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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-27 17:13:20 -0800 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..306fa4c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60811 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60811) diff --git a/old/60811-8.txt b/old/60811-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3c0fbbb..0000000 --- a/old/60811-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4794 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. Janvier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: In Great Waters - Four Stories - -Author: Thomas A. Janvier - -Release Date: November 29, 2019 [EBook #60811] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN GREAT WATERS *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, The University of California and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal - signs=. - - Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase. - - Blank pages have been eliminated. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the - original. - - - - -[Illustration: - - See page 223 - - "HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME"] - - - - - IN GREAT WATERS - - Four Stories - - - By - - THOMAS A. JANVIER - - - Author of - - "The Uncle of an Angel" "The Aztec Treasure-House" - "The Passing of Thomas" "In Old New York" etc. - - - _ILLUSTRATED_ - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - 1901 - - - - - Copyright, 1901, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights reserved._ - November, 1901. - - - - - TO - - C. A. J. - - - - -Contents - - - PAGE - - THE WRATH OF THE ZUYDER ZEE 3 - - A DULUTH TRAGEDY 65 - - THE DEATH-FIRES OF LES MARTIGUES 135 - - A SEA UPCAST 171 - - - - -Illustrations - - - "HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME" _Frontispiece_ - - "HE WAS A CRAZED MAN" _Facing p._ 6 - - "IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING" " 24 - - OLD JAAP " 56 - - "'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'" " 126 - - MARIUS " 136 - - "THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS" " 166 - - "THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME" " 220 - - - - -The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee - - -I - -Old Jaap Visser was mad. Out there on the island of Marken, in the -Zuyder Zee, he was the one madman, and a curiosity. The little -boys--all born web-footed, and eager as soon as they could walk to -toddle off on their stout little Dutch legs and take to the water--used -to run after him and jeer at him. An underlying fear gave zest to -this amusement. The older of them knew that he could lay a strange -binding curse upon people. The younger of them, resolving this concept -into simpler terms, knew that he could say something that would -hurt more than a spanking; and that would keep on hurting, in some -unexplained but dreadful way, beyond the sting of the worst spanking -that ever they had known. Therefore, while they jeered, they jeered -circumspectly. Out in the open--on the brick-paved pathways which -traverse the low marsh-land and unite the little knolls on which are -the villages: the Hafenbeurt (where the harbour is), the Kerkehof, and -the Kesbeurt--butter would not melt in their small Dutch mouths when -they met him. But when they had him at their mercy among the houses -of one or another of the villages things went differently. Then they -would yell "Old Jaap!" "Mad old Jaap!" after him--and as he turned upon -them would whip off their sabots, that they might run the more lightly, -and would dash around corners into safety: with delightful thrills of -dread running through their small scampish bodies at the thought of the -curse that certainly was flying after them, and that certainly would -make them no better than dead jelly-fish if they did not get around the -corner in time to ward it off! And old Jaap would be left free for a -moment from his tormentors, brandishing his staff in angry flourishes -and shouting his strange curse after them: "May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - -The young men and women of Marken, who never had known old Jaap save -as a madman, felt toward him much as the children did; though as -they got older, and came to understand the cause of his madness and -the effectiveness of his curse, their dread of him was apt to take -on a more serious cast. Even Krelis Kess, a notorious daredevil in -all other directions, and for a long while one of old Jaap's most -persistent tormentors, came in the end to treat him with a very -obliging civility. But then, to be sure, Marretje de Witt was old -Jaap's granddaughter--and everybody in Marken knew that this gentle -Marretje, because of her very unlikeness to him it was supposed, had -made capture of Krelis Kess's much too vagrant heart. One person, it -is true, did dissent from this view of the matter, and that was Geert -Thysen--who declared that Krelis was too much of a man really to care -for a pale-faced thing fit only to marry another oyster like herself. -And Geert's black eyes would snap, and her strong white teeth would -show in a smile that was not a pleasant one as she added: "A live man -who knows the nip of gin-and-water does not waste his time in drinking -weak tea!" But then, to quote the sense of the island folk again, -everybody in Marken knew that to win Krelis's love for herself Geert -Thysen would have given those bold black eyes of hers, and would have -said thank you, too! - -Among the old people of Marken, who had known old Jaap before his -madness came upon him, a very different feeling prevailed. They dreaded -him, of course, because they knew what his curse could accomplish; but, -also, they sorrowed for him--remembering the cruel grief which had come -upon him in his youth suddenly and had driven him mad. Well enough, -they said, might he call down his strange curse upon those who angered -him, for twice had he known the bitterness of it: when death, and again -worse than death, had struck at that which was dearer than the very -heart of him through the wrath of the Zuyder Zee. - -It all had happened so long back that only the old people had knowledge -of it--in the great storm out of the Arctic Ocean which had driven into -the Zuyder Zee the North Sea waters; and there had banked them up, -higher and higher, until the whole island of Marken was flooded and -half the dykes of the mainland were overrun. Old Jaap--who was young -Jaap, then--was afloat at his fishing when the storm came on, and his -young wife and her baby were alone at home. In her fear for him she -came down from the Kerkehof, where their home was, to the Hafenbeurt; -and there, standing upon the sea-wall that shelters the little harbour, -watching for him, was the last that ever was seen of her alive. When -his schuyt came in she had vanished--caught away by the up-leaping sea. -That was bad enough, but worse followed. A month later, when he was -at his fishing again--glad to be at work, that in the stress of it he -might a little forget his sorrow--his net came up heavy, and in it was -his dead wife. - -[Illustration: "HE WAS A CRAZED MAN"] - -Then it was that his madness fell upon him. By the time that he was -come back to Marken--sailing his schuyt for a long night through the -dark waters with that grewsomely ghastly lading--he was a crazed man. - - -II - -The shadow that rested on Jaap Visser's mind was a deep melancholy that -for the most part kept him silent, yet that was broken now and then by -outbursts of rage in which he raved against the cruel wickedness of the -sea. It did not unfit him for work. He had his living to make; and he -made it, as all the men of Marken made their living, by fishing. But -those who sailed with him in his schuyt said that always as the net -came home he hauled upon it with tight-shut eyes; that always, as it -was drawn inboard, he turned away--until the thrashing of the fish and -some word about the catch from his companions assured him that he might -look without fear of such a sight as that which had flashed burning -through his eyes and had turned his brain. - -When he was on land he spent little time in his own home: of which, and -of the baby motherless, his mother had taken charge. Usually he was to -be found within or lingering near the graveyard that lies between the -Kerkehof and the Hafenbeurt: an artificial mound, like those whereon -the several villages on the island are built, raised high enough -to be above the level of the waters which cover Marken in times of -great storm. Before this strange habit of his had become a matter of -notoriety, a dozen or more of the islanders, as they passed at night -along the path beside the graveyard, had been frightened pretty well -out of their wits by seeing his tall figure rise from among the graves -suddenly and stand sharply outlined against the star-gleam of the sky. - -But in those days, as I have said, his madness was no more than a -sombre melancholy--save for his fitful outbursts of rage against the -sea. The bitterness that came into his heart came later: when his -daughter was a woman grown and Jan de Witt married her--and presently -deserted her, as was known openly, for an Edam jade over on the -mainland. Things went worse and worse for a while: until one day when -old Jaap--even then they were beginning to call him old Jaap--fell into -a burning rage with his son-in-law and cursed him as he deserved for -the scoundrel that he was. - -It was down at the dock that the two men came together. The schuyts -were going out, and Jan was aboard his own boat making ready to cast -off. Half the island folk were there--the fishermen about to sail, and -their people come to see them get away. Some one--who did not see old -Jaap standing on the piling near where Jan's boat lay--called out: "The -fishing is good off Edam still, eh, Jan?" And then there was a general -laugh as Jan answered, laughing also: "Yes, there's good fishing off -Edam--better than there is nearer home." - -At this old Jaap broke forth into a passionate outburst against his -son-in-law: calling him by all the evil names that he could get -together, crying out against his wickedness and his cruelty, and -ending--as Jan's boat slid away from her moorings, with Jan standing at -the tiller laughing at the old man's fury--by calling out with a deep -grave energy, in strange contrast with his previous angry ravings: "God -cannot and will not forgive. He will judge you and He will punish you. -In His name I say to you: May the might of the angered waters be upon -you--may you perish in the wrath of the Zuyder Zee!" - -There was such a majesty in old Jaap's tone as he spoke those words, -and such intense conviction, that all who heard him were thrilled -strangely. Some of the old men of Marken, who were there that day, -still will tell you that it seemed as though they heard the voice of -one who truly was the very mouth-piece of God. Even Jan, they say, -paled a little; but only for a moment--and then he was off out of the -harbour with a jeer and a laugh. - -But that was Jan's last laugh and jeer at his father-in-law, and his -last sight of Marken. The next day the boats came hurrying home before -a storm, but Jan's boat did not come with them. At first it was thought -that he had put into the canal leading up to Edam--it was about there -that the other fishermen had lost sight of him--but a couple of days -later his boat drifted ashore, bottom upward, in the bight of Goudzee -south of Monnikendam. That left room for guess-work. Certainty came at -the end of a fortnight: when the two men who had been with him got back -to Marken--after a trip to England in the steamer that had picked them -up afloat--and told how the schuyt had gone over in the gale and spilt -them all out into the sea. As for Jan, he never came back at all. As he -and the other two men were thorough good sailors, and as the survivors -themselves were quite at a loss to account for their catastrophe, there -was only one way to explain the matter: old Jaap's curse had taken -effect! - -After that old Jaap had a place still more apart from the other -islanders. What he had done to one he could do to another, it was -whispered--and thenceforward he was both shunned and dreaded because of -the power for life and death that was believed to be his. The reflex of -this popular conviction seemed to find a place in his own heart, and -now and again he would threaten with his curse those who got at odds -with him. But he never uttered it; and the fact was observed that even -in the case of the teasing little boys he was careful not to curse any -one of his tormentors by name. - - -III - -Certainly, if ever old Jaap had cursed any particular little boy it -would have been Krelis Kess--who was quite the worst boy on the island, -and who usually was the leader of the troop that hung about the old -man's heels. - -And even when Krelis got to be a big young fellow of twenty--old enough -to go on escapades in Amsterdam of which the rumour, coming back to -Marken, made all steady-going folk on the island look askance at -him--he still took an ugly pleasure, as occasion offered, in stirring -up old Jaap's wrath. If the old man chanced to pass by while he was -sitting of a Sunday afternoon in Jan de Jong's tavern, drinking more -gin-and-water than was good for him, it was one of his jokes to call -out through the open window "Mad old Jaap!" in the shrill voice of a -child; and to repeat his cry, with different inflections but always -in the same shrill tones, until the old man would go off into a fury -and shout his curse at the little boys who seemed to be so close -about him but who could not anywhere be seen. At that Krelis would -fall to laughing mightily, and so would the loose young fellows his -companions--who had found out that that would send his hand to his -pocket and give them free drinks all around. - -Under such conditions it is not surprising that the wonder, and also -the regret, of these young scapegraces was very great when on a certain -Sunday afternoon in mid-spring time Krelis not only did not volunteer -his usual pleasantry at old Jaap's expense--as the old man came -shambling up the narrow street toward the tavern--but actually refused -to practise it when it was suggested to him. And the wonder grew to -be blank astonishment, a minute later, when he went to the window and -begged Herr Visser to come in and have a glass of schnapps with him! -To hear old Jaap called "Herr Visser" by anybody was enough to stretch -to the widest any pair of Marken ears; but to hear him addressed in -that stately fashion by Krelis Kess was enough to make any Marken man -believe that his ears had gone crazy! - -At first the young scamps in the tavern were quite sure that Krelis -was about to play some new trick on old Jaap, and that this wonderful -politeness was the beginning of it. But the marvel increased when -the old man--who liked schnapps as well as anybody--joined the little -company of tosspots and was treated by Krelis with as much respect as -though he had been a burgomaster! And more than that, when the session -was ended--and old Jaap, to whom such treats came rarely, was so far -fuddled that he could not manage his legs easily--Krelis said that -nothing could be pleasanter than a walk across to the Kerkehof in the -cool of the evening, and so gave him a steadying arm home. As the two -set off together the young fellows left behind stared at each other in -sheer amazement; and such of the Marken folk as chanced to meet this -strangely assorted couple marching amicably arm in arm together were -inclined to disbelieve in their own eyes! - -For a week, while they all were away at their fishing, there was a lull -in the excitement; but it was aroused again the next Sunday when Krelis -did not come as usual to the tavern--and went to a white heat when a -late arrival, a young fellow who lived in the Kerkehof, told that as he -came past Jaap Visser's house he had seen Krelis sitting on the bench -in front of it talking away with old Jaap and making eyes behind old -Jaap's back at Marretje. At first, being so entirely incredible, this -statement was scouted scornfully; but it aroused so lively a discussion -that presently the whole company left the tavern and went over in a -body to the Kerkehof bent upon disproving or verifying it--and there, -sure enough, were old Jaap and Krelis smoking their pipes together, and -Marretje along with them, on the bench in front of old Jaap's door! - -Young Jan de Jong--the son of the tavern-keeper--expressed the feelings -of the company when he said, later, that as they stood there looking at -that strange sight you might have knocked down the whole of them with -the flirt of a skate's tail! But they did not stop long to look at it. -Krelis glared at them so savagely, and his big fists doubled up in so -threatening a fashion, that they took themselves off in a hurry--and -back to the tavern to talk it over, while they bathed their wonder in -very lightly watered gin. - - -IV - -That was the beginning of Krelis Kess's courting of Marretje de -Witt--about which, in a moment, all the island blazed with talk. -Until then, in a light-loving way, Krelis had been keeping company -with Geert Thysen. That seemed a natural sort of match, for Geert and -Krelis had much the same bold way with them and well enough might have -paired. But Geert, like Krelis, had a devil of a temper, and it was -supposed that an angry spat between them had sent Krelis flying off in -a rage from her spit-firing--and that the gentle Marretje had caught -his heart on the rebound. The elders, reasoning together out of their -worldly wisdom, perceived that under the law of liking for unlike this -bold-going young fellow very well might be drawn toward a maiden all -gentleness; and that, because of her gentleness, Marretje would find a -thrilling pleasure in the strong love-making with which Krelis would -strive to take her heart by storm. All that, as they knew, was human -nature. Had they known books also they would have cited the case of -Desdemona and the Moor. - -However, there was not much time for talking. Krelis was not of the -sort to let grass grow under his feet in any matter, and in a love -matter least of all. Nor were there any obstacles to bar his way. He -had his own boat, that came to him when his father was drowned; and he -had his own house in the Kesbeurt, where he had lived alone since his -mother had ended a notably short widowhood by marrying a second time. -Old Jaap, moreover, was ready enough to accept as a son-in-law the only -man in Marken who ever had styled him Herr Visser, and who in addition -to that unparalleled courtesy had given him in quick succession nearly -a dozen bottles of the best Schiedam. There was nothing to hinder the -marriage, therefore, but Marretje's shyness--and Krelis overcame that -quickly in his own masterful way. - -And so everybody saw that matters were like to come quickly to a -climax--everybody, that is, except Geert Thysen, who said flatly that -the marriage was both impossible and absurd. Geert had her own notion -that Krelis was serving her out for her hard words to him, and was only -waiting for a soft word to come back to her--and she bit those full red -lips of hers with her strong teeth and resolved that she would keep -him waiting until he was quite in despair. Then, at the very last, she -would whistle him back to her--with a laugh in his face first, and then -such a kiss as all the Marretjes in the world could not give him--and -the comedy of his mock courtship would be at an end. Sometimes, to be -sure, the thought did cross her mind that Krelis might not come to her -whistle. Then the color would go out of her red cheeks a little, and -as she ground her big white teeth together she would have a half-formed -vision of Krelis lying dead somewhere with a knife in his heart. But -visions of this sort came seldom, and were quickly banished--with a -sharp little laugh at her own folly in fancying even for an instant -that Krelis could hesitate in choosing between herself and that limp -pale doll. - -And then, one day, she found herself face to face with the fact that -Krelis had not been playing a comedy at all. The news was all over the -island that he and Marretje were to be married the next Sunday; and -that he meant to be married handsomely, with a great wedding-feast at -Jan de Jong's tavern in Jan de Jong's best style. "So there's an end of -your lover for you, Geert Thysen!" said Jaantje de Waard, who brought -the news to her. - -At this Geert's red cheeks grew a little redder, and her big black eyes -had a brighter flash to them; but she only laughed as she answered: -"It's one thing to lay the net--but it's another to haul it in!" And -Jaantje remembered afterward what a strange look was in her face as she -said those strange words. - - -V - -The wedding was the finest that had been known in Marken for years. At -the church the parson gave his "Golden Clasp" address, which was the -most beautiful of his three wedding addresses and cost five gulden. -Then the company streamed away along the brick-paved pathway from the -Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, with the sunshine gleaming gallantly on the -white caps and white aprons of the women and on the shiny high hats -of the men, while the wind fluttered the little Dutch flags--and they -all walked much more steadily then than they did when they took their -after-breakfast walk, before the dancing began. In that second walk -the men's legs wavered a good deal, and some of them had trouble in -steering the stems of their long pipes to their mouths. But that is not -to be wondered at when you think what a breakfast it was! Jan de Jong -fairly excelled himself. They talk about it in Marken to this day! - -While the wedding-party walked unsteadily abroad the big room in the -tavern was cleared; and when the company was come back again, much the -better for fresh air and exercise, the dancing began. And just then a -very queer thing happened: Krelis led off the dance with Geert Thysen -instead of with Marretje his bride! - -Some say that Geert made him promise to do this as the price of her -coming to the wedding; others say that it was done on the spur of the -moment--was one of Geert's sudden whims that Krelis, who also was given -to sudden whims, fell in with. About the truth of this matter there -can be only guess-work, but about what happened there is plain fact: -Just as the set was forming, Krelis dropped Marretje's hand and said -lightly: "You won't mind, Marretje, will you? It's for old friendship's -sake, you know." And with that he took the hand of Geert Thysen, who -was standing close beside him, and away he went with her in the dance. -Those who think that it had been arranged between them beforehand point -out that Geert had refused all offers to dance and had come close to -Krelis just as the set was formed. There is something in that, I think. -But whether they had planned it or had not planned it, the fact remains -that Marretje's place at the head of the dance at her own wedding was -taken by another woman; and as the set was complete without her, she -did not dance at all until the first figure came to an end. They say -that there were tears in her eyes as she stood alone there--and that -she was very white when Krelis took her hand again, at the end of the -first figure, and gave her for the rest of the dance the place at the -head of it that was hers. They say, too, that Geert stood watching -them--when Krelis had left her and had taken his bride again--with a -hot blaze of color coming and going in her cheeks, and with a wonderful -flashing and sparkling of her great black eyes. And before the dance -ended Geert went home. - -There was a great crackling of talk, of course, about this slight that -Krelis had put upon Marretje on her wedding-day; and people shook their -heads and said that worse must come after it. Some of the stories about -Krelis's escapades in Amsterdam were raked up again and were pointed -with a fresh moral. As for Geert, the Marken women had but one opinion -of her--and the least unkindly expression of it was that she was -walking in a very dangerous path. But when echoes of this talk came to -Geert's ears--as they did, of course--she merely curled her red lips -a little and said that as she was neither a weak woman nor a foolish -woman she was safe to walk where she pleased. - - -VI - -It was a little disconcerting to the prophets of evil that the weeks -and the months slipped away without any signs of the fulfilment of -their prophecies. However keen may have been Marretje's sorrow on -her wedding-day, it was not lasting. Indeed, her gentle nature was -so filled with a worshipping love for Krelis that he had only to -give her a single light look of affection or a half-careless kiss to -fill her whole being with happiness. He was a god to her--this gayly -daring young fellow who had raised her up to be a shy little queen -in a queendom, she was sure, such as never had been for any other -woman in all the world. And Krelis was very well pleased with her -frank adoration. It was tickling to his vanity that she should be so -completely and so eagerly his loving slave. - -Next to her love for Krelis--and partly because it was a part of her -love for him--Marretje's greatest joy was in her housekeeping. She -had taken a just pride in the tidiness of her housekeeping for her -grandfather; but it was a very different and far more exciting matter -to furbish and polish a house that really was her own. And Krelis's -house, of which she was the proud mistress, was far bigger and far -finer than her old home. It was a stately dwelling, for Marken, -standing on an out-jutting ridge of earth at the back of the Kesbeurt, -close upon a delightful little canal--and from the back doorway was a -restful far-off outlook over the marsh-land to the level horizon of -the Zuyder Zee. Marretje loved that outlook, and she had it before her -often: for down beside the canal was her scouring-shelf--where she -scoured away through long sunny mornings, while Krelis was away at his -fishing, until her pots and kettles ranged in the sunlight shone like -burnished gold. - -Yet the fact should be added that when the old men of Marken talked -together about this fine house of Krelis Kess's they would shake their -heads a little--saying that a better spending of money would have been -for a smaller house founded on solid piling, instead of for this showy -dwelling standing on an out-thrust earth bank which well enough might -crumble away beneath it in some time of tremendous tempest when all -the island should be overswept and beaten by the sea. - -For the most part, of course--save for little chats with her -neighbours--Marretje was alone in that fine house of hers. Old Jaap had -come to live with the young people--as was only fair, since he had no -one but his granddaughter to care for him--but both he and Krelis spent -all their week-days afloat at their fishing and only their Sundays at -home. Yet now and then the old man, making some excuse for not going -out with the fleet, would give himself a turn at shore duty; and would -sit in his big chair, smoking his long pipe very contentedly, watching -his granddaughter at her endless scouring and cleaning, and listening -to her little bursts of song. In his unsettled old mind he sometimes -fancied that the years had rolled backward and that he was watching -his own young wife again; and in his old heart he would dream young -love-dreams by the hour together--blessedly forgetting that the love -and the happiness which had made his life beautiful had been snatched -away from him and lost forever in the wrathful waters of the Zuyder Zee. - -[Illustration: "IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING"] - -But Marretje's love-dreams were living ones. As Krelis lounged over -his pipe of a Sunday morning, taking life easily in his clean Sunday -clothes, he would say an airy word or two in praise of her housekeeping -that fairly would set her to blushing with happiness--and what with the -colour in her fair face and the light in her blue eyes she would be so -entirely charming that Krelis's own eyes would go to sparkling, and he -would draw her close to him and fondle her in a genuinely loverlike -fashion that would fill her with a very tender joy. Krelis was quite -sincere in his love-making. His little Marretje's soft beauty, and her -shy delight in his caresses, went down into an unsounded depth and -touched an unknown strain of gentleness in his easy-going heart. - -But even on the first Sunday after they were married Krelis went off -after dinner--it had been a wonder of a dinner that Marretje had -cooked for him: she had been planning it the week through!--to join -his companions as usual at Jan de Jong's. This came hard on Marretje. -She had been counting so much on that afternoon! A dozen little tender -confidences had been put aside during the morning to be made then -comfortably: when the dinner things would all be cleared away, and her -grandfather would have gone to take his usual Sunday look at his boat, -and she and Krelis would be sitting at their ease--delightfully alone -together for the first time in their lives! - -She had thought it all out, and had arranged in her own mind that they -would sit on the steps above her scouring-shelf--at the back of the -house and hidden away from everybody--with the canal at their feet, -and in front of them the level loneliness of the marsh-land stretching -away and losing itself in the level loneliness of the sea. She had -a cushion all ready for Krelis to sit on, and a smaller cushion for -herself that was to go on the next lower step--and she blushed a little -to herself as she thought how she would make a back to lean against out -of Krelis's big knees. And then, just as she had finished her clearing -away and was getting out the cushions, Krelis put on his hat and said -that he thought he would step across to the tavern and have a look at -the boys. The boys would laugh at him, he said, if he settled right -down into being an old married man--and he tried to give a better -send-off to this small pleasantry by laughing at it himself. But he -did not laugh very heartily, and he almost turned back again when he -got to the bridge--thinking how the light of happiness which had made -Marretje's face so beautiful through that Sunday morning suddenly had -died out of it as he came away. And then he pulled himself together -with the reflection that she would be all right again when he got back -to her at supper-time, and so went on. When he was come to the tavern -he forgot all about Marretje's unhappiness, for the boys welcomed him -with a cheer. - -Being in this way forsaken, Marretje carried out what was left of her -broken plan forlornly--arranging the cushions on the two steps, and -sitting on the lower one with her elbow resting on the upper one, and -gazing out sorrowfully across the marsh-land and the sea. That great -loneliness of sedge and sea and sky made her own loneliness more -bitter: and then came the hurting thought that just a week before, very -nearly at that same hour, Krelis still more cruelly had forsaken her -while he led with Geert Thysen their wedding-dance. - -After a while old Jaap came home and seated himself beside her. He was -silent, as was his habit, but having him that way soothed and comforted -her. As she leaned her head against his shoulder and held his big bony -hands the old man went off into one of his dream-fancies that his -young wife was beside him again--and perhaps, in some subtle way, that -also helped to take the sting out of her pain. When Krelis came home at -supper-time, walking a little unsteadily, he did not miss her flow of -chattering talk that had gone on through the morning; and presently it -began again--for Krelis returned in high good-humour, and his fire of -pretty speeches and his kisses quickly brought happiness back to her -sore little heart. Knowing thereafter what to expect of a Sunday, her -pleasure was less lively--but so was her pain. - - -VII - -It was a little past the turn of the half-year after the wedding that -the prophets of evil pricked up their ears hopefully--as there began to -go humming through Marken a soft buzz of talk about the carryings on -of Geert Thysen and Krelis Kess. It was only vague talk, to be sure; -but then when talk of that sort is vague there is the more seaway -for speculation and inference. All sorts of rumours went flashing -about--and carried the more weight, perhaps, because they could not -be traced to a starting-point and were disavowed by each person who -passed them on. The sum of them became quite amazing before long! - -In the end, of course, this talk worked around to Marretje. Bit by -bit, one kind friend after another brought her variations of the same -budget of news, pleading their friendship for her as the excuse for -their chattering; and all of them were a good deal disconcerted by the -placid way, with scarcely a word of comment, in which she suffered them -to talk on. Only when they took to saying harsh things about Krelis -did they rouse her a little. Then she would stop them shortly, and -with a quiet insistence that put them in an awkward corner, by asking -them to remember that it was her husband whom they were talking about, -and that what they were saying was not fit for his wife to hear. This -line of rejoinder was disconcerting to her interlocutors. To be put -in the wrong, that way, while performing for conscience' sake a very -unpleasant duty, could not but arouse resentment. Presently it began -to be said that Marretje was a poor-spirited thing upon whom friendly -sympathy was thrown away. - -Perhaps it was because Marretje was not feeling very strong just then -that she took matters so quietly. Certainly she had not much energy -to spare, and her days went slowly and heavily. Even on the Sunday -mornings when she had Krelis at home with her--and a good many of his -Sundays were spent away from the island, in order, as he explained, -that he might get off on the Mondays earlier to his fishing--she found -it hard to keep up the laughing talk and the light-hearted way with him -that he seemed to think always were his due. When she flagged a little -he told her not to be sulky--and that cut her sharply, for she thought -that he ought to feel in his own heart how very tenderly she was loving -him in those days, and how earnestly she was longing for a tender and -sustaining love in return. - -It is uncertain how much of all this old Jaap understood, but a part -of it he certainly did understand. In some matters his clouded brain -seemed to work with a curious clearness, and especially had he a -strange faculty for getting close to troubled hearts. Many there were -in Marken, on whom sorrow had fallen, who had been comforted by his -sympathy; and who had found it the more soothing and helpful because -it was given with no more than a gentle look or a few gentle words. -In this same soft way, that asked for no answer and that needed none, -he comforted Marretje in that sad time of her loneliness. Many a day, -when the other fishermen kept the sea, he kept the land--letting his -boat go away to the fishing without him while he made company at home -for his granddaughter, and even helped her in the heavier part of her -house-work with his big clumsy old hands. These awkward efforts to -serve her touched Marretje's heart very keenly--yet also added a pang -to her sorrow because of her longing that Krelis might show his love -for her in the same way. - -But old Jaap had his work to do at sea, and Marretje had to make the -best of many and many a weary and lonely day. Being in so poor a way -she could busy herself but little with her house-work--nor was there -much incentive to scour and polish since Krelis had ceased to commend -her housekeeping; and, indeed, was at home so little that he was -indifferent as to whether she kept her house well or ill. - -And so she spent much of her time as she had spent that first lonely -Sunday afternoon--sitting on the steps above her scouring-shelf, -looking out sadly and dreamily across the marsh-land and the sea. Or -she would walk slowly to the end of the village, where rough steps -went down to a little-used canal, and there would lean against the -rail while she gazed steadfastly across the marshes seaward--trying to -fancy that she could see the fishing fleet, and trying to build in her -breast little hope-castles in which Krelis again was all her own. They -comforted her, these hope-castles: even though always, when the week -ended and the fleet was back again, they came crashing down. Sometimes -Krelis's boat did not return at all. Sometimes it returned without him. -When he did come back in it very little of his idle Sunday was passed -at home. The dark months of winter dragged on wearily. Grey chill -clouds hung over Marken, and grey chill clouds rested on this poor -Marretje's heart. - - -VIII - -But one glad day in the early spring-time the sun shone again--when -Krelis bent down over her bed with a look of real love in his bright -eyes and kissed her; and then--in a half-fearful way that made her -laugh at him with a weak little laugh in which there was great -happiness--kissed also his little son. "As if his father's kiss could -hurt this great strong boy!" she said in a tone of vast superiority: -and held the little atom close to her breast with all the strength -of her feeble arms. She loved with a double love this little Krelis: -greatly for himself and for the strong thrilling joy of motherhood, but -perhaps even more because his coming had brought the other Krelis back -again into the deep chambers of her heart. - -It was the prettiest of sights, presently, when she was up and about -again, to see Marretje standing in front of her own door in the spring -sunshine holding this famous little Krelis in her arms. Then, as now, -young mothers were common enough in Marken; but there was a look of -radiant happiness about Marretje--so the old people will tell you--that -made her different from any young mother whom ever they saw. "Her face -was as shining as the face of an angel!" one of the old women said to -me--when I heard this story told in Marken on a summer day. And this -same old woman told me that through that time of Marretje's great -happiness Geert Thysen walked sullen: ready at any moment, without -cause or reason, to fly out into what the old woman called a yellow -rage. - -But even from the first the matrons of the island, knowing in such -matters, pulled long faces when they talked about the little Krelis -among themselves. Krelis Kess's son, they said, should not have been -so frail a child; and then they would account for this puny baby by -casting back to the time when Marretje was orphaned before she was -weaned, and so was started in life without the toughness and sturdiness -with which the Marken folk as a rule are dowered. These worthy women -had much good advice to give, and gave it freely, as to how the little -Krelis should be dealt with to strengthen him; but Marretje paid scant -attention to their suggestions, being satisfied in her own mind that -this wonderful baby of hers really was--as she had said he was on the -day when his father first kissed him--a great strong boy. - -Krelis, seeing his little son only once a week, was the first to notice -that he was not so strong as a healthy child should be; but when he -said so to Marretje she gave him such a rating that he decided he must -be all wrong. And then, one day, Geert Thysen opened both his and -Marretje's eyes. - -It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when the little Krelis was between -two and three months old, that Marretje was sitting with him on her -lap, suckling him, on the steps above her scouring-shelf; and Krelis -was seated on the step above her, and she really was making a back of -his big knees. What with the joy of her motherhood, and her joy because -her Krelis was her own again, it seemed to Marretje as though in all -the world there was only happiness. She held the little Krelis close -to her, crooning a soft song sweetly over the tiny creature nestled to -her heart; and as she suckled him there tingled through her breast, and -thence through all her being, thrills of that strange subtle ecstasy -which only mothers know. And Krelis, in his own way, shared Marretje's -great happiness: as they sat there lonely, looking out over the -marsh-land seaward, their hearts very near together because of the deep -love that was in both of them for their child. Presently Krelis leaned -a little forward, and with a touch rarely loving and tender encircled -the two in his big arms and drew Marretje still closer against his -knees. And they sat there for a while so--in the bright silence of that -sunny afternoon, fronting that still outlook over level spaces cut -only by the level sky-line far away--their two hearts throbbing gently -and very full. - -A little noise broke the deep silence suddenly, and an instant later -Geert Thysen was almost within arm's-length of them--standing in a boat -which she had poled very quietly along the canal. Krelis unclasped his -arms and drew back quickly; but Marretje bent forward and grasped the -little Krelis still more closely, as though to shield him from harm. -For a moment there was silence. Krelis flushed and looked uneasy, -almost ashamed. There was a dull burning light in Geert's black eyes -and her face was pale and drawn. She was the first to speak. - -"You're quite right to make the most of your sick baby," she said. "You -won't have him long." - -"He's not a sick baby," Marretje answered furiously. "He's as strong -and well as he can be!" - -Geert laughed. "That puny little thing strong and well!" she answered. -"Much it is that you know about babies, Marretje! Don't you see how the -veins show through his skin? Don't you see the marks under his eyes? -Don't you see how little he is, and how he don't grow? In another -month you'll know more. He'll be over yonder in the graveyard by that -time!" And then she flashed a look on Krelis of that sort of hate which -comes when love goes wrong as she added: "And it is no more than you -deserve, Krelis Kess. You might have had a strong woman for a wife, and -then you would have had a strong child!" With that she gave a sudden -thrust with the pole that sent her boat flying away from them, and in -an instant vanished around a turn in the canal. - - -IX - -Within a week the story of what had happened between them was all -over Marken. Geert Thysen herself must have told what she had done. -Certainly Krelis did not tell; and Marretje, having no one else to -turn to, told only her grandfather. But various versions of the story -went about the island, and the comment upon all of them by the Marken -folk was the same: that Krelis had played the part of a coward in -suffering such words to be spoken to his wife with never a word on his -side of reply. Old Jaap, they say, blazed out into one of his mad -rages against his son-in-law. Some say that he then laid the curse upon -him--but that never will be known certainly, for the bout between the -two men took place when they were alone. - -What is known to be true is that Krelis for a while was as a man -stunned; and that when he came to himself again--this was after -the little Krelis was laid away in the graveyard--what love he had -for Marretje was turned to an angry hatred because she had let his -boy die. He said this not only to his neighbours but to Marretje -herself--telling her that their child had died because she had borne it -weakly into the world and had given it no strength with which to live. - -Even a strong woman, being well-nigh heart-broken--as Marretje was -when her baby was lost to her--could not have stood up against a -blow like that. And Marretje, who was not a strong woman, felt the -heart-breaking bitterness of what Krelis said because she knew that it -was true. Very soon she was as feeble and as wan as the little Krelis -had been. Happiness was no more for her, and she longed only for the -forgetfulness of sorrow which would come to her when she should be -as the little Krelis was. And so her slight hold on life loosened -quickly, and presently she and the little Krelis lay in the graveyard -side by side. - -She had a very nice funeral, so one of the old women in Marken told me: -the best bier and the best pall were used, and the minister gave his -best address--the one called "The Mourning Wreath"--at the grave. And, -to end with, there was a breakfast in Jan de Jong's tavern that was of -the best too. It was only just to Krelis, the old woman said, to say -that in the matter of the funeral he behaved very well indeed. - -But one thing which he did at that breakfast showed that it was for his -own pride, and not for the sake of Marretje, that everything was done -in so fine a style. On Marken there was left no near woman relative of -Marretje's, and when the guests came to the table they were a good deal -scandalized by finding that Geert Thysen was to be seated on Krelis's -right hand. Old Jaap's place was on his left, but when the old man saw -who was to take the seat on the right he drew back quickly from the -table and left the room. - -At that, for a full half-minute there was an awkward pause--until -Krelis, in a strong voice, bade the company be seated: and added that -no one had a better right to the seat beside him than Marretje's oldest -friend. As he made this speech a little buzzing whisper went around -among the company, and some one even snickered down at the lower end -of the big room. But there was the breakfast, as good as it could be, -before them. It was much too good a breakfast to lose on a mere point -of etiquette. The whispering died out, and for a moment the guests -looked at one another in silence--and then there was a great scraping -and rattling of chairs as they all sat down. And Krelis and Geert -presided over the funeral feast with a most proper gravity--save that -now and then a glance passed between them that seemed to have more -meaning than was quite decorous in the case of those two: the one being -a maiden, and the other a widower whose wife had not been buried quite -two hours. - -Of course there was a good deal of talk about all this afterward; but -as public opinion had been moulded under favour able conditions--while -the mellowing influence of the good food and abundant drink was still -operative--the talk was not by any means relentlessly harsh. The men -openly smiled at the proof which Krelis had given that his loss was -not irreparable; and the women, with a certain primness, admitted -that--after all the talk there had been--Krelis owed it to Geert to -marry her with as little delay as the proprieties of the case would -allow. - -But even this kindly public opinion was strained sharply by the -discovery that the marriage was to take place only two months after -that funeral feast at which, to all intents and purposes, it had been -announced. That was going, the women said, altogether too fast. But -the men only laughed again--partly at the way in which the women were -standing up for the respect due to their sex, and partly at Krelis's -hurry to take on again the bonds from which he had been so very -recently set free. - -Here and there among the talkers a questioning word would be put in as -to how old Jaap would take this move on the part of his son-in-law. But -even the few people who bothered their heads with this phase of the -matter held that old Jaap never would have a clear enough understanding -of it to resent the dishonour put upon his granddaughter's memory. He -had returned to his home in the Kerkehof and was living there, in his -own queer way, solitary. He was madder than ever, people said; and -it was certain that he had gone back to his old habit of spending in -the graveyard all of the days and many of the nights which he passed -ashore. Often those who passed by night between the Hafenbeurt and the -Kerkehof saw him there--keeping his strange watch among the graves. - - -X - -What the Marken folk still speak of as "the great storm"--the worst -storm of which there is record in the island's history--set in a good -four-and-twenty hours before the December day on which Geert Thysen -and Krelis Kess were married. From the Polar ice-fields a rushing -and a mighty wind thundered southward over the Arctic Ocean and down -across the shallows of the North Sea--sucking away the water from the -Baltic, sending a roaring tide out through the English Channel into the -Atlantic, and piling higher and higher against the Holland coast a wall -of ocean: which broke at the one opening and went pouring onward into -the Zuyder Zee. - -Already on the morning of that wild wedding-day the waves were lapping -high about Marken, and here and there a dull gleam of water showed -where the marshes were overflowed. Just before daybreak the storm -lulled a little, but came on again with a fresh force after the unseen -sunrise, and grew stronger and stronger as the black day wore on. Down -by the little haven the fishermen were gathered in groups anxiously -watching their tossing boats--in dread lest in spite of the doubled and -tripled moorings they should fetch away. Steadily from the black sky -poured downward sheets of rain. - -According to Marken notions, even a landsman should not have ventured -to marry on a day like that; and for a fisherman to marry while such -a storm was raging was a sheer tempting of all the forces which work -together for evil in the tempests of the sea. Every one expected that -the wedding would be put off; and when word was passed around that -it was not to be put off, all of the older and steadier folk refused -with one voice to have anything to do with it. How Krelis succeeded in -inducing the minister to perform the ceremony no one ever knew--for -the minister was one of the many that day on Marken who never saw the -rising of another sun. He was not well liked, that minister, and -stories not to his credit were whispered about him; at least so one of -the old women told me--and more than half hinted that what happened to -him was a judgment upon him for his sins. - -Even when the wedding-party came across from the Kerkehof to the -Hafenbeurt, some little time before mid-day, the marshes on each side -of the raised path were marshes no longer, but open water--that was -whipped southward before the gale in little angry waves. There was no -chance for a show of finery. The men wore their oil-skins over their -Sunday clothes, and the women were wrapped in cloaks and shawls. But it -was a company of young dare-devils, that wedding-party, and the members -of it came on through the storm laughing and shouting--with Geert and -Krelis leading and the gayest madcaps of them all. So far from being -dismayed by the roaring tempest, those two wild natures seemed only -to be stirred and aroused by it to a fierce happiness. They say that -Geert never was so beautiful as she was that day--her face glowing with -a strong rich colour, her eyes sparkling with a wonderful brilliancy, -her full red lips parted and showing the gleam of those strong white -teeth of hers, her lithe body erect and poised confidently against the -furious wind which swept them all forward along the path. - -But as the party came near to the graveyard, lying midway between the -Kerkehof and the Hafenbeurt close beside the path, some of the young -men and women found their merriment oozing out of them. In that day -of black storm the rain-sodden mound was inexpressibly desolate. All -around it, save for the pathway leading up to its gate, the marsh was -flooded. The graveyard almost was an island--would be quite an island -should the water rise another foot. Rushed onward by the gale, shrewd -little waves were beating against its windward side so sharply that the -soft soil visibly was crumbling away--a sight which recalled a dim but -very grisly legend of how once a great storm had hurled such a sea upon -Marken that the dead bodies lying in that very spot had been torn from -their resting-places by the tumultuous waves. But crueler still was -the shivering thought of Marretje, only two months dead, lying in that -sodden ground in her storm-beaten grave. - -And then, as they came closer, the memory of Marretje was brought home -to them still more sharply and in a strangely startling way: as they -saw old Jaap uprise suddenly from where he had been crouched amidst -the graves. Bareheaded, with his long grey hair and long grey beard -soaked with the falling torrent and flying out before the wind, he -stood upright on the crest of the mound close above them--his tall lean -figure towering commandingly against the black rain clouds, defiant as -some old sea-god of the furious storm. - -He seemed to be speaking, but the storm noises were as a wall shutting -him off from them, and not until they had passed on a little and were -to leeward of him could they hear his words. Then they heard him -clearly: speaking slowly, with no trace of anger in his tones but -with a strange solemn fervour--as though he felt himself to be out -beyond the line which separates Time from Eternity, and from that -vantage-point uttered with authority the judgments of an outraged God. -It was to Geert and Krelis that he spoke, pointing at them with one -outstretched hand while the other was raised as though in invocation -toward the wild black sky: "For your sins the anger of God is loosed -upon you in His tempests, and in His name I curse you with a binding -curse. May the raging waters be upon you! May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - -A shudder went through all the wedding company. Even Krelis, half -stopping, suddenly paled. Only Geert, bolder than all of them put -together, held her own. With a quick motion she drew Krelis onward, and -her lip curled in that way of hers as she said to him: "What has old -Jaap to do with you or me, Krelis? He is a mad old fool!" And then she -looked straight at old Jaap, into the very eyes of him, and laughed -scornfully--as they all together went on again through the wind and -rain. - -But when they came to Jan de Jong's tavern, where the wedding-breakfast -was waiting for them, Krelis was the first to call for gin. He said -that he was cold. - - -XI - -It was the strangest wedding-feast, they say, that ever was held on -Marken: with the black tempest beating outside, and all the lamps in -the big room lighted--although the day still was on the morning side -of noon. Young Jan de Jong--the same who is old Jan de Jong now, and -who now keeps the tavern--remembers it all well, and tells how his -mother was for bundling the whole company out of doors. Such doings -would bring bad luck upon the house, she said--and went up-stairs and -locked herself into her room and took to praying when her husband told -her that bad luck never came with good money, and that what Krelis was -willing to pay for Krelis should have. - -But it was the wife who was right that time--as the husband knew a -very little later on. For that night Krelis's boat was one of those -swept away from their moorings and foundered, and Krelis's fine house -was undermined by the water and went out over the Zuyder Zee in -fragments--and so the wedding-feast never was paid for at all. And she -always said that but for her prayers their son would have been lost to -them too. Old Jan was very grave when he told me about this--and from -some of the others I learned that it was because of what happened to -him that night that he gave over the wild life that he had been leading -and became a steady man. - -At first, what with the blackness of the storm and the ringing in -everybody's ears of old Jaap's curse, the company was a dismal one. -But the plentiful hot gin-and-water that Krelis ordered--and led in -drinking--soon brought cheerfulness back again. As for Geert, she -had no need of gin-and-water: her high spirits held from first to -last. Seated on Krelis's right--just as she had been seated only a -little while before on the day of Marretje's funeral--she rattled away -steadily with her gay talk; and every now and then, they say, turned to -Krelis with a look that brought fire into his eyes! - -The walk after breakfast was out of the question. As the afternoon went -on the storm raged more and more tumultuously. There was nothing for it -but to have the room cleared of the chairs and table and go straight on -to the dancing; and that they did--excepting some of the weaker-headed -ones, whose legs were too badly tangled for such gay exercise and who -sat limply on the benches against the wall. - -This time it was not by favour but by right that Geert led the dance -with Krelis--her black eyes shining and her face all of a rich red -glow. And as she took her place at the head of it she said to Jaantje -de Waard: "Who's got him now, this lover of mine you said I'd lost, -Jaantje? Didn't I tell you that it's one thing to lay the net, but -it's another to haul it in?" And away she went, caught close to -Krelis, with a laugh on those red lips of hers and a brighter sparkle -in her black eyes. Jaantje said--it was she who told me, an old woman -now--that somehow this speech of Geert's, and the sudden thought that -it brought of dead Marretje out there in the graveyard, made her -feel so queasy in her stomach that she left the dance and went home -bare-headed through the storm. - -The dancing, with plenty of drink between whiles, went on until -evening; and after night-fall the company grew still merrier--partly -because of the punch, but more because the feast lost much of its -grewsomeness when they all knew that the darkness outside was the -ordinary darkness of black night and not the strange darkness of that -black day. But there was no break in the storm; and now and then, -when a fierce burst of wind fairly set the house to rocking on its -foundations, and sent the rain dashing in sheets against the windows, -there would be anxious talk among those of the dancers who came from -the Kerkehof or the Kesbeurt as to how they were to get home. From time -to time one of the men would open the door a little and take a look -outside--and would draw in again in a hurry and go straight to the -punch-bowl for comforting: for none of them had seen any storm like -that on Marken in all their lives. - -And so, when at last the storm did lull a little--this was about eight -o'clock in the evening, close upon the moonrise--there was a general -disposition to take advantage of the break and get away. And Krelis did -not urge his guests to stay longer, for he was of the same mind with -them--being eager to carry off homeward his Geert with the flashing -eyes. - -But when the men went out of doors together to have a look about them -they were brought up suddenly with a round turn. It is only a step from -Jan de Jong's tavern to the head of the path that dips downward and -leads across the marshes to the other villages. But when they had taken -that step no path was to be seen! Close at their feet, and stretching -away in front of them as far as their eyes could reach through the -night-gloom, was to be seen only tumultuous black water flecked here -and there with patches of foam. Everywhere over Marken, save the -graveyard mound and the knolls on which stood the several villages, -the ocean was in possession: right across the island were sweeping the -storm-lashed waves of the Zuyder Zee! - - -XII - -Though they all were filled with punch-begotten Dutch courage, not -one of them but Krelis--as they stood together looking out over what -should have been marsh-land and what was angry sea--thought even for -a moment of getting homeward before daylight should come again and -the gale should break away. And even Krelis would not have been for -facing such danger at an ordinary time: but just then his soul and body -were in commotion, and over the black stormy water he saw visions of -Geert beckoning him to those red lips of hers, and firing him with the -sparkle of her flashing eyes. - -"It's a bit of sea," he said lightly, "but if one of you will lend a -hand at an oar with me we'll manage it easily. Just here it's baddish. -But a stiff pull of a hundred yards will fetch us into smoother water -under the lee of the graveyard, and beyond that we'll be a little under -the lee of the Kerkehof--and then another spurt of stiff pulling will -fetch us home. Geert will steer, and we can count on her to steer well. -I wouldn't have risked it with Marretje at the tiller--but I've got -another sort of a wife now. Which of you'll come along?" - -There was a dead silence at that, for every one of the young fellows -standing there knew that to take a boat out into that water meant a -fight for life at every inch of the way. - -"Well, since you're all so modest," Krelis went on with a laugh, "I'll -pick out big Jan here to pull with me--and no offence to the rest of -you, for we all know that not another man on Marken pulls so strong an -oar." - -It was old Jan himself who told me this, and he said that when Krelis -chose him that way there was nothing for him to do but to say that he'd -go. But he said that he went pale at the thought of what was before -him, and would have given anything in the world