said. “All except your -uncle, Edith. He telephoned that he can’t get here -until after dinner. He has an important conference.”</p> - -<p>“He said he might be late. Benny came, of -course?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>“Yes, and Eloise is happy. He had brought her -all the town gossip. That’s why I left. I hate -gossip.”</p> - -<p>Edith knew that pose. No one could talk more -devastatingly than Adelaide of her neighbor’s affairs. -But she did it, subtly, with an effect of -charity. “I am very fond of her,” was her way of -prefacing a ruthless revelation.</p> - -<p>“I thought your brother would be down,” Adelaide -looked at Jane, poised on the rim of the fountain, -like a blue butterfly,—“but he wasn’t with -the rest.”</p> - -<p>“Baldy can’t be here until to-morrow noon. He -had to be in the office.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do with yourself in the -meantime, Edith?” Adelaide was in a mood to -make people uncomfortable. She was uncomfortable -herself. Jane, in billowing heavenly blue with -rose ribbons floating at her girdle, was youth incarnate. -And it was her youth that had attracted -Towne.</p> - -<p>The three women walked towards the house together. -As they came out from under the arbor, -they were aware of black clouds stretched across -the horizon. “I hope it won’t rain,” Edith said. -“Lucy is planning to serve dinner on the terrace.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide was irritable. “I wish she wouldn’t. -There’ll be bugs and things.”</p> - -<p>Jane liked the idea of an out-of-door dinner. She -thought that the maids in their pink linen were like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -rose-leaves blown across the lawn. There was a -great umbrella over the table, rose-striped. “How -gay it is,” she said; “I hope the rain won’t spoil it.”</p> - -<p>When they reached the wide-pillared piazza, no -one was there. The wind was blowing steadily -from the bank of clouds. Edith went in to get a -scarf.</p> - -<p>And so Jane and Adelaide were left alone.</p> - -<p>Adelaide sat in a big chair with a back like a -spreading fan; she was statuesque, and knew it, -but she would have exchanged at the moment every -classic line for the effect that Jane gave of unpremeditated -grace and beauty. The child had flung -a cushion on the marble step, and had dropped -down upon it. The wind caught up her ruffles, so -that she seemed to float in a cloud.</p> - -<p>She laughed, and tucked her whirling draperies -about her. “I love the wind, don’t you?”</p> - -<p>Adelaide did not love the wind. It rumpled her -hair. She felt spitefully ready to hurt Jane.</p> - -<p>“It is a pity,” she said, after a pause, “that -Ricky can’t dine with us.”</p> - -<p>Jane agreed. “Mr. Towne always seems to be a -very busy person.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide carried a little gauze fan with gold-lacquered -sticks. When she spoke she kept her -eyes upon the fan. “Do you always call him ‘Mr. -Towne’?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.”</p> - -<p>“But not when you’re alone.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>Jane flushed. “Yes, I do. Why not?”</p> - -<p>“But, my dear, it is so very formal. And you -are going to marry him.”</p> - -<p>“He said that he had told you.”</p> - -<p>“Ricky tells me everything. We are very old -friends, you know.”</p> - -<p>Jane said nothing. There was, indeed, nothing -to say. She was not in the least jealous of Adelaide. -She wondered, of course, why Towne should -have overlooked this lovely lady to choose a shabby -child. But he had chosen the child, and that settled -it as far as Mrs. Laramore was concerned.</p> - -<p>But it did not settle it for Adelaide. “I think it -is distinctly amusing for you to call him ‘Mr. -Towne.’ Poor Ricky! You mustn’t hold him at -arms’ length.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, none of the rest of us have,” said Adelaide, -deliberately.</p> - -<p>Jane looked up at her. “The rest of you? -What do you mean, Mrs. Laramore?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the women that Ricky has loved,” lightly.</p> - -<p>The winds fluttered the ribbons of Jane’s frock, -fluttered her ruffles. The peacock on the lawn uttered -a discordant note. Jane was subconsciously -aware of a kinship between Adelaide and the burnished -bird. She spoke of the peacock.</p> - -<p>“What a disagreeable voice he has.”</p> - -<p>Adelaide stared. “Who?”</p> - -<p>“The peacock,” said Jane.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>Then Eloise and Edith came in, and presently -the men, and Lucy and Del from a trip to the small -porkers, and Adelaide going out with Del to dinner -was uncomfortably aware that Jane had either artlessly -or artfully refused to discuss with her the -women who had been loved by Frederick Towne!