to get out of the job. -All the others spoke up against their trying it; and that, he said, -while it scared him still more--for they all, in spite of the punch -that was in them, spoke very seriously--helped him to go ahead. It -would be something to talk about afterward, he thought, that he had -done what everybody else was afraid to do. And when the others found -that he and Krelis were not to be shaken, they set themselves to -bringing a strong boat across from the other side of the village and -getting it into the water--in a smooth place under the lee of one of -the houses--and lashing a lantern fast into its bows. - -When Krelis and Jan went back to the tavern to fetch Geert there was -another outcry. All the women got around Geert and declared that she -should not go. But Geert was ready always for any bit of daredeviltry, -and the readier when anybody tried to hold her back from it--and then -the way that Krelis looked at her would have taken her with him through -the very gates of hell. She only laughed at the other women, and made -them help her to put on the oil-skin hat and coat that Krelis fetched -for her to keep her dry against the pelting rain. And she laughed still -louder when she was rigged out in that queer dress--and what with her -sparkling eyes and her splendid colour was so bewitching under the big -hat that Krelis snatched a kiss from her and swore that at last he had -a wife just to his mind. - -All the company, muffled in shawls and cloaks, went along with them to -the water-side to see them start; and because there was no commotion -in the quiet nook where the boat was lying, and the darkness hid the -tumbling waves beyond, most of them thought that the only danger ahead -for Geert and the others was a thorough drenching--and were disposed to -make fun of this queer wedding-journey on which they were bound. But -the young men who had launched the boat knew better, and they tried -once more to make Krelis give over his purpose--or, at least, to wait -until the moon should rise a little and thin the clouds. And all the -answer that they got was a laugh from Geert and a joking invitation -from Krelis to come across to the Kesbeurt in the morning and join him -in a glass of grog. - -Krelis was to pull stroke, and so big Jan got into the boat ahead of -him--with his heart fairly down in his boots, he told me--and then -Krelis got in; and last of all Geert took her seat in the stern, and -as she gripped the tiller steadily gave the order to shove off. With -a strong push the young men gave the boat a start that sent it well -out from the shore, and then the oars bit into the water and they were -under way. - -One of the old women whom I talked with was of the wedding-party, and -down there by the shore that night, and she told me that they all -cheered and laughed for a minute as the boat with the lantern in her -bows shot off from the land. The thought of danger, she said, was quite -out of their minds. Right in front of them, less than a quarter of a -mile away, they saw the lights of the houses in the Kesbeurt shining -brightly, and plainly setting the course for Geert to steer; and they -knew that the two strongest men on Marken were at the oars. What they -all were laughing about, she said, was that anybody should be going -from the one village to the other in a boat--and that it should be a -wedding-journey, too! - -But it was only for a moment that their laughter lasted. The instant -that the boat was out of the sheltered smooth water they all knew that -not by one chance in a thousand could she live to fetch across. By the -light of the lantern fixed in her bows they saw plainly the wild tumult -of the sea around her--that caught her and seemed to stand her almost -straight on end as Geert held her strongly against the oncoming waves. -The old woman said that a thrill of horror ran through them all as they -realized what certainly must happen. By a common impulse down they -all went on their knees on the sodden ground, with the rain pelting -them--and she heard some one cry out in the darkness: "Old Jaap's curse -is upon them! May God pity and help them and have mercy on their souls!" - -[Illustration: OLD JAAP] - - -XIII - -Old Jan, who alone knew it, told me the rest of the story--but speaking -slowly and unwillingly, as though it all still were fresh before him -and very horribly real. - -He said that when the boat lifted as that first sea struck her it was -plain enough what was likely to happen to them--for they could not put -about to make the shore again without swamping, and with such a sea -running they were pretty certain to swamp quickly if they went on. But -Krelis was not the sort to give in, and he shouted over his shoulder: -"I've got you into a scrape, Jan; but if we can pull up under the lee -of the graveyard there's a chance for us still." And then he called to -Geert: "Now you can show what stuff you're made of, Geert. Steer for -the graveyard--and for God's sake hold her straight to the sea!" As for -Geert, she was as cool as the best man could have been, and she steered -as well as any man could have steered. The light from the lantern shone -full in her face, and old Jan said that her eyes kept on sparkling and -that her colour never changed. - -With that tremendous wind sweeping down on them, and with the waves -butting against the boat, and throwing her head up every instant, even -Jan and Krelis--and they were the best oarsmen on Marken--could make -only snail's way. But it heartened them to find that they made any way -at all--as they could tell that they were doing by seeing the lights -ashore crawling past them--and so they lashed away with their oars and -found a little hope growing again. Presently Krelis called out: "The -water's getting smoother, Jan. Another fifty yards and we'll be all -right!" - -That was true. They were creeping up steadily under the lee of the -graveyard, and the closer they got to it the more would it break the -force of the waves. If they could reach it they would be safe. - -Just as Krelis spoke, the boat struck against something so sharply that -she quivered all over and lost way. Neither of the men dared to turn -even for an instant; nor could their turning have done any good--all -that they could do was to row on. But Geert could look ahead, and the -lantern in the bows cast a little circle of light upon the furious -sea. As she peered over their shoulders a strange look came into her -face, Jan said, and then she spoke in a voice strained and strange: -"It's a coffin," she said, "and I see another one a little farther on. -The sea is washing away the graveyard--as it did that time long ago!" -And then the coffin went past them, so close that it struck against and -nearly unshipped Krelis's oar. - -Jan said that he trembled all over, and that a cold sweat broke out on -him. He felt himself going sick and giddy, and fell to wondering what -would happen should he be unable to keep on pulling--and how long it -took a man to drown. Then--but because of a ringing in his ears the -voice seemed to come faintly from very far away--he heard Krelis cry -out cheerily: "Pull, Jan! If we're getting among the coffins we'll be -safe in a dozen strokes more!" - -It was at that instant that a great wave lifted the bow of the boat -high out of the water, and as she fell away into the trough of the sea -she struck again--but that time with a crash that had in it the sound -of breaking boards. Jan knew that they must have struck the other -coffin that Geert had seen, and he was sure that the boat was stove in -and in another moment would fill and sink from under them. - -For what seemed a whole age to him there was a grinding and a crunching -beneath the keel; and then, as the boat swung free again, he saw Geert -go chalk-pale suddenly--as she stood peering eagerly forward--and -heard her give a great wild cry. And then her color rushed back into -her cheeks and her eyes glittered as she called out in a strong voice -resolutely: "It's Marretje come to take you from me, Krelis--but she -sha'n't, she sha'n't! You never really were her lover--and you always -were and always shall be mine! And I hate her and I'll get the better -of her dead just as I hated her and got the better of her alive!" And -with that Geert let go her hold upon the tiller and sprang forward and -clasped Krelis in her arms. - -Jan could not tell clearly what happened after that. All that he was -sure of was the sight for an instant, tossing beside the boat in the -circle of light cast by the lantern, of a lidless coffin in which lay -wrapped in her white shroud the dead golden-haired Marretje--and then -the boat broached to and went over, and there was nothing about him -but blackness and the tumultuous waves. As he went down into a hollow -of the sea he felt the ground beneath his feet, and that put courage -into him to make a fight for life. Struggling against the gale, and -against waves which grew smaller as he battled on through them, he went -forward with a heart-breaking slowness; and the strength was clean gone -out of him when he won his way at last up the lee side of the little -mound--and dropped down at full length there, in safe shelter amidst -the graves. - -"And Geert and Krelis?" I asked. - -"With her arms tight about him there was no chance for either of them," -he answered. And then he went on, speaking very solemnly: "The word -that was truth had been spoken against them. They perished in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - - - - -A Duluth Tragedy - - -I - -[Illustration] - -Jutting out from the rocky coast, a sand spit nearly seven miles -long, Minnesota Point is as a strong arm stretched forth to defend -the harbour of Duluth against the storms which breed in the frozen -North and come roaring down Lake Superior. Wisconsin Point, less than -half its length, almost meets it from the other shore. Between the -two is the narrow inlet through which in old times came the Canadian -voyageurs--on their way across Saint Louis Bay and up the windings of -the Saint Louis River to Pond du Lac, twenty miles farther westward. -That was in the fur-trading days of little sailing-vessels and -birch-bark canoes. Now, close to its shoulder, the Point is cut by a -canal through which the great black steamships come and go. - -Five-and-twenty years ago--before the canal was thought of, and when -the Duluth of the present, with its backing of twenty thousand miles -of railway, was a dream just beginning to be realized--Minnesota Point -was believed to have a great future. Close to its shoulder a town site -was staked out, and little wooden houses were built at a great rate. -Corner lots on that sand spit were at a premium. The "boom" was on. The -smash of '73 knocked the bottom out of everything for a while. When -good times came again the town site moved on westward a half-mile or -so and settled itself on the mainland. The little houses on the Point -were out of the running and were taken up by Swedes--who were content, -as Americans were not, to live a few steps away from the strenuous -centre of that inchoate metropolis. That time the "boom" was a genuine -one. The new city had come to stay. In course of time, to meet its -growing trade requirements, the canal was cut which made the Point an -island--and after that the Point was dead for good and all. - -Nowadays it is only in summer that a little life, other than that -of its few inhabitants, shows itself on Minnesota Point--when -camping-parties and picnic-parties go down by three miles of shaky -tramway to Oatka Beach. During all the rest of the year that sandy -barren, with its forlorn decaying houses and its dreary growth of pines -stunted by the harsh lake winds, is forgotten and desolate. Now and -then is heard the cry of a gull flying across it slowly; and always -against its outer side--with a thunderous crash in times of storm, in -times of calm with a sad soft lap-lapping--surge or ripple the deathly -cold waters of Lake Superior: waters so cold that whoever drowns in -them sinks quickly--not to rise again (as the drowned do usually), but -for all time, in chill companionship with the countless dead gathered -there through the ages, to be lost and hidden in those icy depths. - -The ghastly coldness of the water in which it is merged seems to -have numbed the Point and reconciled it to its bleak destiny. It has -accepted its fate: recognizing with a grim indifference that its -once glowing future has vanished irrevocably into what now is the -hopelessness of its nearly forgotten past. - - -II - -[Illustration] - -George Maltham, wandering out on the Point one Sunday morning in the -early spring-time--he had just come up from Chicago to take charge of -the Duluth end of his father's line of lake steamers and was lonely -in that strange place, and was the more disposed to be misanthropic -because he had a headache left over from the previous wet night at -the club--came promptly to the conclusion that he never had struck a -place so god-forsakenly dismal. Aside from his own feelings, there was -even more than usual to justify this opinion. The day was grey and -chill. A strong northeast wind was blowing that covered the lake with -white-caps and that sent a heavy surf rolling shoreward. A little ice, -left from the spring break-up, still was floating in the harbour. Under -these conditions the Point was at its cheerless worst. - -Maltham had crossed the canal by the row-boat ferry. Having mounted -the sodden steps and looked about him for a moment--in which time his -conclusion was reached as to the Point's god-forsaken dismalness--he -was for abandoning his intended explorations and going straight-away -back to the mainland. But when he turned to descend the steps the boat -had received some waiting passengers--three church-bound Swedish women -in their Sunday clothes--and had just pushed off. That little turn of -chance decided him. After all, he said to himself, it did not make -much difference. What he wanted was a walk to rid him of his headache; -and the Point offered him, as the rocky hill-sides of the mainland -conspicuously did not, a good long stretch of level land. - -Before him extended an absurdly wide street--laid out in magnificent -expectation of the traffic that never came to it--flanked in -far-reaching perspective by the little houses which sprang up in such -a hurry when the "boom" was on. In its centre was the tramway, its -road-bed laid with wooden planks. The dingy open tram-car, in which -the church-bound Swedish women had come up to the ferry, started away -creakingly while he stood watching it. That was the only sight or sound -of life. For some little time, in the stillness, he could hear the -driver addressing Swedish remarks of an encouraging or abusive nature -to his mule. - -Taking the planked tramway in preference to the rotten wooden sidewalks -full of pitfalls, Maltham walked on briskly for a mile or so--his -headache leaving him in the keen air--until the last of the little -houses was passed. There the vast street suddenly dribbled off into -a straggling sandy road, which wound through thickets of bushy white -birch and a sparse growth of stunted pines. The tramway, along which -he continued, went on through the brush in a straight line. The -Point had narrowed to a couple of hundred yards. Through rifts in -the tangle about him he could see heaps of storm-piled drift-wood -scattered along the lake-side beach--on which the surf was pounding -heavily. On the harbour side the beach was broken by inthrusts of -sedgy swamp. Presently he came to a sandy open space in which, beside -a weather-worn little wooden church, was a neglected graveyard that -seemed to give the last touch of dreariness to that dismal solitude. - -The graveyard was a waste of sand, save where bushy patches of birch -had sprung up in it from wind-borne seeds. Swept by many storms, the -sandy mounds were disappearing. Still marking the graves were a few -shabby wooden crosses and a dozen or so of slanting or fallen wooden -slabs. Once these short-lived monuments had been painted white and had -borne legends in black lettering. But only a Swedish word or a Swedish -name remained here and there legible--for the sun and the wind and the -rain had been doing their erasing work steadily for years. One slab -alone stood nearly upright and retained a few partly decipherable lines -in English. But even on that Maltham could make out only the scattered -words: "Sacred.... Ulrica.... Royal House of Sweden ... ever beloved -... of Major Calhoun Ashley," and a date that seemed to be 1879. - -His headache had gone, but it had left him heavy and dejected. That -fragmentary epitaph increased his sombreness. Even had he been in a -cheerful mood he could not have failed to perceive the pathetic irony -of it all. There was more than the ordinary cruelty of death and -forgetfulness, he thought, about that grave so desolate of one who -had been connected--it did not matter how--with a "royal house," and -who was described in those almost illegible lines as "ever beloved." -That was human nature down to the hard pan, he thought; and with a -half-smile and a half-sigh over the fate of that poor dead Ulrica he -turned away from the graveyard and walked on. Half-whimsically he -wondered if he had reached the climax of the melancholy which brooded -over that dreary sand spit. As he stated the case to himself, short of -finding a man lying murdered among the birch-bushes it was not likely -that he would strike anything able to raise that graveyard's hand! - -The murdered man did not materialize, and the next out-of-the-way -sight that he came across--when he had walked on past the dingy and -forgotten-looking little church--was a big ramshackling wooden house -of such pretentious absurdity that his first glimpse of it fairly made -him laugh. Its square centre was a wooden tower of three stories, -battlemented, flanked by two battlemented wings. A veranda ran along -the lower floor, and above the veranda was a gallery. Some of the -windows were boarded over; others had scraps of carpet stuck into their -glassless gaps--and all had Venetian shutters (singularly at odds with -the climate of that region) hanging dubiously and with many broken -slats. The paint had weathered away, and bricks had fallen from the -chimney-tops--a loss which gave to the queer structure, in conjunction -with lapses in its wooden battlements, a sadly broken-crested air. -As a whole, it suggested a badly done caricature of an old-fashioned -Southern homestead--of which the essence of the caricature was finding -it in that bleak Northern land. - - -III - -[Illustration] - -Maltham had come to a full stop in front of this absurd dwelling, which -was set a little back from the road in a dishevelled enclosure, and -as he stood examining in an amused way its various eccentricities he -became aware that from one of the lower windows a man was watching him. - -This was disconcerting, and he turned to walk on. But before he had -gone a dozen steps the front door opened and the man came outside. -He was dressed in shabby grey clothes with a certain suggestion of a -military cut about them; but in spite of his shabbiness he had the look -of a gentleman. He was sixty, or thereabouts, and seemed to have been -well set up when he was younger--before the slouch had settled on his -shoulders and before he had taken on a good many unnecessary inches -about his waist. From where he stood on the veranda he hailed Maltham -cordially: - -"Won't yo' come in, suh? I have obsehved youah smiles at my old house -heah-- No, no, yo' owe me no apology, suh," he went on quickly, as -Maltham attempted a confused disclaimer. "Yo' ah quite justified in -laughing, suh, at my foolish fancy--that went wrong mainly because the -Yankee ca'pentah whom I employed to realize it was a hopelessly damned -fool. But it was a creditable sentiment, suh, which led me to desiah -to reproduce heah in godfo'saken Minnesotah my ancestral home in the -grand old State of South Cahrolina--the house that my grandfatheh built -theah and named Eutaw Castle, as I have named its pore successeh, -because of the honorable paht he bo' in the battle of Eutaw Springs. -The result, I admit, is a thing to laugh at, suh--but not the ideah. -No, suh, not the ideah! But come in, suh, come in! The exterioh of -Eutaw Castle may be a failuah; but within it, suh, yo' will find in -this cold No'th'en region the genuine wahm hospitality of a true -Southe'n home!" - -Maltham perceived that the only apology which he could offer for -laughing at this absurd house--the absurdity of which became rather -pathetic, he thought, in view of its genesis--was to accept its owner's -invitation to enter it. Acting on this conclusion, he turned into the -enclosure--the gate, hanging loosely on a single hinge, was standing -open--and mounted the veranda steps. - -As he reached the top step his host advanced and shook hands with -him warmly. "Yo'ah vehy welcome, suh," he said; and added, after -putting his hand to a pocket in search of something that evidently -was not there: "Ah, I find that I have not my cahd-case about me. -Yo' must pehmit me to introduce myself: Majoh Calhoun Ashley, of the -Confedehrate sehvice, suh--and vehy much at youahs." - -Maltham started a little as he heard this name, and the small shock so -far threw him off his balance that as he handed his card to the Major -he said: "Then it was your name that I saw just now in--" And stopped -short, inwardly cursing himself for his awkwardness. - -"That yo' saw in the little graveyahd, on the tomb of my eveh-beloved -wife, suh," the Major replied--with a quaver in his voice which -compelled Maltham mentally to reverse his recent generalizations. The -Major was silent for a moment, and then continued: "Heh grave is not -yet mahked fitly, suh, as no doubt yo' obsehved. Cihcumstances oveh -which I have had no control have prevented me from erecting as yet a -suitable monument oveh heh sacred remains. She was my queen, suh"--his -voice broke again--"and of a line of queens: a descendant, suh, from a -collateral branch of the ancient royal house of Sweden. I am hoping, -I am hoping, suh, that I shall be able soon to erect oveh heh last -resting-place a monument wo'thy of heh noble lineage and of hehself. I -am hoping, suh, to do that vehy soon." - -The Major again was silent for a moment; and then, pulling himself -together, he looked at Maltham's card--holding it a long way off -from his eyes. "Youah name is familiar to me, suh," he said, -"though fo' the moment I do not place it, and I am most happy to -make youah acquaintance. But come in, suh, come in. I am fo'getting -myself--keeping you standing this way outside of my own doah." - -He took Maltham cordially by the arm and led him through the doorway -into a wide bare hall; and thence into a big room on the right, that -was very scantily furnished but that was made cheerful by a rousing -drift-wood fire. Over the high mantel-piece was hung an officer's sword -with its belt. On the buckle of the belt were the letters C. S. A. -Excepting this rather pregnant bit of decoration, the whitewashed walls -were bare. - -The Major bustled with hospitality--pulling the bigger and more -comfortable of two arm-chairs to the fire and seating Maltham in it, -and then bringing out glasses and a bottle from a queer structure of -unpainted white pine that stood at one end of the room and had the look -of a sideboard gone wrong. - -"At the moment, suh," he said apologetically, "my cellah is badly -fuhnished and I am unable to offeh yo' wine. But if yo' have an -appreciative taste fo' Bourbon," he went on with more assurance, "I am -satisfied that yo' will find the ahticle in this bottle as sound as any -that the noble State of Kentucky eveh has produced. Will yo' oblige me, -suh, by saying when!" - -Not knowing about the previous wet night, and its still lingering -consequences, the promptness with which Maltham said "when" seemed to -disconcert the Major a little--but not sufficiently to deter him from -filling his own glass with a handsome liberality. Holding it at a level -with his lips, he turned toward his guest with the obvious intention of -drinking a toast. - -"May I have a little water, please?" put in Maltham. - -"I beg youah pahdon, suh. I humbly beg youah pahdon," the Major -answered. "I am not accustomed to dilute my own liquoh, and I most -thoughtlessly assumed that yo' would not desiah to dilute youahs. I -trust that yo' will excuse my seeming rudeness, suh. Yo' shall have at -once the bevehrage which yo' desiah." - -While still apologizing, the Major placed his glass on the table and -went to the door. Opening it he called: "Ulrica, my child, bring a -pitcheh of fresh wateh right away." - -Again Maltham gave a little start--as he had done when the Major had -introduced himself. In a vague sub-conscious way he felt that there -was something uncanny in thus finding living owners of names which he -had seen, within that very hour, scarcely legible above an uncared-for -grave. But the Major, talking on volubly, did not give him much -opportunity for these psychological reflections; and presently there -was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside, and then the door -opened and the owner of the grave-name appeared. - - -IV - -[Illustration] - -Because of the odd channel in which his thoughts were running, Maltham -had the still odder fancy for an instant that the young girl who -entered the room was the dead Ulrica of whom the Major had spoken--"a -queen, and of a line of queens." And even when this thought had -passed--so quickly that it was gone before he had risen to his feet to -greet her--the impression of her queenliness remained. For this living -woman bearing a dead name might have been Aslauga herself: so tall and -stately was she, and so fair with that cold beauty of the North of -which the soul is fire. Instinctively he felt the fire, and knew that -it still slumbered--and knew, too, that in the fulness of time, being -awakened, it would glow with a consuming splendour in her dark eyes. - -All this went in a flash through his mind before the Major said: -"Pehmit me, Mr. Maltham, to present yo' to my daughteh, Miss Ulrica -Ashley." And added: "Mr. Maltham was passing, Ulrica, and did me the -honeh to accept my invitation to come in." - -She put down the pitcher of water and gave Maltham her hand. "It -was very kind of you, sir," she said gravely. "We do not have many -visitors, and my father gets lonely with only me. It was very kind of -you, sir, indeed." She spoke with a certain precision, and with a very -slight accent--so slight that Maltham did not immediately notice it. -What he did notice, with her first words, was the curiously thrilling -quality of her low-pitched and very rich voice. - -"And don't you get lonely too?" he asked. - -"Why no," she answered with a little air of surprise. And speaking -slowly, as though she were working the matter out in her mind, she -added: "With me it is different, you see. I was born here on the Point -and I love it. And then I have the house to look after. And I have my -boat. And I can talk with the neighbours--though I do not often care -to. Father cannot talk with them, because he does not know Swedish as -I do. When he wants company he has to go all the way up to town. You -see, it is not the same with us at all." And then, as though she had -explained the matter sufficiently, she turned to the Major and asked: -"Do you want anything more, father?" - -"Nothing mo', my child--except that an extra place is to be set at -table. Mr. Maltham will dine with us, of co'se." - -At this Maltham protested a little; but presently yielded to Ulrica's, -"You will be doing a real kindness to father if you will stay, Mr. -Maltham," backed by the Major's peremptory: "Yo' ah my prisoneh, suh, -and in Eutaw Castle we don't permit ouah prisonehs to stahve!" The -matter being thus settled, Ulrica made a little formal bow and left the -room. - -"The wateh is at youah sehvice, suh," said the Major as the door -closed behind her. "I beg that yo' will dilute youah liquoh to youah -liking. Heah's to youah very good health, suh--and to ouah betteh -acquaintance." He drank his whiskey appreciatively, and as he set down -his empty glass continued: "May I ask, suh, if yo' ah living in Duluth, -oh mehly passing through? I ventuah to ask because a resident of this -town sca'cely would be likely to come down on the Point at this time of -yeah." - -"I began to be a resident only day before yesterday," Maltham answered. -"I've come to take charge here of our steamers--the Sunrise Line." - -"The Sunrise Line!" repeated the Major in a very eager tone. "The -biggest transpo'tation line on the lakes. The line of which that great -capitalist Mr. John L. Maltham is president. And to think, suh, that I -did not recognize youah name!" - -"John L. Maltham is my father," the young man said. - -"Why, of co'se, of co'se! I might have had the sense to know that as -soon as I looked at youah cahd. This is a most fo'tunate meeting, -Mr. Maltham--most fo'tunate for both of us. I shall not on this -occasion, when yo' ah my guest, enteh into a discussion of business -mattehs. But at an eahly day I shall have the honeh to lay befo' yo' -convincing reasons why youah tehminal docks should be established heah -on the Point--which a beneficent Providence cleahly intended to be -the shipping centeh of this metropolis--and prefehrably, suh, as the -meahest glance at a chaht of the bay will demonstrate, heah on my land. -Yo' will have the first choice of the wha'ves which I have projected; -and I may even say, suh, that any altehrations which will affo'd mo' -convenient accommodations to youah vessels still ah possible. Yes, suh, -the matteh has not gone so fah but that any reasonable changes which -yo' may desiah may yet be made." - -Remembering the sedgy swamps beside which he had passed that morning, -Maltham was satisfied that the Major's concluding statement was well -within the bounds of truth. But he was not prepared to meet off-hand so -radical a proposition, and while he was fumbling in his mind for some -sort of non-committal answer the Major went on again. - -"It is not fo' myself, suh," he said, "that I desiah to realize this -magnificent undehtaking. Living heah costs little, and what I get -from renting my land to camping pahties and fo' picnics gives me all -I need. And I'm an old man, anyway, and whetheh I die rich oh pore -don't matteh. It's fo' my daughteh's sake that I seek wealth, suh, not -fo' my own. That deah child of mine is heh sainted motheh oveh again, -Mr. Maltham--except that heh motheh's eyes weh blue. That is the only -diffehrence. And beside heh looks she has identically the same sweet -natuah, suh--the same exquisite goodness and beauty of haht. When my -great loss came to me," the Major's voice broke badly, "it was my love -fo' that deah child kept me alive. It breaks my haht, suh, to think of -dying and leaving heh heah alone and pore." - -Maltham had got to his bearings by this time and was able to frame a -reasonably diplomatic reply. "Well, perhaps we'd better not go into -the matter to-day," he said. "You see, our line has traffic agreements -with the N. P. and the Northwestern that must hold for the present, -anyway. And then I've only just taken charge, you know, and I must look -around a little before I do anything at all. But I might write to my -father to come up here when he can, and then he and you could have a -talk." - -The Major's look of eager cheerfulness faded at the beginning of -this cooling rejoinder, but he brightened again at its end. "A talk -with youah fatheh, suh," he answered, "would suit me down to the -ground-flo'. An oppo'tunity to discuss this great matteh info'mally -with a great capitalist has been what I've most desiahed fo' yeahs. -But I beg youah pahdon, suh. I am fo'getting the sacred duties of -hospitality. Pehmit me to fill youah glass." - -It seemed to pain him that his guest refused this invitation; but, -finding him obdurate, he kept the sacred duties of hospitality in -working order by exercising them freely upon himself. "Heah's to -the glorious futuah of Minnesotah Point, suh!" he said as he raised -his glass--and it was obvious that he would be off again upon the -exploitation of his hopelessly impossible project as soon as he put it -down. Greatly to Maltham's relief, the door opened at that juncture and -Ulrica entered to call them to dinner; and he was still more relieved, -when they were seated at table, by finding that his host dropped -business matters and left the glorious future of Minnesota Point -hanging in the air. - -At his own table, indeed, the Major was quite at his best. He told good -stories of his army life, and of his adventurous wanderings which ended -when he struck Duluth just at the beginning of its first "boom"; and -very entertaining was what he had to tell of that metropolis in its -embryotic days. - -But good though the Major's stories were, Maltham found still more -interesting the Major's daughter--who spoke but little, and who seemed -to be quite lost at times in her own thoughts. As he sat slightly -turned toward her father he could feel her eyes fixed upon him; and -more than once, facing about suddenly, he met her look full. When this -happened she was not disconcerted, nor did she immediately look away -from him--and he found himself thrilled curiously by her deeply intent -gaze. Yet the very frankness of it gave it a quality that was not -precisely flattering. He had the feeling that she was studying him in -much the same spirit that she would have studied some strange creature -that she might have come across in her walks in the woods. When he -tried to bring her into the talk he did not succeed; but this was -mainly because the Major invariably cut in before he could get beyond -a direct question and a direct reply. Only once--when her father made -some reference to her love for sailing--was her reserve, which was not -shyness, a little broken; and the few words that she spoke before the -Major broke in again were spoken so very eagerly that Maltham resolved -to bring her back to that subject when he could get the chance. Knowing -something of the ways of women, he knew that to set her to talking -about anything in which she was profoundly interested would lower her -guard at all points--and so would enable him to come in touch with her -thoughts. He wanted to get at her thoughts. He was sure that they were -not of a commonplace kind. - - -V - -[Illustration] - - -When the dinner was ended he made a stroke for the chance that he -wanted. "Will you show me your boat?" he asked. "I'm a bit of a sailor -myself, and I should like to see her very much indeed." - -"Oh, would you? I am so glad!" she answered eagerly. And then added -more quietly: "It is a real pleasure to show you the _Nixie_. I am very -fond of her and very proud of her. Father gave her to me three years -ago--after he sold a lot over in West Superior. And it was very good of -him, because he does not like sailing at all. Will you come now? It is -only a step down to the wharf." - -The Major declared that he must have his after-dinner pipe in comfort, -and they went off without him--going out by a side door and across a -half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter disorder, to the wharf -on the bay-side where the _Nixie_ was moored. She was a half-decked -twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and with the look of being -able to hold her own pretty well in a blow. - -"Is she not beautiful?" Ulrica asked with great pride. And presently, -when Maltham came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly: -"Would you--would you care to come out in her for a little while?" - -"Indeed I would!" he answered instantly and earnestly. - -"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Ulrica exclaimed. "I do want you to see how -wonderfully she sails!" - -The boat was moored with her stern close to the wharf and with her bow -made fast to an outstanding stake. When they had boarded her Ulrica -cast off the stern mooring, ran the boat out to the stake and made fast -with a short hitch, and then--as the boat swung around slowly in the -slack air under the land--set about hoisting the sail. She would not -permit Maltham to help her. He sat aft, steadying the tiller, watching -with delight her vigorous dexterity and her display of absolute -strength. When she had sheeted home and made fast she cast off the -bow mooring, and then stepped aft quickly and took the tiller from his -hand. For a few moments they drifted slowly. Then the breeze, coming -over the tree-tops, caught them and she leaned forward and dropped the -centreboard and brought the boat on the wind. It was a leading wind, -directly off the lake, that enabled them to make a single leg of it -across the bay. As the boat heeled over Maltham shifted his seat to the -weather side. This brought him a little in front of Ulrica, and below -her as she stood to steer. From under the bows came a soft hissing and -bubbling as the boat slid rapidly along. - -"Is she not wonderful?" Ulrica asked with a glowing enthusiasm. "Just -see how we are dropping that big sloop over yonder--and the Nixie not -half her size! But the _Nixie_ is well bred, you see, and the sloop is -not. She is as heavy all over as the _Nixie_ is clean and fine. Father -says that breeding is everything--in boats and in horses and in men. -He says that a gentleman is the finest thing that God ever created. It -was because the Southerners all were gentlemen that they whipped the -Yankees, you know." - -"But they didn't--the Yankees whipped them." - -"Only in the last few battles, father says--and those did not count, so -far as the principle is concerned," Ulrica answered conclusively. - -Maltham did not see his way to replying to this presentation of the -matter and was silent. Presently she went on, with a slight air of -apology: "I hope you did not mind my looking at you so much while we -were at dinner, Mr. Maltham. You see, except father, you are the only -gentleman I ever have had a chance to look at close, that way, in my -whole life. Father will not have much to do with the people living up -in town. Most of them are Yankees, and he does not like them. None of -them ever come to see us. The only people I ever talk with are our -neighbours; and they are just common people, you know--though some of -them are as good as they can be. And as father always is talking about -what a gentleman ought to be or ought not to be it is very interesting -really to meet one. That was the reason why I stared at you so. I hope -you did not mind." - -"I'm glad I interested you, even if it was only as a specimen of a -class," Maltham answered. "I hope that you found me a good specimen." -Her simplicity was so refreshing that he sought by a leading question -to induce a farther exhibition of it. "What is your ideal of a -gentleman?" he asked. - -"Oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. -"A gentleman must be absolutely brave, and must kill any man who -insults him--or, at least, must hurt him badly. He must be absolutely -honest--though he is not bound, of course, to tell all that he knows -when he is selling a horse. He must be absolutely true to the woman he -loves, and must never deceive her in any way. He must not refuse to -drink with another gentleman unless he is willing to fight him. He must -protect women and children. He must always be courteous--though he may -be excused for a little rudeness when he has been drinking and so is -not quite himself. He must be hospitable--ready to share his last crust -with anybody, and his last drink with anybody of his class. And he must -know how to ride and shoot and play the principal games of cards. Those -are the main things. You are all that, are you not?" - -She looked straight at him as she asked this question, speaking still -in the same entirely matter-of-fact tone. But Maltham did not look -straight back at her as he answered it. The creed that she set forth -had queer articles in it, but its essentials were searching--so -searching that his look was directed rather indefinitely toward the -horizon as he replied, a little weakly perhaps: "Why, of course." - -She seemed to be content with this not wholly conclusive answer; -but as he was not content with it himself, and rather dreaded a -cross-examination, he somewhat suddenly shifted the talk to a subject -that he was sure would engross her thoughts. "How splendidly the -_Nixie_ goes!" he said. "She is a racer, and no mistake!" - -"Indeed she is!" Ulrica exclaimed, with the fervour upon which he had -counted. "She is the very fastest boat on the bay. And then she is so -weatherly! Why, I can sail her into the very eye of the wind!" - -"Yes, she has the look of being weatherly. But she wouldn't be if you -didn't manage her so well. Who taught you how to sail?" - -"It was old Gustav Bergmann--one of the fishermen here on the Point, -you know. And he said," she went on with a little touch of pride, "that -he never could have made such a good sailor of me if I had not had it -in my blood--because I am a Swede." - -"But you are an American." - -Ulrica did not answer him immediately, and when she did speak it was -with the same curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed when -she was explaining the difference between her father's life and her own -life in the solitude of Minnesota Point. - -"I do not think I am," she said. "I do not know many American women, -but I am not like any American woman I know. You see, I am very like -my mother. Father says so, and I feel it--I cannot tell you just how I -feel it, but I do. For one thing, I am more than half a savage, father -says--like some of the wild Indians he has known. He is in fun, of -course, when he says that; but he really is right, I am sure. Did you -ever want to kill anybody, Mr. Maltham?" - -"No," said Maltham with a laugh, "I never did. Did you?" - -Ulrica remained grave. "Yes," she answered, "and I almost did it, too. -You see, it was this way: A man, one of the campers down on the Point, -was rude to me. He was drunk, I think. But I did not think about his -being drunk, and that I ought to make allowances for him. Somehow, I -had not time to think. Everything got red suddenly--and before I knew -what I was doing I had out my knife. The man gave a scream--not a cry, -but a real scream: he must have been a great coward, I suppose--and -jumped away just as I struck at him. I cut his arm a little, I think. -But I am not sure, for he ran away as hard as he could run. I was very -sorry that I had not killed him. I am very sorry still whenever I think -about it. Now that was not like an American woman. At least, I do not -know any American woman who would try to kill a man that way because -she really could not help trying to. Do you?" - -"No," Maltham answered, drawing a quick breath that came close to being -a gasp. Ulrica's entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, had -made her story rather coldly thrilling--and it was quite thrilling -enough without those adjuncts, he thought. - -She seemed pleased that his answer confirmed her own opinion. "Yes, I -think I am right about myself," she went on. "I am sure that it is my -Swedish blood that makes me like that. We do not often get angry, you -know, we Swedes: but when we do, our anger is rage. We do not think -nor reason. Suddenly we see red, as I did that day, and we want to -strike to kill. It is queer, is it not, that we should be made like -that?" - -Maltham certainly was discovering the strange thoughts that he had -set himself to search for. They rather set his nerves on edge. As she -uttered her calm reflection upon the oddity of the Swedish temperament -he shivered a little. - -"I am afraid that you are cold," she said anxiously. "Shall we go -about? Father will not like it if I make you uncomfortable." - -"I am not at all cold," he answered. "And the sailing is delightful. -Don't let us go about yet." - -"Well, if you are quite sure that you are not cold, we will not. I do -want to take you down to the inlet and show you what a glorious sea is -running on the lake to-day. It is only half a mile more." - -They sailed on for a little while in silence. The swift send of the -boat through the water seemed so to fill Ulrica with delight that she -did not care to speak--nor did Maltham, who was busied with his own -confused thoughts. Suddenly some new and startling concepts of manhood -and of womanhood had been thrust into his mind. They puzzled him, -and he was not at all sure that he liked them. But he was absolutely -sure that this curious and very beautiful woman who had uttered them -interested him more profoundly than any woman whom ever he had known. -That fact also bothered him, and he tried to blink it. That he could -not blink it was one reason why his thoughts were confused. Presently, -being accustomed to slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave -up trying. "After all," was his conclusion, so far as he came to a -conclusion, "it is only for a day." - - -VI - -[Illustration] - -As they neared the inlet the water roughened a little and the wind grew -stronger. Ulrica eased off the sheet, and steadied it with a turn -around the pin. In a few minutes more they had opened the inlet fairly, -and beyond it could see the lake--stretching away indefinitely until -its cold grey surface was lost against the cold grey sky. A very heavy -sea was running. In every direction was the gleam of white-caps. On the -beaches to the left and right of them a high surf was booming in. They -ran on, close-hauled, until they were nearly through the inlet and were -come into a bubble of water that set the boat to dancing like a cork. -Now and then, as she fell off, a wave would take her with a thump and -cover them with a cloud of spray. - -The helm was pulling hard, but Ulrica managed it as easily and as -knowingly as she had managed the setting of the sail--standing with -her feet well apart, firmly braced, her tall figure yielding to the -boat's motion with a superb grace. Suddenly a gust of wind carried -away her hat, and in another moment the great mass of her golden hair -was blowing out behind her in the strong eddy from the sail. Her face -was radiant. Every drop of her Norse blood was tingling in her veins. -Aslauga herself never was more gloriously beautiful--and never more -joyously drove her boat onward through a stormy sea. - -But Maltham did not perceive her beauty, nor did he in the least share -her glowing enthusiasm. He had passed beyond mere nervousness and was -beginning to be frightened. It seemed to him that she let the boat fall -off purposely--as though to give the waves a chance to buffet it, and -then to show her command over them by bringing it up again sharply into -the wind; and he was certain that if they carried on for another five -minutes, and so got outside the inlet, they would be swamped. - -"Don't you think that we had better go about?" he asked. It did not -please him to find that he had not complete control over his voice. - -"But it is so glorious," she answered. "Shall we not keep on just a -little way?" - -"No!" he said sharply. "We must go about at once. We are in great -danger as it is." He felt that he had turned pale. In spite of his -strong effort to steady it, his voice shook badly and also was a little -shrill. - -"Oh, of course," she replied, with a queer glance at him that he did -not at all fancy; "if you feel that way about it we will." The radiance -died away from her face as she spoke, and with it went her intoxication -of delight. And then her expression grew anxious as she looked about -her, and in an anxious tone she added: "Indeed you are quite right, Mr. -Maltham. We really are in a bad place here. I ought never to have come -out so far. We must try to get back at once. But it will not be easy. I -am not sure that the _Nixie_ will stand it. I am sure, though, that she -will do her best--and I will try to wear her as soon as I see a chance." - -She luffed a little, that she might get more sea-room to leeward, and -scanned the oncoming waves closely but without a sign of fear. "Now I -think I can do it," she said presently, and put up the helm. - -It was a ticklish move, for they were at the very mouth of the inlet, -but the _Nixie_ paid off steadily until she came full into the trough -of the sea. There she wallowed for a bad ten seconds. A wave broke -over the coaming of the cockpit and set it all aflow. Maltham went -still whiter, and began to take off his coat. It was with the greatest -difficulty that he kept back a scream. Then the boat swung around to -her course--Ulrica's hold upon the tiller was a very steady one--and in -another minute they were sliding back safely before the wind. In five -minutes more they were in the smooth water of the bay. - -Ulrica was the first to speak, and she spoke in most contrite tones. -"It was very, very wrong in me to do that, Mr. Maltham," she said. "And -it was wicked of me, too--for I have given my solemn promise to father -that I never will go out on the lake when it is rough at all. Please, -please forgive me for taking you into such danger in such a foolish -way. It was touch and go, you know, that we pulled through. Please say -that you forgive me. It will make me a little less wretched if you do." - -The danger was all over, and Maltham had got back both his color and -his courage again. "Why, it was nothing!" he said. "Or, rather, it was -a good deal--for it gave me a chance to see what a magnificent sailor -you are. And--and it was splendidly exciting out there, wasn't it?" - -"Wasn't it!" she echoed rapturously. "And oh," she went on, "I _am_ so -glad that you take it that way! It is a real load off my mind! Will you -please take the tiller for a minute while I put up my hair?" - -As she arranged the shining masses of her golden hair--her full -round arms uplifted, the wind pressing her draperies close about -her--Maltham watched her with a burning intentness. The glowing -reaction following escape from mortal peril was upon him and the tide -of his barely saved life was running full. In Ulrica's stronger nature -the same tide may have been running still more impetuously. For an -instant their eyes met. She flushed and looked away. - -He did not speak, and the silence seemed to grow irksome to her. She -broke it, but with a perceptible effort, as she took the tiller again. -"Do you know," she said, "I did think for a minute that you were -scared." She laughed a little, and then went on more easily: "And if -you really had been scared I should have known, of course, that you -were not a gentleman! Was it not absurd?" - -Her words roused him, and at the same time chilled him. "Yes, it was -very absurd," he answered not quite easily. And then, with presence of -mind added: "But I _was_ scared, and badly scared--for you. I did not -see how I possibly could get you ashore if the boat filled." - -"You could not have done it--we should have been drowned," Ulrica -replied with quiet conviction. "But because you are a gentleman it was -natural, I suppose, for you not to think about yourself and to worry -that way about me. You could not help it, of course--but I like it, all -the same." - -Maltham reddened slightly. Instead of answering her he asked: "Would -you mind running up along the Point and landing me on the other side of -the canal? I want to hurry home and get into dry things--and that will -save me a lot of time, you know." - -"Oh," she cried in a tone of deep concern, "are you not coming back -with me? I shall have a dreadful time with father, and I am counting on -you to help me through." - -Maltham had foreseen that trouble with the Major was impending, and -wanted to keep out of it. He disliked scenes. "Of course, if you want -me to, I'll go back with you," he answered. And added, drawing himself -together and shivering a little, "I don't believe that I shall catch -much cold." - -"What a selfish creature I am!" Ulrica exclaimed impetuously. "Of -course you must hurry home as fast as you can. What I shall get from -father will not be the half of what I deserve. And to think of my -thinking about your getting me off from a scolding at the cost of your -being ill! Please do not hate me for it--though you ought to, I am -sure!" - -Having carried his point, Maltham could afford to be amiable again. He -looked straight into her eyes, and for an instant touched her hand, as -he said: "No, I shall not--hate you!" His voice was low. He drawled -slightly. The break gave to his phrase a telling emphasis. - -It was not quite fair. He knew thoroughly the game that he was playing; -while Ulrica, save so far as her instinct might guide her, did not know -it at all. She did not answer him--and he was silent because silence -just then was the right move. And so they went on without words until -they were come to the landing-place beside the canal. Even then--for -he did not wish to weaken a strong impression--he made the parting a -short one: urging that she also must hurry home and get on dry clothes. -It did not strike her, either then or later, that he would have shown -a more practical solicitude in the premises had he not made her come -three miles out of her way. - -Indeed, as she sailed those three miles back again, her mind was in -no condition to work clearly. In a confused way, that yet was very -delightful, she went over to herself the events of that wonderful -day--in which, as she vaguely realized, her girlhood had ended and her -womanhood had begun. But she dwelt most upon the look that he had given -her when he told her, with the break in his phrase, that he would not -hate her; and upon the touch of his hand at parting, and his final -speech, also with a break in it: "I shall see you to-morrow--if you -care to have me come." - -At the club that evening Maltham wrote a very entertaining letter -to Miss Eleanor Strangford, in Chicago: telling her about the queer -old Major and his half-wild daughter, and how the daughter had taken -him out sailing and had brought him back drenched through. He was a -believer in frankness, and this letter--while not exhaustive--was -of a sort to put him right on the record in case an account of his -adventures should reach his correspondent by some other way. He would -have written it promptly in any circumstances. It was the more apposite -because he had promised to write every Sunday to Miss Strangford--to -whom he was engaged. - - -VII - -[Illustration] - -Maltham left his office early the next afternoon and went down the -Point again. He had no headache, the wind had shifted to the southward, -and all about him was a flood of spring sunshine. Yet even under these -cheerful conditions he found the Point rather drearily desolate. He -gave the graveyard a wide berth when he came to it, and looked away -from it. His desire was strong that he might forget where he had -seen Ulrica's name for the first time. He was not superstitious, -exactly; but his sub-consciousness that the direction in which he -was sliding--along the lines of least resistance--was at least -questionable, made him rather open to feelings about bad and good luck. - -Being arrived at Eutaw Castle, he inferred from what the Major said -and from what Ulrica looked that the domestic storm of the previous day -had been a vigorous one--and was glad that he had kept out of it. But -it had blown over pretty well, and his good-natured chaff about their -adventure swept away the few remaining clouds. - -"It is vehy handsome of yo', suh," said the Major, "to treat the matteh -as yo' do. My daughteh's conduct was most inexcusable--fo' when she -cahried yo' into that great dangeh she broke heh sacred wo'd to me." - -"But it was quite as much my fault as hers," Maltham answered. "I -should not have let her go. You see, the sailing was so delightfully -exciting that we both lost our heads a little. Luckily, I got mine back -before it was too late." - -"Yo' behaved nobly, suh, nobly! My daughteh has told me how youah only -thought was of heh dangeh, and how white yo' went when yo' realized -youah inability to save heh if the boat went down. Those weh the -feelings of a gentleman, suh, and of a vehy gallant gentleman--such as -yo' suahly ah. Youah conduct could not have been fineh, Mr. Maltham, -had yo' been bo'n and bred in South Cahrolina. Suh, I can say no mo' -than that!" - -Ulrica took little part in the talk. Her eyes were dull and she moved -languidly, as though she were weary. Not until her father left the -room--going to fetch his maps and charts, that he might demonstrate the -Point's glorious future--did she speak freely. - -"I could not sleep last night, Mr. Maltham," she said hurriedly. "I -lay awake the whole night--thinking about what I had done, and about -what you must think about me for doing it. If I had drowned you, after -breaking my word to father that way, it would have been almost murder. -It was very noble of you, just now, to say that it was as much your -fault as it was mine. But it was not. It was my fault all the way -through." - -"But the danger was just as great for you as it was for me," Maltham -answered. "You would have been drowned too, you know." - -"Oh, that would not have counted. It would not have counted at all. I -should have got only what I deserved." - -Maltham came close to her and took her hand. "Don't you think that it -would have counted for a good deal to _me_?" he asked. Then he dropped -her hand quickly and moved away from her as the Major re-entered the -room. - -Inasmuch as he would have been drowned along with her, this speech was -lacking in logic; but Ulrica, who was not on the lookout for logic -just then, was more than satisfied with it. Suddenly she was elate -again. For the dread that had kept her wakeful had vanished: his second -thoughts about the peril into which she had taken him had not set him -against her--he still was the same! She could not answer him with her -lips, but she answered him with her eyes. - -Maltham's feelings were complex as he saw the effect that his words -had upon her. He had made several resolutions not to say anything of -that sort to her again. Even if she did like flirting (as he had put -it in his own mind) it was not quite the thing, under the existing -conditions, for him to flirt with her. He resolutely kept the word -flirting well forward in his thoughts. It agreeably qualified the -entire situation. As he very well knew, Miss Strangford was not above -flirting herself. But it was not easy to classify under that head -Ulrica's sudden change in manner and the look that she had given him. -In spite of himself, his first impression of her would come back and -get in the way of the new impression that he very much wished to form. -When he first had seen her--only the day before, but time does not -count in the ordinary way in the case of those who have been close to -the gates of death together--he had felt the fire that was in her, and -had known that it slumbered. After what he had just seen in her eyes he -could not conquer the conviction that the fire slumbered no longer and -that he had kindled its strong flame. - -Nor did he wholly wish to conquer this conviction. It was thrillingly -delightful to think that he had gained so great a power over her, for -all her queenliness, in so short a time. Over Miss Strangford--the -contrast was a natural one--he had very little power. That young lady -was not queenly, but she had a notable aptitude for ruling--and came -by it honestly, from a father whose hard head and hard hand made him -conspicuous even among Chicago men of affairs. It was her strength that -had attracted him to her; and the discovery that with her strength was -sweetness that had made him love her. He was satisfied that she loved -him in return--but he could not fancy her giving him such a look as -Ulrica had just given him; still less could he fancy her whole being -irradiated by a touch and a word. - -And so he came again to the same half-formed conclusion that he had -come to in the boat on the preceding day: he would let matters drift -along pleasantly a little farther before he set them as they should be -with a strong hand. - -This chain of thought went through his mind while the Major was -exhibiting the maps and expounding the Point's future; and his -half-conclusion was a little hastened by the Major's abrupt stop, and -sudden facing about upon him with: "I feah, suh, that yo' do not quite -follow me. If I have not made myself cleah, suh, I will present the -matteh in anotheh way." - -Maltham shot a quizzical glance at Ulrica--which made her think that -she knew where his thoughts had been wool-gathering, and so brought -more light to her eyes--and answered with a becoming gravity: "The fact -is I didn't quite catch the point that you were making, Major, and I'll -be very much obliged if you'll take the trouble to go over it again." - -"It is no trouble--it is a pleasuah, suh," the Major replied with an -animated affability. And with that he was off again, and ran on for -an hour or more--until he had established the glorious future of -Minnesota Point in what he believed to be convincing terms. "When the -time to which I am looking fo'wa'd comes, Mr. Maltham, and it will come -vehy soon, suh," he said in enthusiastic conclusion, "it stands to -reason that the fortunes of this great metropolis of the No'thwest will -be fo'eveh and unchangeably established. Only I must wahn yo', suh, -that we must begin to get ready fo' it right away. We must take time by -the fo'lock and provide at once--I say at once, suh--fo' the needs of -that magnificent futuah that is almost heah now!" - -He took a long breath as he finished his peroration, and then came down -smiling to the level of ordinary conversation and added: "I feah, Mr. -Maltham, that I pehmit my enthusiasm to get away with me a little. I -feah I may even boah yo', suh. I promise not to say anotheh wohd on -the subject this evening. And now, as it is only a little while befo' -suppeh, we cannot do betteh, suh, than to take a drink." - -Maltham had not intended to stay to supper. He even had intended not -to. But he did--and on through the evening until the Major had to warn -him that he either must consent to sleep in Eutaw Castle or else -hurry along up the Point before the ferry-boat stopped running for the -night. The Major urged him warmly to stay. Finding that his invitation -certainly would not be accepted, he went off for a lantern--and was -rather put out when Maltham declined it and said that he could find his -way very well by the light of the stars. - -Actually, Maltham did not find his way very well by the light of the -stars. Two or three times he ran against trees. Once--this was while he -was trying to give the graveyard a wide offing--he stumbled over a root -and fell heavily. When he got up again he found that he had wrenched -his leg, and that every step he took gave him intense pain. But he was -glad of his flounderings against trees, and of his fall and the keen -pain that followed it--for he was savage with himself. - -And yet it was not his fault, he grumbled. Why had the Major gone off -that way to hunt up a lantern--and so left them alone? Toward the end -of his walk--his pain having quieted his excitement, and so lessened -his hatred of himself--he added much more lightly: "But what does a -single kiss amount to, after all?" - - -VIII - -[Illustration] - -It was on a day in the early autumn that Maltham at last decided -definitely--making effective his half-formed resolution of the -spring-time--to stop drifting and to set things as they should be with -a strong hand. But he had to admit, even as he formed this resolution, -that setting things quite as they should be no longer was within his -power. - -The summer had gone quickly, most astonishingly quickly, he thought; -and for the most part pleasantly--though it had been broken by -certain interludes, not pleasant, during which he had been even more -savage with himself than he had been during that walk homeward from -Eutaw Castle in the dark. But, no matter how it had gone, the summer -definitely was ended--and so were his amusing sessions with the Major -over the future of Minnesota Point, and his sails with Ulrica on the -lake and about the bay. Ice already had begun to form in the sheltered -parts of the harbour, and the next shift of wind into the North would -close the port for the winter by freezing everything hard and fast. All -the big ships had steamed away eastward. On the previous day he had -despatched the last vessel of his own line. His work for the season -was over, and he was ready to return to Chicago. In fact, he had his -berth engaged on that night's train. Moreover, in another month he was -to be married: in her latest letter Miss Strangford had fixed the day. -Then they were going over to the Riviera, and probably to Egypt. In -the spring they were coming back again, but not to Duluth nor even to -Chicago. He was to take charge of the Eastern office of the line, and -their home would be in New York. These various moves were so definite -and so final as to justify him in saying to himself, as he did say to -himself, that the Duluth episode was closed. - -He had hesitated about going down to Eutaw Castle to say good-bye, but -in the end had perceived that the visit was a necessity. The Major -and Ulrica knew that he was to leave Duluth when navigation was -closed for the winter--indeed, of late, Ulrica had referred to that -fact frequently--but he had not confided to them the remainder of his -rather radical programme. He meant to do that later by letter--from -the Riviera or from Egypt. In the mean time, until he was married and -across the Atlantic, it was essential to keep unbroken the friendly -relations which had made his summer--even with its bad interludes--so -keenly delightful to him; and to go away without paying a farewell -visit he knew would be to risk a rupture that very easily might lead -on to a catastrophe. Moreover, as he said to himself, there need not -be anything final about it. Even though the harbour did freeze, the -railways remained open--and it was only sixteen hours from Chicago to -Duluth by the fast train. To suggest that he might be running up again -soon would be a very simple matter: and would not be straining the -truth, for he knew that the pull upon him to run up in just that way -would be almost irresistibly strong. - -In fact, the pull was of such strength that all of his not excessive -will power had to be exerted to make him go away at all--at least, -to go away alone. Very many times he had thought of the possibility -of reversing his programme completely: of making his wedding journey -with Ulrica, and of writing from some far-off place to Miss Strangford -that he had happened to marry somebody else and that she was free. -But each time that he had considered this alternative he had realized -that its cost would come too high: a break with his own people, the -loss of the good berth open to him in New York, the loss of his share -of Miss Strangford's share of the grain-elevators and other desirable -properties which would come to her when her father died. But for these -practical considerations, as he frequently and sorrowingly had assured -himself, he would not have hesitated for a moment--being satisfied -that, aside from them, such a reversal of his plans would be better in -every way. For he knew that while Miss Strangford had and Ulrica had -not his formal promise to marry her, it was Ulrica who had the firmer -hold upon his heart; and he also knew that while Ulrica would meet his -decision against her savagely--and, as he believed, feebly--with her -passion, Miss Strangford would meet the reverse of that decision calmly -and firmly with her strength. The dilemma so nearly touched the verge -of his endurance that he even had contemplated evading it altogether -by shooting himself. But he had not got beyond contemplation. For that -sort of thing he was lacking in nerve. - -It was because facing what he knew was a final parting--even though -Ulrica would not know it--would be so bitter hard for him that he had -hesitated about making his visit of good-bye. But when he had decided -that it was a necessity--that the risk involved in not making it -outweighed the pain that it would cost him--he came about again: adding -to his argument, almost with a sob, that he could not go away like -that, anyhow--that he _must_ see her once more! - -And so he went down the Point again, knowing that he went for the last -time--and on much the same sort of a day, as it happened, as that on -which his first visit had been made: a grey, chill day, with a strong -wind drawing down the lake that tufted it with white-caps and that sent -a heavy surf booming in upon the shore. He had no headache, but he had -a heartache that was still harder to bear. - -He had intended to take the tram-car--that he might hurry down to the -Castle, and get through with what he had to do there, and so away -again quickly. But when he had crossed the canal he let the car go -off without him--for the good reason that the meeting and the parting -might not come so soon. And for this same reason he walked slowly, -irresolutely. Once or twice he halted and almost turned back. It all -was very unlike his brisk, assured advance on that far back day--ages -before, it seemed to him--when he went down the Point for the first -time. - -As he went onward, slowly, he was thinking about that day: how it had -been without intention that he turned eastward instead of westward -when he started on his walk; how a whim of the moment had led him to -cross the canal; how the mere chance of the three church-bound women -hurrying into the ferry-boat had prevented his immediate return. He -fell to wondering, dully, what "chance" is, anyway--this force which -with a grim humour uses our most unconsidered actions for the making or -the unmaking of our lives; and the hopeless puzzle of it all kept his -mind unprofitably employed until he had passed the last of the little -houses, and had gone on through the stunted pines, and so was come to -the desolate graveyard. - -He did not shun the graveyard, as he had shunned it all the summer -long. The need for that was past--now that, in reality, Ulrica's name -had come to be to him a name upon a grave. For a while he stood with -his arms resting on the broken fence, looking before him in a dull way -and feeling a dull surprise because he found the dismal place still -precisely as he remembered it. That in so very long a time it should -not have become more ruinous seemed to him unreasonable. Then he walked -on past the little church, still slowly and hesitatingly, and so came -at last to the Castle. Oddly enough, the Major was standing again at -the same lower window, and saw him, and came out to welcome him. For -a moment he had a queer feeling that perhaps it still was that first -day--that he might have been dozing in the pine woods, somewhere, and -that the past summer was all a dream. - -The Major was beaming with friendliness. "Aha, Masteh Geo'ge, I'm glad -to see yo' and to congratulate yo'!" he said heartily. And he gave -Maltham a cordial dig in the ribs as he added: "Yo' ah a sly dog, a -vehy sly dog, my boy, to keep youah secret from us! But I happened to -be up in town yestehday, and by the mehest chance I met Captain Todd, -of youah boat, and he told me why yo' ah going back to Chicago in such -a huhy, suh! It is a great match, a magnificent match that yo' ah -making, Geo'ge, and I congratulate yo' with all my haht. I should be -glad of the oppo'tunity to congratulate Miss Strangfo'd also. Fo' I am -not flattehing yo', Geo'ge, when I tell yo' that she could not have -found a betteh husband had she gone to look fo' him in South Cahrolina. -Suh, I can say no mo' than that!" - -The Major's speech was long enough, fortunately, for Maltham to get -over the shock of its beginning before he had to answer it. But even -with that breathing space his answer was so lame that the Major had to -invent an excuse for its lack of heartiness. "I don't doubt that afteh -youah chilly walk, Geo'ge, yo' ah half frozen," he said. "Come right in -and have a drink. It will do yo' good, suh. It will take the chill out -of youah bones!" - -Maltham was glad to accept this invitation, and the size of the drink -that he took did the Major's heart good. "That's right, Geo'ge!" he -said with great approval. "A South-Cahrolinian couldn't show a betteh -appreciation of good liquoh than that!" He raised his glass and -continued: "I drink, suh, to Miss Strangfo'd's health, and to youahs. -May yo' both have the long lives of happiness that yo' both desehve!" - -He put down his empty glass and added: "I will call Ulrica. She will -be glad to see yo' and to offeh yo' heh congratulations." He paused -for a moment, and then went on in a less cheerful tone: "But I must -wahn yo', Geo'ge, that she has a bad headache and is not quite hehself -to-day--and so may not manifest that wahm co'diality in regahd to youah -present and futuah happiness that she suahly feels. I confess, Geo'ge," -the Major continued anxiously, "I am not quite comfo'table about heh. -She seems mo' out of so'ts than a meah headache ought to make heh. And -fo' the last month and mo', as yo' may have obsehved youahself, she -has not seemed to be hehself at all. I don't mind speaking this way -frankly to yo', Geo'ge, fo' yo' know how my haht is wrapped up in heh. -As I once told yo', it was only my love fo' that deah child that kept -me alive when heh motheh left me," the Major's voice was very unsteady, -"and it is God's own truth that if anything went wrong with heh; if--if -I weh to lose heh too, Geo'ge, I suahly should want to give right up -and die. I could not live without heh--I don't think that I could live -without heh fo' a single day!" - -There were tears in the Major's eyes as he spoke, and his last word -was almost a sob. Maltham was very pale. He did not attempt an answer. - -"Thank yo', Geo'ge," the Major went on presently. "I see by youah looks -that I have youah sympathy. I am most grateful to yo' fo' it, most -grateful indeed!" In a moment he added: "Hahk! She's coming now! I heah -heh step outside. Hahk how heavy and slow it is--and she always as -light on heh feet as a bird! To heah heh walk that way almost breaks my -haht!" And then he checked himself suddenly, and tried to look rather -unusually cheerful as Ulrica entered the room. - - -IX - -[Illustration] - -Being braced to meet some sort of a storm, Maltham was rather put about -by not encountering it. Ulrica certainly was looking the worse for her -headache--her eyes were duller than usual, and there were dark marks -under them, and she was very pale; but she did not seem to be at all -excited, and the greeting that she gave him was out of the ordinary -only in that she did not offer him her hand. He drew a quick breath, -and the tense muscles of his mind relaxed. If she were taking it in -that quiet way, he thought, he had worked himself into heroics for -nothing. And then, quite naturally, he felt a sharp pang of resentment -because she did take it so quietly. Her calmness ruffled his self-love. - -As she remained silent, making no reference to Maltham's engagement, -the Major felt that the proprieties of the case were not being attended -to and prompted her. "I have been wishing Geo'ge joy and prospehrity, -my deah," he said. "Have yo' nothing to say to him youahself about his -coming happiness?" - -"Yes," she answered slowly, "I have a great deal to say to him--so much -that I am going to carry him off in the _Nixie_ to say it." She turned -to Maltham and added: "You will come with me for a last sail, will you -not?" - -Maltham hesitated, and then answered doubtfully: "Isn't it a little -cold for sailing to-day? Your father says that you are not feeling -well. I do think that it will be better not to go--unless you really -insist upon it, of course." - -"Yo' mustn't think of such a thing!" the Major struck in peremptorily. -"The weatheh is like ice. Yo' will catch yo' death of cold!" - -"It is no colder, father, than that day when I took George out in -the _Nixie_ for the first time--and it will do my head good," Ulrica -answered. And added, to Maltham: "I do insist. Come!" - -Against the Major's active remonstrance, and against Maltham's passive -resistance, she carried her point. "Come!" she said again--and led -Maltham out by the side door into the ragged garden. There she left him -for a moment and returned to her father--who was standing in a very -melancholy way before the fire. - -"Do not mind, father," she said. "It is the best thing for me--it is -the only thing for me." - -He looked at her inquiringly, puzzled by her words and by her vehement -tone. Suddenly she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. -"Remember always, father, that I have loved you with my whole heart -for almost my whole life long. And remember always," she went on with -a curiously savage earnestness, "that I am loving you with my whole -heart--with every bit of it--to-day!" - -"I am suah yo' ah, my daughteh," the Major answered, very huskily. - -She kissed him again, holding him tight in her arms. Then she unclasped -her arms with a sudden quick energy and swiftly left the room. - -She led Maltham silently to the boat, and silently--when she had cast -off the mooring--motioned to him to enter it. He found this silence -ominous, and tried to break it. But the commonplace words which he -wanted to speak would not come. - -And then, as he sat in the stern and mechanically steadied the tiller -while she hoisted the sail, the queer feeling again came over him that -it still was that wonderful first day. This feeling grew stronger as -all that he remembered so well was repeated: Ulrica's rapid movement -aft to the tiller; his own shifting of his seat; her quick loosing of -the centreboard as the wind caught them; and then the heeling over of -the boat, and her steady motion, and the bubbling hiss of the water -beneath the bow. It all so lulled him, so numbed his sense of time and -fact, that suddenly he looked up in her face and smiled--just as he -had done on that first day. - -[Illustration: "'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'"] - -But the look in Ulrica's eyes killed his smile, and brought him back -with a sharp wrench to reality. Her eyes no longer were dull. They were -glowing--and they seemed to cut into him like knives. - -"Well," she asked, "have you anything to say for yourself?" - -"No," he answered, "except that fate has been too strong for me." - -"Fate sometimes is held accountable for a great deal," she said dryly, -but with a catch in her voice. - -They were silent again, and for a long while. The boat was running down -the bay rapidly--even more rapidly, the wind being much stronger, than -on that first day. They could hear, as they had not heard then, the -surf crashing upon the outer beach of the Point. - -The silence became more than he could stand. "Can you forgive me?" he -asked at last. - -Ulrica looked at him with a curious surprise. "No," she answered quite -calmly. "Think for a moment about what you have done and about what you -intend to do. Do you not see that it is impossible?" - -"But I love you!" he cried eagerly. "I love you more than I can tell. -It is not my will that is separating us--it is fate!" - -Her look softened for an instant as he began, but as he ended it -hardened again. She did not answer him. A strong gust of wind heeled -the boat farther over. They were going at a slashing rate. Before them -the inlet was opening. The booming of the surf was very loud. - -He saw that his words had taken hold upon her, and repeated them: "I -do love you, Ulrica--and, oh, you don't know how very wretched I have -been! More than once in this past month I have been very near killing -myself." - -She gave him a searching look, and seemed satisfied that he spoke the -truth. "I am glad that you have wanted to kill yourself," she said -slowly and earnestly. They were at the mouth of the inlet. As she -spoke, she luffed sharply and they entered it close-hauled. - -"Yes," she repeated, speaking still more earnestly, "I am very glad of -that. It makes me feel much easier in my mind about what I am going to -do." - -Her tone startled him. He looked up at her quickly and anxiously. "What -are you going to do?" he asked. - -"Drown you," she answered simply. - -For an instant he did not take in the meaning of her words. Then his -face became very white, though he tried to smile. His voice shook as -he said: "I do not think that this is a good time for joking." The -boat was biting her way into the wind sharply, plunging and bucketing -through the partly spent waves which came in from outside. - -"You know that I am not joking," Ulrica answered very quietly. "I am -going to drown you, and to drown myself too. I have thought it all out, -and this seems the best thing to do. It is the best for father," her -voice trembled, "and it is the best," she went on again, firmly, "for -me. As for you, it does not matter whether it is the best for you or -not--it is what you deserve. For you are a liar and a traitor--a liar -and a traitor to me, and to that other woman too!" As she spoke these -last words her calmness left her, and there was the ring of passionate -anger in her tone. The fire that she had been smothering, at last was -in full blaze. - -They were at the very mouth of the inlet. The white-capped surface -of the lake swelled and tossed before them. The boat was wallowing -heavily. - -Maltham's paleness changed to a greenish-grey. He uttered a shrill -scream--a cry of weakly helpless terror. "Put about! For God's sake put -about!" he gasped. "We shall be drowned!" - -For answer, she hauled the sheet a little and brought the boat still -closer into the wind--heading straight out into the lake. "I told -you once that the _Nixie_ could sail into the wind's eye," she said, -coolly. "Now she is doing it. Does she not go well?" - -At that, being desperate, he rallied a little. Springing to his feet, -but standing unsteadily, he grasped the tiller and tried to shift the -helm. Ulrica, standing firmly, laid her hand flat against his breast -and thrust him away savagely--with such force that he reeled backward -and fell, striking against the combing and barely missing going over -the side. - -"You fool!" she exclaimed. "Do you not see that it is too late?" She -did not trouble herself to look at him. Her gaze was fixed in a keen -ecstasy on the great oncoming waves. - -What she said was true--it was too late. They were fairly out on the -open lake, and all possibility of return was gone. To try to go about -would be to throw the _Nixie_ into the trough of the sea--and so send -her rolling over like a log. At the best, the little boat could live in -that surge and welter for only a very few minutes more. - -Maltham did not attempt to rise. His fall had hurt him, and what little -was left of his spirit was cowed. He lay in a miserable heap, uttering -little whimpering moans. The complaining noise that he made annoyed -her. For the last time she looked at him, burning him for an instant -with her glowing eyes. "Silence, you coward!" she cried, fiercely--and -at her strong command he was still. Then her look was fixed on the -great oncoming waves again, and she cast him out from her mind. - -Even in her rage--partly because of it--Ulrica felt in every drop of -her Norse blood the glow and the thrill of this glorious battle with -great waters. The sheer delight of it was worth dying for--and so -richly worth living through to the very last tingling instant that she -steered with a strong and a steady hand. And again--as she stood firmly -on the tossing boat, her draperies blown close about her, her loosened -hair streaming out in golden splendour--she was Aslauga's very self. -Sorrow and life together were ending well for her--in high emotion -that filled and satisfied her soul. Magnificent, commanding, defiant, -she sailed on in joyful triumph: glad and eager to give herself -strongly to the strong death-clasp of the waves. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Death-Fires of Les Martigues - - -I - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -That is one of our old sayings here in Provence. I used to laugh at it -when I was young. I do not laugh at it now. When those words come into -my heart, and they come often, I go by the rough hard way that leads -upward to Notre Dame de la Garde until I come to the Crime Cross--it is -a wearying toil for me to get up that steep hill-side, I am so stiff -and old now--and there I cast fresh stones upon the heap at the foot of -the cross. Each stone cast there, you know, is a prayer for forgiveness -for some hidden crime: not a light fault, but a crime. The stones must -be little stones, yet the heap is very wide and high--though every -winter, when the great mistrals are blowing across the Étang de Berre, -the little stones are whirled away down the hill-side. I do not know -how this custom began, nor when; but it is a very old custom with us -here in Les Martigues. - -Once in every year I go up to the Crime Cross by night. This is on -All Souls Eve. First I light the lamp over Magali's breast where she -lies sleeping in the graveyard: going to the graveyard at dusk, as the -others do, in the long procession that creeps up thither from the three -parts of our town--from Jonquières, and the Isle, and Ferrières--to -light the death-fires over the dear dead ones' graves. I go with the -very first, as soon as the sun is down. I like to be alone with Magali -while I light the little lamp that will be a guide for her soul through -that night when souls are free; that will keep it safe from the devils -who are free that night too. I do not like the low buzzing of voices -which comes later, when the crowd is there, nor the broken cries and -sobs. And when her lamp is lit, and I have lit my mother's lamp, I -hurry away from the graveyard and the moaning people--threading my -steps among the graves on which the lights are beginning to glimmer, -and through the oncoming crowd, and then by the lonely path through the -olive-orchards, and so up the stony height until I come at last to the -Crime Cross--panting, aching--and my watch begins. - -[Illustration: MARIUS] - -Up on that high hill-side, open to the west, a little of the dying -daylight lingers. Eastward, like a big black mirror, lies the great -étang; and far away across its still waters the mountain chain -above Berre and Rognac rises purple-grey against the darker sky. -In the west still are faint crimson blotches, or dashes of dull -blood-red--reflected again, and made brighter, in the Étang de Caronte: -that stretches away between the long downward slopes of the hills, -on which stone-pines stand out in black patches, until its gleaming -waters merge into the faint glow upon the waters of the Mediterranean. -Above me is the sanctuary of Notre Dame de la Garde, a dark mass on -the height above the olive-trees: of old a refuge for sinful bodies, -and still a refuge where sinful souls may seek grace in prayer from -their agony. And below me, on the slope far downward, is the graveyard: -where the death-fires multiply each moment, as more and more lamps -are lighted, until at last it is like a little fallen heaven of tiny -stars. Only in its midst is an island of darkness where no lamps are. -That is where the children lie together: the blessed innocents who have -died sinless, and who wander not on All Souls Eve because when sweet -death came to them their pure spirits went straight home to God. And -beyond the graveyard, below it, is the black outspread of the town: its -blackness deepened by a bright window here and there, and by the few -street lamps, and by the bright reflections which shine up from the -waters of its canals. - -Seeing all this--yet only half seeing it, for my heart is full of other -things--I sit there at the foot of the Crime Cross in the darkness, -prayerful, sorrowful, while the night wears on. Sometimes I hear -footsteps coming up the rocky path, and then the shadowy figure of -a man or of a woman breaks out from the gloom and suddenly is close -beside me--and I hear the rattle of little stones cast upon the heap -behind me, on the other side of the cross. Presently, the rite ended, -whoever it is fades back into the gloom again and passes away. And I -know that another sinful soul has been close beside my sinful soul for -a moment: seeking in penitent supplication, as I am seeking, rest -in forgiveness for an undiscovered crime. But I am sure that none of -them sees--as I see in the gloom there always--a man's white face on -which the moonlight is shining, and beyond that white face the glint -of moonlight on a raging sea; and I am sure that on none of their -blackened souls rests a burden as heavy as that which rests on mine. - -I am very weary of my burden, and old and broken too. It is my comfort -to know that I shall die soon. But, also, the thought of that comfort -troubles me. For I am a lone man, and childless. When I go, none -of Magali's race, none of my race, will be left alive here in Les -Martigues. Our death-fires will not be lighted. We shall wander in -darkness on All Souls Eve. - - -II - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My old mother, God rest her, said that to me when first she began to -see that my love was set on Magali--and saw, too, that I was winning -from Magali the love that belonged to Jan, who had her promise. - -"It is an old man's lifetime, mother," I said, "since a wolf has been -seen near Les Martigues." And I laughed and kissed her. - -"Worse than a wolf is a heart that covets what it may not have, -Marius," she answered. "Magali is as good as Jan's wife, and you know -it. For a year she has been promised to him. She is my dead sister's -child, and she is in my care--and in your care too, because you and -she and I are all that is left of us, and you are the head of our -house, the man. You are doing wickedness in trying to take her away -from Jan--and Jan your own close friend, who saved your life out of the -sea. The match is a good match for Magali, and she was contented with -it until you--living here close beside her in your own house--began -to steal away her heart from him. It is rascal work, Marius, that you -are doing. You are playing false as a house-father and false as a -friend--and God help me that I must speak such words to my own son! -That is why I say, and I say it solemnly, 'God keep you from the -she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!' That desire has no right -to be in your heart, Marius. Drag it out of your heart and cast it -away!" - -But I only laughed and kissed her again, and told her that I would -take good care of myself if a she-wolf tried to eat me--and so I went -away, still laughing, to my fishing in the Gulf of Fos. - -But I did not laugh when I was alone in my boat, slipping down the -Étang de Caronte seaward. What she had said had made me see things -clearly which until then had been half hid in a haze. We had slipped -into our love for each other, Magali and I, softly and easily--just as -my boat was slipping down the étang. Every day of our lives we were -together, in the close way that housemates are together in a little -house of four rooms. Before I got up in the morning I could hear her -moving near me, only a thin wall between us; and her movements, again, -were the last sounds that I heard at night. She waited on me at my -meals. She helped my mother to mend my clothes--the very patches on my -coat would bring to my mind the sight of her as she sat sewing at night -beside the lamp. We were as close together as a brother and a sister -could be; and in my dulness I had fancied for a long while that what I -had felt for her was only what a brother would feel. - -What first opened my eyes a little was the way that I felt about it -when she gave her promise to Jan. For all our lives Jan and I had been -close friends: and most close since that day when the squall struck our -boats, as we lay near together, and I went overboard, and Jan--letting -his own boat take its chances--came overboard after me because he knew -that I could not swim. It was by a hair's-breadth only that we were not -drowned together. After we were safe I told him that my life was his. -And I meant it, then. Until Magali came between us I would have died -for him with a right good will. After that I was ready enough that he -should do the dying--and so be gone out of my way. - -When he got Magali's promise, I say, my ugly feeling against him began. -But it was not very strong at first, and I was not clear about it in my -own mind. All that I felt was that, somehow, he had got between me and -the sun. For one thing, I did not want to be clear about it. Down in -the roots of me I knew that I had no right to that sunshine, and that -Jan had--and I could not help thinking about how he had come overboard -after me and had held me up there in the tumbling sea, and how I had -told him that my life was his. But with this went a little thin -thought, stirring now and then in the bottom of my mind though I would -not own to it, that in giving him my life--which still was his if he -wanted it--I had not given him the right to spoil my life for me while -leaving me still alive. And I did my best not to think one way or the -other, and was glad that it all was a blur and a haze. - -And all the while I was living close beside Magali in that little -house, with the sound of her steps always near me and the sound of her -voice always in my ears. She had a very sweet voice, with a freshness -and a brightness in it that seemed to me like the brightness of her -eyes--and Magali's great black eyes were the brightest eyes that ever I -saw. Even in Arles, where all the women are beautiful, there would be -a buzz among the people lining Les Lices when Magali walked there of -a feast-day, wearing the beautiful dress that our women wear here in -Provence. To look at her made you think of an Easter morning sun. - - -III - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother's words kept on ringing in my ears after I had left her. -Suddenly the haze was gone and I saw clearly--and I knew that my -heart's deep desire was to have Magali for my very own. And with that -sudden coming of clear sight I knew, too, that I could have her. Out -of the past came a crowd of memories which proved it to me. In my dull -way, I say, I had fancied that I loved Magali as a sister, and I had -tried to keep that fancy always by me in my haze. But with the haze -gone--swept away by my mother's words as the mistral sweeps away our -Mediterranean fogs--I knew that Magali never had been the fool that I -had been. - -I remembered her looks and her ways with me from the very day when she -came to us, when she was just turned of sixteen: how she used sometimes -to lay her hand lightly on my shoulder, how she would bend over to look -at the net that I was mending until her hair brushed against my cheek -or my forehead, how she always was bringing things to show me that I -could not see rightly unless she stood very close at my side, and most -of all how a dozen times a day she would be flashing at me her great -black eyes. And I remembered how moody and how strange in her ways she -was just before Jan got his promise from her; and how, when she told -me that her promise was given, she gave me a look like none that ever -I had from her, and said slowly: "The fisherman who will not catch any -fish at all because he cannot catch the fish he wants most--is a fool, -Marius!" - -Yet even then I did not understand; though, as I say, my eyes were -opened a little and I had the feeling that Jan had got between me -and the sun. That feeling grew stronger because of the way that she -treated him and treated me. Jan was for hurrying the marriage, but she -kept him dangling and always was putting him off. As for me, I got all -sides of her moods and tempers. Sometimes she scarcely would speak to -me. Sometimes she would give me looks from those big black eyes of -hers that thrilled me through! Sometimes she would hang about me in a -patient sad way that made me think of a dog begging for food. And the -colour so went out of her face that her big black eyes looked bigger -and blacker still. - -Then it was that I began to find in the haze that was about me a -refuge--because I did not want to see clear. I let my thoughts go out -to Magali, and stopped them before they got to Jan. It would be time -enough, I reasoned--though I did not really reason it: I only felt -it--to think about him when I had to. For the passing hours it was -enough to have the sweetness of being near Magali--and that grew to -be a greater sweetness with every fresh new day. Presently I noticed -that her colour had come back again; and it seemed to me--though that -may have been only because of my new love of her--that she had a new -beauty, tender and strange. Certainly there was a new brightness, a -curiously glowing brightness, in her eyes. - -For Jan, things went hardly in those days. Having her promise, he had -rights in her--as we say in Provence. But he did not get many of his -rights. Half the time when he claimed her for walks on the hill-sides -among the olive-orchards, she would not go with him--because she had -her work to do at home, she said. And there was I, where her work was, -at home! For a while Jan did not see beyond the end of his nose about -it. I do not think that ever it crossed his mind to think of me in the -matter--not, that is, until some one with better eyes than his eyes -helped him to see. For he knew that I was his friend, and I suppose -that he remembered what I had told him about my life being his. And -even when his eyes were helped, he would not at first fully believe -what he must plainly have seen. But he soon believed enough to make him -change his manner toward me, and to make him watch sharp for something -that would give him the right to speak words to me which would bring -matters to a fair settlement by blows. And I was ready, as I have -said--though I would not fairly own it to myself--to come to blows with -him. For I wanted him dead, and out of my way. - -And so my mother's words, which had made me at last see clearly, stayed -by me as I went sailing in my boat softly seaward down the étang. And -they struck deeper into me because Jan's boat was just ahead of mine; -and the sight of him, and the thought of how he had saved my life only -to cross it, made me long to run him down and drown him, and so be quit -of him for good and all. I made up my mind then that, whether I killed -him or left him living, it would be I who should have Magali and not he. - - -IV - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother said that again to me when I came home that night from my -fishing; and she said it to me often as the days went on. She saw the -change that had come to me, and she knew what was in my soul. It is -not wonderful, when you stop to think about it, that a man's mother -should know what is in his soul: for the body in which that soul is, -the living home of it, is a part of her own. And she grew sad and -weary-looking when she found that her words had no hold on me, and -there came into her eyes the sorrowful look that comes into the eyes of -old people who are soon to die. - -But Magali's eyes were the only eyes that I cared for then, and they -seemed to me to grow brighter and brighter every day. When she and I -walked in the olive-orchards together in the starlight the glow of them -outshone the star-glow. It seemed to light up my heart. - -I do not think that we talked much in those walks. I do not seem to -remember our talking. But we understood each other, and we were agreed -about what we were to do. I was old enough to marry as I pleased, but -Magali was not--she could not marry without my mother's word. We meant -to force that word. Some day we would go off in my boat together--over -to Les Saintes Maries, perhaps; or perhaps to Marseille. It did not -matter where we went. When we came back again, at the end of two or -three days, my mother no longer could deny us--she would have to give -in. And no one would think the worse of Magali: for that is our common -way of settling a tangled love-matter here in Provence. - -But I did not take account of Jan in my plans, and that was where I -made a mistake. Jan had just as strong a will as I had, and every -bit of his will was set upon keeping Magali for himself. I wanted -her to break with him entirely, but that she would not do. She was a -true Provençale--and I never yet knew one of our women who would rest -satisfied with one lover when she could have two. If she can get more -than two, that is better still. While I hung back from her, Magali was -more than ready to come to me; but when she found me eager after her, -and knew that she had a grip on me, she danced away. - -And so, before long, Jan again had his walks with her in the -olive-orchards by starlight just as I did, and likely enough her eyes -glowed for him just as they did for me. When they were off that way -together I would get into a wild-beast rage over it. Sometimes I would -follow them, fingering my knife. I suppose that he felt like that when -the turn was mine. Anyhow, the love-making chances which she gave -him--even though in my heart I still was sure of her--kept me always -watching him; and I could see that he always was watching me. Very -likely he felt sure of her too, and that was his reason--just as it was -my reason--for not bringing our matter to a fighting end. I was ready -enough to kill him, God knows. Unless his eyes lied when he looked at -me, he was ready to kill me. - -And in that way the summer slipped past and the autumn came, and -neither of us gained anything. I was getting into a black rage over -it all. Down inside of me was a feeling like fire in my stomach that -made me not want to eat, and that made what I did eat go wrong. My poor -mother had given up trying to talk to me. She saw that she could not -change my way--and, too, I suppose that she pretty well understood it -all: for she had lived her life, and she knew the ways of our men and -of our women when love stings them here in Provence. Only, her sadness -grew upon her with her hopelessness. What I remember most clearly as -I think of her in those last days is her pale old face and the dying -look in her sorrowful eyes. - -But seeing her in that way grief-struck only made my black rage -blacker and the fire in my stomach burn hotter. I had the feeling that -there was a devil down there who all the time was getting bigger and -stronger: and that before long he and I would take matters in hand -together and settle them for good and all. As for keeping on with -things as they were, it was not to be thought of. Better than much more -of such a hell-life would be ending everything by killing Jan. - -What made me hang back from that was the certainty that if I did kill -him--even in a fair fight, with his chance as good as mine--I would -lose Magali beyond all hope: for the gendarmes would have me away in a -whiff to jail--and then off would go my head, or, what would be just -as bad, off I would go head and all to Cayenne. It was no comfort to -me to know that Magali would almost cry her eyes out over losing me. -Of course she would do that, being a Provençale. But before her eyes -were quite out she would stop crying; and then in a moment she would -be laughing again; and in another moment she would be freshly in love -once more--with some man who was not murdered and who was not gone for -his lifetime over seas. And all that, also, would be because she was a -Provençale. - - -V - -All the devils are let loose on earth on All Souls Eve--that is a fact -known to everybody here in Provence. But whether it was one of those -loosed devils, or the devil that had grown big in my own inside, that -made me do what I did I do not know. What I do know, certainly, is that -about dusk on All Saints Day the thought of how I could force things to -be as I wanted them to be came into my heart. - -My thought was not a new thought, exactly. It was only that I would do -what we had planned to do to make my mother give in to us: get Magali -into my boat and carry her off with me for a day or two to Les Saintes. -But it came to me with the new meaning that in that way I could make -Magali give in to me too. When we came back she would be ready enough -to marry me, and my mother would be for hurrying our marrying along. -It all was as plain and as sure as anything could be. And, as I have -said, nobody would think the worse of Magali afterward; because that -way of cutting through such difficulties is a common way with us in -Provence. - -And All Souls Eve was the time of all times for doing it. The whole -town is in commotion then. In the churches, when the Vespers of All -Saints are finished, the Vespers of the Dead are said. Then, just -after sunset, the streets are crowded with our people hurrying to -the graveyard with their lanterns for the graves. Nothing is thought -about but the death-fires. From all the church towers--in Jonquières, -in the Isle, in Ferrières--comes the sad dull tolling of bells. After -that, for an hour or more, the town is almost deserted. Only the very -old, and the very young, and the sick with their watchers, and the -bell-ringers in the towers, are left there. Everybody else is in the -graveyard, high up on the hill-side: first busied in setting the lights -and in weeping over dead loved ones; and then, when the duty to the -dead ones is done with, in walking about through the graveyard to see -the show. In Provence we take a great interest in every sort of show. - -Magali and I had no death-fires to kindle, for in the graveyard were -no dead of ours. Our people were of Les Saintes Maries, and there -their graves were--and my father, who was drowned at his fishing, had -no grave at all. But we went always to the graveyard on All Souls -Eve, and most times together, that we might see the show with the -others and enjoy the bustle of the crowd. And so there was nothing out -of the common when I asked her to come with me; and off we started -together--leaving my old mother weeping at home for my dead father, who -could have no death-fire lit for him because his bones were lying lost -to us far away in the depths of the sea. - -Our house was in the eastern quarter of the town, in Jonquières. To -reach the graveyard we had to cross the Isle, and go through Ferrières, -and then up the hill-side beyond. But I did not mean that we should do -that; and when we had crossed the Canal du Roi I said to Magali that we -would turn, before we went onward, and walk down past the Fish-market -to the end of the Isle--that from there we might see the lights glowing -in the dusk on the slope rising above us black against the western sky. -We had done that before--it is a pretty sight to see all those far-off -glittering points of light above, and then to see their glittering -reflections near by in the water below--and she willingly came with me. - -But I had more in view. Down at the end of the Isle, along with the -other boats moored at the wharf there to be near the Fish-market, my -boat was lying; and when we were come close to her I said suddenly, as -though the thought had entered my head that minute, that we would go -aboard of her and run out a little way--and so see the death-fires more -clearly because they would be less hidden by the shoulder of the hill. -I did not have to speak twice. Magali was aboard of the boat on the -instant, and was clapping her hands at the notion--for she had, as all -our women have, a great pleasure in following any sudden fancy which -promises something amusing and also a little strange. And I was quick -after her, and had the lines cast off and began to get up the sail. - -"Oh," she said, "won't the oars do? Need we bother with the sail for -such a little way?" - -But I did not answer her, and went on with what I was doing, while -the boat drifted quickly out from land before the gusts of wind which -struck us harder and harder as we cleared the point of the Isle. Until -then I had not thought about the weather--my mind had been full of the -other and bigger thought. The gusts of wind waked me up a little, and -as I looked at the sky I began to have doubts that I could do what I -wanted to do; for it was plain that a gale was rising which would make -ticklish work for me even out on the Gulf of Fos--and would make pretty -near impossible my keeping on to Les Saintes over the open sea. And I -had about made up my mind that we must go back, and that I must carry -out my plan some other time, when there came a hail to us from the -shore. - -"Where are you going?" called a voice--and as we turned our looks -shoreward there was Jan. He had been following us, I suppose--just as I -sometimes had followed him. - -Before I could answer him, Magali spoke. "We are going out on the water -to see the death-fires, Jan," she said. "We are going only a very -little way." - -Her words angered me. There was something in them that seemed to show -that he had the right to question her. That settled me in my purpose. -Storm or no storm, on I would go. And I brought the boat up to the -wind, so as to lay our course straight down the Étang de Caronte, and -called out to him: "We are going where you cannot follow. Good-bye!" - -And then a gust of wind heeled us over, and we went on suddenly with -a dash--as a horse goes when you spur him--and the water boiled and -hissed under our bows. In another half-minute we were clear of the -shelter of the point, and then the wind came down on us off the hills -in a rush so strong that I had to ease off the sheet sharply--and I had -a queer feeling about what was ahead of me out on the Gulf of Fos. - -"Marius! Marius! What are you doing?" Magali cried in a shiver of -fright: for she knew by that time that something was back of it all in -my mind. As she spoke I could see through the dusk that Jan was running -up the sail of his boat, and in a minute more would be after us. - -"I am doing what I ought to have done long ago," I said. "I am taking -you for my own. There is nothing to fear, dear Magali. You shall not -be in danger. I had meant to take you to Les Saintes. But a gale is -rising and we cannot get to Les Saintes to-night. We will run across -the Gulf of Fos and anchor in the Grau de Gloria. There is a shepherd's -hut near the Grau. I will make a fire in it and you can sleep there -comfortably, while I watch outside. After all, it makes no difference -where we go. I shall have carried you off--when we go back you must be -my wife." - -She did not understand at first. She was too much frightened with the -suddenness of it all, and with the coming of Jan, and with the boat -flying on through the rushing of the wind. I looked back and saw that -Jan had got away after us. Dimly I could make out his sail through the -dusk that lay thick upon the water. Beyond it and above it was a broad -patch of brightness where all the death-fires were burning together in -the graveyard. We had come too far to see any longer those many points -of light singly. In a mass, they made against the black hill-side a -great bright glow. - - -VI - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother's words seemed to sound in my ears loudly, coming with the -rush of wind that eddied around me out of the sail's belly. They gave -me a queer start, as the thought came with them that here at last my -heart's deep desire would be mine presently--if only I could snatch it -and keep it from the she-wolf of the sea. - -Magali was silent--half standing, half sitting, against the weather -side of the boat, close in front of me as I stood at the tiller with -the sheet in my hand. She had got over her fright. I could tell that by -the brightness of her eyes, and by the warm colour in her cheeks that -I had a glimpse of as we flashed past the break in the hills where the -Mas Labillon stands. And in that moment while the dusk was thinned a -little I could see, too, that she was breathing hard. I know what our -women are, and I know what she was feeling. Our women like to be fought -for, and any one of them gladly would have been in Magali's place--with -the two strongest and handsomest men in Les Martigues in a fair way to -come to a death-grip for her in the whirl of a rising storm. - -Back in the dusk, against the faint glow of the death-fires, I could -see the sail of Jan's boat dipping and swaying with the thrusts of the -wind-gusts as it came on after me. It had gained a little; and I knew -that it would gain more, for Jan's boat was a speedier boat than mine -on the wind. Close-hauled, I could walk away from him; but in running -down the Étang de Caronte I had no choice in my sailing. Out on the -Gulf of Fos, if I dared take that chance, and if he dared follow me, -I could bear up to windward and so shake him off--making for the Anse -d'Auguette and taking shelter there. But even my hot blood chilled a -little at the thought of going out that night on the Gulf of Fos. When -we were down near the end of the étang--close to the Salines, where it -is widest--the wind that pelted down on us from the hills was terribly -strong. It was hard to stand against even there, where the water was -smooth. Outside, it would be still stronger, and the water would be all -in a boil. And at the end, to get into the Anse d'Auguette, we should -have to take the risk of a roaring sea abeam. - -But any risk was better than the risk of what might happen if Jan -overhauled me. Now that I fairly had Magali away from him, I did not -want to fight him. What might come in a fight in rough water--where the -winds and the waves would have to be reckoned with, and with the most -careful reckoning might play tricks on me--was too uncertain; while -if I could stand him off and get away from him, so that even for one -night I could keep Magali with me, the game would be won. After that, -if he wanted it, I would fight him as much as he pleased. - -The thought that I would win--in spite of Jan and in spite of the -storm, too--made all my blood tingle. More by habit than anything else -I sailed the boat: for my eyes were fixed on Magali's eyes, shining -there close to me, and my heart was full of her. We did not speak, but -once she turned and looked at me--bending forward a little, so that her -face was within a foot of mine. What she saw in my eyes was so easy to -read that she gave all at once a half-laugh and a half-sob--and then -turned away and peered through the blustering darkness toward Jan's -sail. Somehow, the way she did that made me feel that she was holding -the balance between us; that she was waiting--as the she among wild -beasts waits while the males are fighting for her--for the stronger of -us to win. After that I was ready to face the Gulf of Fos. - -The time for facing the gulf was close on me, too. We had run through -the canal of the Salines and were out in the open water of Bouc--the -great harbour at the mouth of the étang. The gale roared down on us, -now that there was little land to break it, and we began to hear the -boom of the waves pounding on the rocks outside. I luffed well into the -wind and bore up for the narrows opening seaward where the Fort de Bouc -light-house stands. The water still was not rough enough to trouble us. -It would not be rough until we were at the very mouth of the narrows. -Then, all at once, would come the crush and fury of the wind and sea. -I knew what it would be like: and again a chill shot through me at -the thought of risking everything on that one great chance. But I -had one thing to comfort me: the moon had risen--and while the light -came brokenly, as the clouds thinned and thickened again, there was -brightness enough even at the darkest for me to lay a course when I -got out among the tumbling waves. Yet only a man half mad with passion -would have thought of fronting such a danger; and even I might have -held back at the last moment had I not been stung to go on. - -Jan had so gained on me in the run down the étang that as we came out -from the canal of the Salines his boat was within less than a dozen -rods of mine; and as I hauled my sheet and bore up for the narrows he -shot down upon us and for a moment was almost under our stern. And at -that Magali gave a little jump and a half-gasp, and laid her hand upon -mine, crying: "Marius! Quick! Sail faster! He will take me from you! -Get me away! Get me away!" - -And then I knew that she no longer balanced us, but that her heart was -for me. After that I would have faced not only the Gulf of Fos but the -open Mediterranean in the worst storm that ever blew. - - -VII - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -The words were in my ears again as we went flying on toward the -narrows--with the reflection of the flame in the light-house making -a broad bright path for us, and the flame itself rising high before -us against the cloud-rack like a ball of fire. But God was not with -me then, and I gave those warning words no heed. I was drunk with the -gladness that came to me when Magali made her choice between us; and -all that I thought was that even if we did go down together, out there -in the Gulf of Fos, I still would be keeping her from Jan and holding -her for my own. That there might be any other ending for us never -crossed my mind. - -Jan did not think, I suppose, that I would dare to go outside the -harbour. He was in a rage too, no doubt; but, still, he must have been -a good deal cooler than I was--for a rage of hate does not boil in the -very bones of a man, as a rage of love does--and so cool enough to know -that it was sheer craziness to take a boat out into that sea. What I -meant to do must have come to him with suddenness--as we drew so close -to the light-house that the flame no longer was reflected ahead of us, -and the narrows were open over my starboard bow, and I let the boat -fall off from the wind and headed her into the broken water made by -the inroll of half-spent waves. In my run close-hauled I had dropped -him, but not so much as I thought I should, and as I came on the wind -again--and hung for a moment before gathering fresh headway--he ranged -up once more within hail. - -"Where are you going? Are you crazy?" he called out--and though he must -have shouted with all the strength of his big lungs his voice came thin -through the wind to us, and broken by the pounding of the sea. - -"Where you won't dare to follow!" I called back to him--and we went -rushing on below the big old fort, that carries the light on its tower, -through the short passage between the harbour and the Gulf of Fos. - -Something he answered, but what it was I do not know: for as we cleared -the shelter of the fort--but while the tail of rock beyond it still was -to windward, so that I could not luff--down with a crash on us came -the gale. I could only let fly the sheet--but even with the sheet all -out over we went until the sail was deep in the water, and over the -leeward gunwale the waves came hissing in. I thought that there was the -end of it; but the boat had such way on her that even on her beam ends -and with the sail dragging she went on until we had cleared the rocks; -and then I luffed her and she rose slowly, and for the moment was safe -again with her nose in the wind. - -Magali's face was dead white--like a dead woman's face, only for her -shining eyes. She fell to leeward as the boat went over--I could not -spare a hand to save her--and struck hard against the gunwale. When the -boat righted and she got up again her forehead was bleeding. On her -white face the blood was like a black stain. But she put her hand on -mine and said: "I am not frightened, Marius. I love you!" - -Jan was close aboard again. As our way had deadened he had overhauled -us; and because he saw what had happened to my boat he was able to -bring his boat through the narrows without going over. - -"Marius! Marius! For God's sake, for Magali's sake, put about!" he -shouted. "It is the only chance to save her. Put about, I say!" - -He was only a little way to leeward of us, but I barely made out his -words. The wind was roaring past us, and the waves were banging like -cannon on the rocks close by. - -What he said was the truth, and I knew it. I knew that the gale was -only just beginning, and that no boat could live through it for -another hour. And then one of the devils loose on that All Souls Eve, -or perhaps it was my own devil inside of me, put a new evil thought -into my heart: making clear to me how I might get rid of Jan for good -and all, and without its ending in my losing my head or in my losing -Magali by being sent overseas. It was a chance, to be sure, and full of -danger. But just then I was ready for any danger or for any chance. - -[Illustration: "THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS"] - -"Lie down in the bottom of the boat, Magali," I called sharply. "That -is the safest place for you. We are going about." - -I spoke the truth to Magali; but, also, I did not want her to see what -happened. She did what I told her to do, and then I began to wear the -boat around. How I did it without swamping, I do not know. Perhaps the -devils of All Souls Eve held up my mast through the black moments while -we lay wallowing in the trough of the sea. But I did do it; and when I -was come about I headed straight for Jan's boat--lying dead to leeward -of me, not twenty yards away. The clouds thinned suddenly and almost -the full light of the moon was with us. We could see each other's faces -plainly--and in mine he saw what I meant to do. - -"It will be all of us together, Marius!" he called to me. "Do you want -to murder Magali too?" - -But I did not believe that it would be all of us together: for I knew -that his boat was an old one, and that mine was new and strong. And, -also, the devils had me in their hold. The gale was behind me, driving -me down upon him like a thunder-bolt. As I shot close to him the moon -shone out full for a moment through a rift in the clouds. In that -moment I saw his face clearly. The moonlight gleamed on it. It was a -ghastly dead white. But I do not suppose that it was for himself that -he was afraid. Jan was not a coward, or he would not have jumped after -me when I was drowning in the stormy sea. - -Once more he called to me. "Marius! For the sake of Magali--" - -And then there was a crashing and a rending of planks as I shot against -his boat, and a sudden upspringing of my own boat under me. And after -that, for a long while, a roaring of water about me, and my own body -tumbled and thrust hither and thither in it, and at last a blow which -seemed to dash me down into a vast black depth that was all buzzing -with little blazing stars. - - * * * * * - -But the others were upcast on the rocks dead. - - - - -A Sea Upcast - - -I - -When we East Anglians be set to do a thing, we be set firm. We come at -what we want by slow thinking, but when we know what we want we hold -fast by it--being born stubborn, and also being born staunch. It is -the same with our hating and with our loving: we fire slowly, but when -at last the fire is kindled it burns so strongly in the very hearts of -us--with a white glow, hotter than any flame--that there is no putting -it out again short of putting out our lives. - -Men and women alike, we are born that way; and we fishermen of the -Suffolk and Norfolk coast likewise are bred that way: seeing that -from the time we go afloat as youngsters until the time that we are -drowned, or are grown so old and rusty that there is no more strength -for sea-fighting left in us, our lives for the most part are spent in -fighting the North Sea. That is a fight that needs stubbornness to -carry it through to a finish. Also, it needs knowledge of the ocean's -tricks and turns--because the North Sea can do what we East Anglians -can't do: it can smile at you and lie. A man must have a deal of -training before he can tell by the feel of it in his own insides that -close over beyond a still sea and a sun-bright sky a storm is cooking -up that will kill him if it can. And even when he feels the coming of -it--if he be well to seaward, or if he be tempted by the fish being -plenty and by the bareness of his own pockets to hold on in the face of -it--he must have more in his head than any coast pilot has if he is to -win home to Yarmouth Harbour or to Lowestoft Roads. - -For God in his cruelty has set more traps to kill seafarers off this -easterly outjut of England, I do believe, than He has set anywhere else -in all the world: there being from Covehithe Ness northward to the -Winterton Overfalls nothing but a maze of deadly shoals--all cut up by -channels in which there is no sea-room--that fairly makes you queazy to -think about when you are coming shoreward in a northeast gale. And as -if that were not enough to make sure of man-food for the fishes, the -currents that swirl and play among these shoals are up to some fresh -wickedness with every hour of the tide-run and with every half shift of -wind. Whether you make in for Yarmouth by Hemesby Hole to the north, or -by the Hewett Channel to the south, or split the difference by running -through Caister Road, it is all one: twisting about the Overfalls and -the Middle Cross Sand and the South Scroby, there the currents are. -What they will be doing with you, or how they will be doing it, you -can't even make a good guess at; all that you can know for certain -being that they will be doing their worst by you at the half tide. - -At least, though, the Lowestoft men and the Yarmouth men have a good -harbour when once they fetch it; and by that much are better off than -we Southwold men, who have no harbour at all. With anything of a sea -running there is no making a landing under Southwold Cliff--though it -is safe enough when once your boat is beached and hauled up there; and -so, if the storm gets ahead of us, there is nothing left but to run for -Lowestoft: and a nice time we often have of it, with an on-shore gale -blowing, working up into the Covehithe Channel under the tail of the -Barnard Bank! As for beating up to seaward of the Barnard and running -in through Pakefield Gat, anybody can try for it who has a mind to--and -who has a boat that can eat the very heart out of the wind. Sometimes -you do fetch it. But what happens to you most times is best known to -the Newcome Shoal. When you have cleared the Barnard--if so be you do -clear it--the Newcome lies close under your lee for all the rest of -the run. What it has done for us fishermen you can see when the spring -tides bare it and show black scraps of old boats wrecked there, and -sometimes a gleam of sand-whitened bones. - -For a good many years we had another chance, though a poor one, and -that was to make a longish leg off shore and then run in before the -wind and cross the Barnard into Covehithe Channel through what we -called the Wreck Gat--a cut in the bank that the currents made striking -against a wrecked ship buried there. The Wreck Gat is gone now--closed -by the same storm that nearly closed my life for me--and you will not -find it marked nowadays on the charts. Its going was a good riddance. -At the best it was a desperate bad place to get through; and at its -worst it was about the same as a sea pitfall: and that nobody knows -better than I do, seeing that I was the last man to get through it -alive. But when you happened to be to windward of it, if it served at -all, it served better than running down a half mile farther and trying -to round the tail of the bank. - -Very many craft beside our own fisher-boats find their death-harbour -on our East Anglian sands. Our coast, as it has a right to be, is the -dread of every sailor man who sails the narrow seas. Great ships, -storm-swept on our sands, are sucked down into the depths of them, -or are hammered to pieces on the top of them, as light-heartedly as -though they were no more than cock-boats. And the supply of ships to be -wrecked there is unending--since the half of the trade of the world, -they say, sails past our shores. From every land they come: and many -and many a one of them comes but never goes. Down on them bangs the -northeast wind with a roar and a rattle--and presently our sands have -hold of them with a grip that is to keep them fast there till the last -day! Sometimes the dead men who were living sailors aboard those ships -come ashore to us, though they are more like to find graves in the -sands that murdered them or to be swept out to sea; sometimes, by a -twist of chance that you may call a miracle, the sea has a fancy for -casting one or two of them ashore alive. Dazed and half mad creatures -those live ones are, usually: their wits all jangled and shaken by the -great horror that has been upon them while they tossed among the waves. - -And so, as you may see, we men of the Suffolk and Norfolk coast need -the stiff backbone that we have as our birthright for the sea-fighting -that is our life-work; and it is not to be wondered at that our life of -sea-fighting makes us still more set and stubborn in our ways. - - -II - -My little Tess came to me, a sea upcast, after one of our great -northeast gales. I myself found her: lying where the waves had landed -her on the shingle, and where they had left her with the fall of the -tide. - -I was but a bit of a lad myself, then, going on to be eight years -old. Storms had no fright in them for me in those days. What I most -was thinking about when one was blowing--while my poor mother, if my -father was out in his boat, would be looking wild-eyed seaward, or in -the bed-room praying for him on her knees--was what I'd be picking up -on the shingle when the gale was over and the sea gone down. Later on, -when I came to know that at the gale's end I might be lying myself on -the shingle, along with the other wreckage, I got to looking at storms -in a different way. - -That blow that brought my Tess to me had no fears in it for my poor -mother, seeing that it came in the night time and my father safe at -home. The noise of my father getting up wakened me; and in a sleepy -way I watched him from my little bed, when he had the lamp lighted, -hurrying his clothes on that he might go down to where his boat was -hauled up on the shingle and heave her with the capstan still higher -above the on-run of the waves. And as I lay there, very drowsy, -watching my father drag his big boots on and hearing the roar of the -wind and feeling the shaking that it was giving to our house-walls, -there came suddenly the sharp loud bang of a gun. - -My father stopped as he heard it--with one leg in the air and his hands -gripping the boot-straps, I can see him now. "That's from close by!" -he said. "God help them--they must be ashore on the Barnard Bank!" Then -he jammed his other boot on, jumped into his sou'wester, and was gone -on a run. My mother ran to the door--I know now, having myself helped -to get men ashore from wrecked ships at my life's peril, what her fear -was--and called after him into the darkness: "Don't thou go to putting -thy life in danger, George May!" What she said did no good. The wind -swallowed her words before they got to him. For a minute or two she -stood in the doorway, all blown about; then, putting her weight on it, -she got the door shut and came back into the bed-room and knelt by the -bedside praying for him. I still was very drowsy. Presently I went off -to sleep again, thinking--God forgive me for it!