</p> - -<p>The dinner was delicious. “Our farm products,” -Delafield boasted. Even the fish, it seemed, he had -caught that morning, motoring over to the river -and bringing them back to be split and broiled and -served with little new potatoes. There was chicken -and asparagus, small cream cheeses with the salad, -heaped-up berries in a Royal Worcester bowl, -roses from the garden. “All home-grown,” said -the proud new husband.</p> - -<p>Jane ate with little appetite. She had refused to -discuss with Adelaide the former heart affairs of -her betrothed, but the words rang in her ears, “The -women that Ricky has loved.”</p> - -<p>Jane was young. And to youth, love is for the -eternities. The thought of herself as one of a succession -of Dulcineas was degrading. She was -restless and unhappy. It was useless to assure -herself that Towne had chosen her above all the -rest. She was not sophisticated enough to assume -that it is, perhaps, better to be a man’s last love -than his first. That Towne had made it possible -for any woman to speak of him as Adelaide spoke, -seemed to Jane to drag her own relation to him in -the dust.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>The strength of the wind increased. The table -was sheltered by the house, but at last Delafield -decided, “We’d better go in. The rain is coming. -We can have our coffee in the hall.”</p> - -<p>Their leaving had the effect of a stampede. Big -drops splashed into the plates. The men servants -and maids scurried to the rescue of china and linen.</p> - -<p>The draperies of the women streamed in the -wind. Adelaide’s tulle was a banner of green and -blue. The peacock came swiftly up the walk, crying -raucously, and found a sheltered spot beneath -the steps.</p> - -<p>From the wide hall, they saw the rain in silver -sheets. Then the doors were shut against the beating -wind.</p> - -<p>They drank their coffee, and bridge tables were -brought in. There were enough without Jane to -form two tables. And she was glad. She wandered -into the living-room and curled herself up in -a window-seat. The window opened on the porch. -Beyond the white pillars she could see the road, -and the rain-drenched garden.</p> - -<p>After a time the rain stopped, and the world -showed clear as crystal against the opal brightness -of the western sky. The peacock came out of his -hiding-place, and dragged a heavy tail over the sodden -lawn.</p> - -<p>It was cool and the air was sweet. Jane lay -with her head against a cushion, looking out. She -was lonely and wished that Towne would come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -Perhaps in his presence her doubts would vanish. -It grew dark and darker. Jane shut her eyes and -at last she fell asleep.</p> - -<p>She was waked by Towne’s voice. He was on the -porch. “Where is everybody?”</p> - -<p>It was Adelaide who answered him. “They have -motored into Alexandria to the movies. Eloise -would have it. But I stayed—waiting for you, -Ricky.”</p> - -<p>“Where’s Jane?”</p> - -<p>“She went up-stairs early. Like a sleepy child.”</p> - -<p>Jane heard his laugh. “She is a child—a darling -child.”</p> - -<p>Then in the darkness Adelaide said, “Don’t, -Ricky.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?”</p> - -<p>“Do you remember that once upon a time you -called me—a darling child?”</p> - -<p>“Did I? Well, perhaps you were. You are certainly -a very charming woman.”</p> - -<p>Jane, listening breathlessly, assured herself that -of course he was polite. He had to be.</p> - -<p>Adelaide was speaking. “So you are going to -announce it to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“Who told you?”</p> - -<p>“Edith.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it seemed best, Adelaide. The wedding -day isn’t far off—and the world will have to know -it.”</p> - -<p>A hushed moment, then, “Oh, Ricky, Ricky!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span>“Adelaide! Don’t take it like that.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it. You are going out of my life. -And you’ve always been so strong, and big, and -brave. No other man will ever match you.”</p> - -<p>When he spoke, his voice had a new and softer -note. “I didn’t dream it would hurt you.”</p> - -<p>“You might have known.”</p> - -<p>The lightning flickering along the horizon showed -Adelaide standing beside Towne’s chair.</p> - -<p>“Ricky”—the whispered words reached Jane—“kiss -me once—to say ‘good-bye.’”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVII<br /> - -<small>FLIGHT</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Young</span> Baldwin Barnes, on Saturday morning, -ate breakfast alone in the little house. He read his -paper and drank his coffee. But the savor of -things was gone. He missed Jane. Her engaging -chatter, the spirited challenge, even the small irritations. -“She is such a darling-dear,” was his -homesick meditation.</p> - -<p>Oh, a man needed a woman on the other side of -the table. And when Jane was married, what then?</p> - -<p><i>Edith!