--that if a ship had -stranded on the Barnard I'd find some pretty pickings when morning came -and the storm was over and I could get down to the shore. - -And that was my first thought when I wakened, and found the sun shining -and the wind blowing no more than a gentle breeze. My father was home -again, and safe and sound. There had been no chance for a rescue, -he said--the ship being deep down in the sands, and all her people -swept out of her, by the time that daylight came. And so I bolted my -breakfast, and the very minute that I had it inside of me I was off -down the cliff-path and along the beach northward to find what I could -find. All the other Southwold boys were hurrying that way too; but our -house being up at the north end of the village gave me the start of all -of them but John Heath, who lived close by us, and he came down the -cliff-path at my heels. - -The Barnard Bank lies off shore from Covehithe Ness, and under the Ness -our pickings would be most like to be. At the best they would be but -little things--buckets and baskets and brooms and odd oars, and such -like--the coast guard men seeing to it that we got no more; but things, -all the same, that any boy would jump for: and so away John and I ran -together, and we kept together until we were under the Ness--and could -see the broken stern-post of the wreck, all that was left to see of -her, sticking up from the Barnard going bare with the falling tide. -There I passed him--he giving a shout and stopping to pick up a basket -that I missed seeing because on my side weed covered it--and so was -leading him as we rounded the Ness by a dozen yards. And then it was I -who gave a shout--and made a dash for a big white bundle that was lying -in a nook of the shingle just above the lap of the waves. - -John saw the bundle almost as soon as I did, and raced me for it. But -I did see it first, and I touched it first, and so it fairly was mine. -A white sheet was the outside of it; and at one corner, under the -sheet, a bit of a blanket showed. I would have none of John's help as I -unwrapped it. He stood beside me, though, and said as I opened it that -even if I had touched it first we had seen it together--which wasn't -so--and that we must go share and share. I did not answer him, being -full of wonder what I was like to come to when I had the bundle undone. -In a good deal of a hurry I got the sheet loose, it was knotted at the -corners, and then the blanket, and then still another blanket that was -under the first one: and when that inner wrapping was opened there was -lying--a little live baby! It looked up into my face with its big black -eyes, and it blinked them for a minute--having been all shut up in the -dark and the sunlight bothering it--and then it smiled at me as if I'd -just waked it up not from the very edge of death in the sea but from a -comfortable nap in its cradle on land! - -John Heath burst out laughing. "You can have my share of it, George," -said he; "we've got babies enough of our own at home." And with that he -ran away and began to look again for brooms and buckets along the shore. - -But I loved my little Tess from that first sight of her, and I was -glad that John had said that I might have his share in her; though of -course, because I first saw her and first touched her, he had no real -share in her at all. So I wrapped her up again as well as I could in -her blankets--leaving the wet sheet lying there--and set off for home -along the shore, carrying her in my arms. Tired enough I got before I -had lugged my load that long way, and up the cliff, and so to our house -door. In the doorway my mother was standing, and I put the bundle in -her arms. "Lord save us!" said my mother. "What's the boy got here?" - -"Mother," said I, "it's a little beautiful live baby--and I found it, -and it's mine!" - - -III - -That was the way that my Tess came to me: and I know now how good my -father and my mother were in letting me keep her for my own--they with -only what my father could make by his fishing to live on, and the wolf -never very far away from the door. But the look of those black eyes of -hers and the smile in them won my mother's love to her, just as it had -won mine; and my mother told me, too, long years afterward, that her -heart was hungry for the girl baby that God had not given her--and she -said that Tess seemed to be her very own baby from the minute that she -took her close to her breast from my tired little arms. - -As to where Tess came from--from what port in all the wide world the -ship sailed that brought her to us--we had no way of knowing. Nothing -but Tess in her bundle came ashore from the wreck; and what was left of -the ship burrowed down into the sands so fast and so far that there was -to be seen of her only a broken bit of her stern-post at the storm's -ending. Even after the set of the currents against her sunken hull, on -the next spring tide, had cut through the Barnard Bank and so made the -Wreck Gat, no part of her but her broken stern-post ever showed. Tess -herself, though, told us what her own name was, and so gave us a notion -as to what land she belonged to; but we should have been none the -wiser for her telling it--she talking in words that were the same as -Greek to us--if the Vicar had not lent us a hand. - -My finding the baby made a stir in the whole village, and everybody -had to have a look at her. In the afternoon along came the Vicar -too--smiling through his gold spectacles, as he always did, and -swinging his black cane. By that time, having had all the milk she -could hold, and a good nap, and more milk again, Tess was as bright as -a new sixpence: just as though she had not passed that morning nearer -to death than ever she was like to pass again and live. She was lying -snug in my mother's arms before the fire, and in her own fashion was -talking away at a great rate--and my mother's heart quite breaking -because her pretty chatter was all in heathen words that nobody could -get at the meaning of. But the Vicar, being very learned, understood -her in a minute. "Why, it's Spanish," said he. "It's Spanish as sure as -you're born! She's calling you 'madrecita,' Mrs. May--which is the same -as 'motherkin,' you know. But I can't make even a guess at the rest of -it. Everything ends in 'ita'--real baby-talk." - -"Do kindly ask her, sir, what her blessed little name is," said my -mother. "It'll bring her a deal closer to us to know her name." - -"I'll try her in Latin," said the Vicar--"that's the best that I can -manage--and it'll be hit or miss if she understands." And then he bent -over the little tot--she being then a bit over two years old, my mother -thought--and asked her what her name was in Latin words. - -For a minute there was a puzzled look in the big black eyes of her and -her brow puckered. And then she smiled all over her pretty face and -answered, as clear as you please: "Tesita." That a baby no bigger than -that understood Latin always has seemed to me most like a miracle of -anything that ever I have known! - -My mother looked bothered and chap-fallen. "It's not a real name at -all," she said, and sighed over it. - -"It's a very good name indeed, Mrs. May," said the Vicar; "only she's -giving you her baby way of saying it. Her name is Theresa. 'Tesita' is -the same as our 'Tess' would be, you know." - -"Theresa! Tess!" cried my mother, brightening up all in a minute. "Why, -that was my own dear mother's name! Her having that name seems to make -her in real truth mine, sir!" And she hugged the baby close to the -heart of her, and all in the same breath cried over it and laughed over -it--thinking, I suppose, of her mother dead and buried, and thankful -for the daughter that she so longed for that had come to her upcast by -the sea. - -More than what her name was, as is not to be wondered at, Tess never -told us; and the only thing in the world that gave us any knowledge -of her--and that no more than that her people were like to be -gentlefolk--was a gold chain about her neck, under her little night -gown, with a locket fast to it on which were some letters in such a -jumble that even the Vicar could not make head nor tail of them, though -he tried hard. - - -IV - -Whatever part of the world Tess came from, it was plain enough by the -look of her--and more and more plain as she grew up into a tall and -lanky girl, and then into a tall slim woman--that Suffolk was a long -way off from the land where she was born. - -Our Suffolk folk, for the most part, are shortish and thickset and fair -and blue eyed. We men--being whipped about by the wind and weather, -and the sea-salt tanned into us--lose our fairness early and go a -bun-brown; but our women--having no salt spray in their faces, and only -their just allowance of sunshine--have their blue eyes matched with the -red and white cheeks that they were born with; and their hair, though -sometimes it goes darkish, usually is a bright chestnut or a bright -brown. Also, our women are steady-going and sensible; though I must say -that now and then they are a bit hard to get along with: being given -to doing their thinking slowly, and to being mighty fast set in their -own notions when once they have made their minds up--the same as we -men. As for Tess--with her black eyes and her black hair, and her face -all a cream white with not a touch of red in it--she was like none of -them; and she could think more out-of-the-way things and be more sorts -of a girl in five minutes than any Suffolk lass that ever I came across -could think or be in a whole year! - -Tess was unlike our girls in another matter: she had a mighty hot -spit-fire temper of her own. Our girls, the same as our men, are -easy-going and anger slowly; but when they do anger they are glowing -hot to their very finger-tips, and a long while it takes them to cool -off. But Tess would blaze up all in a minute--and as often as not with -no real reason for it--and be for a while such an out-and-out little -fury that she would send everything scudding before her; and then would -pull up suddenly in the thick of it, and seem to forget all about it, -and like enough laugh at the people around her looking scared! Somehow, -though, it was seldom that she let me have a turn of her tantrums; and -when she did they'd be over in no time, and she'd have her arms around -me and be begging me to kiss her and to tell her that I didn't mind. -I suppose that she was that way with me because for my part--having -from the very first so loved her that quarreling with her was clean -impossible--I used just to stand and stare at her in her passions; and -like enough be showing by the look in my eyes the puzzled sorrow that I -was feeling in my inside. As to answering her anger with my anger, it -never once crossed my mind. - -With John Heath things went differently. He would go ugly when she -flew out at him--and would keep his anger by him after hers long was -over and done with, and would show it by putting some hurt upon her -in a dirty way. A good many thrashings I gave John Heath, at one -time or another, for that sort of thing; and the greatest piece of -unreasonableness that Tess ever put on me, which is saying much for it, -was on that score: she being then ten years old, or thereabouts, and -John and I well turned of sixteen. - -Some trick that he played on her--I don't know what it was--set her -in a rage against him, and he made her worse by laughing at her, and -she ended by throwing sand in his eyes. Then his anger got up, and he -caught her--being twice the size of her--and boxed her ears. I came -along just then, and I can see the look of her now. She was not crying, -as any ordinary child would have been--John having meant to hurt her, -and hit hard. She was standing straight in front of him with her little -hands gripped into fists as if she meant to fight him, that cream white -face of hers gone a real dead white, a perfect blaze of passion in her -big black eyes. In another second or so she'd have been flying at him -if I'd given her the chance. But I didn't--I sailed right in and myself -gave him what he needed; and when I had finished with him I had so well -blackened the two eyes of him that he forgot about the sand. But after -it all was over, so far from being obliged to me, what did Tess do but -fall to crying because I'd hurt him, and to saying that he'd only given -her what she deserved! For a week and more she would not speak to me, -and all that time she was trotting about sorrowfully at John's heels. -It seemed as though all of a sudden she had got to loving him because -he had played the man and the master to her; and I'm sure that his love -for her had its beginning then too. - -John's folks and my folks, as I have said, lived up at the north end -of the village, a bit apart, and that made us three keep most together -while we were little; but Tess never had much to do with the other -children, even when she got big enough to be with them at school. They -did not get along with her, being puzzled by her whims and fancies and -set against her by her spit-fire ways. And she did not get along with -them because she was quick about everything and all of them were slow. -When she began to grow up, though, matters changed a good deal. The -boys--she being like nobody else in the village--picked her out to make -love to, and that set the girls by the ears. Tess liked the love-making -a deal more than I liked her to like it; and she didn't mind what the -girls said to her because her wits were nimbler than their wits and -she always could give them better than they could send. - -So things went while the years went till Tess was turned of seventeen, -and was shot up into a tall slim woman in all ways so beautiful as to -be, I do believe, the most beautiful woman that God ever made. And then -it was that Grace Gryce, damn her for it, found a whip that served to -lash her; and so cruel a whip that she was near to lashing the life out -of her with it at a single blow. - - -V - -According to our Suffolk notions, Grace Gryce was a beauty: being -strongly set up and full built and well rounded, with cheeks as red as -strawberries, and blue eyes that for any good looking man had a smile -in them, and over all a head of bright-brown hair. Had Tess been out -of the way she'd have had things all as she wanted them, not another -girl in the village for looks coming near her; and so it was only human -nature, I suppose, that she hated Tess for crossing her--making her -always go second, and a bad second, with the men. - -It was about John Heath, though, that the heart of the matter was. -All the village knew that Grace fancied him, and that he half fancied -her--and would have fancied her altogether had Tess been out of -the way. Making up his mind between them--John always was a thick -thinker--did not seem to come easy to him. The whims and the ways -of Tess--that made a dozen different sorts of girl of her in five -minutes--seemed to set him off from her a-most as much as they set him -on: being a sort of puzzle, I'm free to say, that other men beside John -couldn't well understand. With Grace it was different. She might blow -hot or she might blow cold with him; or she might show her temper--she -had a-plenty of it--and give him the rough side of her tongue: but what -she meant and what she wanted always was plain and clear. To be sure, -this is only my guess why he hung in the wind between them. Maybe he -set too little store on Tess's love because it came to him too easily; -maybe he thought that by seeming to love her lightly he best could hold -her fast. - -Hold her fast he did, and that is certain. In spite of all her -whimsies, he had her love; and it was his, as I have said, from the -time when he man-mastered her by boxing the little ears of her--she -being only ten years old. Always after that, even when she was at her -sauciest and her airiest, he had only to speak short and sharp to her -and she'd come to heel to him like a dog. Sometimes, seeing her taking -orders from him that way was close to setting me wild: I having my -whole heart fixed on her, and ready to give the very hands of me to -have from her the half of what she gave him. Not but what she loved me -too, in her own fashion, and dearly. She showed that by the way that -she used to come to me in all her little hurts and troubles; and the -sweetness and the comfortingness of her to me and to my mother always, -but most when my poor father was drowned, was beyond any words that I -have to put it in. But my pain was that the love which she had for me -was of the same sort that she had for my mother--and I was not wanting -from her love of that kind. And so it cut to the quick of me--I who -would have kissed her shoe-soles--to see her so ready always to be meek -and humble at a word from John. There were times, and a good many of -them--seeing her so dog-faithful to him, and he almost as careless of -her as if she had been no more than a dog to him--that I saw red as I -looked at him, and got burning hot in the insides of me, and was as -close to murdering him as I well could be and he still go on alive. - -Like enough Grace Gryce--being of the same stock that I was, and made -much as I was--had the same feeling for Tess that I had for John; and -Grace, being a woman, had nothing to stop her from murdering Tess in a -woman's way. She would have done it sooner had her wits been quicker. -Time and again they had had their word-fights together, and Tess always -getting the better of her because Grace's wits, like the rest of her, -were heavy and slow. - -It was down by the boats, under the Gun Hill, that they fought the -round out in which Grace drew blood at last. A lot of the girls were -together there and Tess, for a wonder, happened to be with them. They -all were saying to her what hard things they could think of; and she, -in her quick way, was hitting back at them and scoring off them all. -Poor sort of stuff it was that they were giving her: calling her "Miss -Fine-Airs" and "Miss Maypole," and scorning the black eyes and the pale -face of her, and girding at her the best they could because in no way -was she like themselves. - -"It's a pity I'm so many kinds of ugliness!" says Tess in her saucy -way, and making it worse by laughing. "It's a true pity that I'm not -pretty, like all the rest of you, and so am left lonely. If only I'd -some of your good looks, you see, I might have, as the rest of you -have, a lot of men at my heels." - -That was a shot that hit all of them, but it hit Grace the hardest -and she answered it. "It's better," said she, "to go your whole life -without a man at your heels than it is to spend your whole life -dog-tagging at the heels of a man." - -The girls laughed at that, knowing well what Grace was driving at. But -Tess was ready with her answer and whipped back with it: "Well, it's -better to tag at a man's heels and he pleased with it than it is to -want to tag there and he not letting you--liking a may-pole, maybe, -better than a butter-tub, and caring more, maybe, for grace by nature -than for Grace by name." - -That turned the joke--only it was no joke--on Grace again; and as the -girls had not much more liking for her than they had for Tess, seeing -that she spoiled what few man-chances Tess left them, they laughed at -her as hard as they could laugh. - -Grace's slow anger had been getting hotter and hotter in her. That shot -of Tess's, and the girls all laughing at her, brought it to a boil. - -"Who be'st thou, to open thy ugly mouth to me?" she jerked out, with -a squeak in her voice and her blue eyes blazing. "Who be'st thou, -anyway? Who knows the father or the mother of thee? Who knows what foul -folk in what foul land bore thee? Dog-tag thou may'st, but--mark my -words--naught will come of it: because thou'rt not fit for John Heath -or for any other honest man to have dealings with--thou rotten upcast -of the sea!" - -Tess was holding her head high and was scornful-looking when this -speech began; but the ending of it, so Mary Benacre told my mother, -seemed like a knife in her heart. Her face went a sort of a pasty -white, so Mary said; and she seemed to choke, somehow, and put her hand -up to her throat in a fluttering kind of way as if her throat hurt her. -And then she sort of staggered, and made a grab at the boat she was -standing by and leaned against it--looking, so Mary said, as if she was -like to die. - -"Mayhap now thou'lt keep quiet a bit," Grace said, with her hands on -her fat hips and her elbows out; and with that, and a flounce at her, -turned away. The other girls, all except Mary, went along with Grace; -but not talking, and most of them scared-looking: feeling, like -enough, as men would feel standing by at the end of a knife-fight, when -one man is down with a cut that has done for him and there is a smell -of blood in the air. - -Mary staid behind--she was a good sort, was Mary Benacre--and went to -Tess and tried to comfort her. Tess didn't answer her, but just looked -at her with a pitiful sort of stare out of her black eyes that Mary -said was like the look of some poor dumb thing that had no other way of -telling how bad its hurt was. And then, rousing herself up, Tess pushed -Mary away from her and started for home on a run. Mary did not follow -her, but later on she came and told my mother just what had happened -and gave her Grace Gryce's words. - -It was well that Mary came, that way, and told a clear story about it -all. What Tess told--when she came flying into the house and caught -my mother around the neck and put her poor head on my mother's breast -and went off into a passion of crying there--was such a muddle that my -mother knew only that Grace Gryce had said something to her that was -wickedly cruel. Tess cried and cried, as if she'd cry the very life out -of her; and kept sobbing out that she was a sea upcast, and a nobody's -daughter, and that the sea would have done better by her had it -drowned her, and that she hoped she'd die soon and be forgotten--until -she drove my mother almost wild. - -And so it went for a long while with her, my mother petting her and -crying over her, until at last--the feel, I suppose, of my mother's -warm love for her getting into her poor hurt heart and comforting -her--she began to quiet down. Then my mother got her to bed--she -was as weak as water--and made a pot of bone-set tea for her; and -pretty soon after she'd drunk a cup or two of it she dropped off to -sleep. She still was sleeping when Mary Benacre came and told the -whole story; and so stirred up my mother's anger--and she was a very -gentle-natured woman, my mother was--that it was all she could do, she -said afterwards, not to go straight off to Grace Gryce and give her a -beating with her own hands. - - -VI - -When Tess came to breakfast the next morning it gave me a real turn to -look at her. Somehow, at a single jump, she seemed to have changed from -a girl to a woman--and to an old woman at that. Suddenly she had got -to be all withered like, and the airs that she used to give herself and -all the pretty ways of her were gone. She just moped in a chair in a -corner--she who'd never been quiet for five minutes together, any more -than a bird--with a far-away look in her beautiful eyes, and the glint -of tears in them. Sorrow had got into the very bones of her. "Dost -think I really am come of such foul folk that I'm not fit for honest -company?" she asked my mother--and if she asked that question once that -morning she asked it a dozen times. - -In a way, of course, she had known what she was all her life long. "My -sea-baby" was my mother's pet name for her at the first; and by that -pet-name, when most tender with her, my mother called her till the -last. How she had come to us, how I had found her where the waves had -left her and had carried her home in my little tired arms, she had been -told over and over again. Sometimes she used to make up stories about -herself in her light-fancied way: telling us that she was a great lady -of Spain, and that some fine morning the great Spanish lord her father -would come to Southwold by some chance or other, and would know her by -the chain and the locket, and would take her home with him and marry -her to a duke--or to a prince, even--in her own land. We'd see that -she'd be pretending to herself while she told them to us that these -stories were true, and I think that she did half believe in them. But -it was not real believing that she had in them; it was the sort of -believing that you have in things in dreams. Her love was given to my -mother and to my father--and to me, too, though not in the way that I -wanted it--and we were the true kinsfolk of her heart. On our side, -we all so loved her, and made her feel so truly that she was our very -own, that the thought of her being a nobody's child never had a chance -to get into her mind. And her own fancies about herself--always that -her own dream people were great people in the dream land where they -lived--kept her from seeing the other chance of the matter: that they -as well might be mean people, who would put shame on her should ever -she come to know who they were. Into her head that cruel thought never -got until Grace Gryce put it there; and put there with it the crueller -thought that her being a nobody's child was what made John stand off -from her, he thinking her not fit to be his wife. - -Tess was fearing, maybe, that even if John had not had that feeling -about her he was like to have it after Grace had set him in the way of -it. And maybe she was thinking, too, that if she had been hurt for the -sake of him, and so deserved loving pity from him, it was Grace who for -the sake of him had done the hurting--and that it was Grace who had -won. Our girls are best pleased with the lover who fights to a finish -some other man in love with them and well thrashes him. Tess may have -fancied that John would take it that way; and so end by settling that -Grace, having the most fire and fight in her, was the most to his mind. -But what really came of it all with John, as far as I can make out, was -that his getting them fairly set the one against the other cleared his -thick wits up and brought him to a choice. - -And so, being in every way sorrowful, Tess was like a dead girl that -day; and my heart was just breaking for her. When dinner time came she -roused up a bit and helped my mother, as she always did--though my -mother wanted her to keep resting--and tried in a pitiful sort of way -to talk a little and to pretend that she was not in bitter pain; but -those pretty feet of hers, so light always, dragged after her in her -walking, and she was all wizened-looking, and there were black marks -under her beautiful sorrowing eyes. My mother helped to make talk with -her, though my mother was wiping her own tears away when she got the -chance; but as for me, I was tongue-tied by the hurt and the anger in -me and could not say a word. What I was thinking was, how glad I'd be -to wring Grace Gryce's neck for her if only she was a man! - -After dinner I went out to a bench in front of our house, but a bit -away from it, and sat there trying to comfort myself with a pipe--and -not finding much even in a pipe to comfort me--until the sun, all -yellow, began to drop down toward the Gun Hill into a bad looking -yellow sky. All the while I had the tail of my eye bearing on our door, -and at last I saw Tess come out of it. She took a quick look at the -back of me, sitting quiet there; and then, I not turning toward her, -off she walked along the edge of the cliff to the northward. At first -I didn't know what to do--thinking that if she wanted to be alone I -ought to leave her to her loneliness--and I sat on and smoked another -pipe before I could make up my mind. But the longer I sat there the -stronger my drawing was to go to her. What was hurting her most, as -I well enough knew, was the thought of having neither kith nor kin -for herself, along with the dread that even if she found her people -they might only be a shame to her--and that was a hurt that having a -husband would cure for her, seeing that she would get a new and a good -rating in the world when she got her husband's name. And so, at last, -I started after her to tell her all that was in the heart of me; and -thinking more, and this is the truth, of what I could do to comfort her -by taking the sting out of Grace Gryce's words than of how in that same -way I could win my own happiness. - -I walked on so far--across the dip in the land where the old river was, -and up on the cliffs again--that I began to think she had turned about -inland and so had gone that way home. But at last I came up with her, -on the very top of Covehithe Ness. - -She was sitting at the cliff-edge, bent forward a little with her -elbows on her knees and her face in her hands; and as I came close to -her I saw that she was crying in that quiet sort of way that people cry -in when they have touched despair. I walked so softly on the grass that -she did not hear my footsteps; but she was not put out when she looked -up and saw me standing over her--by which I think, and am the happier -for thinking it, that she had not gone there of set purpose to meet -with John. - -"Sit thee down here, George. I'm glad thou'rt come," she said, and she -reached me her hand. - -When I was on the grass beside her--she still keeping her hand in mine, -as if the touch of something that loved her was a comfort to her--she -had nothing to say for a bit, but just leaned her head against my -shoulder and cried softly there. - -The tide was out and a long stretch of the Barnard Bank lay bared below -us, with here and there the black bones of some dead ship lying buried -in them sticking up from the sands. Slicing deep in the bank was the -Wreck Gat, with the last of the ebb running out through it from the -Covehithe Channel and the undercut sides of it falling down into the -water and melting away. At the edge of it was the sunken ship that -had made it: the ship that had brought Tess to us from her birth-land -beyond the seas. As I have said, no more of the wreck showed than her -broken stern-post: a bit of black timber, all jagged with twisted iron -bolts and weed-grown and barnacled, upstanding at one side of the -channel from the water and not high out of it even at low tide. When -the tide was in, and any sort of a sea was running, you stood a good -chance of finding just where it was by having your boat stove on it: -for then it did not show at all, except now and then in the hollow of -the waves. - -Tess was looking down on it, her head still resting on my shoulder, and -after a while she said: "If only we could dig that ship up, George, -we might find what would tell that I'm not come of foul folk, after -all"--and then she began to cry again in the same silent sort of way. -I couldn't get an answer for her--what she said hurt me so, and she -crying on my shoulder, and I feeling the beating of her heart. - -"It was good of thee, George," she went on again, presently, "to save -the baby life of me; but it's a true truth thou'dst have done me more -of a kindness hadst thou just thrown me back into the sea. I'd be glad -to be there now, George. Down there under the water it would make no -difference what sort of folk I come of. And I'd be resting there as I -can't rest here--for down there my pain would be gone." - -My throat was so choked up that I had hard work to get my words out of -it, and when they did come they sounded queer. "Tess! Tess!" I said. -"Thou'lt kill me dead talking that way. As if the like of thee could -come of foul folk! A lord duke would be the least to be fit father to -thee--and proud of thee he well might be! But what does it matter, -Tess, what thy folk were who owned thee at the beginning? They gave -thee to the sea's keeping--and the sea gave thee to me. By right of -finding, thou'rt mine. It was I who found thee, down on the shingle -there, and from the first minute that ever I laid eyes on thee I loved -thee--and the only change in me has been that always I've loved thee -more and more. Whether thy people were foul folk or fair folk is all -one to me. It's thyself that I'm loving--and with every bit of the love -that is in my heart. Let me make thee the wife of me, Tess--and then -thou'lt have no need to fret about who thy forbears were for thou'lt -have no more to do with them, being made a part of me and mine." - -I talked at such a rate, when I did get set a-going, that my own words -ran away with me; and I got the feeling that they ran away with Tess -too. But when I had ended, and she lifted up her head from my shoulder -and looked straight into the eyes of me, I knew by what her eyes had -in them--before ever she said a word back to me--that what I wanted -most in the whole world for myself I could not have. - -It seemed to me an hour before she spoke, she all the time looking -straight into my eyes and her own eyes full of tears. At last she did -speak. "George," said she, "if I could be wife to thee, as thou'dst -have me be, I'd go down on my knees and thank God! But it can't be, -George. It can't be! I've set my heart." - -There was no doubting what she said. In the sound of her voice there -was something that seemed as much as her words to settle the matter for -good and all. Whenever I am at a funeral and hear the reading of the -burial service it brings back to me the sound of her voice that day. -Only there is a promise of hope in the burial service--and that there -was not for me in Tess's words. - -"It's John that's between us?" I asked. - -"Yes," she said, speaking slow, "it's John." She was quiet for a minute -and then went on again, still speaking slow: "I don't understand it -myself, George. Thou'rt a better-hearted man than he is, and I truly -think I love him less than I do thee. But--but I love him in another -way." - -"Damn him!" said I. - -That got out before I could stop it, but when it had got out I wasn't -sorry. It told what I felt then--and it tells what I feel now. John's -taking her from me was stealing, and nothing less. We were together -when I found her, he and I; but I first saw her and I first touched -her--and he gave me his share in her, though he had no real share in -her, when he knew what my finding was. And so his taking her from me -was stealing: and that is God's truth! - -Tess said nothing back to me. She only looked at me sorrowful for a -minute, and then looked down again at the bit of wreck on the sands. By -the sigh she gave I knew pretty well what was in her mind. - -I'd had my answer, and that was the end of it. "I'll be going now, -Tess," I said; and I got up and she got up with me. I was not feeling -steady on my legs, and like enough I had a queer look on me. As for -Tess, she was near as white as a dead woman, though some of her -whiteness may have come from the yellow sunshine on her out of the -western sky. Up there on top of the Ness we still had the sun with us, -though he was almost gone among the foul weather yellow clouds. - -"Thou'lt try to forgive me, George," she said, speaking low, and her -mouth sort of twitching. - -"I love thee, Tess," I said; "and where there's love there can be no -talk of forgiveness. But John has the hate of me, and I tell thee -fairly I'll hurt him if I can!" - -With that I left her--there on Covehithe Ness, over the very spot where -the sea brought her to me--and went walking back along the cliff-edge: -and not seeing anything clearly because I was thinking about John, and -what I'd like to do to him, and there was a sort of red blur before my -eyes. - -After a while I turned and looked back. My eyes had cleared a bit, -but what I saw made them red again. Tess was not alone on the Ness. -John was with her. The two stood out strong in the last of the -yellow sunshine against a cloud-bank on the far edge of the sky. I -suppose that Tess being hurt that way for him brought John to his -bearings--making him love her the more for sorrow's sake, and for -anger's sake making him ready to throw Grace Gryce over. Like enough -he had been watching for his chance to get to her, waiting till I was -gone. Anyway, there he was--and I knew what he was saying to her as -well as if I'd heard the words. It is no wonder that the blood got -into my eyes again as I started back along the path. But I did not go -far. Somehow I managed to pull myself together and turn again. What I -had to settle with John Heath could be settled best when he and I were -alone. - - -VII - -When Tess came home to supper that night she was all changed again: her -looks gay once more, and her step light, and a sort of flutter about -her lips--as if she was wanting to smile and was trying not to--and a -soft look in her eyes that I never had seen there, but knew the meaning -of and found the worst of all. - -I couldn't eat my supper; and got up presently and went out leaving -it--my mother looking after me wondering--and walked up and down on the -cliff-edge in the darkness with my heart all in a blaze of hate for -John. For a good while I had been looking for what I knew was in the -way of coming to me; but it was different, and worse, and hurt more -than I had counted on, when at last it came. Out there in the darkness -I staid until the night was well on--not wanting for a while to hear -the sound of Tess's voice nor to lay eyes on her. Not until I was -sure, by the lights being out in the house, that she'd gone to bed, did -I go in again. My mother was waiting waking for me. She came to me in -the dark and put her arms around me and kissed me; by which I knew that -Tess had been telling her--and knew, too, she always having looked to -the wedding of us, that her heart was sore along with mine. But I could -not bear even her soft touch on the hurt that I had. I just kissed her -back again and broke away from her and went to bed. And in the very -early morning, not having slept much, I slipped out of the house before -either she or Tess was stirring and down to my boat and so away to sea. - -What I was after was to get some quiet time to myself that would steady -me before I had things out with John. I was not clear in my mind how -I meant to settle with him. I did know, though, that I meant to have -some sort of a fair fight with him that would end in my killing him or -in him killing me--and I knew that to tackle him with my head all in a -buzz would be to throw too many chances his way. And so I got away in -my boat, at the day-dawn, to the sea's quietness: where I could clear -my head of the buzzing that was in it and put some sort of shape to my -plans. - -Had I been in my sober senses that morning I never should have gone -away seaward at all. Backing up the promise of the yellow sunset of -the night before, pink clouds were showing in the eastern sky as I -started; and as I sailed on in loneliness--standing straight out from -the land on a soft leading wind from the south-west westerly--the pink -turned to a pale red and then to a deep red, and at last the sun came -up out of the water a great ball of fire. The look of the sea, too, -all in an oily bubble, and the set of the ground-swell, told me plain -enough--even without the sunrise fairly shouting it in the ears of -me--that a change of wind was coming before mid-day, and that pretty -soon after the wind shifted it would be blowing a gale. - -I will say this, though: If I'd missed seeing the red sunrise--and -all the more if I'd been full of happiness and my wits gone a -wool-gathering--I might have thought from the look and the feel of the -water, and from the set of the high clouds, that the wind would not -blow to hurt anything for a good twelve hours. That much I'll say by -way of excuse for John. Like enough he slept late that morning--through -lying awake the night before thinking what he'd be likely to -think--and so missed seeing the sun's warning. When he did get away in -his boat it was well past eight o'clock; and there was no man on the -beach when he started, so they told me, to counsel him. And, all being -said, even a good sailor--and that John was--starting off as he was to -buy a wedding-ring might not look as sharp as he ought to look at the -sea and at the sky. - -As to my own sailing seaward--I seeing the storm-signals and knowing -the meaning of them--I have no more to say than that I was hot for -a fight with anything that morning, and didn't care much what I had -it with or how it came. Anybody who knows how to sail a boat, and to -sail one well, knows what joy there is in getting the better of foul -winds and rough seas for the mere fun of the thing; but there is still -more joy in a tussle of that sort when you are in a towering rage. -Then you are ready to push the fight farther by taking more and bigger -death-chances: since a man in bitter anger--at least in such bitter -anger as I was in then--does not care much whether he pulls through -safely or gets drowned. And so I went on my course seaward, on that -soft wind blowing more and more lazily, until the coast line was lost -in the water behind me: knowing well enough, and glad to have it that -way, that the wind would lull and lull until it failed me, and that -then I would get a blow out of the northeast that would give me all the -fight I wanted, and perhaps a bit to spare! - -But because I meant my fight to be a good one, and meant to win it, I -got myself ready for it. When the wind did fail--the sun was put out -by that time, and from high up in the northeast the scud was flying -over me--I took in and snugged away everything but my mainsail, and -put a double reef in that with the reef-points knotted to hold. Then -I waited, drifting south a little--the flood having made half an hour -before, and the set of the ebb taking me that way. - -I did not have to wait long. Out of the mist, banked thick to the -north-eastward, came the moaning that a strong wind makes when it's -rushing down on you; then from under the mist swept out a dark riffle -that broke the oily bubble of the water and put life into it; and -then the wind got to me with a bang. There was more of it than I had -counted on having at the first, showing that the gale behind it was a -strong one and coming down fast; but I had the nose of my boat pointed -up to meet it, and with no more than a bit of a rattle I got away -close-hauled. There was no going back to Southwold, of course. What I -was heading for was the Pakefield Gat into the Stanford Channel, and so -to the harbour at Lowestoft; and I pretty well knew from the first that -no matter how close I bit into the wind--and my boat was a weatherly -one--I had my work cut out for me if I meant to keep from going to -leeward of the Pakefield Gat in the gale that was coming on. - -Go to leeward I did, and badly. When I raised the coast again, and a -lift of the mist gave me my bearings, I saw that Kessingland tower was -my landfall. As to working up from there to the Pakefield Gat--the -edge of the gale by that time being fairly on me--I knew that it was -clean impossible. I still had two chances left--one being to cross the -Barnard by the Wreck Gat, and the other to round into Covehithe Channel -across the tail of the bank. To the first of these the wind would help -me; but I knew that even with the wind's help it would be ticklish -work trying to squeeze through that narrow place at the half ebb--when -the strong outset of the current would be meeting the inpour of the -storm-driven sea. It would be better, so I settled after a minute's -thinking, to pass that chance and take the other--which would be a -fairly sure one, though a close one too. And so I wore around--with a -bad wallow in the trough of the sea that set everything to shaking for -a minute--and got on my new course pretty well on the wind. - -Just as I was making ready for wearing, and so had my hands full, I -glimpsed the sail of a boat in the mist up to windward; and when I was -come about she was abeam to leeward, showing her high weather side to -me, not twenty yards away. Then I saw that it was John Heath's boat, -and that John was standing up alone in her at the helm. Why the fool -had not staid safe in Lowestoft harbour, God only knows. But it's only -fair to him, again, to say that he must have got away from Lowestoft -a good while before the wind shifted; and like enough he would have -worked down to Southwold, and got his boat safe beached there before -trouble came, if the calm had not caught him sooner than it did me--he -being all the time close under the land. - - -VIII - -Some of my rage had gone out of me in my fight to windward in the -gale's teeth; but when I saw John close by me there it all came back -to me. For half a minute the thought was in my head to run him down -and sink him--and I had the wind of him and could have done it. Even -in my rage, though, I could not play a coward trick like that on him; -and before I could make any other plan up he set me in the way of one -himself. - -"I'm making for the Wreck Gat," he sung out. "Give me a lead in, -George--'tis better known to thee than to me." - -Had I stopped to think about it, his asking me to lead him in would -have been a puzzle to me, he being just as good a sailor as I was -and just as well knowing every twist of the sea and the sands. But I -didn't stop to think about the queerness of what he wanted--why he was -for making things double safe by my leading him is clear enough to me -now--because my wits were at work at something else. - -While the words were coming out of his mouth--it all was in my head -like a flash--I saw my way to settling with him, and to settling fair. -He was crazy to want to try for it through the Wreck Gat on the half -tide, with the run of the ebb meeting the onset of the breakers and a -whole gale blowing. But his being crazy that way was his look out, -not mine. I'd give him the lead in that he wanted--asking him to take -nothing that I didn't take first myself, and giving him a better chance -than I had because I'd be setting the course for him and he'd have -only to follow on. That either of us would pull through would be as -it might be. As to my own chance, such as it was, I was ready for it: -knowing that I would be no worse off dead with him than I was living -with him--and a long sight better off if I put him in the way of the -drowning that would finish him, and yet myself won through alive. - -That was what got into my head like a flash while he was hailing me, -and mighty pleased I was with it. "Follow on," I sung out. "I'll give -thee a lead." And to myself I was saying: "Yes, a lead to hell!" - -"All right," he sung out back to me--and let his boat fall off a bit -that I might draw ahead of him. As he dropped astern, and the uptilt of -his weather rail no longer hid the inside of his boat from me, I saw -that there was a biggish bunch of something covered with a tarpaulin' -in the stern sheets close by his feet. But I gave no thought to it: all -my thought being fixed on what was ahead of me and him in the next -half hour. I was glad that we had to wait a little. Every minute of -waiting meant more wind, and so a bigger fight in the Wreck Gat between -the out-running current and the in-running sea. I had a feeling in my -bones that I would pull through and that he wouldn't, and I was keen -to see the smash of him as his boat took the sands. After that smash -came, the rest of his life could be counted in minutes and seconds--as -he floundered and drowned in that wild tumble of sand-thickened waves. -So I'd have done with him and be quit of him; and would have a good -show--if I didn't drown along with him--for winning Tess for my own. If -I did drown with him, or if--not being drowned--Tess would have none of -me, there still would be this much to the good: I'd have served him out -for crossing me in my deep heart-wish, and I'd have made certain that -he and she never could come together in this world alive. - -All that I was thinking as I stood on ahead of him, bucketing through -the waves that every minute were heavier with the churned up sand. And -I also was thinking, and I remember laughing as the thought came to me, -that there was a sort of rightness in the way things were working out -with us--seeing that the ship that had brought me my Tess, and the sea -that had given her to me, together were making the death-trap for the -man who had stolen away from me her love. - -The wind was well up to a gale as we drove on together, me leading him -by a half dozen boats' lengths, and from all along to leeward of us -came to us through the mist a sort of a groaning roar as the breakers -went banging and grinding on the Barnard Bank. Nothing but having the -wind and the sea both with us, when we stood in for the gat, saved us -from foundering; and yet that same also put us in peril of it, because -we had a wide open chance of being pooped by the great following waves -which came hanging over and dragging at our sterns. - -The mist thinned as we got closer in shoreward, showing me the -sand-heavy surf waiting for its chance to scour the life out of us; -but also showing me Covehithe Ness, and Covehithe church tower off to -the left of it, and so giving me the points that I wanted to steer -by. As for the look of the Wreck Gat, when we opened it, the waves -blustered over it so big, and were all in such a whirl and a fury with -the current meeting them, that only a crazy man--as I have said--ever -would have tried for it. Just about crazy I then was, and the look -of it suited me. In that sea the narrow channel was so lashed by the -breakers running off from the sands to windward of it that there was -no sign of a cleft anywhere. No matter how we steered, getting through -it would be just hit or miss with us--and with all my heart and soul I -hoped that it would be hit for me and miss for John. - -To make in, I had to bear up a little; and getting the wind by even -that little abeam gave my boat a send to leeward that was near to doing -for me. I was glad of it, though; because I knew that John would get -that same send in the wake of me--and with more chance of its finishing -him, his boat being a deal less weatherly than mine. And so--as I -grazed the sands, and after the graze went on safe again--my heart was -light with the thought that I'd got the better of him at last. - -[Illustration: "THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME"] - -There was no looking back, though, to see what had gone with him. All -my eyes were needed for my steering. Everywhere about me the sand-heavy -water was hugely rising in a great roar and tumble; and as for the -sands under it, and there the worst danger was, it was just good luck -or bad luck about striking them--and that was all that you could say. -Twice I felt a jar under me as the boat went deep in the sea-trough; -but I did not strike hard enough to hurt me, and I lifted again so -quick that I did not broach-to. And then, when I thought that I was -fairly through, and had safe water right ahead of me, there came a -bang on the boat's side--as the sea-trough took me down again--that -near stove me: and right at the side of me, so close that I could have -touched it as I lay for a second there in the deep wave-hollow, was the -stern-post of Tess's sand-bedded ship rising black out of the scum and -foam. One foot farther to leeward and the jagged iron of it would have -had me past praying for. But it did no harm to me--and as the water -covered it again I shot on beyond it into what seemed to me, after the -sea I'd hammered through, almost a mill-pond on the lee side of the -bank. - -Then I could use my eyes to look behind me: and what I saw will stay -fixed in them till the copper pennies cover them and I see with them no -more. - -In spite of his send to leeward at the start, John had come through -after me without taking the ground; but he had gone farther to leeward -than I had, and so was set--when smooth water lay close ahead of -him--fairly in death's way. As I looked back I saw only the bow of -his boat, with the scrap of sail above it, riding on the top of an -oncoming wave. Then the boat tilted forward, and came tearing down the -wave-front at a slant toward me, and I saw the whole length of her: -and what burned my eyes out was seeing Tess there, standing brave and -steady, the two hands of her gripping fast the mast. - -It was not much more than a second that I had to look at her. With a -sharp sound of wood splintering, that I heard above the noise that -the sea was making, the boat struck fair and full on that iron set -timber--and then the wave that had sent her there was playing with the -scattered bits of her, and the sand-heavy breakers were tumbling about -the bodies of the two that she had borne. - - * * * * * - -If the sea meant to give me back my dead Tess again, I knew where -I should find her--and there I did find her. On the shingle under -Covehithe Ness she was lying: come to me there at the last, as she came -to me there at the first, a sea upcast. That last time she was all -mine. There was no John left living to steal her away from me. And if -she was not mine as I wanted her, at least she never was his at all. In -that far I had my will and way over him, and for that much I am glad. - -And so, she being all my own, home along the beach for the second time -I carried her. It was a wonder to me, as she lay in my arms, how light -she was--and she so tall! - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. 