</i></p> - -<p>Oh, if he might! If Philomel might sing for -her! Toast and poached eggs! Nectar and ambrosia! -His little house a castle!</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t mine own,” the young poet reminded -himself; “there is still the mortgage.” He -came down to earth, cleared the table, fed the pussy-cats. -Then he went down to the post-box to get the -mail.</p> - -<p>The Barnes’ mail was rarely voluminous, rarely -interesting. A bill or two, a letter from Judy—some -futile advertising stuff.</p> - -<p>This morning, however, there was a long envelope. -In one corner was the name of the magazine -to which, nearly six months before, Baldy had sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -his prize cover design. The thing had almost gone -out of his thoughts. He had long ceased to hope. -Money did not miraculously fall into one’s lap.</p> - -<p>He tore open the envelope. Within was a closely -typed letter and a pale pink check.</p> - -<p>The check was for two thousand dollars. He -had won the prize!</p> - -<p>Breathless with the thought of it, deprived of -strength, he sat down on the terrace steps. Merrymaid -and the kitten came down and angled for -attention, but Baldy overlooked them utterly. The -letter was astounding. The magazine had not only -given him the prize but they wanted more of his -work. They would pay well for it—and if he would -come to New York at their expense, the art editor -would like to talk it over!</p> - -<p>Baldy, looking up from the pregnant phrases and -catching Merrymaid’s eye upon him, demanded, -“Now, what do you think of that? Shall I resign -from the office? I’ll tell the world, I will.”</p> - -<p>Oh, the thing might even make it possible for -him to marry Edith. He could at least pay for the -honeymoon—preserve some sense of personal independence -while he worked towards fame. If she -would only see it. That he must ask her to live -for a time—in the little house. He’d make things -easy for her,—oh, well, the thing could be done—it -could be done.</p> - -<p>He flew up the steps on the wings of his delight. -He would ride like the wind to Virginia—find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -Edith, in a rose-garden, fling himself at her feet! -Declare his good fortune! And he would see her -eyes!</p> - -<p>Packing his bag, he decided to stop in Washington, -and perpetrate a few extravagances. Something -for Edith. Something for Jane. Something -for himself. There would be no harm in looking his -best....</p> - -<p>He arrived at Grass Hills in time for lunch. His -little Ford came up the drive as proudly as a Rolls-Royce. -And Baldy descending was a gay and gallant -figure. There was no one in sight but the -servants who took his bag, and drove his car -around to the garage. A maid in rose linen said -that Mr. and Mrs. Simms were at the stables. Miss -Towne was on the links with the other guests, and -would return from the Country Club in time for -lunch at two o’clock. Miss Barnes was up-stairs. -Her head had ached, and she had had her breakfast -in bed.</p> - -<p>“Will you let her know that I am here?”</p> - -<p>The maid went up and came down again to say -that Miss Barnes was in the second gallery—and -would he go right up.</p> - -<p>The second gallery looked out over the river. -Jane lay in a long chair. She was pale, and there -were shadows under her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, look here, Janey,” Baldy blurted out, “is -it as bad as this?”</p> - -<p>“I’m just—lazy.” She sat up and kissed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -him. Then buried her face in his coat and wept -silently.</p> - -<p>“For heaven’s sake, Jane,” he patted her shoulder, -“what’s the matter?”</p> - -<p>“I want to go home.”</p> - -<p>He looked blank. “Home?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” She stopped crying. “Baldy, something -has happened—and I’ve got to tell you.” Tensely, -with her hands clasped about her knees, she rehearsed -for him the scene between Adelaide and -Frederick Towne. And when she finished she said, -“I can’t marry him.”</p> - -<p>“Of course not. A girl like you. You’d be miserable. -And that’s the end of it.”</p> - -<p>“Utterly miserable.” She stared before her. -Then presently she went on. “I stayed up-stairs -all the morning. Lucy and Edith have been perfect -dears. I think Edith lays it to the announcement -of my engagement to-night. That I was -dreading it. Of course it mustn’t be announced, -Baldy.”</p> - -<p>He stood up, sternly renouncing his dreams. -“Get your things on, Jane, and I’ll take you home. -You can’t stay here, of course. We can decide -later what it is best to do.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see how I can break it off. He’s done -so much for us. I can’t ever—pay him——”</p> - -<p>In Baldy’s pocket was the pink slip. He took it -out and handed it to his sister. “Jane, I got the -prize. Two thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>“Baldy!” Her tone was incredulous.