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Janvier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: In Great Waters - Four Stories - -Author: Thomas A. Janvier - -Release Date: November 29, 2019 [EBook #60811] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN GREAT WATERS *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, The University of California and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<p class="box">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> -<br /> - - -Blank pages have been eliminated.<br /> -<br /> -Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the -original.<br /> -<br /> -A few typographical errors have been corrected.<br /> -<br /> -The cover page was created by the transcriber and can be considered public domain.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter4em" id="frontpiece"><img src="images/frontpiece.jpg" width="500" -height="726" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -See <a href="#Page_223">page 223</a><br /> -"HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME" -</div></div></div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>IN GREAT WATERS</h1> - -<p class="center">Four Stories</p> - -<p class="center p4">By</p> - -<p class="center large">THOMAS A. JANVIER</p> - -<p class="center">Author of<br /> -"The Uncle of an Angel" "The Aztec Treasure-House" -"The Passing of Thomas" "In Old New York" etc.</p> - -<p class="center p2"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/title.jpg" width="200" -height="194" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p class="center p2">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> -1901</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6 center">Copyright, 1901, by <span class="smcap">Harper & Brothers</span>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>All rights reserved.</i><br /> -November, 1901.</p></div><hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6 center">TO</p> -<p class="center p2">C. A. J.</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>Contents</h2></div> - - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="indice"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr" colspan="2">PAGE</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Zee">The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">3</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Tragedy">A Duluth Tragedy</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">65</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Martigues">The Death-Fires of Les Martigues</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">135</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl smcam"><a href="#Upcast">A Sea Upcast</a></td> -<td class="tdrb">171</td> -</tr> -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2>Illustrations</h2></div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="Illustrations"> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#frontpiece">"HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME</a></td> -<td class="tdrb " colspan="2"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#MAN">"HE WAS A CRAZED MAN"</a></td> -<td class="tdc"><i>Facing p.</i></td><td class="tdrb">6</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#DWELLING">"IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">24</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#JAAP">OLD JAAP</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">56</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#HEART">"'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">126</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#MARIUS">MARIUS</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">136</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#ROCKS">"THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">166</td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><a href="#ME">"THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME"</a></td> -<td class="tdc">"</td><td class="tdrb">220</td> -</tr> - -</table> -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Zee">The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>Old Jaap Visser was mad. Out there on the -island of Marken, in the Zuyder Zee, he was -the one madman, and a curiosity. The little boys—all -born web-footed, and eager as soon as -they could walk to toddle off on their stout -little Dutch legs and take to the water—used -to run after him and jeer at him. An underlying -fear gave zest to this amusement. The -older of them knew that he could lay a strange -binding curse upon people. The younger -of them, resolving this concept into simpler -terms, knew that he could say something -that would hurt more than a spanking; and that -would keep on hurting, in some unexplained -but dreadful way, beyond the sting of the worst -spanking that ever they had known. Therefore, -while they jeered, they jeered circumspect<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>ly. -Out in the open—on the brick-paved pathways -which traverse the low marsh-land and -unite the little knolls on which are the villages: -the Hafenbeurt (where the harbour is), the -Kerkehof, and the Kesbeurt—butter would not -melt in their small Dutch mouths when they met -him. But when they had him at their mercy -among the houses of one or another of the villages -things went differently. Then they would -yell "Old Jaap!" "Mad old Jaap!" after him—and -as he turned upon them would whip -off their sabots, that they might run the more -lightly, and would dash around corners into -safety: with delightful thrills of dread running -through their small scampish bodies at -the thought of the curse that certainly was flying -after them, and that certainly would make -them no better than dead jelly-fish if they did -not get around the corner in time to ward it -off! And old Jaap would be left free for a -moment from his tormentors, brandishing his -staff in angry flourishes and shouting his strange -curse after them: "May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<p>The young men and women of Marken, who -never had known old Jaap save as a madman, -felt toward him much as the children<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -did; though as they got older, and came to -understand the cause of his madness and the -effectiveness of his curse, their dread of him -was apt to take on a more serious cast. Even -Krelis Kess, a notorious daredevil in all other -directions, and for a long while one of old -Jaap's most persistent tormentors, came in the -end to treat him with a very obliging civility. -But then, to be sure, Marretje de Witt was old -Jaap's granddaughter—and everybody in Marken -knew that this gentle Marretje, because of -her very unlikeness to him it was supposed, -had made capture of Krelis Kess's much too -vagrant heart. One person, it is true, did -dissent from this view of the matter, and that -was Geert Thysen—who declared that Krelis -was too much of a man really to care for a -pale-faced thing fit only to marry another oyster -like herself. And Geert's black eyes would -snap, and her strong white teeth would show -in a smile that was not a pleasant one as she -added: "A live man who knows the nip of gin-and-water -does not waste his time in drinking -weak tea!" But then, to quote the sense of the -island folk again, everybody in Marken knew -that to win Krelis's love for herself Geert -Thysen would have given those bold black<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -eyes of hers, and would have said thank you, -too!</p> - -<p>Among the old people of Marken, who had -known old Jaap before his madness came upon -him, a very different feeling prevailed. They -dreaded him, of course, because they knew what -his curse could accomplish; but, also, they sorrowed -for him—remembering the cruel grief -which had come upon him in his youth suddenly -and had driven him mad. Well enough, they -said, might he call down his strange curse upon -those who angered him, for twice had he known -the bitterness of it: when death, and again worse -than death, had struck at that which was dearer -than the very heart of him through the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<p>It all had happened so long back that only -the old people had knowledge of it—in the great -storm out of the Arctic Ocean which had driven -into the Zuyder Zee the North Sea waters; and -there had banked them up, higher and higher, -until the whole island of Marken was flooded -and half the dykes of the mainland were overrun. -Old Jaap—who was young Jaap, then—was -afloat at his fishing when the storm came -on, and his young wife and her baby were alone -at home. In her fear for him she came down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -from the Kerkehof, where their home was, to -the Hafenbeurt; and there, standing upon the -sea-wall that shelters the little harbour, watching -for him, was the last that ever was seen of -her alive. When his schuyt came in she had -vanished—caught away by the up-leaping sea. -That was bad enough, but worse followed. A -month later, when he was at his fishing again—glad -to be at work, that in the stress of it he -might a little forget his sorrow—his net came -up heavy, and in it was his dead wife.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="MAN"><img src="images/pag6b.jpg" width="500" -height="375" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"HE WAS A CRAZED MAN" -</div></div> - -<p>Then it was that his madness fell upon him. -By the time that he was come back to Marken—sailing -his schuyt for a long night through -the dark waters with that grewsomely ghastly -lading—he was a crazed man.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The shadow that rested on Jaap Visser's -mind was a deep melancholy that for the most -part kept him silent, yet that was broken now -and then by outbursts of rage in which he raved -against the cruel wickedness of the sea. It did -not unfit him for work. He had his living to -make; and he made it, as all the men of Marken -made their living, by fishing. But those who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -sailed with him in his schuyt said that always -as the net came home he hauled upon it with -tight-shut eyes; that always, as it was drawn -inboard, he turned away—until the thrashing -of the fish and some word about the catch from -his companions assured him that he might look -without fear of such a sight as that which had -flashed burning through his eyes and had turned -his brain.</p> - -<p>When he was on land he spent little time in -his own home: of which, and of the baby -motherless, his mother had taken charge. Usually -he was to be found within or lingering near -the graveyard that lies between the Kerkehof -and the Hafenbeurt: an artificial mound, like -those whereon the several villages on the island -are built, raised high enough to be above the -level of the waters which cover Marken in times -of great storm. Before this strange habit of -his had become a matter of notoriety, a dozen -or more of the islanders, as they passed at night -along the path beside the graveyard, had been -frightened pretty well out of their wits by seeing -his tall figure rise from among the graves -suddenly and stand sharply outlined against -the star-gleam of the sky.</p> - -<p>But in those days, as I have said, his mad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>ness -was no more than a sombre melancholy—save -for his fitful outbursts of rage against the -sea. The bitterness that came into his heart -came later: when his daughter was a woman -grown and Jan de Witt married her—and presently -deserted her, as was known openly, for an -Edam jade over on the mainland. Things went -worse and worse for a while: until one day -when old Jaap—even then they were beginning -to call him old Jaap—fell into a burning rage -with his son-in-law and cursed him as he deserved -for the scoundrel that he was.</p> - -<p>It was down at the dock that the two men -came together. The schuyts were going out, -and Jan was aboard his own boat making ready -to cast off. Half the island folk were there—the -fishermen about to sail, and their people -come to see them get away. Some one—who -did not see old Jaap standing on the piling near -where Jan's boat lay—called out: "The fishing -is good off Edam still, eh, Jan?" And then -there was a general laugh as Jan answered, -laughing also: "Yes, there's good fishing off -Edam—better than there is nearer home."</p> - -<p>At this old Jaap broke forth into a passionate -outburst against his son-in-law: calling him by -all the evil names that he could get together,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -crying out against his wickedness and his cruelty, -and ending—as Jan's boat slid away from -her moorings, with Jan standing at the tiller -laughing at the old man's fury—by calling out -with a deep grave energy, in strange contrast -with his previous angry ravings: "God cannot -and will not forgive. He will judge you and -He will punish you. In His name I say to you: -May the might of the angered waters be upon -you—may you perish in the wrath of the Zuyder -Zee!"</p> - -<p>There was such a majesty in old Jaap's tone -as he spoke those words, and such intense conviction, -that all who heard him were thrilled -strangely. Some of the old men of Marken, -who were there that day, still will tell you that -it seemed as though they heard the voice of -one who truly was the very mouth-piece of God. -Even Jan, they say, paled a little; but only for -a moment—and then he was off out of the harbour -with a jeer and a laugh.</p> - -<p>But that was Jan's last laugh and jeer at -his father-in-law, and his last sight of Marken. -The next day the boats came hurrying home -before a storm, but Jan's boat did not come -with them. At first it was thought that he had -put into the canal leading up to Edam—it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -about there that the other fishermen had lost -sight of him—but a couple of days later his -boat drifted ashore, bottom upward, in the bight -of Goudzee south of Monnikendam. That left -room for guess-work. Certainty came at the -end of a fortnight: when the two men who had -been with him got back to Marken—after a -trip to England in the steamer that had picked -them up afloat—and told how the schuyt had -gone over in the gale and spilt them all out -into the sea. As for Jan, he never came back at -all. As he and the other two men were thorough -good sailors, and as the survivors themselves -were quite at a loss to account for their catastrophe, -there was only one way to explain the -matter: old Jaap's curse had taken effect!</p> - -<p>After that old Jaap had a place still more -apart from the other islanders. What he had -done to one he could do to another, it was whispered—and -thenceforward he was both shunned -and dreaded because of the power for life and -death that was believed to be his. The reflex -of this popular conviction seemed to find a -place in his own heart, and now and again -he would threaten with his curse those who -got at odds with him. But he never uttered -it; and the fact was observed that even in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -case of the teasing little boys he was careful not -to curse any one of his tormentors by name.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Certainly, if ever old Jaap had cursed any -particular little boy it would have been Krelis -Kess—who was quite the worst boy on the island, -and who usually was the leader of the -troop that hung about the old man's heels.</p> - -<p>And even when Krelis got to be a big young -fellow of twenty—old enough to go on escapades -in Amsterdam of which the rumour, coming -back to Marken, made all steady-going folk -on the island look askance at him—he still -took an ugly pleasure, as occasion offered, in -stirring up old Jaap's wrath. If the old man -chanced to pass by while he was sitting of a -Sunday afternoon in Jan de Jong's tavern, -drinking more gin-and-water than was good for -him, it was one of his jokes to call out through -the open window "Mad old Jaap!" in the shrill -voice of a child; and to repeat his cry, with different -inflections but always in the same shrill -tones, until the old man would go off into a -fury and shout his curse at the little boys who -seemed to be so close about him but who could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -not anywhere be seen. At that Krelis would -fall to laughing mightily, and so would the -loose young fellows his companions—who had -found out that that would send his hand to his -pocket and give them free drinks all around.</p> - -<p>Under such conditions it is not surprising -that the wonder, and also the regret, of these -young scapegraces was very great when on -a certain Sunday afternoon in mid-spring time -Krelis not only did not volunteer his usual pleasantry -at old Jaap's expense—as the old man -came shambling up the narrow street toward -the tavern—but actually refused to practise it -when it was suggested to him. And the wonder -grew to be blank astonishment, a minute later, -when he went to the window and begged Herr -Visser to come in and have a glass of schnapps -with him! To hear old Jaap called "Herr -Visser" by anybody was enough to stretch to -the widest any pair of Marken ears; but to hear -him addressed in that stately fashion by Krelis -Kess was enough to make any Marken man believe -that his ears had gone crazy!</p> - -<p>At first the young scamps in the tavern were -quite sure that Krelis was about to play some -new trick on old Jaap, and that this wonderful -politeness was the beginning of it. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -marvel increased when the old man—who liked -schnapps as well as anybody—joined the little -company of tosspots and was treated by Krelis -with as much respect as though he had been a -burgomaster! And more than that, when the -session was ended—and old Jaap, to whom such -treats came rarely, was so far fuddled that he -could not manage his legs easily—Krelis said -that nothing could be pleasanter than a walk -across to the Kerkehof in the cool of the evening, -and so gave him a steadying arm home. -As the two set off together the young fellows -left behind stared at each other in sheer amazement; -and such of the Marken folk as chanced -to meet this strangely assorted couple marching -amicably arm in arm together were inclined -to disbelieve in their own eyes!</p> - -<p>For a week, while they all were away at their -fishing, there was a lull in the excitement; but -it was aroused again the next Sunday when -Krelis did not come as usual to the tavern—and -went to a white heat when a late arrival, a -young fellow who lived in the Kerkehof, told -that as he came past Jaap Visser's house he -had seen Krelis sitting on the bench in front -of it talking away with old Jaap and making -eyes behind old Jaap's back at Marret<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>je. -At first, being so entirely incredible, this -statement was scouted scornfully; but it aroused -so lively a discussion that presently the whole -company left the tavern and went over in a -body to the Kerkehof bent upon disproving or -verifying it—and there, sure enough, were old -Jaap and Krelis smoking their pipes together, -and Marretje along with them, on the bench in -front of old Jaap's door!</p> - -<p>Young Jan de Jong—the son of the tavern-keeper—expressed -the feelings of the company -when he said, later, that as they stood there -looking at that strange sight you might have -knocked down the whole of them with the flirt -of a skate's tail! But they did not stop long -to look at it. Krelis glared at them so savagely, -and his big fists doubled up in so threatening -a fashion, that they took themselves off in a -hurry—and back to the tavern to talk it over, -while they bathed their wonder in very lightly -watered gin.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>That was the beginning of Krelis Kess's -courting of Marretje de Witt—about which, in -a moment, all the island blazed with talk. Until -then, in a light-loving way, Krelis had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -keeping company with Geert Thysen. That -seemed a natural sort of match, for Geert and -Krelis had much the same bold way with them -and well enough might have paired. But Geert, -like Krelis, had a devil of a temper, and it was -supposed that an angry spat between them had -sent Krelis flying off in a rage from her spit-firing—and -that the gentle Marretje had caught -his heart on the rebound. The elders, reasoning -together out of their worldly wisdom, perceived -that under the law of liking for unlike this bold-going -young fellow very well might be drawn -toward a maiden all gentleness; and that, because -of her gentleness, Marretje would find a -thrilling pleasure in the strong love-making with -which Krelis would strive to take her heart by -storm. All that, as they knew, was human -nature. Had they known books also they would -have cited the case of Desdemona and the Moor.</p> - -<p>However, there was not much time for talking. -Krelis was not of the sort to let grass -grow under his feet in any matter, and in a love -matter least of all. Nor were there any obstacles -to bar his way. He had his own boat, -that came to him when his father was drowned; -and he had his own house in the Kesbeurt, where -he had lived alone since his mother had ended<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -a notably short widowhood by marrying a second -time. Old Jaap, moreover, was ready -enough to accept as a son-in-law the only man -in Marken who ever had styled him Herr Visser, -and who in addition to that unparalleled -courtesy had given him in quick succession nearly -a dozen bottles of the best Schiedam. There -was nothing to hinder the marriage, therefore, -but Marretje's shyness—and Krelis overcame -that quickly in his own masterful way.</p> - -<p>And so everybody saw that matters were like -to come quickly to a climax—everybody, that -is, except Geert Thysen, who said flatly that the -marriage was both impossible and absurd. Geert -had her own notion that Krelis was serving her -out for her hard words to him, and was only -waiting for a soft word to come back to her—and -she bit those full red lips of hers with her -strong teeth and resolved that she would keep -him waiting until he was quite in despair. -Then, at the very last, she would whistle him -back to her—with a laugh in his face first, and -then such a kiss as all the Marretjes in the -world could not give him—and the comedy of -his mock courtship would be at an end. Sometimes, -to be sure, the thought did cross her -mind that Krelis might not come to her whistle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -Then the color would go out of her red cheeks -a little, and as she ground her big white teeth -together she would have a half-formed vision -of Krelis lying dead somewhere with a knife -in his heart. But visions of this sort came -seldom, and were quickly banished—with a -sharp little laugh at her own folly in fancying -even for an instant that Krelis could hesitate -in choosing between herself and that limp pale -doll.</p> - -<p>And then, one day, she found herself face to -face with the fact that Krelis had not been playing -a comedy at all. The news was all over -the island that he and Marretje were to be married -the next Sunday; and that he meant to -be married handsomely, with a great wedding-feast -at Jan de Jong's tavern in Jan de Jong's -best style. "So there's an end of your lover for -you, Geert Thysen!" said Jaantje de Waard, -who brought the news to her.</p> - -<p>At this Geert's red cheeks grew a little redder, -and her big black eyes had a brighter flash -to them; but she only laughed as she answered: -"It's one thing to lay the net—but it's another -to haul it in!" And Jaantje remembered afterward -what a strange look was in her face as -she said those strange words.</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>The wedding was the finest that had been -known in Marken for years. At the church -the parson gave his "Golden Clasp" address, -which was the most beautiful of his three wedding -addresses and cost five gulden. Then the -company streamed away along the brick-paved -pathway from the Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, -with the sunshine gleaming gallantly on the -white caps and white aprons of the women and -on the shiny high hats of the men, while the -wind fluttered the little Dutch flags—and they -all walked much more steadily then than they -did when they took their after-breakfast walk, -before the dancing began. In that second walk -the men's legs wavered a good deal, and some -of them had trouble in steering the stems of -their long pipes to their mouths. But that is -not to be wondered at when you think what a -breakfast it was! Jan de Jong fairly excelled -himself. They talk about it in Marken to this -day!</p> - -<p>While the wedding-party walked unsteadily -abroad the big room in the tavern was cleared; -and when the company was come back again, -much the better for fresh air and exercise, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -dancing began. And just then a very queer -thing happened: Krelis led off the dance with -Geert Thysen instead of with Marretje his -bride!</p> - -<p>Some say that Geert made him promise to -do this as the price of her coming to the wedding; -others say that it was done on the spur -of the moment—was one of Geert's sudden -whims that Krelis, who also was given to sudden -whims, fell in with. About the truth of this -matter there can be only guess-work, but about -what happened there is plain fact: Just as the -set was forming, Krelis dropped Marretje's -hand and said lightly: "You won't mind, Marretje, -will you? It's for old friendship's sake, -you know." And with that he took the hand -of Geert Thysen, who was standing close beside -him, and away he went with her in the dance. -Those who think that it had been arranged between -them beforehand point out that Geert had -refused all offers to dance and had come close -to Krelis just as the set was formed. There -is something in that, I think. But whether -they had planned it or had not planned it, the -fact remains that Marretje's place at the head -of the dance at her own wedding was taken by -another woman; and as the set was complete<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -without her, she did not dance at all until the -first figure came to an end. They say that -there were tears in her eyes as she stood alone -there—and that she was very white when Krelis -took her hand again, at the end of the first -figure, and gave her for the rest of the dance -the place at the head of it that was hers. They -say, too, that Geert stood watching them—when -Krelis had left her and had taken his bride -again—with a hot blaze of color coming and -going in her cheeks, and with a wonderful flashing -and sparkling of her great black eyes. And -before the dance ended Geert went home.</p> - -<p>There was a great crackling of talk, of course, -about this slight that Krelis had put upon Marretje -on her wedding-day; and people shook -their heads and said that worse must come after -it. Some of the stories about Krelis's escapades -in Amsterdam were raked up again and were -pointed with a fresh moral. As for Geert, the -Marken women had but one opinion of her—and -the least unkindly expression of it was -that she was walking in a very dangerous path. -But when echoes of this talk came to Geert's -ears—as they did, of course—she merely -curled her red lips a little and said that as -she was neither a weak woman nor a fool<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>ish -woman she was safe to walk where she -pleased.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>It was a little disconcerting to the prophets -of evil that the weeks and the months slipped -away without any signs of the fulfilment of -their prophecies. However keen may have been -Marretje's sorrow on her wedding-day, it was -not lasting. Indeed, her gentle nature was so -filled with a worshipping love for Krelis that -he had only to give her a single light look of -affection or a half-careless kiss to fill her whole -being with happiness. He was a god to her—this -gayly daring young fellow who had raised -her up to be a shy little queen in a queendom, -she was sure, such as never had been for any -other woman in all the world. And Krelis -was very well pleased with her frank adoration. -It was tickling to his vanity that she -should be so completely and so eagerly his loving -slave.</p> - -<p>Next to her love for Krelis—and partly because -it was a part of her love for him—Marretje's -greatest joy was in her housekeeping. -She had taken a just pride in the tidiness of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -her housekeeping for her grandfather; but it -was a very different and far more exciting matter -to furbish and polish a house that really -was her own. And Krelis's house, of which -she was the proud mistress, was far bigger and -far finer than her old home. It was a stately -dwelling, for Marken, standing on an out-jutting -ridge of earth at the back of the Kesbeurt, -close upon a delightful little canal—and from -the back doorway was a restful far-off outlook -over the marsh-land to the level horizon of the -Zuyder Zee. Marretje loved that outlook, and -she had it before her often: for down beside -the canal was her scouring-shelf—where she -scoured away through long sunny mornings, -while Krelis was away at his fishing, until her -pots and kettles ranged in the sunlight shone -like burnished gold.</p> - -<p>Yet the fact should be added that when the -old men of Marken talked together about this -fine house of Krelis Kess's they would shake -their heads a little—saying that a better spending -of money would have been for a smaller -house founded on solid piling, instead of for -this showy dwelling standing on an out-thrust -earth bank which well enough might crumble -away beneath it in some time of tremendous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -tempest when all the island should be overswept -and beaten by the sea.</p> - -<p>For the most part, of course—save for little -chats with her neighbours—Marretje was alone -in that fine house of hers. Old Jaap had come -to live with the young people—as was only fair, -since he had no one but his granddaughter to -care for him—but both he and Krelis spent all -their week-days afloat at their fishing and only -their Sundays at home. Yet now and then the -old man, making some excuse for not going out -with the fleet, would give himself a turn at shore -duty; and would sit in his big chair, smoking his -long pipe very contentedly, watching his granddaughter -at her endless scouring and cleaning, -and listening to her little bursts of song. In -his unsettled old mind he sometimes fancied -that the years had rolled backward and that he -was watching his own young wife again; and -in his old heart he would dream young love-dreams -by the hour together—blessedly forgetting -that the love and the happiness which had -made his life beautiful had been snatched away -from him and lost forever in the wrathful waters -of the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="DWELLING"><img src="images/illo2.jpg" width="500" -height="378" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING" -</div></div> - -<p>But Marretje's love-dreams were living ones. -As Krelis lounged over his pipe of a Sunday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -morning, taking life easily in his clean Sunday -clothes, he would say an airy word or two in -praise of her housekeeping that fairly would -set her to blushing with happiness—and what -with the colour in her fair face and the light in -her blue eyes she would be so entirely charming -that Krelis's own eyes would go to sparkling, -and he would draw her close to him and fondle -her in a genuinely loverlike fashion that would -fill her with a very tender joy. Krelis was -quite sincere in his love-making. His little -Marretje's soft beauty, and her shy delight in -his caresses, went down into an unsounded depth -and touched an unknown strain of gentleness in -his easy-going heart.</p> - -<p>But even on the first Sunday after they were -married Krelis went off after dinner—it had -been a wonder of a dinner that Marretje had -cooked for him: she had been planning it the -week through!—to join his companions as usual -at Jan de Jong's. This came hard on Marretje. -She had been counting so much on that afternoon! -A dozen little tender confidences had -been put aside during the morning to be made -then comfortably: when the dinner things would -all be cleared away, and her grandfather would -have gone to take his usual Sunday look at his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -boat, and she and Krelis would be sitting at -their ease—delightfully alone together for the -first time in their lives!</p> - -<p>She had thought it all out, and had arranged -in her own mind that they would sit on the -steps above her scouring-shelf—at the back of -the house and hidden away from everybody—with -the canal at their feet, and in front of -them the level loneliness of the marsh-land -stretching away and losing itself in the level -loneliness of the sea. She had a cushion all -ready for Krelis to sit on, and a smaller cushion -for herself that was to go on the next lower step—and -she blushed a little to herself as she -thought how she would make a back to lean -against out of Krelis's big knees. And then, -just as she had finished her clearing away and -was getting out the cushions, Krelis put on his -hat and said that he thought he would step -across to the tavern and have a look at the boys. -The boys would laugh at him, he said, if he -settled right down into being an old married -man—and he tried to give a better send-off to -this small pleasantry by laughing at it himself. -But he did not laugh very heartily, and he -almost turned back again when he got to the -bridge—thinking how the light of happiness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -which had made Marretje's face so beautiful -through that Sunday morning suddenly had -died out of it as he came away. And then he -pulled himself together with the reflection that -she would be all right again when he got back -to her at supper-time, and so went on. When -he was come to the tavern he forgot all about -Marretje's unhappiness, for the boys welcomed -him with a cheer.</p> - -<p>Being in this way forsaken, Marretje carried -out what was left of her broken plan forlornly—arranging -the cushions on the two steps, and -sitting on the lower one with her elbow resting -on the upper one, and gazing out sorrowfully -across the marsh-land and the sea. That great -loneliness of sedge and sea and sky made her -own loneliness more bitter: and then came the -hurting thought that just a week before, very -nearly at that same hour, Krelis still more -cruelly had forsaken her while he led with Geert -Thysen their wedding-dance.</p> - -<p>After a while old Jaap came home and seated -himself beside her. He was silent, as was -his habit, but having him that way soothed -and comforted her. As she leaned her head -against his shoulder and held his big bony -hands the old man went off into one of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -dream-fancies that his young wife was beside -him again—and perhaps, in some subtle way, -that also helped to take the sting out of her -pain. When Krelis came home at supper-time, -walking a little unsteadily, he did not miss -her flow of chattering talk that had gone on -through the morning; and presently it began -again—for Krelis returned in high good-humour, -and his fire of pretty speeches and his -kisses quickly brought happiness back to her -sore little heart. Knowing thereafter what to -expect of a Sunday, her pleasure was less lively—but -so was her pain.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>It was a little past the turn of the half-year -after the wedding that the prophets of evil pricked -up their ears hopefully—as there began to -go humming through Marken a soft buzz of talk -about the carryings on of Geert Thysen and -Krelis Kess. It was only vague talk, to be -sure; but then when talk of that sort is vague -there is the more seaway for speculation and -inference. All sorts of rumours went flashing -about—and carried the more weight, perhaps, -because they could not be traced to a starting-point<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -and were disavowed by each person who -passed them on. The sum of them became -quite amazing before long!</p> - -<p>In the end, of course, this talk worked around -to Marretje. Bit by bit, one kind friend after -another brought her variations of the same budget -of news, pleading their friendship for her -as the excuse for their chattering; and all of -them were a good deal disconcerted by the -placid way, with scarcely a word of comment, -in which she suffered them to talk on. Only -when they took to saying harsh things about -Krelis did they rouse her a little. Then she -would stop them shortly, and with a quiet insistence -that put them in an awkward corner, -by asking them to remember that it was her -husband whom they were talking about, and -that what they were saying was not fit for his -wife to hear. This line of rejoinder was disconcerting -to her interlocutors. To be put in -the wrong, that way, while performing for -conscience' sake a very unpleasant duty, could -not but arouse resentment. Presently it began -to be said that Marretje was a poor-spirited -thing upon whom friendly sympathy was thrown -away.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was because Marretje was not feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>ing -very strong just then that she took matters -so quietly. Certainly she had not much energy -to spare, and her days went slowly and heavily. -Even on the Sunday mornings when she had -Krelis at home with her—and a good many -of his Sundays were spent away from the -island, in order, as he explained, that he might -get off on the Mondays earlier to his fishing—she -found it hard to keep up the laughing talk -and the light-hearted way with him that he -seemed to think always were his due. When she -flagged a little he told her not to be sulky—and -that cut her sharply, for she thought that he -ought to feel in his own heart how very tenderly -she was loving him in those days, and how -earnestly she was longing for a tender and sustaining -love in return.</p> - -<p>It is uncertain how much of all this old Jaap -understood, but a part of it he certainly did -understand. In some matters his clouded brain -seemed to work with a curious clearness, and -especially had he a strange faculty for getting -close to troubled hearts. Many there were in -Marken, on whom sorrow had fallen, who had -been comforted by his sympathy; and who -had found it the more soothing and helpful -because it was given with no more than a gentle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -look or a few gentle words. In this same soft -way, that asked for no answer and that needed -none, he comforted Marretje in that sad time -of her loneliness. Many a day, when the other -fishermen kept the sea, he kept the land—letting -his boat go away to the fishing without -him while he made company at home for his -granddaughter, and even helped her in the heavier -part of her house-work with his big clumsy -old hands. These awkward efforts to serve her -touched Marretje's heart very keenly—yet also -added a pang to her sorrow because of her longing -that Krelis might show his love for her -in the same way.</p> - -<p>But old Jaap had his work to do at sea, and -Marretje had to make the best of many and -many a weary and lonely day. Being in so -poor a way she could busy herself but little -with her house-work—nor was there much incentive -to scour and polish since Krelis had -ceased to commend her housekeeping; and, indeed, -was at home so little that he was indifferent -as to whether she kept her house well or -ill.</p> - -<p>And so she spent much of her time as she -had spent that first lonely Sunday afternoon—sitting -on the steps above her scouring-shelf,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -looking out sadly and dreamily across the marsh-land -and the sea. Or she would walk slowly -to the end of the village, where rough steps -went down to a little-used canal, and there -would lean against the rail while she gazed -steadfastly across the marshes seaward—trying -to fancy that she could see the fishing fleet, -and trying to build in her breast little hope-castles -in which Krelis again was all her own. -They comforted her, these hope-castles: even -though always, when the week ended and the -fleet was back again, they came crashing down. -Sometimes Krelis's boat did not return at all. -Sometimes it returned without him. When he -did come back in it very little of his idle Sunday -was passed at home. The dark months of -winter dragged on wearily. Grey chill clouds -hung over Marken, and grey chill clouds rested -on this poor Marretje's heart.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>But one glad day in the early spring-time the -sun shone again—when Krelis bent down over -her bed with a look of real love in his bright -eyes and kissed her; and then—in a half-fearful -way that made her laugh at him with a weak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -little laugh in which there was great happiness—kissed -also his little son. "As if his father's -kiss could hurt this great strong boy!" she said -in a tone of vast superiority: and held the little -atom close to her breast with all the strength -of her feeble arms. She loved with a double -love this little Krelis: greatly for himself and -for the strong thrilling joy of motherhood, but -perhaps even more because his coming had -brought the other Krelis back again into the -deep chambers of her heart.</p> - -<p>It was the prettiest of sights, presently, when -she was up and about again, to see Marretje -standing in front of her own door in the spring -sunshine holding this famous little Krelis in -her arms. Then, as now, young mothers were -common enough in Marken; but there was a -look of radiant happiness about Marretje—so -the old people will tell you—that made her -different from any young mother whom ever -they saw. "Her face was as shining as the -face of an angel!" one of the old women said -to me—when I heard this story told in Marken -on a summer day. And this same old woman -told me that through that time of Marretje's -great happiness Geert Thysen walked sullen: -ready at any moment, without cause or reason,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -to fly out into what the old woman called a -yellow rage.</p> - -<p>But even from the first the matrons of the -island, knowing in such matters, pulled long -faces when they talked about the little Krelis -among themselves. Krelis Kess's son, they said, -should not have been so frail a child; and then -they would account for this puny baby by casting -back to the time when Marretje was orphaned -before she was weaned, and so was started -in life without the toughness and sturdiness -with which the Marken folk as a rule are dowered. -These worthy women had much good advice -to give, and gave it freely, as to how the -little Krelis should be dealt with to strengthen -him; but Marretje paid scant attention to -their suggestions, being satisfied in her own -mind that this wonderful baby of hers really -was—as she had said he was on the day when -his father first kissed him—a great strong boy.</p> - -<p>Krelis, seeing his little son only once a -week, was the first to notice that he was not so -strong as a healthy child should be; but when he -said so to Marretje she gave him such a rating -that he decided he must be all wrong. And -then, one day, Geert Thysen opened both his -and Marretje's eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when the -little Krelis was between two and three months -old, that Marretje was sitting with him on her -lap, suckling him, on the steps above her scouring-shelf; -and Krelis was seated on the step -above her, and she really was making a back -of his big knees. What with the joy of her -motherhood, and her joy because her Krelis was -her own again, it seemed to Marretje as though -in all the world there was only happiness. She -held the little Krelis close to her, crooning -a soft song sweetly over the tiny creature nestled -to her heart; and as she suckled him there -tingled through her breast, and thence through -all her being, thrills of that strange subtle -ecstasy which only mothers know. And Krelis, -in his own way, shared Marretje's great happiness: -as they sat there lonely, looking out -over the marsh-land seaward, their hearts very -near together because of the deep love that was -in both of them for their child. Presently -Krelis leaned a little forward, and with a touch -rarely loving and tender encircled the two in -his big arms and drew Marretje still closer -against his knees. And they sat there for a -while so—in the bright silence of that sunny -afternoon, fronting that still outlook over level<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -spaces cut only by the level sky-line far away—their -two hearts throbbing gently and very -full.</p> - -<p>A little noise broke the deep silence suddenly, -and an instant later Geert Thysen was almost -within arm's-length of them—standing in a boat -which she had poled very quietly along the -canal. Krelis unclasped his arms and drew -back quickly; but Marretje bent forward and -grasped the little Krelis still more closely, as -though to shield him from harm. For a moment -there was silence. Krelis flushed and looked -uneasy, almost ashamed. There was a dull -burning light in Geert's black eyes and her -face was pale and drawn. She was the first -to speak.</p> - -<p>"You're quite right to make the most of your -sick baby," she said. "You won't have him -long."</p> - -<p>"He's not a sick baby," Marretje answered -furiously. "He's as strong and well as he can -be!"</p> - -<p>Geert laughed. "That puny little thing -strong and well!" she answered. "Much it -is that you know about babies, Marretje! Don't -you see how the veins show through his skin? -Don't you see the marks under his eyes? Don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -you see how little he is, and how he don't -grow? In another month you'll know more. -He'll be over yonder in the graveyard by that -time!" And then she flashed a look on Krelis -of that sort of hate which comes when love goes -wrong as she added: "And it is no more than -you deserve, Krelis Kess. You might have had -a strong woman for a wife, and then you would -have had a strong child!" With that she gave -a sudden thrust with the pole that sent her boat -flying away from them, and in an instant vanished -around a turn in the canal.</p> - - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<p>Within a week the story of what had happened -between them was all over Marken. Geert -Thysen herself must have told what she had -done. Certainly Krelis did not tell; and Marretje, -having no one else to turn to, told only -her grandfather. But various versions of the -story went about the island, and the comment -upon all of them by the Marken folk was the -same: that Krelis had played the part of a coward -in suffering such words to be spoken to his -wife with never a word on his side of reply. -Old Jaap, they say, blazed out into one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -his mad rages against his son-in-law. Some say -that he then laid the curse upon him—but that -never will be known certainly, for the bout between -the two men took place when they were -alone.</p> - -<p>What is known to be true is that Krelis for -a while was as a man stunned; and that when -he came to himself again—this was after the -little Krelis was laid away in the graveyard—what -love he had for Marretje was turned to -an angry hatred because she had let his boy die. -He said this not only to his neighbours but to -Marretje herself—telling her that their child -had died because she had borne it weakly into -the world and had given it no strength with -which to live.</p> - -<p>Even a strong woman, being well-nigh heart-broken—as -Marretje was when her baby was -lost to her—could not have stood up against a -blow like that. And Marretje, who was not a -strong woman, felt the heart-breaking bitterness -of what Krelis said because she knew that -it was true. Very soon she was as feeble and -as wan as the little Krelis had been. Happiness -was no more for her, and she longed only -for the forgetfulness of sorrow which would -come to her when she should be as the little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -Krelis was. And so her slight hold on life -loosened quickly, and presently she and the little -Krelis lay in the graveyard side by side.</p> - -<p>She had a very nice funeral, so one of the -old women in Marken told me: the best bier -and the best pall were used, and the minister -gave his best address—the one called "The -Mourning Wreath"—at the grave. And, to end -with, there was a breakfast in Jan de Jong's -tavern that was of the best too. It was only -just to Krelis, the old woman said, to say that -in the matter of the funeral he behaved very -well indeed.</p> - -<p>But one thing which he did at that breakfast -showed that it was for his own pride, and -not for the sake of Marretje, that everything -was done in so fine a style. On Marken there -was left no near woman relative of Marretje's, -and when the guests came to the table they were -a good deal scandalized by finding that Geert -Thysen was to be seated on Krelis's right hand. -Old Jaap's place was on his left, but when the -old man saw who was to take the seat on the -right he drew back quickly from the table -and left the room.</p> - -<p>At that, for a full half-minute there was an -awkward pause—until Krelis, in a strong voice,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -bade the company be seated: and added that no -one had a better right to the seat beside him -than Marretje's oldest friend. As he made this -speech a little buzzing whisper went around -among the company, and some one even snickered -down at the lower end of the big room. -But there was the breakfast, as good as it could -be, before them. It was much too good a breakfast -to lose on a mere point of etiquette. The -whispering died out, and for a moment the -guests looked at one another in silence—and -then there was a great scraping and rattling -of chairs as they all sat down. And Krelis and -Geert presided over the funeral feast with a -most proper gravity—save that now and then -a glance passed between them that seemed to -have more meaning than was quite decorous -in the case of those two: the one being a maiden, -and the other a widower whose wife had not -been buried quite two hours.</p> - -<p>Of course there was a good deal of talk -about all this afterward; but as public opinion -had been moulded under favour able conditions—while -the mellowing influence of the good -food and abundant drink was still operative—the -talk was not by any means relentlessly -harsh. The men openly smiled at the proof<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -which Krelis had given that his loss was not -irreparable; and the women, with a certain -primness, admitted that—after all the talk there -had been—Krelis owed it to Geert to marry her -with as little delay as the proprieties of the -case would allow.</p> - -<p>But even this kindly public opinion was -strained sharply by the discovery that the marriage -was to take place only two months after -that funeral feast at which, to all intents and -purposes, it had been announced. That was -going, the women said, altogether too fast. But -the men only laughed again—partly at the way -in which the women were standing up for the -respect due to their sex, and partly at Krelis's -hurry to take on again the bonds from which -he had been so very recently set free.</p> - -<p>Here and there among the talkers a questioning -word would be put in as to how old Jaap -would take this move on the part of his son-in-law. -But even the few people who bothered -their heads with this phase of the matter held -that old Jaap never would have a clear enough -understanding of it to resent the dishonour put -upon his granddaughter's memory. He had returned -to his home in the Kerkehof and was -living there, in his own queer way, solitary.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -He was madder than ever, people said; and it -was certain that he had gone back to his old -habit of spending in the graveyard all of the -days and many of the nights which he passed -ashore. Often those who passed by night between -the Hafenbeurt and the Kerkehof saw -him there—keeping his strange watch among -the graves.</p> - - -<h3>X</h3> - -<p>What the Marken folk still speak of as -"the great storm"—the worst storm of which -there is record in the island's history—set in -a good four-and-twenty hours before the December -day on which Geert Thysen and Krelis Kess -were married. From the Polar ice-fields a -rushing and a mighty wind thundered southward -over the Arctic Ocean and down across -the shallows of the North Sea—sucking away -the water from the Baltic, sending a roaring -tide out through the English Channel into the -Atlantic, and piling higher and higher against -the Holland coast a wall of ocean: which broke -at the one opening and went pouring onward -into the Zuyder Zee.</p> - -<p>Already on the morning of that wild wedding-day -the waves were lapping high about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -Marken, and here and there a dull gleam of -water showed where the marshes were overflowed. -Just before daybreak the storm lulled -a little, but came on again with a fresh force -after the unseen sunrise, and grew stronger and -stronger as the black day wore on. Down by -the little haven the fishermen were gathered in -groups anxiously watching their tossing boats—in -dread lest in spite of the doubled and tripled -moorings they should fetch away. Steadily -from the black sky poured downward sheets -of rain.</p> - -<p>According to Marken notions, even a landsman -should not have ventured to marry on a -day like that; and for a fisherman to marry -while such a storm was raging was a sheer -tempting of all the forces which work together -for evil in the tempests of the sea. Every one -expected that the wedding would be put off; -and when word was passed around that it was -not to be put off, all of the older and steadier -folk refused with one voice to have anything -to do with it. How Krelis succeeded in inducing -the minister to perform the ceremony -no one ever knew—for the minister was one of -the many that day on Marken who never saw -the rising of another sun. He was not well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -liked, that minister, and stories not to his -credit were whispered about him; at least so -one of the old women told me—and more than -half hinted that what happened to him was a -judgment upon him for his sins.</p> - -<p>Even when the wedding-party came across -from the Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, some -little time before mid-day, the marshes on each -side of the raised path were marshes no longer, -but open water—that was whipped southward -before the gale in little angry waves. There -was no chance for a show of finery. The men -wore their oil-skins over their Sunday clothes, -and the women were wrapped in cloaks and -shawls. But it was a company of young dare-devils, -that wedding-party, and the members -of it came on through the storm laughing and -shouting—with Geert and Krelis leading and -the gayest madcaps of them all. So far from -being dismayed by the roaring tempest, those -two wild natures seemed only to be stirred and -aroused by it to a fierce happiness. They say -that Geert never was so beautiful as she was -that day—her face glowing with a strong rich -colour, her eyes sparkling with a wonderful brilliancy, -her full red lips parted and showing the -gleam of those strong white teeth of hers, her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -lithe body erect and poised confidently against -the furious wind which swept them all forward -along the path.</p> - -<p>But as the party came near to the graveyard, -lying midway between the Kerkehof and -the Hafenbeurt close beside the path, some of -the young men and women found their merriment -oozing out of them. In that day of -black storm the rain-sodden mound was inexpressibly -desolate. All around it, save for the -pathway leading up to its gate, the marsh was -flooded. The graveyard almost was an island—would -be quite an island should the water -rise another foot. Rushed onward by the gale, -shrewd little waves were beating against its -windward side so sharply that the soft soil -visibly was crumbling away—a sight which -recalled a dim but very grisly legend of how -once a great storm had hurled such a sea upon -Marken that the dead bodies lying in that very -spot had been torn from their resting-places by -the tumultuous waves. But crueler still was the -shivering thought of Marretje, only two months -dead, lying in that sodden ground in her storm-beaten -grave.</p> - -<p>And then, as they came closer, the memory -of Marretje was brought home to them still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -more sharply and in a strangely startling way: -as they saw old Jaap uprise suddenly from -where he had been crouched amidst the graves. -Bareheaded, with his long grey hair and long -grey beard soaked with the falling torrent and -flying out before the wind, he stood upright -on the crest of the mound close above them—his -tall lean figure towering commandingly -against the black rain clouds, defiant as some -old sea-god of the furious storm.</p> - -<p>He seemed to be speaking, but the storm -noises were as a wall shutting him off from -them, and not until they had passed on a little -and were to leeward of him could they hear -his words. Then they heard him clearly: speaking -slowly, with no trace of anger in his tones -but with a strange solemn fervour—as though -he felt himself to be out beyond the line which -separates Time from Eternity, and from that -vantage-point uttered with authority the judgments -of an outraged God. It was to Geert -and Krelis that he spoke, pointing at them with -one outstretched hand while the other was -raised as though in invocation toward the wild -black sky: "For your sins the anger of God -is loosed upon you in His tempests, and in His -name I curse you with a binding curse. May<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -the raging waters be upon you! May you perish -in the wrath of the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<p>A shudder went through all the wedding -company. Even Krelis, half stopping, suddenly -paled. Only Geert, bolder than all of them -put together, held her own. With a quick motion -she drew Krelis onward, and her lip curled in -that way of hers as she said to him: "What -has old Jaap to do with you or me, Krelis? -He is a mad old fool!" And then she looked -straight at old Jaap, into the very eyes of -him, and laughed scornfully—as they all together -went on again through the wind and -rain.</p> - -<p>But when they came to Jan de Jong's tavern, -where the wedding-breakfast was waiting -for them, Krelis was the first to call for gin. -He said that he was cold.</p> - - -<h3>XI</h3> - -<p>It was the strangest wedding-feast, they -say, that ever was held on Marken: with the -black tempest beating outside, and all the lamps -in the big room lighted—although the day still -was on the morning side of noon. Young Jan -de Jong—the same who is old Jan de Jong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -now, and who now keeps the tavern—remembers -it all well, and tells how his mother was for -bundling the whole company out of doors. Such -doings would bring bad luck upon the house, -she said—and went up-stairs and locked herself -into her room and took to praying when her -husband told her that bad luck never came -with good money, and that what Krelis was -willing to pay for Krelis should have.