</p> - -<p>He had no joy in the announcement. The thing -had ceased to mean freedom—it had ceased to mean—Edith. -It meant only one thing at the moment, to -free Jane from bondage.</p> - -<p>He gave Jane the letter and she read it. “It is -your great opportunity.”</p> - -<p>“Yes.” He refused to discuss that aspect of it. -“And it comes in the nick of time for you, old -dear.”</p> - -<p>Their flight was a hurried one. A note for Lucy -and one for Towne. A note for Edith!</p> - -<p>Jane was not well was the reason given their -hostess. The note to Towne said more than that. -And the note to Edith was—renunciation.</p> - -<p>Edith coming home to luncheon found the note -in her room. All the morning she had been filled -with glorious anticipation. Baldy would arrive in -a few hours. Together they would walk down that -trellised path to the fountain, they would sit on the -marble coping. She would trail her hand through -the water. Further than that she would not let -her imagination carry her. It was enough that she -would see him in that magic place with his air of -golden youth.</p> - -<p>But she was not to see him, for the note said:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Beloved—I make no excuse for calling you that -because I say it always in my heart—Jane has made -up her mind that she cannot marry your uncle. So -we are leaving at once.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>“I can’t tell you what the thought of these two -days with you meant to me. And now I must give -them up. Perhaps I must give you up, I don’t -know. I came with high hopes. I go away without -any hope at all. But I love you.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Edith read the note twice, then put it to her lips. -She hardly dared admit to herself the keenness of -her disappointment.</p> - -<p>She stood for a long time at the window looking -out. Why had Jane decided not to marry Uncle -Frederick? What had happened since yesterday -afternoon?</p> - -<p>From Edith’s window she could see the south -lawn. The servants were arranging a buffet -luncheon. Little tables were set around—and -wicker chairs. Adelaide, tall and fair, in her favorite -blue and a broad black hat stood by one of -the little tables. She was feeding the peacock with -bits of bread. She made a picture, and Towne’s -window faced that way.</p> - -<p>“I wonder——” Edith said, and stopped. She -remembered coming in from the movies the night -before and finding Adelaide and Towne on the -porch. And where was Jane?</p> - -<p>Towne did not eat lunch. He pleaded important -business, and had his car brought around. But -everybody knew that he was following Jane. -Mystery was in the air. Adelaide was restless. -Only Edith knew the truth.</p> - -<p>After lunch, she told Lucy. “Jane isn’t going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -to marry Uncle Fred. I don’t know why. But I -am afraid it is breaking up your house party.”</p> - -<p>“I hope it is,” said Lucy, calmly. “Delafield is -bored to death. He wants to get back to his pigs -and roses. I am speaking frankly to you because -I know you understand. I want our lives to be -bigger and broader than they would have been if -we hadn’t met. And as for you”—her voice shook -a little—“you’ll always be a sort of goddess blessing -our hearth.”</p> - -<p>Edith bent and kissed her, emotion gripping her. -“Your hearth is blessed without me,” she said, -“but I’ll always be glad to come.”</p> - -<p>Towne, riding like mad along the Virginia roads, -behind the competent Briggs, reread Jane’s letter.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“I was not up-stairs last night when you came. -I was asleep in the window-seat of the living-room, -just off the porch. And your voice waked me and -I heard what you said, and Mrs. Laramore. And -I can’t marry you. I know how much you’ve done -for me,—and I shall never forget your goodness. -Baldy will take me home.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>Enclosed was a pink check.</p> - -<p>Towne blamed Adelaide furiously. Of course it -was her fault. Such foolishness. And sentimentality. -And he had been weak enough to fall for it.</p> - -<p>Yet, as he cooled a bit, he was glad that Jane -had showed her resentment. It was in keeping with -his conception of her. Her innocence had flamed -against such sophistication. There might, too, be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -a hint of jealousy. Women were like that. Jealous.</p> - -<p>As they whirled through Washington, Briggs -voiced his fears. “If we meet a cop it will be all -up with us, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Take a chance, Briggs. Give her more gas. -We’ve got to get there.”</p> - -<p>With all their speed, however, it was four o’clock -when they reached Sherwood. Towne was still in -the clothes he had worn on the links. He had not -eaten since breakfast. He felt the strain.