</p> - -<p>But it was the wife who was right that time—as -the husband knew a very little later on. -For that night Krelis's boat was one of those -swept away from their moorings and foundered, -and Krelis's fine house was undermined by -the water and went out over the Zuyder Zee in -fragments—and so the wedding-feast never -was paid for at all. And she always said that -but for her prayers their son would have been -lost to them too. Old Jan was very grave when -he told me about this—and from some of the -others I learned that it was because of what happened -to him that night that he gave over the -wild life that he had been leading and became -a steady man.</p> - -<p>At first, what with the blackness of the storm -and the ringing in everybody's ears of old Jaap's -curse, the company was a dismal one. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -plentiful hot gin-and-water that Krelis ordered—and -led in drinking—soon brought cheerfulness -back again. As for Geert, she had -no need of gin-and-water: her high spirits held -from first to last. Seated on Krelis's right—just -as she had been seated only a little while -before on the day of Marretje's funeral—she -rattled away steadily with her gay talk; and -every now and then, they say, turned to -Krelis with a look that brought fire into his -eyes!</p> - -<p>The walk after breakfast was out of the -question. As the afternoon went on the storm -raged more and more tumultuously. There was -nothing for it but to have the room cleared of -the chairs and table and go straight on to the -dancing; and that they did—excepting some -of the weaker-headed ones, whose legs were too -badly tangled for such gay exercise and who -sat limply on the benches against the wall.</p> - -<p>This time it was not by favour but by right -that Geert led the dance with Krelis—her black -eyes shining and her face all of a rich red -glow. And as she took her place at the head of -it she said to Jaantje de Waard: "Who's got -him now, this lover of mine you said I'd lost, -Jaantje? Didn't I tell you that it's one thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -to lay the net, but it's another to haul it in?" -And away she went, caught close to Krelis, -with a laugh on those red lips of hers and a -brighter sparkle in her black eyes. Jaantje -said—it was she who told me, an old woman -now—that somehow this speech of Geert's, and -the sudden thought that it brought of dead -Marretje out there in the graveyard, made her -feel so queasy in her stomach that she left the -dance and went home bare-headed through the -storm.</p> - -<p>The dancing, with plenty of drink between -whiles, went on until evening; and after night-fall -the company grew still merrier—partly -because of the punch, but more because the feast -lost much of its grewsomeness when they all -knew that the darkness outside was the ordinary -darkness of black night and not the -strange darkness of that black day. But there -was no break in the storm; and now and then, -when a fierce burst of wind fairly set the house -to rocking on its foundations, and sent the rain -dashing in sheets against the windows, there -would be anxious talk among those of the dancers -who came from the Kerkehof or the Kesbeurt -as to how they were to get home. From -time to time one of the men would open the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -door a little and take a look outside—and would -draw in again in a hurry and go straight to the -punch-bowl for comforting: for none of them -had seen any storm like that on Marken in all -their lives.</p> - -<p>And so, when at last the storm did lull a -little—this was about eight o'clock in the evening, -close upon the moonrise—there was a general -disposition to take advantage of the break -and get away. And Krelis did not urge his -guests to stay longer, for he was of the same -mind with them—being eager to carry off homeward -his Geert with the flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>But when the men went out of doors together -to have a look about them they were brought -up suddenly with a round turn. It is only a -step from Jan de Jong's tavern to the head -of the path that dips downward and leads across -the marshes to the other villages. But when -they had taken that step no path was to be -seen! Close at their feet, and stretching away -in front of them as far as their eyes could -reach through the night-gloom, was to be seen -only tumultuous black water flecked here and -there with patches of foam. Everywhere over -Marken, save the graveyard mound and the -knolls on which stood the several villages, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -ocean was in possession: right across the island -were sweeping the storm-lashed waves of the -Zuyder Zee!</p> - - -<h3>XII</h3> - -<p>Though they all were filled with punch-begotten -Dutch courage, not one of them but -Krelis—as they stood together looking out over -what should have been marsh-land and what -was angry sea—thought even for a moment of -getting homeward before daylight should come -again and the gale should break away. And -even Krelis would not have been for facing -such danger at an ordinary time: but just then -his soul and body were in commotion, and over -the black stormy water he saw visions of Geert -beckoning him to those red lips of hers, and -firing him with the sparkle of her flashing eyes.</p> - -<p>"It's a bit of sea," he said lightly, "but if one -of you will lend a hand at an oar with me we'll -manage it easily. Just here it's baddish. But -a stiff pull of a hundred yards will fetch us into -smoother water under the lee of the graveyard, -and beyond that we'll be a little under the lee of -the Kerkehof—and then another spurt of stiff -pulling will fetch us home. Geert will steer, -and we can count on her to steer well. I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -wouldn't have risked it with Marretje at the -tiller—but I've got another sort of a wife now. -Which of you'll come along?"</p> - -<p>There was a dead silence at that, for every -one of the young fellows standing there knew -that to take a boat out into that water meant -a fight for life at every inch of the way.</p> - -<p>"Well, since you're all so modest," Krelis -went on with a laugh, "I'll pick out big Jan -here to pull with me—and no offence to the rest -of you, for we all know that not another man -on Marken pulls so strong an oar."</p> - -<p>It was old Jan himself who told me this, -and he said that when Krelis chose him that -way there was nothing for him to do but to say -that he'd go. But he said that he went pale -at the thought of what was before him, and -would have given anything in the world to get -out of the job. All the others spoke up against -their trying it; and that, he said, while it scared -him still more—for they all, in spite of the -punch that was in them, spoke very seriously—helped -him to go ahead. It would be something -to talk about afterward, he thought, that -he had done what everybody else was afraid to -do. And when the others found that he and -Krelis were not to be shaken, they set themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -to bringing a strong boat across from the other -side of the village and getting it into the water—in -a smooth place under the lee of one of the -houses—and lashing a lantern fast into its -bows.</p> - -<p>When Krelis and Jan went back to the tavern -to fetch Geert there was another outcry. All -the women got around Geert and declared that -she should not go. But Geert was ready always -for any bit of daredeviltry, and the readier when -anybody tried to hold her back from it—and -then the way that Krelis looked at her would -have taken her with him through the very gates -of hell. She only laughed at the other women, -and made them help her to put on the oil-skin -hat and coat that Krelis fetched for her to keep -her dry against the pelting rain. And she -laughed still louder when she was rigged out -in that queer dress—and what with her sparkling -eyes and her splendid colour was so bewitching -under the big hat that Krelis snatched -a kiss from her and swore that at last he had -a wife just to his mind.</p> - -<p>All the company, muffled in shawls and -cloaks, went along with them to the water-side -to see them start; and because there was no -commotion in the quiet nook where the boat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -was lying, and the darkness hid the tumbling -waves beyond, most of them thought that the -only danger ahead for Geert and the others was -a thorough drenching—and were disposed to -make fun of this queer wedding-journey on -which they were bound. But the young men -who had launched the boat knew better, and -they tried once more to make Krelis give over -his purpose—or, at least, to wait until the moon -should rise a little and thin the clouds. And -all the answer that they got was a laugh from -Geert and a joking invitation from Krelis to -come across to the Kesbeurt in the morning and -join him in a glass of grog.</p> - -<p>Krelis was to pull stroke, and so big Jan -got into the boat ahead of him—with his heart -fairly down in his boots, he told me—and then -Krelis got in; and last of all Geert took her -seat in the stern, and as she gripped the tiller -steadily gave the order to shove off. With a -strong push the young men gave the boat a -start that sent it well out from the shore, and -then the oars bit into the water and they were -under way.</p> - -<p>One of the old women whom I talked with -was of the wedding-party, and down there by -the shore that night, and she told me that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -all cheered and laughed for a minute as the -boat with the lantern in her bows shot off -from the land. The thought of danger, she -said, was quite out of their minds. Right in -front of them, less than a quarter of a mile -away, they saw the lights of the houses in the -Kesbeurt shining brightly, and plainly setting -the course for Geert to steer; and they knew -that the two strongest men on Marken were at -the oars. What they all were laughing about, -she said, was that anybody should be going -from the one village to the other in a boat—and -that it should be a wedding-journey, too!</p> - -<p>But it was only for a moment that their -laughter lasted. The instant that the boat was -out of the sheltered smooth water they all knew -that not by one chance in a thousand could she -live to fetch across. By the light of the lantern -fixed in her bows they saw plainly the wild -tumult of the sea around her—that caught -her and seemed to stand her almost straight on -end as Geert held her strongly against the oncoming -waves. The old woman said that a -thrill of horror ran through them all as they -realized what certainly must happen. By a -common impulse down they all went on their -knees on the sodden ground, with the rain pelt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>ing -them—and she heard some one cry out in -the darkness: "Old Jaap's curse is upon them! -May God pity and help them and have mercy -on their souls!"</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="JAAP"><img src="images/illo3.jpg" width="450" -height="722" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -<p>OLD JAAP</p> -</div></div> - - -<h3>XIII</h3> - -<p>Old Jan, who alone knew it, told me the -rest of the story—but speaking slowly and unwillingly, -as though it all still were fresh before -him and very horribly real.</p> - -<p>He said that when the boat lifted as that -first sea struck her it was plain enough what -was likely to happen to them—for they could -not put about to make the shore again without -swamping, and with such a sea running they -were pretty certain to swamp quickly if they -went on. But Krelis was not the sort to give in, -and he shouted over his shoulder: "I've got -you into a scrape, Jan; but if we can pull up -under the lee of the graveyard there's a chance -for us still." And then he called to Geert: -"Now you can show what stuff you're made of, -Geert. Steer for the graveyard—and for God's -sake hold her straight to the sea!" As for Geert, -she was as cool as the best man could have been, -and she steered as well as any man could have -steered. The light from the lantern shone full<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -in her face, and old Jan said that her eyes kept -on sparkling and that her colour never changed.</p> - -<p>With that tremendous wind sweeping down -on them, and with the waves butting against the -boat, and throwing her head up every instant, -even Jan and Krelis—and they were the best -oarsmen on Marken—could make only snail's -way. But it heartened them to find that -they made any way at all—as they could tell -that they were doing by seeing the lights ashore -crawling past them—and so they lashed away -with their oars and found a little hope growing -again. Presently Krelis called out: "The water's -getting smoother, Jan. Another fifty yards -and we'll be all right!"</p> - -<p>That was true. They were creeping up steadily -under the lee of the graveyard, and the -closer they got to it the more would it break the -force of the waves. If they could reach it they -would be safe.</p> - -<p>Just as Krelis spoke, the boat struck against -something so sharply that she quivered all over -and lost way. Neither of the men dared to turn -even for an instant; nor could their turning -have done any good—all that they could do -was to row on. But Geert could look ahead, -and the lantern in the bows cast a little circle<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -of light upon the furious sea. As she peered -over their shoulders a strange look came into -her face, Jan said, and then she spoke in a -voice strained and strange: "It's a coffin," she -said, "and I see another one a little farther -on. The sea is washing away the graveyard—as -it did that time long ago!" And then the -coffin went past them, so close that it struck -against and nearly unshipped Krelis's oar.</p> - -<p>Jan said that he trembled all over, and that -a cold sweat broke out on him. He felt himself -going sick and giddy, and fell to wondering -what would happen should he be unable -to keep on pulling—and how long it took a -man to drown. Then—but because of a ringing -in his ears the voice seemed to come faintly -from very far away—he heard Krelis cry -out cheerily: "Pull, Jan! If we're getting -among the coffins we'll be safe in a dozen strokes -more!"</p> - -<p>It was at that instant that a great wave lifted -the bow of the boat high out of the water, and -as she fell away into the trough of the sea she -struck again—but that time with a crash that -had in it the sound of breaking boards. Jan -knew that they must have struck the other coffin -that Geert had seen, and he was sure that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -the boat was stove in and in another moment -would fill and sink from under them.</p> - -<p>For what seemed a whole age to him there -was a grinding and a crunching beneath the -keel; and then, as the boat swung free again, -he saw Geert go chalk-pale suddenly—as she -stood peering eagerly forward—and heard her -give a great wild cry. And then her color rushed -back into her cheeks and her eyes glittered -as she called out in a strong voice resolutely: -"It's Marretje come to take you from me, -Krelis—but she sha'n't, she sha'n't! You never -really were her lover—and you always were -and always shall be mine! And I hate her -and I'll get the better of her dead just as I -hated her and got the better of her alive!" -And with that Geert let go her hold upon the -tiller and sprang forward and clasped Krelis -in her arms.</p> - -<p>Jan could not tell clearly what happened -after that. All that he was sure of was the -sight for an instant, tossing beside the boat in -the circle of light cast by the lantern, of a lidless -coffin in which lay wrapped in her white -shroud the dead golden-haired Marretje—and -then the boat broached to and went over, and -there was nothing about him but blackness and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -the tumultuous waves. As he went down into -a hollow of the sea he felt the ground beneath -his feet, and that put courage into him to make -a fight for life. Struggling against the gale, -and against waves which grew smaller as he -battled on through them, he went forward with -a heart-breaking slowness; and the strength was -clean gone out of him when he won his way -at last up the lee side of the little mound—and -dropped down at full length there, in safe -shelter amidst the graves.</p> - -<p>"And Geert and Krelis?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"With her arms tight about him there -was no chance for either of them," he answered. -And then he went on, speaking very solemnly: -"The word that was truth had been spoken -against them. They perished in the wrath of -the Zuyder Zee!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Tragedy">A Duluth Tragedy</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo4.jpg" width="500" -height="117" alt="" title="" /></div> - - -<p>Jutting out from the rocky coast, a sand -spit nearly seven miles long, Minnesota Point -is as a strong arm stretched forth to defend the -harbour of Duluth against the storms which -breed in the frozen North and come roaring -down Lake Superior. Wisconsin Point, less -than half its length, almost meets it from the -other shore. Between the two is the narrow -inlet through which in old times came the -Canadian voyageurs—on their way across Saint -Louis Bay and up the windings of the Saint -Louis River to Pond du Lac, twenty miles<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -farther westward. That was in the fur-trading -days of little sailing-vessels and birch-bark canoes. -Now, close to its shoulder, the Point is -cut by a canal through which the great black -steamships come and go.</p> - -<p>Five-and-twenty years ago—before the canal -was thought of, and when the Duluth of the -present, with its backing of twenty thousand -miles of railway, was a dream just beginning to -be realized—Minnesota Point was believed to -have a great future. Close to its shoulder a -town site was staked out, and little wooden -houses were built at a great rate. Corner -lots on that sand spit were at a premium. The -"boom" was on. The smash of '73 knocked -the bottom out of everything for a while. When -good times came again the town site moved on -westward a half-mile or so and settled itself on -the mainland. The little houses on the Point -were out of the running and were taken up by -Swedes—who were content, as Americans were -not, to live a few steps away from the strenuous -centre of that inchoate metropolis. That -time the "boom" was a genuine one. The new -city had come to stay. In course of time, to -meet its growing trade requirements, the canal -was cut which made the Point an island—and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -after that the Point was dead for good and -all.</p> - -<p>Nowadays it is only in summer that a little -life, other than that of its few inhabitants, -shows itself on Minnesota Point—when camping-parties -and picnic-parties go down by three -miles of shaky tramway to Oatka Beach. During -all the rest of the year that sandy barren, -with its forlorn decaying houses and its dreary -growth of pines stunted by the harsh lake winds, -is forgotten and desolate. Now and then is -heard the cry of a gull flying across it slowly; -and always against its outer side—with a thunderous -crash in times of storm, in times of -calm with a sad soft lap-lapping—surge or ripple -the deathly cold waters of Lake Superior: -waters so cold that whoever drowns in them -sinks quickly—not to rise again (as the drowned -do usually), but for all time, in chill companionship -with the countless dead gathered -there through the ages, to be lost and hidden -in those icy depths.</p> - -<p>The ghastly coldness of the water in which -it is merged seems to have numbed the Point -and reconciled it to its bleak destiny. It has -accepted its fate: recognizing with a grim indifference -that its once glowing future has van<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>ished -irrevocably into what now is the hopelessness -of its nearly forgotten past.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>II</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo5.jpg" width="500" -height="223" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>George Maltham, wandering out on the Point -one Sunday morning in the early spring-time—he -had just come up from Chicago to take -charge of the Duluth end of his father's line -of lake steamers and was lonely in that strange -place, and was the more disposed to be misanthropic -because he had a headache left over -from the previous wet night at the club—came -promptly to the conclusion that he never had -struck a place so god-forsakenly dismal. Aside -from his own feelings, there was even more -than usual to justify this opinion. The day -was grey and chill. A strong northeast wind -was blowing that covered the lake with white-caps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -and that sent a heavy surf rolling shoreward. -A little ice, left from the spring break-up, -still was floating in the harbour. Under -these conditions the Point was at its cheerless -worst.</p> - -<p>Maltham had crossed the canal by the row-boat -ferry. Having mounted the sodden steps -and looked about him for a moment—in which -time his conclusion was reached as to the Point's -god-forsaken dismalness—he was for abandoning -his intended explorations and going straight-away -back to the mainland. But when he turned -to descend the steps the boat had received -some waiting passengers—three church-bound -Swedish women in their Sunday clothes—and -had just pushed off. That little turn of chance -decided him. After all, he said to himself, -it did not make much difference. What he -wanted was a walk to rid him of his headache; -and the Point offered him, as the rocky hill-sides -of the mainland conspicuously did not, -a good long stretch of level land.</p> - -<p>Before him extended an absurdly wide street—laid -out in magnificent expectation of the -traffic that never came to it—flanked in far-reaching -perspective by the little houses which -sprang up in such a hurry when the "boom"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -was on. In its centre was the tramway, its -road-bed laid with wooden planks. The dingy -open tram-car, in which the church-bound Swedish -women had come up to the ferry, started -away creakingly while he stood watching it. -That was the only sight or sound of life. For -some little time, in the stillness, he could hear -the driver addressing Swedish remarks of an -encouraging or abusive nature to his mule.</p> - -<p>Taking the planked tramway in preference -to the rotten wooden sidewalks full of pitfalls, -Maltham walked on briskly for a mile or so—his -headache leaving him in the keen air—until -the last of the little houses was passed. There -the vast street suddenly dribbled off into a -straggling sandy road, which wound through -thickets of bushy white birch and a sparse -growth of stunted pines. The tramway, along -which he continued, went on through the brush -in a straight line. The Point had narrowed to -a couple of hundred yards. Through rifts in -the tangle about him he could see heaps of -storm-piled drift-wood scattered along the lake-side -beach—on which the surf was pounding -heavily. On the harbour side the beach was -broken by inthrusts of sedgy swamp. Presently -he came to a sandy open space in which, beside<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -a weather-worn little wooden church, was a neglected -graveyard that seemed to give the last -touch of dreariness to that dismal solitude.</p> - -<p>The graveyard was a waste of sand, save -where bushy patches of birch had sprung up -in it from wind-borne seeds. Swept by many -storms, the sandy mounds were disappearing. -Still marking the graves were a few shabby -wooden crosses and a dozen or so of slanting -or fallen wooden slabs. Once these short-lived -monuments had been painted white and had -borne legends in black lettering. But only a -Swedish word or a Swedish name remained here -and there legible—for the sun and the wind and -the rain had been doing their erasing work -steadily for years. One slab alone stood nearly -upright and retained a few partly decipherable -lines in English. But even on that Maltham -could make out only the scattered words: -"Sacred.... Ulrica.... Royal House of Sweden -... ever beloved ... of Major Calhoun -Ashley," and a date that seemed to be 1879.</p> - -<p>His headache had gone, but it had left him -heavy and dejected. That fragmentary epitaph -increased his sombreness. Even had he been -in a cheerful mood he could not have failed to -perceive the pathetic irony of it all. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -was more than the ordinary cruelty of death -and forgetfulness, he thought, about that grave -so desolate of one who had been connected—it -did not matter how—with a "royal house," -and who was described in those almost illegible -lines as "ever beloved." That was human -nature down to the hard pan, he thought; and -with a half-smile and a half-sigh over the fate -of that poor dead Ulrica he turned away from -the graveyard and walked on. Half-whimsically -he wondered if he had reached the climax of -the melancholy which brooded over that dreary -sand spit. As he stated the case to himself, -short of finding a man lying murdered among -the birch-bushes it was not likely that he would -strike anything able to raise that graveyard's -hand!</p> - -<p>The murdered man did not materialize, and -the next out-of-the-way sight that he came across—when -he had walked on past the dingy and -forgotten-looking little church—was a big ramshackling -wooden house of such pretentious -absurdity that his first glimpse of it fairly -made him laugh. Its square centre was a wooden -tower of three stories, battlemented, flanked -by two battlemented wings. A veranda ran -along the lower floor, and above the veranda<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -was a gallery. Some of the windows were boarded -over; others had scraps of carpet stuck into -their glassless gaps—and all had Venetian shutters -(singularly at odds with the climate of -that region) hanging dubiously and with many -broken slats. The paint had weathered away, -and bricks had fallen from the chimney-tops—a -loss which gave to the queer structure, in conjunction -with lapses in its wooden battlements, -a sadly broken-crested air. As a whole, it suggested -a badly done caricature of an old-fashioned -Southern homestead—of which the essence -of the caricature was finding it in that bleak -Northern land.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>III</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo6.jpg" width="500" -height="220" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Maltham had come to a full stop in front -of this absurd dwelling, which was set a little -back from the road in a dishevelled enclosure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -and as he stood examining in an amused way -its various eccentricities he became aware that -from one of the lower windows a man was -watching him.</p> - -<p>This was disconcerting, and he turned to -walk on. But before he had gone a dozen steps -the front door opened and the man came outside. -He was dressed in shabby grey clothes -with a certain suggestion of a military cut about -them; but in spite of his shabbiness he had the -look of a gentleman. He was sixty, or thereabouts, -and seemed to have been well set up -when he was younger—before the slouch had -settled on his shoulders and before he had taken -on a good many unnecessary inches about his -waist. From where he stood on the veranda -he hailed Maltham cordially:</p> - -<p>"Won't yo' come in, suh? I have obsehved -youah smiles at my old house heah— No, -no, yo' owe me no apology, suh," he went on -quickly, as Maltham attempted a confused disclaimer. -"Yo' ah quite justified in laughing, -suh, at my foolish fancy—that went wrong -mainly because the Yankee ca'pentah whom I -employed to realize it was a hopelessly damned -fool. But it was a creditable sentiment, suh, -which led me to desiah to reproduce heah in god<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>fo'saken -Minnesotah my ancestral home in the -grand old State of South Cahrolina—the house -that my grandfatheh built theah and named -Eutaw Castle, as I have named its pore successeh, -because of the honorable paht he bo' -in the battle of Eutaw Springs. The result, -I admit, is a thing to laugh at, suh—but not -the ideah. No, suh, not the ideah! But come -in, suh, come in! The exterioh of Eutaw Castle -may be a failuah; but within it, suh, yo' will -find in this cold No'th'en region the genuine -wahm hospitality of a true Southe'n home!"</p> - -<p>Maltham perceived that the only apology -which he could offer for laughing at this absurd -house—the absurdity of which became rather -pathetic, he thought, in view of its genesis—was -to accept its owner's invitation to enter it. -Acting on this conclusion, he turned into the -enclosure—the gate, hanging loosely on a single -hinge, was standing open—and mounted the -veranda steps.</p> - -<p>As he reached the top step his host advanced -and shook hands with him warmly. "Yo'ah -vehy welcome, suh," he said; and added, after -putting his hand to a pocket in search of something -that evidently was not there: "Ah, I find -that I have not my cahd-case about me. Yo'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -must pehmit me to introduce myself: Majoh -Calhoun Ashley, of the Confedehrate sehvice, -suh—and vehy much at youahs."</p> - -<p>Maltham started a little as he heard this -name, and the small shock so far threw him off -his balance that as he handed his card to the -Major he said: "Then it was your name that -I saw just now in—" And stopped short, inwardly -cursing himself for his awkwardness.</p> - -<p>"That yo' saw in the little graveyahd, on the -tomb of my eveh-beloved wife, suh," the Major -replied—with a quaver in his voice which compelled -Maltham mentally to reverse his recent -generalizations. The Major was silent for a -moment, and then continued: "Heh grave is -not yet mahked fitly, suh, as no doubt yo' obsehved. -Cihcumstances oveh which I have had -no control have prevented me from erecting as -yet a suitable monument oveh heh sacred remains. -She was my queen, suh"—his voice -broke again—"and of a line of queens: a descendant, -suh, from a collateral branch of the -ancient royal house of Sweden. I am hoping, -I am hoping, suh, that I shall be able soon to -erect oveh heh last resting-place a monument -wo'thy of heh noble lineage and of hehself. I -am hoping, suh, to do that vehy soon."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Major again was silent for a moment; -and then, pulling himself together, he looked -at Maltham's card—holding it a long way off -from his eyes. "Youah name is familiar to -me, suh," he said, "though fo' the moment -I do not place it, and I am most happy to make -youah acquaintance. But come in, suh, come -in. I am fo'getting myself—keeping you standing -this way outside of my own doah."</p> - -<p>He took Maltham cordially by the arm and -led him through the doorway into a wide bare -hall; and thence into a big room on the right, -that was very scantily furnished but that was -made cheerful by a rousing drift-wood fire. -Over the high mantel-piece was hung an officer's -sword with its belt. On the buckle of the belt -were the letters C. S. A. Excepting this rather -pregnant bit of decoration, the whitewashed -walls were bare.</p> - -<p>The Major bustled with hospitality—pulling -the bigger and more comfortable of two arm-chairs -to the fire and seating Maltham in it, -and then bringing out glasses and a bottle from -a queer structure of unpainted white pine that -stood at one end of the room and had the look -of a sideboard gone wrong.</p> - -<p>"At the moment, suh," he said apologetically,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -"my cellah is badly fuhnished and I am unable -to offeh yo' wine. But if yo' have an appreciative -taste fo' Bourbon," he went on with -more assurance, "I am satisfied that yo' will -find the ahticle in this bottle as sound as any -that the noble State of Kentucky eveh has produced. -Will yo' oblige me, suh, by saying -when!"</p> - -<p>Not knowing about the previous wet night, -and its still lingering consequences, the promptness -with which Maltham said "when" seemed -to disconcert the Major a little—but not sufficiently -to deter him from filling his own glass -with a handsome liberality. Holding it at -a level with his lips, he turned toward his -guest with the obvious intention of drinking -a toast.</p> - -<p>"May I have a little water, please?" put in -Maltham.</p> - -<p>"I beg youah pahdon, suh. I humbly beg -youah pahdon," the Major answered. "I am -not accustomed to dilute my own liquoh, and I -most thoughtlessly assumed that yo' would not -desiah to dilute youahs. I trust that yo' will -excuse my seeming rudeness, suh. Yo' shall -have at once the bevehrage which yo' desiah."</p> - -<p>While still apologizing, the Major placed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -his glass on the table and went to the door. -Opening it he called: "Ulrica, my child, bring -a pitcheh of fresh wateh right away."</p> - -<p>Again Maltham gave a little start—as he had -done when the Major had introduced himself. -In a vague sub-conscious way he felt that there -was something uncanny in thus finding living -owners of names which he had seen, within that -very hour, scarcely legible above an uncared-for -grave. But the Major, talking on volubly, -did not give him much opportunity for these -psychological reflections; and presently there -was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside, -and then the door opened and the owner of the -grave-name appeared.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>IV</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo7.jpg" width="500" -height="219" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Because of the odd channel in which his -thoughts were running, Maltham had the still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -odder fancy for an instant that the young -girl who entered the room was the dead Ulrica -of whom the Major had spoken—"a queen, -and of a line of queens." And even when this -thought had passed—so quickly that it was gone -before he had risen to his feet to greet her—the -impression of her queenliness remained. -For this living woman bearing a dead name -might have been Aslauga herself: so tall and -stately was she, and so fair with that cold -beauty of the North of which the soul is fire. -Instinctively he felt the fire, and knew that -it still slumbered—and knew, too, that in the -fulness of time, being awakened, it would -glow with a consuming splendour in her dark -eyes.</p> - -<p>All this went in a flash through his mind before -the Major said: "Pehmit me, Mr. Maltham, -to present yo' to my daughteh, Miss -Ulrica Ashley." And added: "Mr. Maltham -was passing, Ulrica, and did me the honeh to -accept my invitation to come in."</p> - -<p>She put down the pitcher of water and gave -Maltham her hand. "It was very kind of you, -sir," she said gravely. "We do not have many -visitors, and my father gets lonely with only -me. It was very kind of you, sir, indeed."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -She spoke with a certain precision, and with -a very slight accent—so slight that Maltham -did not immediately notice it. What he did -notice, with her first words, was the curiously -thrilling quality of her low-pitched and very -rich voice.</p> - -<p>"And don't you get lonely too?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Why no," she answered with a little air -of surprise. And speaking slowly, as though -she were working the matter out in her mind, -she added: "With me it is different, you see. -I was born here on the Point and I love it. -And then I have the house to look after. And -I have my boat. And I can talk with the -neighbours—though I do not often care to. -Father cannot talk with them, because he does -not know Swedish as I do. When he wants -company he has to go all the way up to town. -You see, it is not the same with us at all." -And then, as though she had explained the -matter sufficiently, she turned to the Major -and asked: "Do you want anything more, -father?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing mo', my child—except that an extra -place is to be set at table. Mr. Maltham -will dine with us, of co'se."</p> - -<p>At this Maltham protested a little; but pres<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>ently -yielded to Ulrica's, "You will be doing -a real kindness to father if you will stay, Mr. -Maltham," backed by the Major's peremptory: -"Yo' ah my prisoneh, suh, and in Eutaw Castle -we don't permit ouah prisonehs to stahve!" -The matter being thus settled, Ulrica made a -little formal bow and left the room.</p> - -<p>"The wateh is at youah sehvice, suh," said -the Major as the door closed behind her. "I -beg that yo' will dilute youah liquoh to youah -liking. Heah's to youah very good health, suh—and -to ouah betteh acquaintance." He drank -his whiskey appreciatively, and as he set down -his empty glass continued: "May I ask, suh, -if yo' ah living in Duluth, oh mehly passing -through? I ventuah to ask because a -resident of this town sca'cely would be likely -to come down on the Point at this time of -yeah."</p> - -<p>"I began to be a resident only day before -yesterday," Maltham answered. "I've come -to take charge here of our steamers—the Sunrise -Line."</p> - -<p>"The Sunrise Line!" repeated the Major in -a very eager tone. "The biggest transpo'tation -line on the lakes. The line of which that great -capitalist Mr. John L. Maltham is president.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -And to think, suh, that I did not recognize -youah name!"</p> - -<p>"John L. Maltham is my father," the young -man said.</p> - -<p>"Why, of co'se, of co'se! I might have had -the sense to know that as soon as I looked at -youah cahd. This is a most fo'tunate meeting, Mr. -Maltham—most fo'tunate for both of us. I shall -not on this occasion, when yo' ah my guest, enteh -into a discussion of business mattehs. But -at an eahly day I shall have the honeh to -lay befo' yo' convincing reasons why youah -tehminal docks should be established heah on -the Point—which a beneficent Providence cleahly -intended to be the shipping centeh of this -metropolis—and prefehrably, suh, as the meahest -glance at a chaht of the bay will demonstrate, -heah on my land. Yo' will have the first choice -of the wha'ves which I have projected; and I -may even say, suh, that any altehrations which -will affo'd mo' convenient accommodations to -youah vessels still ah possible. Yes, suh, the -matteh has not gone so fah but that any reasonable -changes which yo' may desiah may yet be -made."</p> - -<p>Remembering the sedgy swamps beside which -he had passed that morning, Maltham was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -satisfied that the Major's concluding statement -was well within the bounds of truth. But he -was not prepared to meet off-hand so radical -a proposition, and while he was fumbling in his -mind for some sort of non-committal answer the -Major went on again.</p> - -<p>"It is not fo' myself, suh," he said, "that -I desiah to realize this magnificent undehtaking. -Living heah costs little, and what I get -from renting my land to camping pahties and -fo' picnics gives me all I need. And I'm an old -man, anyway, and whetheh I die rich oh pore -don't matteh. It's fo' my daughteh's sake that -I seek wealth, suh, not fo' my own. That deah -child of mine is heh sainted motheh oveh again, -Mr. Maltham—except that heh motheh's eyes -weh blue. That is the only diffehrence. And -beside heh looks she has identically the same -sweet natuah, suh—the same exquisite goodness -and beauty of haht. When my great -loss came to me," the Major's voice broke -badly, "it was my love fo' that deah child -kept me alive. It breaks my haht, suh, to -think of dying and leaving heh heah alone -and pore."</p> - -<p>Maltham had got to his bearings by this -time and was able to frame a reasonably diplo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>matic -reply. "Well, perhaps we'd better not -go into the matter to-day," he said. "You see, -our line has traffic agreements with the N. P. -and the Northwestern that must hold for the -present, anyway. And then I've only just taken -charge, you know, and I must look around a -little before I do anything at all. But I might -write to my father to come up here when -he can, and then he and you could have a -talk."</p> - -<p>The Major's look of eager cheerfulness faded -at the beginning of this cooling rejoinder, but -he brightened again at its end. "A talk with -youah fatheh, suh," he answered, "would suit -me down to the ground-flo'. An oppo'tunity -to discuss this great matteh info'mally with a -great capitalist has been what I've most desiahed -fo' yeahs. But I beg youah pahdon, suh. I -am fo'getting the sacred duties of hospitality. -Pehmit me to fill youah glass."</p> - -<p>It seemed to pain him that his guest refused -this invitation; but, finding him obdurate, he -kept the sacred duties of hospitality in working -order by exercising them freely upon himself. -"Heah's to the glorious futuah of Minnesotah -Point, suh!" he said as he raised his glass—and -it was obvious that he would be off again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -upon the exploitation of his hopelessly impossible -project as soon as he put it down. -Greatly to Maltham's relief, the door opened -at that juncture and Ulrica entered to -call them to dinner; and he was still more -relieved, when they were seated at table, by -finding that his host dropped business matters -and left the glorious future of Minnesota Point -hanging in the air.</p> - -<p>At his own table, indeed, the Major was quite -at his best. He told good stories of his army -life, and of his adventurous wanderings which -ended when he struck Duluth just at the beginning -of its first "boom"; and very entertaining -was what he had to tell of that metropolis -in its embryotic days.</p> - -<p>But good though the Major's stories were, -Maltham found still more interesting the Major's -daughter—who spoke but little, and who -seemed to be quite lost at times in her own -thoughts. As he sat slightly turned toward her -father he could feel her eyes fixed upon him; -and more than once, facing about suddenly, -he met her look full. When this happened she -was not disconcerted, nor did she immediately -look away from him—and he found himself -thrilled curiously by her deeply intent gaze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -Yet the very frankness of it gave it a quality -that was not precisely flattering. He had the -feeling that she was studying him in much the -same spirit that she would have studied some -strange creature that she might have come across -in her walks in the woods. When he tried to -bring her into the talk he did not succeed; -but this was mainly because the Major invariably -cut in before he could get beyond a direct -question and a direct reply. Only once—when -her father made some reference to her love -for sailing—was her reserve, which was not shyness, -a little broken; and the few words that -she spoke before the Major broke in again -were spoken so very eagerly that Maltham resolved -to bring her back to that subject when -he could get the chance. Knowing something -of the ways of women, he knew that to set her -to talking about anything in which she was -profoundly interested would lower her guard -at all points—and so would enable him to come -in touch with her thoughts. He wanted to get -at her thoughts. He was sure that they were -not of a commonplace kind.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>V</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo8.jpg" width="500" -height="216" alt="" title="" /></div> - - -<p>When the dinner was ended he made a stroke -for the chance that he wanted. "Will you show -me your boat?" he asked. "I'm a bit of a -sailor myself, and I should like to see her -very much indeed."</p> - -<p>"Oh, would you? I am so glad!" she answered -eagerly. And then added more quietly: -"It is a real pleasure to show you the <i>Nixie</i>. -I am very fond of her and very proud of her. -Father gave her to me three years ago—after -he sold a lot over in West Superior. And it -was very good of him, because he does not like -sailing at all. Will you come now? It is only -a step down to the wharf."</p> - -<p>The Major declared that he must have his -after-dinner pipe in comfort, and they went off -without him—going out by a side door and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -across a half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter -disorder, to the wharf on the bay-side where -the <i>Nixie</i> was moored. She was a half-decked -twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and -with the look of being able to hold her own -pretty well in a blow.</p> - -<p>"Is she not beautiful?" Ulrica asked with -great pride. And presently, when Maltham -came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly: -"Would you—would you care to -come out in her for a little while?"</p> - -<p>"Indeed I would!" he answered instantly -and earnestly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Ulrica exclaimed. -"I do want you to see how wonderfully -she sails!"</p> - -<p>The boat was moored with her stern close -to the wharf and with her bow made fast to -an outstanding stake. When they had boarded -her Ulrica cast off the stern mooring, ran the -boat out to the stake and made fast with a -short hitch, and then—as the boat swung around -slowly in the slack air under the land—set about -hoisting the sail. She would not permit Maltham -to help her. He sat aft, steadying the -tiller, watching with delight her vigorous dexterity -and her display of absolute strength.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -When she had sheeted home and made fast she -cast off the bow mooring, and then stepped -aft quickly and took the tiller from his hand. -For a few moments they drifted slowly. Then -the breeze, coming over the tree-tops, caught them -and she leaned forward and dropped the centreboard -and brought the boat on the wind. It was -a leading wind, directly off the lake, that enabled -them to make a single leg of it across the -bay. As the boat heeled over Maltham shifted -his seat to the weather side. This brought him -a little in front of Ulrica, and below her as -she stood to steer. From under the bows came -a soft hissing and bubbling as the boat slid -rapidly along.</p> - -<p>"Is she not wonderful?" Ulrica asked with a -glowing enthusiasm. "Just see how we are -dropping that big sloop over yonder—and the -Nixie not half her size! But the <i>Nixie</i> is -well bred, you see, and the sloop is not. She -is as heavy all over as the <i>Nixie</i> is clean and -fine. Father says that breeding is everything—in -boats and in horses and in men. He says -that a gentleman is the finest thing that God -ever created. It was because the Southerners -all were gentlemen that they whipped the Yankees, -you know."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> - -<p>"But they didn't—the Yankees whipped -them."</p> - -<p>"Only in the last few battles, father says—and -those did not count, so far as the principle -is concerned," Ulrica answered conclusively.</p> - -<p>Maltham did not see his way to replying -to this presentation of the matter and was -silent. Presently she went on, with a slight -air of apology: "I hope you did not mind my -looking at you so much while we were at dinner, -Mr. Maltham. You see, except father, you -are the only gentleman I ever have had a chance -to look at close, that way, in my whole life. -Father will not have much to do with the people -living up in town. Most of them are Yankees, -and he does not like them. None of them ever -come to see us. The only people I ever talk with -are our neighbours; and they are just common -people, you know—though some of them are -as good as they can be. And as father always -is talking about what a gentleman ought to be -or ought not to be it is very interesting really -to meet one. That was the reason why I -stared at you so. I hope you did not mind."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad I interested you, even if it was -only as a specimen of a class," Maltham answer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>ed. -"I hope that you found me a good specimen." -Her simplicity was so refreshing that -he sought by a leading question to induce a -farther exhibition of it. "What is your ideal -of a gentleman?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in -a matter-of-fact tone. "A gentleman must be -absolutely brave, and must kill any man who -insults him—or, at least, must hurt him badly. -He must be absolutely honest—though he is not -bound, of course, to tell all that he knows when -he is selling a horse. He must be absolutely true -to the woman he loves, and must never deceive -her in any way. He must not refuse to drink -with another gentleman unless he is willing to -fight him. He must protect women and children. -He must always be courteous—though -he may be excused for a little rudeness when he -has been drinking and so is not quite himself. -He must be hospitable—ready to share his last -crust with anybody, and his last drink with -anybody of his class. And he must know how -to ride and shoot and play the principal games -of cards. Those are the main things. You are -all that, are you not?"</p> - -<p>She looked straight at him as she asked this -question, speaking still in the same entirely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -matter-of-fact tone. But Maltham did not look -straight back at her as he answered it. The -creed that she set forth had queer articles in -it, but its essentials were searching—so searching -that his look was directed rather indefinitely -toward the horizon as he replied, a little weakly -perhaps: "Why, of course."</p> - -<p>She seemed to be content with this not wholly -conclusive answer; but as he was not content -with it himself, and rather dreaded a cross-examination, -he somewhat suddenly shifted the -talk to a subject that he was sure would engross -her thoughts. "How splendidly the <i>Nixie</i> -goes!" he said. "She is a racer, and no mistake!"</p> - -<p>"Indeed she is!" Ulrica exclaimed, with the -fervour upon which he had counted. "She is -the very fastest boat on the bay. And then -she is so weatherly! Why, I can sail her into -the very eye of the wind!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, she has the look of being weatherly. -But she wouldn't be if you didn't manage her -so well. Who taught you how to sail?"</p> - -<p>"It was old Gustav Bergmann—one of the -fishermen here on the Point, you know. And -he said," she went on with a little touch of -pride, "that he never could have made such a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -good sailor of me if I had not had it in my -blood—because I am a Swede."</p> - -<p>"But you are an American."</p> - -<p>Ulrica did not answer him immediately, -and when she did speak it was with the same -curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed -when she was explaining the difference -between her father's life and her own life in -the solitude of Minnesota Point.</p> - -<p>"I do not think I am," she said. "I do -not know many American women, but I am not -like any American woman I know. You see, -I am very like my mother. Father says so, and -I feel it—I cannot tell you just how I feel -it, but I do. For one thing, I am more than -half a savage, father says—like some of the -wild Indians he has known. He is in fun, -of course, when he says that; but he really is -right, I am sure. Did you ever want to kill -anybody, Mr. Maltham?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Maltham with a laugh, "I never -did. Did you?"</p> - -<p>Ulrica remained grave. "Yes," she answered, -"and I almost did it, too. You see, -it was this way: A man, one of the campers -down on the Point, was rude to me. He was -drunk, I think. But I did not think about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -his being drunk, and that I ought to make allowances -for him. Somehow, I had not time -to think. Everything got red suddenly—and -before I knew what I was doing I had out my -knife. The man gave a scream—not a cry, -but a real scream: he must have been a great -coward, I suppose—and jumped away just as -I struck at him. I cut his arm a little, I think. -But I am not sure, for he ran away as hard as -he could run. I was very sorry that I had -not killed him. I am very sorry still whenever -I think about it. Now that was not like -an American woman. At least, I do not know -any American woman who would try to kill -a man that way because she really could not -help trying to. Do you?"</p> - -<p>"No," Maltham answered, drawing a quick -breath that came close to being a gasp. Ulrica's -entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, -had made her story rather coldly thrilling—and -it was quite thrilling enough without -those adjuncts, he thought.</p> - -<p>She seemed pleased that his answer confirmed -her own opinion. "Yes, I think I am right -about myself," she went on. "I am sure that -it is my Swedish blood that makes me like -that. We do not often get angry, you know,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -we Swedes: but when we do, our anger is -rage. We do not think nor reason. Suddenly -we see red, as I did that day, and we want -to strike to kill. It is queer, is it not, that we -should be made like that?"</p> - -<p>Maltham certainly was discovering the -strange thoughts that he had set himself to -search for. They rather set his nerves on edge. -As she uttered her calm reflection upon the -oddity of the Swedish temperament he shivered -a little.</p> - -<p>"I am afraid that you are cold," she said -anxiously. "Shall we go about? Father will -not like it if I make you uncomfortable."</p> - -<p>"I am not at all cold," he answered. "And -the sailing is delightful. Don't let us go about -yet."</p> - -<p>"Well, if you are quite sure that you are -not cold, we will not. I do want to take you -down to the inlet and show you what a glorious -sea is running on the lake to-day. It is only -half a mile more."</p> - -<p>They sailed on for a little while in silence. -The swift send of the boat through the water -seemed so to fill Ulrica with delight that she -did not care to speak—nor did Maltham, who -was busied with his own confused thoughts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -Suddenly some new and startling concepts of -manhood and of womanhood had been thrust -into his mind. They puzzled him, and he was -not at all sure that he liked them. But he -was absolutely sure that this curious and very -beautiful woman who had uttered them interested -him more profoundly than any woman whom -ever he had known. That fact also bothered -him, and he tried to blink it. That he could -not blink it was one reason why his thoughts -were confused. Presently, being accustomed to -slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave -up trying. "After all," was his conclusion, so -far as he came to a conclusion, "it is only for -a day."</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>VI</h3></div> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo9.jpg" width="500" -height="216" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>As they neared the inlet the water roughened -a little and the wind grew stronger. Ulrica -eased off the sheet, and steadied it with a turn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -around the pin. In a few minutes more they -had opened the inlet fairly, and beyond it -could see the lake—stretching away indefinitely -until its cold grey surface was lost against the -cold grey sky. A very heavy sea was running. -In every direction was the gleam of white-caps. -On the beaches to the left and right of them -a high surf was booming in. They ran on, close-hauled, -until they were nearly through the inlet -and were come into a bubble of water that set -the boat to dancing like a cork. Now and then, -as she fell off, a wave would take her with a -thump and cover them with a cloud of spray.</p> - -<p>The helm was pulling hard, but Ulrica managed -it as easily and as knowingly as she had -managed the setting of the sail—standing with -her feet well apart, firmly braced, her tall -figure yielding to the boat's motion with a superb -grace. Suddenly a gust of wind carried -away her hat, and in another moment the great -mass of her golden hair was blowing out behind -her in the strong eddy from the sail. Her face -was radiant. Every drop of her Norse blood was -tingling in her veins. Aslauga herself never -was more gloriously beautiful—and never more -joyously drove her boat onward through a -stormy sea.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> - -<p>But Maltham did not perceive her beauty, -nor did he in the least share her glowing enthusiasm. -He had passed beyond mere nervousness -and was beginning to be frightened. It seemed -to him that she let the boat fall off purposely—as -though to give the waves a chance to buffet -it, and then to show her command over them -by bringing it up again sharply into the wind; -and he was certain that if they carried on for -another five minutes, and so got outside the -inlet, they would be swamped.</p> - -<p>"Don't you think that we had better go -about?" he asked. It did not please him to -find that he had not complete control over his -voice.</p> - -<p>"But it is so glorious," she answered. -"Shall we not keep on just a little way?"</p> - -<p>"No!" he said sharply. "We must go about -at once. We are in great danger as it is." -He felt that he had turned pale. In spite of -his strong effort to steady it, his voice shook -badly and also was a little shrill.</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course," she replied, with a queer -glance at him that he did not at all fancy; -"if you feel that way about it we will." The -radiance died away from her face as she spoke, -and with it went her intoxication of delight. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -then her expression grew anxious as she looked -about her, and in an anxious tone she added: -"Indeed you are quite right, Mr. Maltham. -We really are in a bad place here. I ought -never to have come out so far. We must try -to get back at once. But it will not be easy. -I am not sure that the <i>Nixie</i> will stand it. -I am sure, though, that she will do her best—and -I will try to wear her as soon as I see -a chance."</p> - -<p>She luffed a little, that she might get more -sea-room to leeward, and scanned the oncoming -waves closely but without a sign of fear. -"Now I think I can do it," she said presently, -and put up the helm.</p> - -<p>It was a ticklish move, for they were at the -very mouth of the inlet, but the <i>Nixie</i> paid off -steadily until she came full into the trough of -the sea. There she wallowed for a bad ten -seconds. A wave broke over the coaming of the -cockpit and set it all aflow. Maltham went still -whiter, and began to take off his coat. It was -with the greatest difficulty that he kept back a -scream. Then the boat swung around to her -course—Ulrica's hold upon the tiller was a very -steady one—and in another minute they were -sliding back safely before the wind. In five<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -minutes more they were in the smooth water -of the bay.</p> - -<p>Ulrica was the first to speak, and she spoke -in most contrite tones. "It was very, very -wrong in me to do that, Mr. Maltham," she -said. "And it was wicked of me, too—for I -have given my solemn promise to father that -I never will go out on the lake when it is -rough at all. Please, please forgive me for taking -you into such danger in such a foolish way. -It was touch and go, you know, that we pulled -through. Please say that you forgive me. It -will make me a little less wretched if you do."</p> - -<p>The danger was all over, and Maltham had -got back both his color and his courage again. -"Why, it was nothing!" he said. "Or, rather, -it was a good deal—for it gave me a chance to -see what a magnificent sailor you are. And—and -it was splendidly exciting out there, wasn't -it?"</p> - -<p>"Wasn't it!" she echoed rapturously. "And -oh," she went on, "I <i>am</i> so glad that you take -it that way! It is a real load off my mind! -Will you please take the tiller for a minute -while I put up my hair?"