</p> - -<p>He stormed up the terrace, where once he had -climbed in the snow. He rang the bell. It whirred -and whirred again in the silence. The house was -empty.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> - -<small>IN THE PINE GROVE</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was on the way home that Jane had said to -Baldy: “I feel like a selfish pig.”</p> - -<p>“Why, my dear?”</p> - -<p>“To take your precious prize before it is cold. -It doesn’t seem right.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t a question of right or wrong. If things -turn out with these new people as I hope, I’ll be -painting like mad for the next two months. And -you’ll have your work cut out for you as my model. -They like you, Jane. They said so.”</p> - -<p>He had driven on steadily for a time, and had -then said, “I never wanted you to marry him.”</p> - -<p>“Why not, Baldy?”</p> - -<p>He turned his lighted-up eyes upon her. “Janey—I -wanted you to have your—dreams——”</p> - -<p>She had laid her hand on his arm in a swift -caress. “You’re a darling——” and after a while, -“Nothing can take us from each other, ever, -Baldy.”</p> - -<p>Never had they drawn closer in spirit than at -this moment. But they said very little about it. -When they came to the house, Baldy went at once -to the garage. “I’ll answer that letter, and put in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -a good afternoon looking over my sketches.” He -did not tell her how gray the day stretched ahead -of him—that golden day which had started with -high hopes.</p> - -<p>Jane changed to a loose straight frock of orange -cotton, and without a hat, feeling actual physical -freedom in the breaking of her bonds, she swung -along the path to the little grove. It was aromatic -with the warm scent of the pines, and there was a -cool shade in the heart of it. Jane had brought a -bag of stockings to mend, and sat down to her -homely task, smiling a little as she thought of the -contrast between this afternoon and yesterday, -when she had sat on the rim of the fountain and -watched Adelaide and the peacock. She had no -feeling of rancor against Adelaide. She was aware -only of a great thankfulness.</p> - -<p>She was, indeed, at the moment, steeped in divine -content. Here was the place where she belonged. -She had a sense of blissful escape.</p> - -<p>Merrymaid came down the path, her tail a plume. -The kitten followed. A bronze butterfly floated -across their vision, and they leaped for it—but it -went above them—joyously towards the open blue -of the sky. The two cats gazed after it, then composed -themselves carefully like a pair of miniature -lions—their paws in front of them, sleepy-eyed but -alert for more butterflies, or for Jane’s busy thread.</p> - -<p>And it was thus that Towne found her. Convinced -that the house was empty, he had started<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -towards Baldy’s studio. Then down the vista of -the pine grove, his eye had been caught by a spot -of golden color. He had followed it.</p> - -<p>She laid down her work and looked up at him. -“You shouldn’t have come.”</p> - -<p>“My dear child, why not? Jane, you are making -mountains of molehills.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not.”</p> - -<p>He sat down beside her. The little cats drew -away, doubtful. “It was natural that you should -have resented it. And a thing like that isn’t easy -for a man to explain. Without seeming a—cad——”</p> - -<p>“There isn’t anything to explain.”</p> - -<p>“But there is. I have made you unhappy, and -I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>She shook her head, and spoke thoughtfully. “I -think I am—happy. Mr. Towne, your world isn’t -my world. I like simple things and pleasant -things, and honest things. And I like a One-Woman -man, Mr. Towne.”</p> - -<p>He tried to laugh. “You are jealous.”</p> - -<p>“No,” she said, quietly, “it isn’t that, although -men like you think it is. A woman who has self-respect -must know her husband has her respect. -Her heart must rest in him.”</p> - -<p>He spoke slowly. “I’ll admit that I’ve philandered -a lot. But I’ve never wanted to marry anyone -but you. I can promise you my future.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry. But even if last night had never<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -been—I think I should have—given you up. I had -begun to feel that I didn’t love you. That out there -in Chicago you swept me off my feet. Mr. Towne, -I am sorry. And I am grateful. For all your kindness——” -She flushed and went on, “You know, -of course, that I shan’t be happy until—I don’t -owe you anything....”</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on hers. “I wish you wouldn’t -speak of it. It was nothing.”</p> - -<p>“It was a great deal.”</p> - -<p>He looked down at her, slender and young and -infinitely desirable. “You needn’t think I am going -to let you go,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid—you must——”</p> - -<p>He flamed suddenly. “I’m more of a One-Woman -man than you think. If you won’t marry -me, I won’t have anyone else. I’ll go on alone. As -for Adelaide——A woman like that doesn’t expect -much more than I gave. That’s all I can say about -her. She means nothing to me, seriously, and never -will. She plays the game, and so do I, but it’s only -a game.”</p> - -<p>He looked tired and old. “I’ll go abroad to-morrow. -When I come back, perhaps you’ll -change your mind.”</p> - -<p>“I shall never change it,” she said, “never.”</p> - -<p>He stood up. “Jane, I could make you happy.” -He held her hand as she stood beside him.</p> - -<p>She looked at him and knew that he could not. -Her dreams had come back to her—of Galahad—of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -Robin Hood ... the world of romance had -again flung wide its gates....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>After Towne had gone she sat for a long time -thinking it over. She blamed herself. She had -broken her promise. Yet, he, too, had broken a -promise.</p> - -<p>She finished mending the stockings, and rolled -them into compact balls. The little cats were -asleep—the shadows were stretched out and the -sun slanted through the pines. She had dinner to -get, for her return had been unexpected, and Sophy -had not been notified.</p> - -<p>She might have brought to the thought of her -tasks some faint feeling of regret. But she had -none. She was glad to go in—to make an omelette—and -cream the potatoes—and have hot biscuits -and berries—and honey.</p> - -<p>Planning thus, competently, she raised her eyes—to -see coming along the path the two boys who -had of late been Evans’ close companions. She -spoke to them as they reached her. “Can’t you -stay a minute? I’ll make you some lemonade.”</p> - -<p>They stopped and looked at her in a way that -startled her. “We can’t,” Arthur said; “we’re going -over to the Follettes. We thought we might -help.”</p> - -<p>She stared at them. “Help? What do you -mean?”</p> - -<p>Sandy gasped. “Oh, didn’t you know? Mrs. -Follette died this morning....”</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIX<br /> - -<small>JANE DREAMS</small></h2></div> - - -<p><span class="smcap">Evans</span> had found his mother at noon, lying on -the couch at the foot of her bed. He had stayed at -home in the morning to help her, and at ten o’clock -she had gone up-stairs to rest a bit before lunch. -Old Mary had called her, and she had not answered. -So Evans had entered her room to find -that she had slipped away peacefully from the -world in which she exaggerated her own importance. -It would go on without her. She had not -been neighborly but the neighbors would all come -and sympathize with her son. And they would -miss her, because she had added to the community -some measure of stateliness, which they admired -even as they resented it.</p> - -<p>Evans had tried to get Baldy on the telephone, -but could not. Jane was at Grass Hills. He would -call up at long distance later. There was no reason -why he should spoil for them this day of days.</p> - -<p>So he had done the things that had to be done -in the shadowed house. Dr. Hallam came, and -others. Evans saw them and they went away. He -moved in a dream. He had no one to share intimately -his sorrow—no sister, no brother, no one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -except his little dog, who trailed after him, wistful-eyed, -and with limping steps.</p> - -<p>The full force of the thing that had happened -did not come to him at once. He had a feeling that -at any moment his mother might sweep in from the -out-of-doors, in her white linen and flat black hat, -and sit at the head of the table, and tell him the -news of the morning.</p> - -<p>He had had no lunch, so old Mary fixed a tray -for him. He did not eat, but drank some milk. -Then he and Rusty took up their restless wandering -through the silent rooms. Old Mary, true to -tradition, had drawn all the blinds and shut many -of the windows, so that the house was filled with a -sort of golden gloom. Evans went into his mother’s -little office on the first floor, and sat down at -her desk. It was in perfect order, and laid out on -the blotter was the writing paper with the golden -crest, and the box of golden seals. And he had -laughed at her! He remembered with a pang that -they would never again laugh together. He was -alone.</p> - -<p>He wondered why such things happened. Was -all of life as sinister as this? Must one always -find tragedy at every turn of the road? He had lost -his youth, had lost Jane. And now his mother. -Was everything to be taken away? Would there -be nothing left but strength to endure?</p> - -<p>Well, God helping him, he would endure to the -end....