</p> - -<p>As she arranged the shining masses of her -golden hair—her full round arms uplifted, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -wind pressing her draperies close about her—Maltham -watched her with a burning intentness. -The glowing reaction following escape from -mortal peril was upon him and the tide of his -barely saved life was running full. In Ulrica's -stronger nature the same tide may have been -running still more impetuously. For an instant -their eyes met. She flushed and looked -away.</p> - -<p>He did not speak, and the silence seemed -to grow irksome to her. She broke it, but with -a perceptible effort, as she took the tiller again. -"Do you know," she said, "I did think for -a minute that you were scared." She laughed -a little, and then went on more easily: "And -if you really had been scared I should have -known, of course, that you were not a gentleman! -Was it not absurd?"</p> - -<p>Her words roused him, and at the same time -chilled him. "Yes, it was very absurd," he -answered not quite easily. And then, with -presence of mind added: "But I <i>was</i> scared, -and badly scared—for you. I did not see how -I possibly could get you ashore if the boat -filled."</p> - -<p>"You could not have done it—we should -have been drowned," Ulrica replied with quiet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -conviction. "But because you are a gentleman -it was natural, I suppose, for you not to -think about yourself and to worry that way -about me. You could not help it, of course—but -I like it, all the same."</p> - -<p>Maltham reddened slightly. Instead of answering -her he asked: "Would you mind running -up along the Point and landing me on the -other side of the canal? I want to hurry home -and get into dry things—and that will save me -a lot of time, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh," she cried in a tone of deep concern, -"are you not coming back with me? I shall -have a dreadful time with father, and I am -counting on you to help me through."</p> - -<p>Maltham had foreseen that trouble with the -Major was impending, and wanted to keep out -of it. He disliked scenes. "Of course, if you -want me to, I'll go back with you," he answered. -And added, drawing himself together and -shivering a little, "I don't believe that I shall -catch much cold."</p> - -<p>"What a selfish creature I am!" Ulrica exclaimed -impetuously. "Of course you must -hurry home as fast as you can. What I shall -get from father will not be the half of what -I deserve. And to think of my thinking about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -your getting me off from a scolding at the cost -of your being ill! Please do not hate me for -it—though you ought to, I am sure!"</p> - -<p>Having carried his point, Maltham could afford -to be amiable again. He looked straight -into her eyes, and for an instant touched her -hand, as he said: "No, I shall not—hate -you!" His voice was low. He drawled slightly. -The break gave to his phrase a telling -emphasis.</p> - -<p>It was not quite fair. He knew thoroughly -the game that he was playing; while Ulrica, -save so far as her instinct might guide her, -did not know it at all. She did not answer him—and -he was silent because silence just then -was the right move. And so they went on without -words until they were come to the landing-place -beside the canal. Even then—for he did -not wish to weaken a strong impression—he -made the parting a short one: urging that she -also must hurry home and get on dry clothes. It -did not strike her, either then or later, that he -would have shown a more practical solicitude -in the premises had he not made her come three -miles out of her way.</p> - -<p>Indeed, as she sailed those three miles back -again, her mind was in no condition to work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -clearly. In a confused way, that yet was very -delightful, she went over to herself the events -of that wonderful day—in which, as she vaguely -realized, her girlhood had ended and her womanhood -had begun. But she dwelt most upon -the look that he had given her when he told -her, with the break in his phrase, that he would -not hate her; and upon the touch of his hand -at parting, and his final speech, also with a -break in it: "I shall see you to-morrow—if you -care to have me come."</p> - -<p>At the club that evening Maltham wrote a -very entertaining letter to Miss Eleanor Strangford, -in Chicago: telling her about the queer -old Major and his half-wild daughter, and how -the daughter had taken him out sailing and -had brought him back drenched through. He -was a believer in frankness, and this letter—while -not exhaustive—was of a sort to put him -right on the record in case an account of his -adventures should reach his correspondent by -some other way. He would have written it -promptly in any circumstances. It was the -more apposite because he had promised to -write every Sunday to Miss Strangford—to -whom he was engaged.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>VII</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo10.jpg" width="500" -height="221" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Maltham left his office early the next afternoon -and went down the Point again. He had -no headache, the wind had shifted to the southward, -and all about him was a flood of spring sunshine. -Yet even under these cheerful conditions -he found the Point rather drearily desolate. He -gave the graveyard a wide berth when he came -to it, and looked away from it. His desire was -strong that he might forget where he had seen -Ulrica's name for the first time. He was not -superstitious, exactly; but his sub-consciousness -that the direction in which he was sliding—along -the lines of least resistance—was at least -questionable, made him rather open to feelings -about bad and good luck.</p> - -<p>Being arrived at Eutaw Castle, he inferred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -from what the Major said and from what Ulrica -looked that the domestic storm of the previous -day had been a vigorous one—and was -glad that he had kept out of it. But it had -blown over pretty well, and his good-natured -chaff about their adventure swept away the few -remaining clouds.</p> - -<p>"It is vehy handsome of yo', suh," said the -Major, "to treat the matteh as yo' do. My -daughteh's conduct was most inexcusable—fo' -when she cahried yo' into that great dangeh she -broke heh sacred wo'd to me."</p> - -<p>"But it was quite as much my fault as hers," -Maltham answered. "I should not have let her -go. You see, the sailing was so delightfully -exciting that we both lost our heads a little. -Luckily, I got mine back before it was too late."</p> - -<p>"Yo' behaved nobly, suh, nobly! My daughteh -has told me how youah only thought was -of heh dangeh, and how white yo' went when yo' -realized youah inability to save heh if the boat -went down. Those weh the feelings of a gentleman, -suh, and of a vehy gallant gentleman—such -as yo' suahly ah. Youah conduct could -not have been fineh, Mr. Maltham, had yo' been -bo'n and bred in South Cahrolina. Suh, I can -say no mo' than that!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> - -<p>Ulrica took little part in the talk. Her eyes -were dull and she moved languidly, as though -she were weary. Not until her father left -the room—going to fetch his maps and charts, -that he might demonstrate the Point's glorious -future—did she speak freely.</p> - -<p>"I could not sleep last night, Mr. Maltham," -she said hurriedly. "I lay awake the whole -night—thinking about what I had done, and -about what you must think about me for doing -it. If I had drowned you, after breaking my -word to father that way, it would have been -almost murder. It was very noble of you, just -now, to say that it was as much your fault as -it was mine. But it was not. It was my fault -all the way through."</p> - -<p>"But the danger was just as great for you -as it was for me," Maltham answered. "You -would have been drowned too, you know."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that would not have counted. It would -not have counted at all. I should have got -only what I deserved."</p> - -<p>Maltham came close to her and took her -hand. "Don't you think that it would have -counted for a good deal to <i>me</i>?" he asked. Then -he dropped her hand quickly and moved away -from her as the Major re-entered the room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> - -<p>Inasmuch as he would have been drowned -along with her, this speech was lacking in -logic; but Ulrica, who was not on the lookout -for logic just then, was more than satisfied with -it. Suddenly she was elate again. For the -dread that had kept her wakeful had vanished: -his second thoughts about the peril into which -she had taken him had not set him against -her—he still was the same! She could not -answer him with her lips, but she answered -him with her eyes.</p> - -<p>Maltham's feelings were complex as he saw -the effect that his words had upon her. He had -made several resolutions not to say anything -of that sort to her again. Even if she did like -flirting (as he had put it in his own mind) it -was not quite the thing, under the existing -conditions, for him to flirt with her. He resolutely -kept the word flirting well forward in -his thoughts. It agreeably qualified the entire -situation. As he very well knew, Miss Strangford -was not above flirting herself. But it -was not easy to classify under that head Ulrica's -sudden change in manner and the look that she -had given him. In spite of himself, his first -impression of her would come back and get -in the way of the new impression that he very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -much wished to form. When he first had -seen her—only the day before, but time does -not count in the ordinary way in the case of -those who have been close to the gates of death -together—he had felt the fire that was in her, -and had known that it slumbered. After what -he had just seen in her eyes he could not conquer -the conviction that the fire slumbered no -longer and that he had kindled its strong flame.</p> - -<p>Nor did he wholly wish to conquer this conviction. -It was thrillingly delightful to think -that he had gained so great a power over her, for -all her queenliness, in so short a time. Over -Miss Strangford—the contrast was a natural -one—he had very little power. That young -lady was not queenly, but she had a notable -aptitude for ruling—and came by it honestly, -from a father whose hard head and hard hand -made him conspicuous even among Chicago men -of affairs. It was her strength that had attracted -him to her; and the discovery that with -her strength was sweetness that had made him -love her. He was satisfied that she loved him -in return—but he could not fancy her giving -him such a look as Ulrica had just given him; -still less could he fancy her whole being irradiated -by a touch and a word.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -And so he came again to the same half-formed -conclusion that he had come to in the boat -on the preceding day: he would let matters -drift along pleasantly a little farther before -he set them as they should be with a strong -hand.</p> - -<p>This chain of thought went through his mind -while the Major was exhibiting the maps and -expounding the Point's future; and his half-conclusion -was a little hastened by the Major's -abrupt stop, and sudden facing about upon -him with: "I feah, suh, that yo' do not quite -follow me. If I have not made myself cleah, -suh, I will present the matteh in anotheh -way."</p> - -<p>Maltham shot a quizzical glance at Ulrica—which -made her think that she knew where -his thoughts had been wool-gathering, and so -brought more light to her eyes—and answered -with a becoming gravity: "The fact is I didn't -quite catch the point that you were making, -Major, and I'll be very much obliged if you'll -take the trouble to go over it again."</p> - -<p>"It is no trouble—it is a pleasuah, suh," -the Major replied with an animated affability. -And with that he was off again, and ran on for -an hour or more—until he had established the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -glorious future of Minnesota Point in what -he believed to be convincing terms. "When the -time to which I am looking fo'wa'd comes, Mr. -Maltham, and it will come vehy soon, suh," he -said in enthusiastic conclusion, "it stands to -reason that the fortunes of this great metropolis -of the No'thwest will be fo'eveh and unchangeably -established. Only I must wahn yo', suh, -that we must begin to get ready fo' it right away. -We must take time by the fo'lock and provide -at once—I say at once, suh—fo' the needs of -that magnificent futuah that is almost heah -now!"</p> - -<p>He took a long breath as he finished his -peroration, and then came down smiling to the -level of ordinary conversation and added: "I -feah, Mr. Maltham, that I pehmit my enthusiasm -to get away with me a little. I feah I -may even boah yo', suh. I promise not to -say anotheh wohd on the subject this evening. -And now, as it is only a little while befo' suppeh, -we cannot do betteh, suh, than to take a -drink."</p> - -<p>Maltham had not intended to stay to supper. -He even had intended not to. But he did—and -on through the evening until the Major had to -warn him that he either must consent to sleep<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -in Eutaw Castle or else hurry along up the -Point before the ferry-boat stopped running -for the night. The Major urged him warmly -to stay. Finding that his invitation certainly -would not be accepted, he went off for a lantern—and -was rather put out when Maltham -declined it and said that he could find his -way very well by the light of the stars.</p> - -<p>Actually, Maltham did not find his way very -well by the light of the stars. Two or three -times he ran against trees. Once—this was -while he was trying to give the graveyard a -wide offing—he stumbled over a root and fell -heavily. When he got up again he found that -he had wrenched his leg, and that every step -he took gave him intense pain. But he was -glad of his flounderings against trees, and of -his fall and the keen pain that followed it—for -he was savage with himself.</p> - -<p>And yet it was not his fault, he grumbled. -Why had the Major gone off that way to hunt -up a lantern—and so left them alone? Toward -the end of his walk—his pain having quieted -his excitement, and so lessened his hatred -of himself—he added much more lightly: -"But what does a single kiss amount to, after -all?"</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo11.jpg" width="500" -height="222" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>It was on a day in the early autumn that -Maltham at last decided definitely—making -effective his half-formed resolution of the -spring-time—to stop drifting and to set things -as they should be with a strong hand. But -he had to admit, even as he formed this resolution, -that setting things quite as they should -be no longer was within his power.</p> - -<p>The summer had gone quickly, most astonishingly -quickly, he thought; and for the most -part pleasantly—though it had been broken by -certain interludes, not pleasant, during which -he had been even more savage with himself than -he had been during that walk homeward from -Eutaw Castle in the dark. But, no matter how -it had gone, the summer definitely was ended—and -so were his amusing sessions with the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -Major over the future of Minnesota Point, and -his sails with Ulrica on the lake and about the -bay. Ice already had begun to form in the -sheltered parts of the harbour, and the next -shift of wind into the North would close the -port for the winter by freezing everything hard -and fast. All the big ships had steamed away -eastward. On the previous day he had despatched -the last vessel of his own line. His work for -the season was over, and he was ready to return -to Chicago. In fact, he had his berth engaged -on that night's train. Moreover, in another -month he was to be married: in her latest -letter Miss Strangford had fixed the day. Then -they were going over to the Riviera, and probably -to Egypt. In the spring they were coming -back again, but not to Duluth nor even to -Chicago. He was to take charge of the Eastern -office of the line, and their home would be in -New York. These various moves were so definite -and so final as to justify him in saying -to himself, as he did say to himself, that the -Duluth episode was closed.</p> - -<p>He had hesitated about going down to Eutaw -Castle to say good-bye, but in the end had perceived -that the visit was a necessity. The -Major and Ulrica knew that he was to leave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -Duluth when navigation was closed for the winter—indeed, -of late, Ulrica had referred to -that fact frequently—but he had not confided -to them the remainder of his rather radical -programme. He meant to do that later by letter—from -the Riviera or from Egypt. In the -mean time, until he was married and across the -Atlantic, it was essential to keep unbroken the -friendly relations which had made his summer—even -with its bad interludes—so keenly delightful -to him; and to go away without paying -a farewell visit he knew would be to risk a -rupture that very easily might lead on to a -catastrophe. Moreover, as he said to himself, -there need not be anything final about it. Even -though the harbour did freeze, the railways remained -open—and it was only sixteen hours -from Chicago to Duluth by the fast train. To -suggest that he might be running up again soon -would be a very simple matter: and would not -be straining the truth, for he knew that the -pull upon him to run up in just that way would -be almost irresistibly strong.</p> - -<p>In fact, the pull was of such strength that all -of his not excessive will power had to be exerted -to make him go away at all—at least, to go away -alone. Very many times he had thought of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -possibility of reversing his programme completely: -of making his wedding journey with -Ulrica, and of writing from some far-off place -to Miss Strangford that he had happened to -marry somebody else and that she was free. -But each time that he had considered this -alternative he had realized that its cost would -come too high: a break with his own people, -the loss of the good berth open to him in New -York, the loss of his share of Miss Strangford's -share of the grain-elevators and other desirable -properties which would come to her when her -father died. But for these practical considerations, -as he frequently and sorrowingly had -assured himself, he would not have hesitated -for a moment—being satisfied that, aside from -them, such a reversal of his plans would be -better in every way. For he knew that while -Miss Strangford had and Ulrica had not his -formal promise to marry her, it was Ulrica -who had the firmer hold upon his heart; and he -also knew that while Ulrica would meet his -decision against her savagely—and, as he believed, -feebly—with her passion, Miss Strangford -would meet the reverse of that decision -calmly and firmly with her strength. The dilemma -so nearly touched the verge of his en<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>durance -that he even had contemplated evading -it altogether by shooting himself. But he had -not got beyond contemplation. For that sort -of thing he was lacking in nerve.</p> - -<p>It was because facing what he knew was a -final parting—even though Ulrica would not -know it—would be so bitter hard for him that -he had hesitated about making his visit of good-bye. -But when he had decided that it was a necessity—that -the risk involved in not making it -outweighed the pain that it would cost him—he -came about again: adding to his argument, almost -with a sob, that he could not go away like -that, anyhow—that he <i>must</i> see her once more!</p> - -<p>And so he went down the Point again, knowing -that he went for the last time—and on much -the same sort of a day, as it happened, as that -on which his first visit had been made: a grey, -chill day, with a strong wind drawing down the -lake that tufted it with white-caps and that sent -a heavy surf booming in upon the shore. He -had no headache, but he had a heartache that -was still harder to bear.</p> - -<p>He had intended to take the tram-car—that -he might hurry down to the Castle, and get -through with what he had to do there, and so -away again quickly. But when he had crossed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -the canal he let the car go off without him—for -the good reason that the meeting and the parting -might not come so soon. And for this same -reason he walked slowly, irresolutely. Once or -twice he halted and almost turned back. It all -was very unlike his brisk, assured advance on that -far back day—ages before, it seemed to him—when -he went down the Point for the first time.</p> - -<p>As he went onward, slowly, he was thinking -about that day: how it had been without intention -that he turned eastward instead of westward -when he started on his walk; how a whim -of the moment had led him to cross the canal; -how the mere chance of the three church-bound -women hurrying into the ferry-boat had prevented -his immediate return. He fell to wondering, -dully, what "chance" is, anyway—this -force which with a grim humour uses our most -unconsidered actions for the making or the unmaking -of our lives; and the hopeless puzzle -of it all kept his mind unprofitably employed -until he had passed the last of the little houses, -and had gone on through the stunted pines, -and so was come to the desolate graveyard.</p> - -<p>He did not shun the graveyard, as he had -shunned it all the summer long. The need for -that was past—now that, in reality, Ulrica's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -name had come to be to him a name upon a -grave. For a while he stood with his arms -resting on the broken fence, looking before him -in a dull way and feeling a dull surprise because -he found the dismal place still precisely as he -remembered it. That in so very long a time -it should not have become more ruinous seemed -to him unreasonable. Then he walked on past -the little church, still slowly and hesitatingly, -and so came at last to the Castle. Oddly enough, -the Major was standing again at the same lower -window, and saw him, and came out to welcome -him. For a moment he had a queer feeling that -perhaps it still was that first day—that he might -have been dozing in the pine woods, somewhere, -and that the past summer was all a dream.</p> - -<p>The Major was beaming with friendliness. -"Aha, Masteh Geo'ge, I'm glad to see yo' and -to congratulate yo'!" he said heartily. And -he gave Maltham a cordial dig in the ribs as he -added: "Yo' ah a sly dog, a vehy sly dog, my -boy, to keep youah secret from us! But I happened -to be up in town yestehday, and by the -mehest chance I met Captain Todd, of youah -boat, and he told me why yo' ah going back to -Chicago in such a huhy, suh! It is a great -match, a magnificent match that yo' ah mak<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>ing, -Geo'ge, and I congratulate yo' with all -my haht. I should be glad of the oppo'tunity -to congratulate Miss Strangfo'd also. Fo' I am -not flattehing yo', Geo'ge, when I tell yo' that -she could not have found a betteh husband had -she gone to look fo' him in South Cahrolina. -Suh, I can say no mo' than that!"</p> - -<p>The Major's speech was long enough, fortunately, -for Maltham to get over the shock of -its beginning before he had to answer it. But -even with that breathing space his answer was -so lame that the Major had to invent an excuse -for its lack of heartiness. "I don't doubt that -afteh youah chilly walk, Geo'ge, yo' ah half -frozen," he said. "Come right in and have -a drink. It will do yo' good, suh. It will take -the chill out of youah bones!"</p> - -<p>Maltham was glad to accept this invitation, -and the size of the drink that he took did the -Major's heart good. "That's right, Geo'ge!" -he said with great approval. "A South-Cahrolinian -couldn't show a betteh appreciation of -good liquoh than that!" He raised his glass -and continued: "I drink, suh, to Miss Strangfo'd's -health, and to youahs. May yo' both have -the long lives of happiness that yo' both desehve!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -He put down his empty glass and added: -"I will call Ulrica. She will be glad to see -yo' and to offeh yo' heh congratulations." He -paused for a moment, and then went on in a -less cheerful tone: "But I must wahn yo', -Geo'ge, that she has a bad headache and is not -quite hehself to-day—and so may not manifest -that wahm co'diality in regahd to youah present -and futuah happiness that she suahly feels. -I confess, Geo'ge," the Major continued anxiously, -"I am not quite comfo'table about heh. -She seems mo' out of so'ts than a meah headache -ought to make heh. And fo' the last -month and mo', as yo' may have obsehved youahself, -she has not seemed to be hehself at all. -I don't mind speaking this way frankly to yo', -Geo'ge, fo' yo' know how my haht is wrapped -up in heh. As I once told yo', it was only my -love fo' that deah child that kept me alive when -heh motheh left me," the Major's voice was very -unsteady, "and it is God's own truth that if -anything went wrong with heh; if—if I weh -to lose heh too, Geo'ge, I suahly should want -to give right up and die. I could not live without -heh—I don't think that I could live without -heh fo' a single day!"</p> - -<p>There were tears in the Major's eyes as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -spoke, and his last word was almost a sob. Maltham -was very pale. He did not attempt an -answer.</p> - -<p>"Thank yo', Geo'ge," the Major went on -presently. "I see by youah looks that I have -youah sympathy. I am most grateful to yo' fo' -it, most grateful indeed!" In a moment he -added: "Hahk! She's coming now! I heah -heh step outside. Hahk how heavy and slow -it is—and she always as light on heh feet as -a bird! To heah heh walk that way almost -breaks my haht!" And then he checked himself -suddenly, and tried to look rather unusually -cheerful as Ulrica entered the room.</p> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3>IX</h3></div> - - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo12.jpg" width="500" -height="218" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<p>Being braced to meet some sort of a storm, -Maltham was rather put about by not encountering -it. Ulrica certainly was looking the worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -for her headache—her eyes were duller than -usual, and there were dark marks under them, -and she was very pale; but she did not seem -to be at all excited, and the greeting that she -gave him was out of the ordinary only in that -she did not offer him her hand. He drew a -quick breath, and the tense muscles of his mind -relaxed. If she were taking it in that quiet -way, he thought, he had worked himself into -heroics for nothing. And then, quite naturally, -he felt a sharp pang of resentment because she -did take it so quietly. Her calmness ruffled his -self-love.</p> - -<p>As she remained silent, making no reference -to Maltham's engagement, the Major felt that -the proprieties of the case were not being attended -to and prompted her. "I have been -wishing Geo'ge joy and prospehrity, my deah," -he said. "Have yo' nothing to say to him -youahself about his coming happiness?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she answered slowly, "I have a great -deal to say to him—so much that I am going -to carry him off in the <i>Nixie</i> to say it." She -turned to Maltham and added: "You will come -with me for a last sail, will you not?"</p> - -<p>Maltham hesitated, and then answered doubtfully: -"Isn't it a little cold for sailing to-day?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -Your father says that you are not feeling well. -I do think that it will be better not to go—unless -you really insist upon it, of course."</p> - -<p>"Yo' mustn't think of such a thing!" the -Major struck in peremptorily. "The weatheh is -like ice. Yo' will catch yo' death of cold!"</p> - -<p>"It is no colder, father, than that day when -I took George out in the <i>Nixie</i> for the first time—and -it will do my head good," Ulrica answered. -And added, to Maltham: "I do insist. -Come!"</p> - -<p>Against the Major's active remonstrance, and -against Maltham's passive resistance, she carried -her point. "Come!" she said again—and -led Maltham out by the side door into the ragged -garden. There she left him for a moment and -returned to her father—who was standing in a -very melancholy way before the fire.</p> - -<p>"Do not mind, father," she said. "It is -the best thing for me—it is the only thing for -me."</p> - -<p>He looked at her inquiringly, puzzled by her -words and by her vehement tone. Suddenly -she put her arms around his neck and kissed -him. "Remember always, father, that I have -loved you with my whole heart for almost my -whole life long. And remember always," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -went on with a curiously savage earnestness, -"that I am loving you with my whole heart—with -every bit of it—to-day!"</p> - -<p>"I am suah yo' ah, my daughteh," the Major -answered, very huskily.</p> - -<p>She kissed him again, holding him tight in -her arms. Then she unclasped her arms with -a sudden quick energy and swiftly left the -room.</p> - -<p>She led Maltham silently to the boat, and silently—when -she had cast off the mooring—motioned -to him to enter it. He found this silence -ominous, and tried to break it. But the -commonplace words which he wanted to speak -would not come.</p> - -<p>And then, as he sat in the stern and mechanically -steadied the tiller while she hoisted the -sail, the queer feeling again came over him that -it still was that wonderful first day. This feeling -grew stronger as all that he remembered -so well was repeated: Ulrica's rapid movement -aft to the tiller; his own shifting of his seat; -her quick loosing of the centreboard as the wind -caught them; and then the heeling over of the -boat, and her steady motion, and the bubbling -hiss of the water beneath the bow. It all so lulled -him, so numbed his sense of time and fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -that suddenly he looked up in her face and -smiled—just as he had done on that first day.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="HEART"><img src="images/illo13.jpg" width="425" -height="803" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'" -</div></div> - -<p>But the look in Ulrica's eyes killed his smile, -and brought him back with a sharp wrench to -reality. Her eyes no longer were dull. They -were glowing—and they seemed to cut into him -like knives.</p> - -<p>"Well," she asked, "have you anything to -say for yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No," he answered, "except that fate has -been too strong for me."</p> - -<p>"Fate sometimes is held accountable for a -great deal," she said dryly, but with a catch -in her voice.</p> - -<p>They were silent again, and for a long while. -The boat was running down the bay rapidly—even -more rapidly, the wind being much stronger, -than on that first day. They could hear, -as they had not heard then, the surf crashing -upon the outer beach of the Point.</p> - -<p>The silence became more than he could stand. -"Can you forgive me?" he asked at last.</p> - -<p>Ulrica looked at him with a curious surprise. -"No," she answered quite calmly. "Think for -a moment about what you have done and about -what you intend to do. Do you not see that it -is impossible?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -"But I love you!" he cried eagerly. "I love -you more than I can tell. It is not my will that -is separating us—it is fate!"</p> - -<p>Her look softened for an instant as he began, -but as he ended it hardened again. She did -not answer him. A strong gust of wind heeled -the boat farther over. They were going at a -slashing rate. Before them the inlet was opening. -The booming of the surf was very loud.</p> - -<p>He saw that his words had taken hold upon -her, and repeated them: "I do love you, Ulrica—and, -oh, you don't know how very wretched I -have been! More than once in this past month -I have been very near killing myself."</p> - -<p>She gave him a searching look, and seemed -satisfied that he spoke the truth. "I am glad -that you have wanted to kill yourself," she said -slowly and earnestly. They were at the mouth -of the inlet. As she spoke, she luffed sharply -and they entered it close-hauled.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she repeated, speaking still more earnestly, -"I am very glad of that. It makes me -feel much easier in my mind about what I am -going to do."</p> - -<p>Her tone startled him. He looked up at her -quickly and anxiously. "What are you going -to do?" he asked.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -"Drown you," she answered simply.</p> - -<p>For an instant he did not take in the meaning -of her words. Then his face became very -white, though he tried to smile. His voice shook -as he said: "I do not think that this is a good -time for joking." The boat was biting her way -into the wind sharply, plunging and bucketing -through the partly spent waves which came in -from outside.</p> - -<p>"You know that I am not joking," Ulrica -answered very quietly. "I am going to drown -you, and to drown myself too. I have thought -it all out, and this seems the best thing to do. -It is the best for father," her voice trembled, -"and it is the best," she went on again, firmly, -"for me. As for you, it does not matter whether -it is the best for you or not—it is what you -deserve. For you are a liar and a traitor—a -liar and a traitor to me, and to that other woman -too!" As she spoke these last words her -calmness left her, and there was the ring of -passionate anger in her tone. The fire that she -had been smothering, at last was in full blaze.</p> - -<p>They were at the very mouth of the inlet. -The white-capped surface of the lake swelled -and tossed before them. The boat was wallowing -heavily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -Maltham's paleness changed to a greenish-grey. -He uttered a shrill scream—a cry of -weakly helpless terror. "Put about! For -God's sake put about!" he gasped. "We shall -be drowned!"</p> - -<p>For answer, she hauled the sheet a little and -brought the boat still closer into the wind—heading -straight out into the lake. "I told you -once that the <i>Nixie</i> could sail into the wind's -eye," she said, coolly. "Now she is doing it. -Does she not go well?"</p> - -<p>At that, being desperate, he rallied a little. -Springing to his feet, but standing unsteadily, -he grasped the tiller and tried to shift the helm. -Ulrica, standing firmly, laid her hand flat -against his breast and thrust him away savagely—with -such force that he reeled backward and -fell, striking against the combing and barely -missing going over the side.</p> - -<p>"You fool!" she exclaimed. "Do you not -see that it is too late?" She did not trouble -herself to look at him. Her gaze was fixed -in a keen ecstasy on the great oncoming waves.</p> - -<p>What she said was true—it was too late. -They were fairly out on the open lake, and -all possibility of return was gone. To try to -go about would be to throw the <i>Nixie</i> into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -trough of the sea—and so send her rolling over -like a log. At the best, the little boat could -live in that surge and welter for only a very -few minutes more.</p> - -<p>Maltham did not attempt to rise. His fall -had hurt him, and what little was left of his -spirit was cowed. He lay in a miserable heap, -uttering little whimpering moans. The complaining -noise that he made annoyed her. For -the last time she looked at him, burning him -for an instant with her glowing eyes. "Silence, -you coward!" she cried, fiercely—and at -her strong command he was still. Then her look -was fixed on the great oncoming waves again, -and she cast him out from her mind.</p> - -<p>Even in her rage—partly because of it—Ulrica -felt in every drop of her Norse blood the -glow and the thrill of this glorious battle with -great waters. The sheer delight of it was worth -dying for—and so richly worth living through -to the very last tingling instant that she steered -with a strong and a steady hand. And again—as -she stood firmly on the tossing boat, her -draperies blown close about her, her loosened -hair streaming out in golden splendour—she -was Aslauga's very self. Sorrow and life together -were ending well for her—in high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -emotion that filled and satisfied her soul. Magnificent, -commanding, defiant, she sailed on -in joyful triumph: glad and eager to give herself -strongly to the strong death-clasp of the -waves.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em"><img src="images/illo14.jpg" width="500" -height="179" alt="" title="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Martigues">The Death-Fires of Les Martigues</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>That is one of our old sayings here in Provence. -I used to laugh at it when I was young. -I do not laugh at it now. When those words -come into my heart, and they come often, I -go by the rough hard way that leads upward to -Notre Dame de la Garde until I come to the -Crime Cross—it is a wearying toil for me -to get up that steep hill-side, I am so stiff and -old now—and there I cast fresh stones upon the -heap at the foot of the cross. Each stone cast -there, you know, is a prayer for forgiveness -for some hidden crime: not a light fault, but a -crime. The stones must be little stones, yet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -the heap is very wide and high—though -every winter, when the great mistrals are -blowing across the Étang de Berre, the little -stones are whirled away down the hill-side. I -do not know how this custom began, nor when; -but it is a very old custom with us here in Les -Martigues.</p> - -<p>Once in every year I go up to the Crime -Cross by night. This is on All Souls Eve. First -I light the lamp over Magali's breast where -she lies sleeping in the graveyard: going to the -graveyard at dusk, as the others do, in the long -procession that creeps up thither from the three -parts of our town—from Jonquières, and the -Isle, and Ferrières—to light the death-fires -over the dear dead ones' graves. I go with -the very first, as soon as the sun is down. I like -to be alone with Magali while I light the little -lamp that will be a guide for her soul through -that night when souls are free; that will keep -it safe from the devils who are free that night -too. I do not like the low buzzing of voices -which comes later, when the crowd is there, nor -the broken cries and sobs. And when her lamp -is lit, and I have lit my mother's lamp, I hurry -away from the graveyard and the moaning people—threading -my steps among the graves on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -which the lights are beginning to glimmer, and -through the oncoming crowd, and then by the -lonely path through the olive-orchards, and so -up the stony height until I come at last to the -Crime Cross—panting, aching—and my watch -begins.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="MARIUS"><img src="images/illo15.jpg" width="475" -height="757" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -MARIUS -</div></div> - -<p>Up on that high hill-side, open to the west, -a little of the dying daylight lingers. Eastward, -like a big black mirror, lies the great -étang; and far away across its still waters the -mountain chain above Berre and Rognac rises -purple-grey against the darker sky. In the -west still are faint crimson blotches, or dashes -of dull blood-red—reflected again, and made -brighter, in the Étang de Caronte: that stretches -away between the long downward slopes of the -hills, on which stone-pines stand out in black -patches, until its gleaming waters merge into -the faint glow upon the waters of the Mediterranean. -Above me is the sanctuary of Notre -Dame de la Garde, a dark mass on the height -above the olive-trees: of old a refuge for sinful -bodies, and still a refuge where sinful souls may -seek grace in prayer from their agony. And -below me, on the slope far downward, is the -graveyard: where the death-fires multiply each -moment, as more and more lamps are lighted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -until at last it is like a little fallen heaven of -tiny stars. Only in its midst is an island of -darkness where no lamps are. That is where -the children lie together: the blessed innocents -who have died sinless, and who wander not on -All Souls Eve because when sweet death came -to them their pure spirits went straight home -to God. And beyond the graveyard, below it, -is the black outspread of the town: its blackness -deepened by a bright window here and -there, and by the few street lamps, and by the -bright reflections which shine up from the -waters of its canals.</p> - -<p>Seeing all this—yet only half seeing it, for -my heart is full of other things—I sit there -at the foot of the Crime Cross in the darkness, -prayerful, sorrowful, while the night wears -on. Sometimes I hear footsteps coming up the -rocky path, and then the shadowy figure of a -man or of a woman breaks out from the gloom -and suddenly is close beside me—and I hear -the rattle of little stones cast upon the heap -behind me, on the other side of the cross. Presently, -the rite ended, whoever it is fades back -into the gloom again and passes away. And -I know that another sinful soul has been close -beside my sinful soul for a moment: seeking in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -penitent supplication, as I am seeking, rest -in forgiveness for an undiscovered crime. But -I am sure that none of them sees—as I see in -the gloom there always—a man's white face -on which the moonlight is shining, and beyond -that white face the glint of moonlight on a raging -sea; and I am sure that on none of their -blackened souls rests a burden as heavy as that -which rests on mine.</p> - -<p>I am very weary of my burden, and old and -broken too. It is my comfort to know that I -shall die soon. But, also, the thought of that -comfort troubles me. For I am a lone man, -and childless. When I go, none of Magali's -race, none of my race, will be left alive here -in Les Martigues. Our death-fires will not be -lighted. We shall wander in darkness on All -Souls Eve.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>My old mother, God rest her, said that to -me when first she began to see that my love -was set on Magali—and saw, too, that I was -winning from Magali the love that belonged to -Jan, who had her promise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> -"It is an old man's lifetime, mother," I said, -"since a wolf has been seen near Les Martigues." -And I laughed and kissed her.</p> - -<p>"Worse than a wolf is a heart that covets -what it may not have, Marius," she answered. -"Magali is as good as Jan's wife, and you -know it. For a year she has been promised -to him. She is my dead sister's child, and she -is in my care—and in your care too, because -you and she and I are all that is left of us, -and you are the head of our house, the man. -You are doing wickedness in trying to take her -away from Jan—and Jan your own close friend, -who saved your life out of the sea. The match -is a good match for Magali, and she was contented -with it until you—living here close beside -her in your own house—began to steal away -her heart from him. It is rascal work, Marius, -that you are doing. You are playing false as -a house-father and false as a friend—and God -help me that I must speak such words to my own -son! That is why I say, and I say it solemnly, -'God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!' That desire has no -right to be in your heart, Marius. Drag it out -of your heart and cast it away!"</p> - -<p>But I only laughed and kissed her again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> -and told her that I would take good care of myself -if a she-wolf tried to eat me—and so I went -away, still laughing, to my fishing in the Gulf -of Fos.</p> - -<p>But I did not laugh when I was alone in -my boat, slipping down the Étang de Caronte -seaward. What she had said had made me see -things clearly which until then had been half -hid in a haze. We had slipped into our love for -each other, Magali and I, softly and easily—just -as my boat was slipping down the étang. -Every day of our lives we were together, in the -close way that housemates are together in a -little house of four rooms. Before I got up -in the morning I could hear her moving near -me, only a thin wall between us; and her movements, -again, were the last sounds that I heard -at night. She waited on me at my meals. She -helped my mother to mend my clothes—the very -patches on my coat would bring to my mind -the sight of her as she sat sewing at night beside -the lamp. We were as close together as a brother -and a sister could be; and in my dulness I -had fancied for a long while that what I had -felt for her was only what a brother would -feel.</p> - -<p>What first opened my eyes a little was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -way that I felt about it when she gave her -promise to Jan. For all our lives Jan and I -had been close friends: and most close since that -day when the squall struck our boats, as we lay -near together, and I went overboard, and Jan—letting -his own boat take its chances—came -overboard after me because he knew that I could -not swim. It was by a hair's-breadth only that -we were not drowned together. After we were -safe I told him that my life was his. And I -meant it, then. Until Magali came between us -I would have died for him with a right good -will. After that I was ready enough that he -should do the dying—and so be gone out of -my way.</p> - -<p>When he got Magali's promise, I say, my -ugly feeling against him began. But it was not -very strong at first, and I was not clear about -it in my own mind. All that I felt was that, -somehow, he had got between me and the sun. -For one thing, I did not want to be clear about -it. Down in the roots of me I knew that I had -no right to that sunshine, and that Jan had—and -I could not help thinking about how he -had come overboard after me and had held me -up there in the tumbling sea, and how I had -told him that my life was his. But with this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -went a little thin thought, stirring now and then -in the bottom of my mind though I would not -own to it, that in giving him my life—which -still was his if he wanted it—I had not given -him the right to spoil my life for me while leaving -me still alive. And I did my best not to -think one way or the other, and was glad that -it all was a blur and a haze.</p> - -<p>And all the while I was living close beside -Magali in that little house, with the sound of -her steps always near me and the sound of her -voice always in my ears. She had a very sweet -voice, with a freshness and a brightness in it -that seemed to me like the brightness of her -eyes—and Magali's great black eyes were the -brightest eyes that ever I saw. Even in Arles, -where all the women are beautiful, there would -be a buzz among the people lining Les Lices -when Magali walked there of a feast-day, wearing -the beautiful dress that our women wear -here in Provence. To look at her made you -think of an Easter morning sun.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></p> - -<p>My mother's words kept on ringing in my -ears after I had left her. Suddenly the haze -was gone and I saw clearly—and I knew that -my heart's deep desire was to have Magali -for my very own. And with that sudden coming -of clear sight I knew, too, that I could have -her. Out of the past came a crowd of memories -which proved it to me. In my dull way, -I say, I had fancied that I loved Magali as a -sister, and I had tried to keep that fancy always -by me in my haze. But with the haze gone—swept -away by my mother's words as the mistral -sweeps away our Mediterranean fogs—I -knew that Magali never had been the fool that -I had been.</p> - -<p>I remembered her looks and her ways with me -from the very day when she came to us, when -she was just turned of sixteen: how she used -sometimes to lay her hand lightly on my shoulder, -how she would bend over to look at the -net that I was mending until her hair -brushed against my cheek or my forehead, how -she always was bringing things to show me that -I could not see rightly unless she stood very -close at my side, and most of all how a dozen -times a day she would be flashing at me her -great black eyes. And I remembered how moody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -and how strange in her ways she was just before -Jan got his promise from her; and how, -when she told me that her promise was given, -she gave me a look like none that ever I had -from her, and said slowly: "The fisherman who -will not catch any fish at all because he cannot -catch the fish he wants most—is a fool, Marius!"</p> - -<p>Yet even then I did not understand; though, -as I say, my eyes were opened a little and I had -the feeling that Jan had got between me and the -sun. That feeling grew stronger because of the -way that she treated him and treated me. Jan -was for hurrying the marriage, but she kept him -dangling and always was putting him off. As -for me, I got all sides of her moods and tempers. -Sometimes she scarcely would speak to me. -Sometimes she would give me looks from those -big black eyes of hers that thrilled me through! -Sometimes she would hang about me in a patient -sad way that made me think of a dog begging -for food. And the colour so went out of her -face that her big black eyes looked bigger and -blacker still.</p> - -<p>Then it was that I began to find in the haze -that was about me a refuge—because I did not -want to see clear. I let my thoughts go out -to Magali, and stopped them before they got<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -to Jan. It would be time enough, I reasoned—though -I did not really reason it: I only felt -it—to think about him when I had to. For the -passing hours it was enough to have the sweetness -of being near Magali—and that grew to -be a greater sweetness with every fresh new -day. Presently I noticed that her colour had -come back again; and it seemed to me—though -that may have been only because of my new -love of her—that she had a new beauty, tender -and strange. Certainly there was a new brightness, -a curiously glowing brightness, in her eyes.</p> - -<p>For Jan, things went hardly in those days. -Having her promise, he had rights in her—as -we say in Provence. But he did not get -many of his rights. Half the time when he -claimed her for walks on the hill-sides among -the olive-orchards, she would not go with him—because -she had her work to do at home, -she said. And there was I, where her work was, -at home! For a while Jan did not see beyond -the end of his nose about it. I do not think -that ever it crossed his mind to think of me in -the matter—not, that is, until some one with -better eyes than his eyes helped him to see. -For he knew that I was his friend, and I suppose -that he remembered what I had told him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -about my life being his. And even when his eyes -were helped, he would not at first fully believe -what he must plainly have seen. But he soon -believed enough to make him change his manner -toward me, and to make him watch sharp -for something that would give him the right to -speak words to me which would bring matters -to a fair settlement by blows. And I was ready, -as I have said—though I would not fairly own -it to myself—to come to blows with him. For -I wanted him dead, and out of my way.</p> - -<p>And so my mother's words, which had made -me at last see clearly, stayed by me as I went -sailing in my boat softly seaward down the -étang. And they struck deeper into me because -Jan's boat was just ahead of mine; and the -sight of him, and the thought of how he had -saved my life only to cross it, made me long -to run him down and drown him, and so be -quit of him for good and all. I made up my -mind then that, whether I killed him or left -him living, it would be I who should have -Magali and not he.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> - -<p>My mother said that again to me when I -came home that night from my fishing; and -she said it to me often as the days went on. She -saw the change that had come to me, and she -knew what was in my soul. It is not wonderful, -when you stop to think about it, that a man's -mother should know what is in his soul: for the -body in which that soul is, the living home of -it, is a part of her own. And she grew sad and -weary-looking when she found that her words -had no hold on me, and there came into her -eyes the sorrowful look that comes into the eyes -of old people who are soon to die.</p> - -<p>But Magali's eyes were the only eyes that -I cared for then, and they seemed to me to grow -brighter and brighter every day. When she and -I walked in the olive-orchards together in the -starlight the glow of them outshone the star-glow. -It seemed to light up my heart.</p> - -<p>I do not think that we talked much in those -walks. I do not seem to remember our talking. -But we understood each other, and we were -agreed about what we were to do. I was old -enough to marry as I pleased, but Magali was -not—she could not marry without my mother's -word. We meant to force that word. Some day -we would go off in my boat together—over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -Les Saintes Maries, perhaps; or perhaps to -Marseille. It did not matter where we went. -When we came back again, at the end of two -or three days, my mother no longer could deny -us—she would have to give in. And no one -would think the worse of Magali: for that is -our common way of settling a tangled love-matter -here in Provence.</p> - -<p>But I did not take account of Jan in my -plans, and that was where I made a mistake. -Jan had just as strong a will as I had, and -every bit of his will was set upon keeping -Magali for himself. I wanted her to break -with him entirely, but that she would not do. -She was a true Provençale—and I never yet -knew one of our women who would rest satisfied -with one lover when she could have two. -If she can get more than two, that is better -still. While I hung back from her, Magali was -more than ready to come to me; but when -she found me eager after her, and knew that -she had a grip on me, she danced away.</p> - -<p>And so, before long, Jan again had his walks -with her in the olive-orchards by starlight just -as I did, and likely enough her eyes glowed -for him just as they did for me. When they -were off that way together I would get into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -wild-beast rage over it. Sometimes I would follow -them, fingering my knife. I suppose that -he felt like that when the turn was mine. Anyhow, -the love-making chances which she gave -him—even though in my heart I still was sure -of her—kept me always watching him; and I -could see that he always was watching me. Very -likely he felt sure of her too, and that was his -reason—just as it was my reason—for not bringing -our matter to a fighting end. I was ready -enough to kill him, God knows. Unless his -eyes lied when he looked at me, he was ready -to kill me.</p> - -<p>And in that way the summer slipped past -and the autumn came, and neither of us gained -anything. I was getting into a black rage over -it all. Down inside of me was a feeling like -fire in my stomach that made me not want to -eat, and that made what I did eat go wrong. -My poor mother had given up trying to talk to -me. She saw that she could not change my way—and, -too, I suppose that she pretty well understood -it all: for she had lived her life, and she -knew the ways of our men and of our women -when love stings them here in Provence. Only, -her sadness grew upon her with her hopelessness. -What I remember most clearly as I think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -her in those last days is her pale old face and -the dying look in her sorrowful eyes.</p> - -<p>But seeing her in that way grief-struck only -made my black rage blacker and the fire in my -stomach burn hotter. I had the feeling that -there was a devil down there who all the time -was getting bigger and stronger: and that before -long he and I would take matters in hand together -and settle them for good and all. As -for keeping on with things as they were, it -was not to be thought of. Better than much -more of such a hell-life would be ending everything -by killing Jan.</p> - -<p>What made me hang back from that was the -certainty that if I did kill him—even in a fair -fight, with his chance as good as mine—I would -lose Magali beyond all hope: for the gendarmes -would have me away in a whiff to jail—and -then off would go my head, or, what would be -just as bad, off I would go head and all to -Cayenne. It was no comfort to me to know that -Magali would almost cry her eyes out over -losing me. Of course she would do that, being -a Provençale. But before her eyes were quite -out she would stop crying; and then in a moment -she would be laughing again; and in -another moment she would be freshly in love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -once more—with some man who was not murdered -and who was not gone for his lifetime -over seas. And all that, also, would be because -she was a Provençale.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>All the devils are let loose on earth on All -Souls Eve—that is a fact known to everybody -here in Provence. But whether it was one of -those loosed devils, or the devil that had grown -big in my own inside, that made me do what I -did I do not know. What I do know, certainly, -is that about dusk on All Saints Day the thought -of how I could force things to be as I wanted -them to be came into my heart.</p> - -<p>My thought was not a new thought, exactly. -It was only that I would do what we had -planned to do to make my mother give in to us: -get Magali into my boat and carry her off with -me for a day or two to Les Saintes. But it -came to me with the new meaning that in that -way I could make Magali give in to me too. -When we came back she would be ready enough -to marry me, and my mother would be for hurrying -our marrying along. It all was as plain -and as sure as anything could be. And, as I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -said, nobody would think the worse of Magali -afterward; because that way of cutting through -such difficulties is a common way with us in -Provence.</p> - -<p>And All Souls Eve was the time of all times -for doing it. The whole town is in commotion -then. In the churches, when the Vespers of -All Saints are finished, the Vespers of the Dead -are said. Then, just after sunset, the streets -are crowded with our people hurrying to the -graveyard with their lanterns for the graves. -Nothing is thought about but the death-fires. -From all the church towers—in Jonquières, in -the Isle, in Ferrières—comes the sad dull tolling -of bells. After that, for an hour or more, -the town is almost deserted. Only the very old, -and the very young, and the sick with their -watchers, and the bell-ringers in the towers, are -left there. Everybody else is in the graveyard, -high up on the hill-side: first busied in setting -the lights and in weeping over dead loved ones; -and then, when the duty to the dead ones is -done with, in walking about through the graveyard -to see the show. In Provence we take a -great interest in every sort of show.</p> - -<p>Magali and I had no death-fires to kindle, for -in the graveyard were no dead of ours. Our peo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>ple -were of Les Saintes Maries, and there their -graves were—and my father, who was drowned -at his fishing, had no grave at all. But we went -always to the graveyard on All Souls Eve, and -most times together, that we might see the show -with the others and enjoy the bustle of the -crowd. And so there was nothing out of the -common when I asked her to come with me; and -off we started together—leaving my old mother -weeping at home for my dead father, who could -have no death-fire lit for him because his bones -were lying lost to us far away in the depths -of the sea.</p> - -<p>Our house was in the eastern quarter of the -town, in Jonquières. To reach the graveyard -we had to cross the Isle, and go through Ferrières, -and then up the hill-side beyond. But I -did not mean that we should do that; and when -we had crossed the Canal du Roi I said to -Magali that we would turn, before we went onward, -and walk down past the Fish-market to -the end of the Isle—that from there we might -see the lights glowing in the dusk on the slope -rising above us black against the western sky. -We had done that before—it is a pretty sight -to see all those far-off glittering points of light -above, and then to see their glittering reflections<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -near by in the water below—and she willingly -came with me.