</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>He closed the desk gently and went out into the -darkened hall. As he followed its length, a door -opened at the end. Black against the brightness -beyond, he saw the two lads. They came forward -with some hesitation, but when they saw his tired -face, they forgot self-consciousness.</p> - -<p>“We just heard. And we want to help.” Sandy -was spokesman. Arthur was speechless. But he -caught hold of Evans’ sleeve and looked up at him. -His eyes said what his voice refused.</p> - -<p>Evans, with his arms across their shoulders, drew -the boys to him. “It was good of you to come.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Barnes said,” again it was Sandy who -spoke, “that perhaps we might get some pine from -the little grove. That your mother liked it.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Barnes? Is she back? Does she know?”</p> - -<p>“We told her. She is coming right over.”</p> - -<p>Baldy drove Jane in his little car. As she entered -she seemed to bring the light in with her. -She illumined the house like a torch.</p> - -<p>She walked swiftly towards Evans, and held out -her hand. “My dear, I am so sorry.”</p> - -<p>“I thought you were at Grass Hills.”</p> - -<p>“We came back unexpectedly.”</p> - -<p>“I am so glad—you came.”</p> - -<p>He was having a bad time with his voice. He -could not go on....</p> - -<p>Jane spoke to the boys. “Did you ask him about -the pine branches? Just those, and roses from the -garden, Evans.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>“You always think of things——”</p> - -<p>“Baldy will take the boys to the grove, and do -any errands you may have for him.” She was her -calm and competent self—letting him get control -of his emotion while she directed others.</p> - -<p>Baldy, coming in, wrung Evans’ hand. “The -boys and I will get the pine, and Edith Towne is -coming out to help. I called her up to tell -her——”</p> - -<p>Baldy stopped at that. He could not speak here -of the glory that encompassed him. He had said, -“<i>If death should come to us, Edith! Does anything -else count?</i>” And she had said, “<i>Nothing.</i>” -And now she was coming and they would pick roses -together in the garden. And love and life would -minister to a greater mystery....</p> - -<p>When Baldy and the boys had gone, Jane and -Evans opened the windows and pulled up the -shades. The house was filled with clear light, and -was cool in the breeze.</p> - -<p>When they had finished, Jane said, “That’s all, -I think. We can rest a bit. And presently it will -be time for dinner.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want any dinner.”</p> - -<p>They were in the library. Outside was an -amethyst twilight, with a young moon low in -the sky. Evans and Jane stood by the window, -looking out, and Jane asked in a hushed voice, -“You don’t want any dinner because she won’t be -at the other end of the table?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>“Yes.” His face was turned from her. His -hands were clinched. His throat was dry. For a -moment he wished he were alone that he might -weep for his mother.</p> - -<p>And then Jane said, “Let me sit at the other end -of your table.”</p> - -<p>He turned back to her, and saw her eyes, and -what he saw made him reach out blindly for her -hand—sympathy, tenderness—a womanly brooding -tenderness.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Evans, Evans,” she said, “I am not going -to marry Frederick Towne.”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” thickly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t love him.”</p> - -<p>“Do you love me, Jane?”</p> - -<p>She nodded and could not speak. They clung together. -He wept and was not ashamed of it.</p> - -<p>And standing there, with his head against her -breast, Jane knew that she had found the best. -Marriage was not a thing of luxury and soft living, -of flaming moments of wild emotion. It was a -thing of hardness shared, of spirit meeting spirit, -of dream matching dream. Jane, that afternoon, -had caught her breath as she had come into the -darkened hall, and had seen Evans standing between -those slender lads. So some day, perhaps, in -this old house—his sons!</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="ph2">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE:</p> - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Multiple sources were consulted and pages 5 and 6 do not exist in this edition.</p> - -</div> - -<p> </p> -<hr class="full" /> -<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIM LANTERN***</p> -<p>******* This file should be named 60090-h.htm or 60090-h.zip *******</p> -<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> -<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/0/0/9/60090">http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/0/9/60090</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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