</p> - -<p>But I had more in view. Down at the end -of the Isle, along with the other boats moored -at the wharf there to be near the Fish-market, -my boat was lying; and when we were come -close to her I said suddenly, as though the -thought had entered my head that minute, that -we would go aboard of her and run out a little -way—and so see the death-fires more clearly -because they would be less hidden by the -shoulder of the hill. I did not have to speak -twice. Magali was aboard of the boat on the -instant, and was clapping her hands at the notion—for -she had, as all our women have, a -great pleasure in following any sudden fancy -which promises something amusing and also -a little strange. And I was quick after her, -and had the lines cast off and began to get -up the sail.</p> - -<p>"Oh," she said, "won't the oars do? Need -we bother with the sail for such a little way?"</p> - -<p>But I did not answer her, and went on with -what I was doing, while the boat drifted quickly -out from land before the gusts of wind which -struck us harder and harder as we cleared the -point of the Isle. Until then I had not thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -about the weather—my mind had been full of -the other and bigger thought. The gusts of wind -waked me up a little, and as I looked at the -sky I began to have doubts that I could do what -I wanted to do; for it was plain that a gale -was rising which would make ticklish work for -me even out on the Gulf of Fos—and would -make pretty near impossible my keeping on to -Les Saintes over the open sea. And I had about -made up my mind that we must go back, and -that I must carry out my plan some other -time, when there came a hail to us from the -shore.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?" called a voice—and -as we turned our looks shoreward there was -Jan. He had been following us, I suppose—just -as I sometimes had followed him.</p> - -<p>Before I could answer him, Magali spoke. -"We are going out on the water to see the -death-fires, Jan," she said. "We are going -only a very little way."</p> - -<p>Her words angered me. There was something -in them that seemed to show that he had -the right to question her. That settled me in -my purpose. Storm or no storm, on I would -go. And I brought the boat up to the wind, so -as to lay our course straight down the Étang<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -de Caronte, and called out to him: "We are -going where you cannot follow. Good-bye!"</p> - -<p>And then a gust of wind heeled us over, and -we went on suddenly with a dash—as a horse -goes when you spur him—and the water boiled -and hissed under our bows. In another half-minute -we were clear of the shelter of the point, -and then the wind came down on us off the -hills in a rush so strong that I had to ease off -the sheet sharply—and I had a queer feeling -about what was ahead of me out on the Gulf -of Fos.</p> - -<p>"Marius! Marius! What are you doing?" -Magali cried in a shiver of fright: for she -knew by that time that something was back of -it all in my mind. As she spoke I could see -through the dusk that Jan was running up the -sail of his boat, and in a minute more would -be after us.</p> - -<p>"I am doing what I ought to have done -long ago," I said. "I am taking you for my -own. There is nothing to fear, dear Magali. -You shall not be in danger. I had meant to -take you to Les Saintes. But a gale is rising -and we cannot get to Les Saintes to-night. We -will run across the Gulf of Fos and anchor in -the Grau de Gloria. There is a shepherd's hut<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -near the Grau. I will make a fire in it and -you can sleep there comfortably, while I watch -outside. After all, it makes no difference where -we go. I shall have carried you off—when we -go back you must be my wife."</p> - -<p>She did not understand at first. She was too -much frightened with the suddenness of it all, -and with the coming of Jan, and with the -boat flying on through the rushing of the wind. -I looked back and saw that Jan had got away -after us. Dimly I could make out his sail -through the dusk that lay thick upon the water. -Beyond it and above it was a broad patch of -brightness where all the death-fires were burning -together in the graveyard. We had come -too far to see any longer those many points of -light singly. In a mass, they made against the -black hill-side a great bright glow.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>My mother's words seemed to sound in my -ears loudly, coming with the rush of wind that -eddied around me out of the sail's belly. They -gave me a queer start, as the thought came with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -them that here at last my heart's deep desire -would be mine presently—if only I could snatch -it and keep it from the she-wolf of the sea.</p> - -<p>Magali was silent—half standing, half sitting, -against the weather side of the boat, close -in front of me as I stood at the tiller with the -sheet in my hand. She had got over her fright. I -could tell that by the brightness of her eyes, -and by the warm colour in her cheeks that I -had a glimpse of as we flashed past the break -in the hills where the Mas Labillon stands. -And in that moment while the dusk was thinned -a little I could see, too, that she was breathing -hard. I know what our women are, and I -know what she was feeling. Our women like -to be fought for, and any one of them gladly -would have been in Magali's place—with the -two strongest and handsomest men in Les Martigues -in a fair way to come to a death-grip for -her in the whirl of a rising storm.</p> - -<p>Back in the dusk, against the faint glow of -the death-fires, I could see the sail of Jan's -boat dipping and swaying with the thrusts of -the wind-gusts as it came on after me. It had -gained a little; and I knew that it would gain -more, for Jan's boat was a speedier boat than -mine on the wind. Close-hauled, I could walk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -away from him; but in running down the Étang -de Caronte I had no choice in my sailing. Out -on the Gulf of Fos, if I dared take that chance, -and if he dared follow me, I could bear up -to windward and so shake him off—making -for the Anse d'Auguette and taking shelter -there. But even my hot blood chilled a little -at the thought of going out that night on the -Gulf of Fos. When we were down near the -end of the étang—close to the Salines, where it -is widest—the wind that pelted down on us -from the hills was terribly strong. It was hard -to stand against even there, where the water -was smooth. Outside, it would be still stronger, -and the water would be all in a boil. And -at the end, to get into the Anse d'Auguette, we -should have to take the risk of a roaring sea -abeam.</p> - -<p>But any risk was better than the risk of what -might happen if Jan overhauled me. Now that -I fairly had Magali away from him, I did not -want to fight him. What might come in a -fight in rough water—where the winds and the -waves would have to be reckoned with, and -with the most careful reckoning might play -tricks on me—was too uncertain; while if I -could stand him off and get away from him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -so that even for one night I could keep Magali -with me, the game would be won. After that, -if he wanted it, I would fight him as much as -he pleased.</p> - -<p>The thought that I would win—in spite of -Jan and in spite of the storm, too—made all my -blood tingle. More by habit than anything else -I sailed the boat: for my eyes were fixed on -Magali's eyes, shining there close to me, and my -heart was full of her. We did not speak, but -once she turned and looked at me—bending -forward a little, so that her face was within a -foot of mine. What she saw in my eyes was -so easy to read that she gave all at once a half-laugh -and a half-sob—and then turned away -and peered through the blustering darkness -toward Jan's sail. Somehow, the way she did -that made me feel that she was holding the -balance between us; that she was waiting—as -the she among wild beasts waits while the -males are fighting for her—for the stronger of -us to win. After that I was ready to face the -Gulf of Fos.</p> - -<p>The time for facing the gulf was close on -me, too. We had run through the canal of -the Salines and were out in the open water -of Bouc—the great harbour at the mouth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -of the étang. The gale roared down on -us, now that there was little land to break it, -and we began to hear the boom of the waves -pounding on the rocks outside. I luffed well -into the wind and bore up for the narrows opening -seaward where the Fort de Bouc light-house -stands. The water still was not rough enough -to trouble us. It would not be rough until we -were at the very mouth of the narrows. Then, -all at once, would come the crush and fury of -the wind and sea. I knew what it would be like: -and again a chill shot through me at the thought -of risking everything on that one great chance. -But I had one thing to comfort me: the moon -had risen—and while the light came brokenly, -as the clouds thinned and thickened again, there -was brightness enough even at the darkest for -me to lay a course when I got out among the -tumbling waves. Yet only a man half mad with -passion would have thought of fronting such -a danger; and even I might have held back at -the last moment had I not been stung to go on.</p> - -<p>Jan had so gained on me in the run down the -étang that as we came out from the canal of -the Salines his boat was within less than a dozen -rods of mine; and as I hauled my sheet and -bore up for the narrows he shot down upon us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -and for a moment was almost under our stern. -And at that Magali gave a little jump and a -half-gasp, and laid her hand upon mine, crying: -"Marius! Quick! Sail faster! He will -take me from you! Get me away! Get me -away!"</p> - -<p>And then I knew that she no longer balanced -us, but that her heart was for me. After that -I would have faced not only the Gulf of Fos -but the open Mediterranean in the worst storm -that ever blew.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from -your heart's deep desire!"</p> - -<p>The words were in my ears again as we went -flying on toward the narrows—with the reflection -of the flame in the light-house making a -broad bright path for us, and the flame itself -rising high before us against the cloud-rack like -a ball of fire. But God was not with me then, -and I gave those warning words no heed. I was -drunk with the gladness that came to me when -Magali made her choice between us; and all -that I thought was that even if we did go down -together, out there in the Gulf of Fos, I still -would be keeping her from Jan and holding her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -for my own. That there might be any other -ending for us never crossed my mind.</p> - -<p>Jan did not think, I suppose, that I would -dare to go outside the harbour. He was in a -rage too, no doubt; but, still, he must have -been a good deal cooler than I was—for a rage -of hate does not boil in the very bones of a -man, as a rage of love does—and so cool enough -to know that it was sheer craziness to take a -boat out into that sea. What I meant to do -must have come to him with suddenness—as we -drew so close to the light-house that the flame -no longer was reflected ahead of us, and the narrows -were open over my starboard bow, and I -let the boat fall off from the wind and headed -her into the broken water made by the inroll -of half-spent waves. In my run close-hauled I -had dropped him, but not so much as I thought -I should, and as I came on the wind again—and -hung for a moment before gathering fresh -headway—he ranged up once more within hail.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going? Are you crazy?" he -called out—and though he must have shouted -with all the strength of his big lungs his voice -came thin through the wind to us, and broken -by the pounding of the sea.</p> - -<p>"Where you won't dare to follow!" I called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -back to him—and we went rushing on below -the big old fort, that carries the light on its -tower, through the short passage between the -harbour and the Gulf of Fos.</p> - -<p>Something he answered, but what it was I -do not know: for as we cleared the shelter of -the fort—but while the tail of rock beyond it -still was to windward, so that I could not luff—down -with a crash on us came the gale. I -could only let fly the sheet—but even with the -sheet all out over we went until the sail was -deep in the water, and over the leeward gunwale -the waves came hissing in. I thought that there -was the end of it; but the boat had such way -on her that even on her beam ends and with -the sail dragging she went on until we had -cleared the rocks; and then I luffed her and -she rose slowly, and for the moment was safe -again with her nose in the wind.</p> - -<p>Magali's face was dead white—like a dead -woman's face, only for her shining eyes. She -fell to leeward as the boat went over—I could -not spare a hand to save her—and struck hard -against the gunwale. When the boat righted -and she got up again her forehead was bleeding. -On her white face the blood was like a -black stain. But she put her hand on mine and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -said: "I am not frightened, Marius. I love -you!"</p> - -<p>Jan was close aboard again. As our way had -deadened he had overhauled us; and because -he saw what had happened to my boat he was -able to bring his boat through the narrows without -going over.</p> - -<p>"Marius! Marius! For God's sake, for Magali's -sake, put about!" he shouted. "It is the -only chance to save her. Put about, I say!"</p> - -<p>He was only a little way to leeward of us, -but I barely made out his words. The wind -was roaring past us, and the waves were banging -like cannon on the rocks close by.</p> - -<p>What he said was the truth, and I knew -it. I knew that the gale was only just beginning, -and that no boat could live through it -for another hour. And then one of the devils -loose on that All Souls Eve, or perhaps it was -my own devil inside of me, put a new evil -thought into my heart: making clear to me -how I might get rid of Jan for good and all, -and without its ending in my losing my head -or in my losing Magali by being sent overseas. -It was a chance, to be sure, and full of -danger. But just then I was ready for any danger -or for any chance.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="ROCKS"><img src="images/illo16.jpg" width="500" -height="317" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS" -</div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -"Lie down in the bottom of the boat, -Magali," I called sharply. "That is the safest -place for you. We are going about."</p> - -<p>I spoke the truth to Magali; but, also, I did -not want her to see what happened. She did -what I told her to do, and then I began to wear -the boat around. How I did it without swamping, -I do not know. Perhaps the devils of All -Souls Eve held up my mast through the black -moments while we lay wallowing in the trough -of the sea. But I did do it; and when I was -come about I headed straight for Jan's boat—lying -dead to leeward of me, not twenty yards -away. The clouds thinned suddenly and almost -the full light of the moon was with us. We -could see each other's faces plainly—and in -mine he saw what I meant to do.</p> - -<p>"It will be all of us together, Marius!" he -called to me. "Do you want to murder Magali -too?"</p> - -<p>But I did not believe that it would be all of -us together: for I knew that his boat was an old -one, and that mine was new and strong. And, -also, the devils had me in their hold. The -gale was behind me, driving me down upon him -like a thunder-bolt. As I shot close to him the -moon shone out full for a moment through a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -rift in the clouds. In that moment I saw his -face clearly. The moonlight gleamed on it. -It was a ghastly dead white. But I do not suppose -that it was for himself that he was afraid. -Jan was not a coward, or he would not have -jumped after me when I was drowning in the -stormy sea.</p> - -<p>Once more he called to me. "Marius! For -the sake of Magali—"</p> - -<p>And then there was a crashing and a rending -of planks as I shot against his boat, and a sudden -upspringing of my own boat under me. And -after that, for a long while, a roaring of water -about me, and my own body tumbled and thrust -hither and thither in it, and at last a blow which -seemed to dash me down into a vast black depth -that was all buzzing with little blazing stars.</p> - -<p class="p2">But the others were upcast on the rocks dead.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2 id="Upcast">A Sea Upcast</h2></div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>When we East Anglians be set to do a thing, -we be set firm. We come at what we want by -slow thinking, but when we know what we want -we hold fast by it—being born stubborn, and -also being born staunch. It is the same with -our hating and with our loving: we fire slowly, -but when at last the fire is kindled it burns so -strongly in the very hearts of us—with a white -glow, hotter than any flame—that there is no -putting it out again short of putting out our -lives.</p> - -<p>Men and women alike, we are born that way; -and we fishermen of the Suffolk and Norfolk -coast likewise are bred that way: seeing that -from the time we go afloat as youngsters until -the time that we are drowned, or are grown so -old and rusty that there is no more strength<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -for sea-fighting left in us, our lives for the -most part are spent in fighting the North Sea. -That is a fight that needs stubbornness to carry -it through to a finish. Also, it needs knowledge -of the ocean's tricks and turns—because the -North Sea can do what we East Anglians can't -do: it can smile at you and lie. A man must -have a deal of training before he can tell by -the feel of it in his own insides that close over -beyond a still sea and a sun-bright sky a storm -is cooking up that will kill him if it can. And -even when he feels the coming of it—if he be -well to seaward, or if he be tempted by the -fish being plenty and by the bareness of his -own pockets to hold on in the face of it—he -must have more in his head than any coast -pilot has if he is to win home to Yarmouth -Harbour or to Lowestoft Roads.</p> - -<p>For God in his cruelty has set more traps -to kill seafarers off this easterly outjut of England, -I do believe, than He has set anywhere -else in all the world: there being from Covehithe -Ness northward to the Winterton Overfalls -nothing but a maze of deadly shoals—all -cut up by channels in which there is no sea-room—that -fairly makes you queazy to think -about when you are coming shoreward in a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -northeast gale. And as if that were not enough -to make sure of man-food for the fishes, the currents -that swirl and play among these shoals -are up to some fresh wickedness with every hour -of the tide-run and with every half shift of -wind. Whether you make in for Yarmouth -by Hemesby Hole to the north, or by the Hewett -Channel to the south, or split the difference by -running through Caister Road, it is all one: -twisting about the Overfalls and the Middle -Cross Sand and the South Scroby, there the -currents are. What they will be doing with you, -or how they will be doing it, you can't even -make a good guess at; all that you can know -for certain being that they will be doing their -worst by you at the half tide.</p> - -<p>At least, though, the Lowestoft men and the -Yarmouth men have a good harbour when once -they fetch it; and by that much are better off -than we Southwold men, who have no harbour -at all. With anything of a sea running there -is no making a landing under Southwold Cliff—though -it is safe enough when once your boat -is beached and hauled up there; and so, if the -storm gets ahead of us, there is nothing left but -to run for Lowestoft: and a nice time we often -have of it, with an on-shore gale blowing, work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>ing -up into the Covehithe Channel under the tail -of the Barnard Bank! As for beating up to seaward -of the Barnard and running in through -Pakefield Gat, anybody can try for it who has -a mind to—and who has a boat that can eat -the very heart out of the wind. Sometimes -you do fetch it. But what happens to you most -times is best known to the Newcome Shoal. -When you have cleared the Barnard—if so be -you do clear it—the Newcome lies close under -your lee for all the rest of the run. What it has -done for us fishermen you can see when the -spring tides bare it and show black scraps of -old boats wrecked there, and sometimes a gleam -of sand-whitened bones.</p> - -<p>For a good many years we had another -chance, though a poor one, and that was to -make a longish leg off shore and then run in -before the wind and cross the Barnard into -Covehithe Channel through what we called -the Wreck Gat—a cut in the bank that the -currents made striking against a wrecked ship -buried there. The Wreck Gat is gone now—closed -by the same storm that nearly closed -my life for me—and you will not find it marked -nowadays on the charts. Its going was a -good riddance. At the best it was a desperate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -bad place to get through; and at its worst it -was about the same as a sea pitfall: and that -nobody knows better than I do, seeing that -I was the last man to get through it alive. But -when you happened to be to windward of it, -if it served at all, it served better than running -down a half mile farther and trying to round -the tail of the bank.</p> - -<p>Very many craft beside our own fisher-boats -find their death-harbour on our East Anglian -sands. Our coast, as it has a right to be, is the -dread of every sailor man who sails the narrow -seas. Great ships, storm-swept on our sands, -are sucked down into the depths of them, or are -hammered to pieces on the top of them, as light-heartedly -as though they were no more than -cock-boats. And the supply of ships to be wrecked -there is unending—since the half of the trade -of the world, they say, sails past our shores. -From every land they come: and many and -many a one of them comes but never goes. -Down on them bangs the northeast wind with -a roar and a rattle—and presently our sands -have hold of them with a grip that is to keep -them fast there till the last day! Sometimes -the dead men who were living sailors aboard -those ships come ashore to us, though they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -more like to find graves in the sands that murdered -them or to be swept out to sea; sometimes, -by a twist of chance that you may call a miracle, -the sea has a fancy for casting one or two of -them ashore alive. Dazed and half mad creatures -those live ones are, usually: their wits -all jangled and shaken by the great horror that -has been upon them while they tossed among the -waves.</p> - -<p>And so, as you may see, we men of the Suffolk -and Norfolk coast need the stiff backbone -that we have as our birthright for the sea-fighting -that is our life-work; and it is not to be -wondered at that our life of sea-fighting makes -us still more set and stubborn in our ways.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>My little Tess came to me, a sea upcast, after -one of our great northeast gales. I myself found -her: lying where the waves had landed her on -the shingle, and where they had left her with -the fall of the tide.</p> - -<p>I was but a bit of a lad myself, then, going on -to be eight years old. Storms had no fright in -them for me in those days. What I most was -thinking about when one was blowing—while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -my poor mother, if my father was out in his -boat, would be looking wild-eyed seaward, or -in the bed-room praying for him on her knees—was -what I'd be picking up on the shingle -when the gale was over and the sea gone down. -Later on, when I came to know that at the -gale's end I might be lying myself on the -shingle, along with the other wreckage, I got -to looking at storms in a different way.</p> - -<p>That blow that brought my Tess to me had -no fears in it for my poor mother, seeing that -it came in the night time and my father safe -at home. The noise of my father getting up -wakened me; and in a sleepy way I watched -him from my little bed, when he had the lamp -lighted, hurrying his clothes on that he might -go down to where his boat was hauled up on -the shingle and heave her with the capstan -still higher above the on-run of the waves. And -as I lay there, very drowsy, watching my father -drag his big boots on and hearing the roar of the -wind and feeling the shaking that it was giving -to our house-walls, there came suddenly the -sharp loud bang of a gun.</p> - -<p>My father stopped as he heard it—with one -leg in the air and his hands gripping the boot-straps, -I can see him now. "That's from close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -by!" he said. "God help them—they must be -ashore on the Barnard Bank!" Then he jammed -his other boot on, jumped into his sou'wester, -and was gone on a run. My mother ran to -the door—I know now, having myself helped -to get men ashore from wrecked ships at my -life's peril, what her fear was—and called after -him into the darkness: "Don't thou go to putting -thy life in danger, George May!" What -she said did no good. The wind swallowed her -words before they got to him. For a minute -or two she stood in the doorway, all blown -about; then, putting her weight on it, she got -the door shut and came back into the bed-room -and knelt by the bedside praying for him. I -still was very drowsy. Presently I went off -to sleep again, thinking—God forgive me for -it!—that if a ship had stranded on the Barnard -I'd find some pretty pickings when morning -came and the storm was over and I could -get down to the shore.</p> - -<p>And that was my first thought when I wakened, -and found the sun shining and the wind blowing -no more than a gentle breeze. My father -was home again, and safe and sound. There -had been no chance for a rescue, he said—the -ship being deep down in the sands, and all her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -people swept out of her, by the time that daylight -came. And so I bolted my breakfast, -and the very minute that I had it inside of me -I was off down the cliff-path and along the beach -northward to find what I could find. All the -other Southwold boys were hurrying that way -too; but our house being up at the north end -of the village gave me the start of all of them -but John Heath, who lived close by us, and he -came down the cliff-path at my heels.</p> - -<p>The Barnard Bank lies off shore from Covehithe -Ness, and under the Ness our pickings -would be most like to be. At the best they -would be but little things—buckets and baskets -and brooms and odd oars, and such like—the -coast guard men seeing to it that we got -no more; but things, all the same, that any boy -would jump for: and so away John and I ran -together, and we kept together until we were -under the Ness—and could see the broken stern-post -of the wreck, all that was left to see of her, -sticking up from the Barnard going bare with -the falling tide. There I passed him—he giving -a shout and stopping to pick up a basket -that I missed seeing because on my side weed -covered it—and so was leading him as we rounded -the Ness by a dozen yards. And then it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -I who gave a shout—and made a dash for a big -white bundle that was lying in a nook of the -shingle just above the lap of the waves.</p> - -<p>John saw the bundle almost as soon as I did, -and raced me for it. But I did see it first, and -I touched it first, and so it fairly was mine. -A white sheet was the outside of it; and at -one corner, under the sheet, a bit of a blanket -showed. I would have none of John's help as -I unwrapped it. He stood beside me, though, -and said as I opened it that even if I had touched -it first we had seen it together—which wasn't -so—and that we must go share and share. I -did not answer him, being full of wonder what -I was like to come to when I had the bundle -undone. In a good deal of a hurry I got the -sheet loose, it was knotted at the corners, and -then the blanket, and then still another blanket -that was under the first one: and when that -inner wrapping was opened there was lying—a -little live baby! It looked up into my face with -its big black eyes, and it blinked them for a -minute—having been all shut up in the dark -and the sunlight bothering it—and then it -smiled at me as if I'd just waked it up not -from the very edge of death in the sea but from -a comfortable nap in its cradle on land!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> - -<p>John Heath burst out laughing. "You can -have my share of it, George," said he; "we've -got babies enough of our own at home." And -with that he ran away and began to look again -for brooms and buckets along the shore.</p> - -<p>But I loved my little Tess from that first -sight of her, and I was glad that John had -said that I might have his share in her; though -of course, because I first saw her and first touched -her, he had no real share in her at all. So -I wrapped her up again as well as I could in -her blankets—leaving the wet sheet lying there—and -set off for home along the shore, carrying -her in my arms. Tired enough I got before -I had lugged my load that long way, and up -the cliff, and so to our house door. In the doorway -my mother was standing, and I put the -bundle in her arms. "Lord save us!" said my -mother. "What's the boy got here?"</p> - -<p>"Mother," said I, "it's a little beautiful live -baby—and I found it, and it's mine!"</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>That was the way that my Tess came to me: -and I know now how good my father and my -mother were in letting me keep her for my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -own—they with only what my father could -make by his fishing to live on, and the wolf -never very far away from the door. But the -look of those black eyes of hers and the smile -in them won my mother's love to her, just as it -had won mine; and my mother told me, too, -long years afterward, that her heart was hungry -for the girl baby that God had not given -her—and she said that Tess seemed to be her -very own baby from the minute that she took -her close to her breast from my tired little -arms.</p> - -<p>As to where Tess came from—from what port -in all the wide world the ship sailed that -brought her to us—we had no way of knowing. -Nothing but Tess in her bundle came ashore -from the wreck; and what was left of the ship -burrowed down into the sands so fast and so -far that there was to be seen of her only a broken -bit of her stern-post at the storm's ending. Even -after the set of the currents against her sunken -hull, on the next spring tide, had cut through -the Barnard Bank and so made the Wreck Gat, -no part of her but her broken stern-post ever -showed. Tess herself, though, told us what her -own name was, and so gave us a notion as to -what land she belonged to; but we should have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -been none the wiser for her telling it—she talking -in words that were the same as Greek to us—if -the Vicar had not lent us a hand.</p> - -<p>My finding the baby made a stir in the whole -village, and everybody had to have a look at -her. In the afternoon along came the Vicar -too—smiling through his gold spectacles, as he -always did, and swinging his black cane. By -that time, having had all the milk she could -hold, and a good nap, and more milk again, -Tess was as bright as a new sixpence: just as -though she had not passed that morning nearer -to death than ever she was like to pass again -and live. She was lying snug in my mother's -arms before the fire, and in her own fashion -was talking away at a great rate—and my mother's -heart quite breaking because her pretty chatter -was all in heathen words that nobody could -get at the meaning of. But the Vicar, being -very learned, understood her in a minute. -"Why, it's Spanish," said he. "It's Spanish -as sure as you're born! She's calling you 'madrecita,' -Mrs. May—which is the same as 'motherkin,' -you know. But I can't make even a -guess at the rest of it. Everything ends in -'ita'—real baby-talk."</p> - -<p>"Do kindly ask her, sir, what her blessed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -little name is," said my mother. "It'll bring -her a deal closer to us to know her name."</p> - -<p>"I'll try her in Latin," said the Vicar—"that's -the best that I can manage—and it'll be -hit or miss if she understands." And then he -bent over the little tot—she being then a bit -over two years old, my mother thought—and -asked her what her name was in Latin words.</p> - -<p>For a minute there was a puzzled look in the -big black eyes of her and her brow puckered. -And then she smiled all over her pretty face -and answered, as clear as you please: "Tesita." -That a baby no bigger than that understood -Latin always has seemed to me most like a -miracle of anything that ever I have known!</p> - -<p>My mother looked bothered and chap-fallen. -"It's not a real name at all," she said, and -sighed over it.</p> - -<p>"It's a very good name indeed, Mrs. May," -said the Vicar; "only she's giving you her baby -way of saying it. Her name is Theresa. 'Tesita' -is the same as our 'Tess' would be, you -know."</p> - -<p>"Theresa! Tess!" cried my mother, brightening -up all in a minute. "Why, that was my -own dear mother's name! Her having that name -seems to make her in real truth mine, sir!" And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -she hugged the baby close to the heart of her, -and all in the same breath cried over it and -laughed over it—thinking, I suppose, of her -mother dead and buried, and thankful for the -daughter that she so longed for that had come -to her upcast by the sea.</p> - -<p>More than what her name was, as is not -to be wondered at, Tess never told us; and the -only thing in the world that gave us any -knowledge of her—and that no more than that -her people were like to be gentlefolk—was a -gold chain about her neck, under her little night -gown, with a locket fast to it on which were -some letters in such a jumble that even the -Vicar could not make head nor tail of them, -though he tried hard.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Whatever part of the world Tess came from, -it was plain enough by the look of her—and -more and more plain as she grew up into a tall -and lanky girl, and then into a tall slim woman—that -Suffolk was a long way off from the land -where she was born.</p> - -<p>Our Suffolk folk, for the most part, are shortish -and thickset and fair and blue eyed. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -men—being whipped about by the wind and -weather, and the sea-salt tanned into us—lose -our fairness early and go a bun-brown; but our -women—having no salt spray in their faces, and -only their just allowance of sunshine—have -their blue eyes matched with the red and white -cheeks that they were born with; and their hair, -though sometimes it goes darkish, usually is a -bright chestnut or a bright brown. Also, our -women are steady-going and sensible; though -I must say that now and then they are a bit -hard to get along with: being given to doing -their thinking slowly, and to being mighty fast -set in their own notions when once they have -made their minds up—the same as we men. As -for Tess—with her black eyes and her black -hair, and her face all a cream white with not -a touch of red in it—she was like none of them; -and she could think more out-of-the-way things -and be more sorts of a girl in five minutes than -any Suffolk lass that ever I came across could -think or be in a whole year!</p> - -<p>Tess was unlike our girls in another matter: -she had a mighty hot spit-fire temper of her own. -Our girls, the same as our men, are easy-going -and anger slowly; but when they do anger they -are glowing hot to their very finger-tips, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -long while it takes them to cool off. But Tess -would blaze up all in a minute—and as often -as not with no real reason for it—and be for a -while such an out-and-out little fury that she -would send everything scudding before her; and -then would pull up suddenly in the thick of it, -and seem to forget all about it, and like enough -laugh at the people around her looking scared! -Somehow, though, it was seldom that she let -me have a turn of her tantrums; and when she -did they'd be over in no time, and she'd have -her arms around me and be begging me to kiss -her and to tell her that I didn't mind. I suppose -that she was that way with me because -for my part—having from the very first so -loved her that quarreling with her was clean impossible—I -used just to stand and stare at her -in her passions; and like enough be showing by -the look in my eyes the puzzled sorrow that -I was feeling in my inside. As to answering -her anger with my anger, it never once crossed -my mind.</p> - -<p>With John Heath things went differently. -He would go ugly when she flew out at him—and -would keep his anger by him after hers -long was over and done with, and would show -it by putting some hurt upon her in a dirty way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -A good many thrashings I gave John Heath, -at one time or another, for that sort of thing; -and the greatest piece of unreasonableness that -Tess ever put on me, which is saying much for it, -was on that score: she being then ten years old, -or thereabouts, and John and I well turned of -sixteen.</p> - -<p>Some trick that he played on her—I don't -know what it was—set her in a rage against -him, and he made her worse by laughing at -her, and she ended by throwing sand in his eyes. -Then his anger got up, and he caught her—being -twice the size of her—and boxed her ears. -I came along just then, and I can see the look -of her now. She was not crying, as any ordinary -child would have been—John having meant -to hurt her, and hit hard. She was standing -straight in front of him with her little hands -gripped into fists as if she meant to fight him, -that cream white face of hers gone a real dead -white, a perfect blaze of passion in her big -black eyes. In another second or so she'd have -been flying at him if I'd given her the chance. -But I didn't—I sailed right in and myself gave -him what he needed; and when I had finished -with him I had so well blackened the two eyes -of him that he forgot about the sand. But after<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -it all was over, so far from being obliged to me, -what did Tess do but fall to crying because I'd -hurt him, and to saying that he'd only given -her what she deserved! For a week and more -she would not speak to me, and all that time she -was trotting about sorrowfully at John's heels. -It seemed as though all of a sudden she had got -to loving him because he had played the man -and the master to her; and I'm sure that his -love for her had its beginning then too.</p> - -<p>John's folks and my folks, as I have said, -lived up at the north end of the village, a bit -apart, and that made us three keep most together -while we were little; but Tess never had much -to do with the other children, even when she -got big enough to be with them at school. They -did not get along with her, being puzzled by her -whims and fancies and set against her by her -spit-fire ways. And she did not get along with -them because she was quick about everything -and all of them were slow. When she began -to grow up, though, matters changed a good -deal. The boys—she being like nobody else in -the village—picked her out to make love to, and -that set the girls by the ears. Tess liked the -love-making a deal more than I liked her to like -it; and she didn't mind what the girls said to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -her because her wits were nimbler than their -wits and she always could give them better than -they could send.</p> - -<p>So things went while the years went till Tess -was turned of seventeen, and was shot up into -a tall slim woman in all ways so beautiful as to -be, I do believe, the most beautiful woman that -God ever made. And then it was that Grace -Gryce, damn her for it, found a whip that -served to lash her; and so cruel a whip that she -was near to lashing the life out of her with it -at a single blow.</p> - - -<h3>V</h3> - -<p>According to our Suffolk notions, Grace Gryce -was a beauty: being strongly set up and full -built and well rounded, with cheeks as red as -strawberries, and blue eyes that for any good -looking man had a smile in them, and over all -a head of bright-brown hair. Had Tess been -out of the way she'd have had things all as she -wanted them, not another girl in the village -for looks coming near her; and so it was only -human nature, I suppose, that she hated Tess -for crossing her—making her always go second, -and a bad second, with the men.</p> - -<p>It was about John Heath, though, that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -heart of the matter was. All the village knew -that Grace fancied him, and that he half fancied -her—and would have fancied her altogether had -Tess been out of the way. Making up his mind -between them—John always was a thick thinker—did -not seem to come easy to him. The whims -and the ways of Tess—that made a dozen different -sorts of girl of her in five minutes—seemed -to set him off from her a-most as much as -they set him on: being a sort of puzzle, I'm free -to say, that other men beside John couldn't well -understand. With Grace it was different. She -might blow hot or she might blow cold with -him; or she might show her temper—she had -a-plenty of it—and give him the rough side of -her tongue: but what she meant and what she -wanted always was plain and clear. To be sure, -this is only my guess why he hung in the wind -between them. Maybe he set too little store on -Tess's love because it came to him too easily; -maybe he thought that by seeming to love her -lightly he best could hold her fast.</p> - -<p>Hold her fast he did, and that is certain. -In spite of all her whimsies, he had her love; -and it was his, as I have said, from the time -when he man-mastered her by boxing the little -ears of her—she being only ten years old. Al<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>ways -after that, even when she was at her sauciest -and her airiest, he had only to speak short -and sharp to her and she'd come to heel to him -like a dog. Sometimes, seeing her taking orders -from him that way was close to setting me wild: -I having my whole heart fixed on her, and ready -to give the very hands of me to have from her -the half of what she gave him. Not but what -she loved me too, in her own fashion, and dearly. -She showed that by the way that she used -to come to me in all her little hurts and troubles; -and the sweetness and the comfortingness of her -to me and to my mother always, but most when -my poor father was drowned, was beyond any -words that I have to put it in. But my pain -was that the love which she had for me was of -the same sort that she had for my mother—and -I was not wanting from her love of that kind. -And so it cut to the quick of me—I who would -have kissed her shoe-soles—to see her so ready -always to be meek and humble at a word from -John. There were times, and a good many of -them—seeing her so dog-faithful to him, and he -almost as careless of her as if she had been -no more than a dog to him—that I saw red -as I looked at him, and got burning hot in -the insides of me, and was as close to murder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>ing -him as I well could be and he still go on -alive.</p> - -<p>Like enough Grace Gryce—being of the same -stock that I was, and made much as I was—had -the same feeling for Tess that I had for John; -and Grace, being a woman, had nothing to stop -her from murdering Tess in a woman's way. -She would have done it sooner had her wits -been quicker. Time and again they had had -their word-fights together, and Tess always getting -the better of her because Grace's wits, like -the rest of her, were heavy and slow.</p> - -<p>It was down by the boats, under the Gun Hill, -that they fought the round out in which Grace -drew blood at last. A lot of the girls were -together there and Tess, for a wonder, happened -to be with them. They all were saying to her -what hard things they could think of; and she, -in her quick way, was hitting back at them -and scoring off them all. Poor sort of stuff it -was that they were giving her: calling her -"Miss Fine-Airs" and "Miss Maypole," and -scorning the black eyes and the pale face of -her, and girding at her the best they could because -in no way was she like themselves.</p> - -<p>"It's a pity I'm so many kinds of ugliness!" -says Tess in her saucy way, and making it worse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -by laughing. "It's a true pity that I'm not -pretty, like all the rest of you, and so am left -lonely. If only I'd some of your good looks, -you see, I might have, as the rest of you have, -a lot of men at my heels."</p> - -<p>That was a shot that hit all of them, but it -hit Grace the hardest and she answered it. "It's -better," said she, "to go your whole life without -a man at your heels than it is to spend your -whole life dog-tagging at the heels of a man."</p> - -<p>The girls laughed at that, knowing well what -Grace was driving at. But Tess was ready with -her answer and whipped back with it: "Well, -it's better to tag at a man's heels and he pleased -with it than it is to want to tag there and he -not letting you—liking a may-pole, maybe, better -than a butter-tub, and caring more, maybe, -for grace by nature than for Grace by name."</p> - -<p>That turned the joke—only it was no joke—on -Grace again; and as the girls had not much -more liking for her than they had for Tess, seeing -that she spoiled what few man-chances Tess -left them, they laughed at her as hard as they -could laugh.</p> - -<p>Grace's slow anger had been getting hotter -and hotter in her. That shot of Tess's, and the -girls all laughing at her, brought it to a boil.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Who be'st thou, to open thy ugly mouth to -me?" she jerked out, with a squeak in her voice -and her blue eyes blazing. "Who be'st thou, -anyway? Who knows the father or the mother -of thee? Who knows what foul folk in what -foul land bore thee? Dog-tag thou may'st, but—mark -my words—naught will come of it: because -thou'rt not fit for John Heath or for any -other honest man to have dealings with—thou -rotten upcast of the sea!"</p> - -<p>Tess was holding her head high and was -scornful-looking when this speech began; but -the ending of it, so Mary Benacre told my mother, -seemed like a knife in her heart. Her face -went a sort of a pasty white, so Mary said; and -she seemed to choke, somehow, and put her -hand up to her throat in a fluttering kind of -way as if her throat hurt her. And then she -sort of staggered, and made a grab at the boat -she was standing by and leaned against it—looking, -so Mary said, as if she was like to die.</p> - -<p>"Mayhap now thou'lt keep quiet a bit," -Grace said, with her hands on her fat hips and -her elbows out; and with that, and a flounce -at her, turned away. The other girls, all except -Mary, went along with Grace; but not talking, -and most of them scared-looking: feeling, like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -enough, as men would feel standing by at the -end of a knife-fight, when one man is down with -a cut that has done for him and there is a smell -of blood in the air.</p> - -<p>Mary staid behind—she was a good sort, was -Mary Benacre—and went to Tess and tried to -comfort her. Tess didn't answer her, but just -looked at her with a pitiful sort of stare out -of her black eyes that Mary said was like the -look of some poor dumb thing that had no other -way of telling how bad its hurt was. And then, -rousing herself up, Tess pushed Mary away -from her and started for home on a run. Mary -did not follow her, but later on she came and -told my mother just what had happened and -gave her Grace Gryce's words.</p> - -<p>It was well that Mary came, that way, and -told a clear story about it all. What Tess told—when -she came flying into the house and -caught my mother around the neck and put her -poor head on my mother's breast and went off -into a passion of crying there—was such a muddle -that my mother knew only that Grace Gryce -had said something to her that was wickedly -cruel. Tess cried and cried, as if she'd cry the -very life out of her; and kept sobbing out that -she was a sea upcast, and a nobody's daughter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -and that the sea would have done better by her -had it drowned her, and that she hoped she'd -die soon and be forgotten—until she drove my -mother almost wild.</p> - -<p>And so it went for a long while with her, my -mother petting her and crying over her, until -at last—the feel, I suppose, of my mother's -warm love for her getting into her poor hurt -heart and comforting her—she began to quiet -down. Then my mother got her to bed—she -was as weak as water—and made a pot of bone-set -tea for her; and pretty soon after she'd -drunk a cup or two of it she dropped off to sleep. -She still was sleeping when Mary Benacre came -and told the whole story; and so stirred up my -mother's anger—and she was a very gentle-natured -woman, my mother was—that it was all -she could do, she said afterwards, not to go -straight off to Grace Gryce and give her a beating -with her own hands.</p> - - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<p>When Tess came to breakfast the next morning -it gave me a real turn to look at her. Somehow, -at a single jump, she seemed to have -changed from a girl to a woman—and to an old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -woman at that. Suddenly she had got to be all -withered like, and the airs that she used to give -herself and all the pretty ways of her were gone. -She just moped in a chair in a corner—she -who'd never been quiet for five minutes together, -any more than a bird—with a far-away look in -her beautiful eyes, and the glint of tears in -them. Sorrow had got into the very bones of -her. "Dost think I really am come of such -foul folk that I'm not fit for honest company?" -she asked my mother—and if she asked that -question once that morning she asked it a dozen -times.</p> - -<p>In a way, of course, she had known what she -was all her life long. "My sea-baby" was my -mother's pet name for her at the first; and by -that pet-name, when most tender with her, my -mother called her till the last. How she had -come to us, how I had found her where the -waves had left her and had carried her home -in my little tired arms, she had been told over -and over again. Sometimes she used to make -up stories about herself in her light-fancied -way: telling us that she was a great lady of -Spain, and that some fine morning the great -Spanish lord her father would come to Southwold -by some chance or other, and would know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -her by the chain and the locket, and would take -her home with him and marry her to a duke—or -to a prince, even—in her own land. We'd see -that she'd be pretending to herself while she told -them to us that these stories were true, and I -think that she did half believe in them. But -it was not real believing that she had in them; -it was the sort of believing that you have in -things in dreams. Her love was given to my -mother and to my father—and to me, too, -though not in the way that I wanted it—and -we were the true kinsfolk of her heart. On our -side, we all so loved her, and made her feel so -truly that she was our very own, that the -thought of her being a nobody's child never -had a chance to get into her mind. And her -own fancies about herself—always that her own -dream people were great people in the dream -land where they lived—kept her from seeing -the other chance of the matter: that they as well -might be mean people, who would put shame on -her should ever she come to know who they were. -Into her head that cruel thought never got until -Grace Gryce put it there; and put there with -it the crueller thought that her being a nobody's -child was what made John stand off from her, -he thinking her not fit to be his wife.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> - -<p>Tess was fearing, maybe, that even if John -had not had that feeling about her he was like -to have it after Grace had set him in the way of -it. And maybe she was thinking, too, that if she -had been hurt for the sake of him, and so deserved -loving pity from him, it was Grace who -for the sake of him had done the hurting—and -that it was Grace who had won. Our girls are -best pleased with the lover who fights to a finish -some other man in love with them and well -thrashes him. Tess may have fancied that John -would take it that way; and so end by settling -that Grace, having the most fire and fight in -her, was the most to his mind. But what really -came of it all with John, as far as I can make -out, was that his getting them fairly set the -one against the other cleared his thick wits up -and brought him to a choice.</p> - -<p>And so, being in every way sorrowful, Tess -was like a dead girl that day; and my heart -was just breaking for her. When dinner time -came she roused up a bit and helped my mother, -as she always did—though my mother wanted -her to keep resting—and tried in a pitiful sort -of way to talk a little and to pretend that she -was not in bitter pain; but those pretty feet of -hers, so light always, dragged after her in her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -walking, and she was all wizened-looking, and -there were black marks under her beautiful sorrowing -eyes. My mother helped to make talk -with her, though my mother was wiping her own -tears away when she got the chance; but as for -me, I was tongue-tied by the hurt and the anger -in me and could not say a word. What I was -thinking was, how glad I'd be to wring Grace -Gryce's neck for her if only she was a man!</p> - -<p>After dinner I went out to a bench in front -of our house, but a bit away from it, and sat -there trying to comfort myself with a pipe—and -not finding much even in a pipe to comfort me—until -the sun, all yellow, began to drop down -toward the Gun Hill into a bad looking yellow -sky. All the while I had the tail of my eye -bearing on our door, and at last I saw Tess come -out of it. She took a quick look at the back -of me, sitting quiet there; and then, I not -turning toward her, off she walked along the -edge of the cliff to the northward. At first I -didn't know what to do—thinking that if she -wanted to be alone I ought to leave her to her -loneliness—and I sat on and smoked another -pipe before I could make up my mind. But the -longer I sat there the stronger my drawing was -to go to her. What was hurting her most, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -I well enough knew, was the thought of having -neither kith nor kin for herself, along with -the dread that even if she found her people they -might only be a shame to her—and that was a -hurt that having a husband would cure for her, -seeing that she would get a new and a good rating -in the world when she got her husband's -name. And so, at last, I started after her to tell -her all that was in the heart of me; and thinking -more, and this is the truth, of what I could -do to comfort her by taking the sting out of -Grace Gryce's words than of how in that same -way I could win my own happiness.</p> - -<p>I walked on so far—across the dip in the land -where the old river was, and up on the cliffs -again—that I began to think she had turned -about inland and so had gone that way home. -But at last I came up with her, on the very -top of Covehithe Ness.</p> - -<p>She was sitting at the cliff-edge, bent forward -a little with her elbows on her knees and her -face in her hands; and as I came close to her I -saw that she was crying in that quiet sort of -way that people cry in when they have touched -despair. I walked so softly on the grass that -she did not hear my footsteps; but she was not -put out when she looked up and saw me stand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>ing -over her—by which I think, and am the -happier for thinking it, that she had not gone -there of set purpose to meet with John.</p> - -<p>"Sit thee down here, George. I'm glad -thou'rt come," she said, and she reached me her -hand.</p> - -<p>When I was on the grass beside her—she still -keeping her hand in mine, as if the touch of -something that loved her was a comfort to her—she -had nothing to say for a bit, but just -leaned her head against my shoulder and cried -softly there.</p> - -<p>The tide was out and a long stretch of the -Barnard Bank lay bared below us, with here -and there the black bones of some dead ship -lying buried in them sticking up from the sands. -Slicing deep in the bank was the Wreck Gat, -with the last of the ebb running out through it -from the Covehithe Channel and the undercut -sides of it falling down into the water and melting -away. At the edge of it was the sunken ship -that had made it: the ship that had brought -Tess to us from her birth-land beyond the seas. -As I have said, no more of the wreck showed -than her broken stern-post: a bit of black timber, -all jagged with twisted iron bolts and weed-grown -and barnacled, upstanding at one side of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -the channel from the water and not high out -of it even at low tide. When the tide was in, -and any sort of a sea was running, you stood -a good chance of finding just where it was by -having your boat stove on it: for then it did -not show at all, except now and then in the -hollow of the waves.</p> - -<p>Tess was looking down on it, her head still -resting on my shoulder, and after a while she -said: "If only we could dig that ship up, -George, we might find what would tell that I'm -not come of foul folk, after all"—and then she -began to cry again in the same silent sort of -way. I couldn't get an answer for her—what -she said hurt me so, and she crying on my shoulder, -and I feeling the beating of her heart.</p> - -<p>"It was good of thee, George," she went on -again, presently, "to save the baby life of me; -but it's a true truth thou'dst have done me more -of a kindness hadst thou just thrown me back -into the sea. I'd be glad to be there now, George. -Down there under the water it would make no -difference what sort of folk I come of. And -I'd be resting there as I can't rest here—for -down there my pain would be gone."</p> - -<p>My throat was so choked up that I had hard -work to get my words out of it, and when they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -did come they sounded queer. "Tess! Tess!" -I said. "Thou'lt kill me dead talking that -way. As if the like of thee could come of foul -folk! A lord duke would be the least to be fit -father to thee—and proud of thee he well might -be! But what does it matter, Tess, what thy -folk were who owned thee at the beginning? -They gave thee to the sea's keeping—and the -sea gave thee to me. By right of finding, thou'rt -mine. It was I who found thee, down on the -shingle there, and from the first minute that ever -I laid eyes on thee I loved thee—and the only -change in me has been that always I've loved -thee more and more. Whether thy people were -foul folk or fair folk is all one to me. It's thyself -that I'm loving—and with every bit of the -love that is in my heart. Let me make thee the -wife of me, Tess—and then thou'lt have no need -to fret about who thy forbears were for thou'lt -have no more to do with them, being made a -part of me and mine."</p> - -<p>I talked at such a rate, when I did get set -a-going, that my own words ran away with me; -and I got the feeling that they ran away with -Tess too. But when I had ended, and she lifted -up her head from my shoulder and looked -straight into the eyes of me, I knew by what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -her eyes had in them—before ever she said a -word back to me—that what I wanted most in -the whole world for myself I could not have.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me an hour before she spoke, she -all the time looking straight into my eyes and -her own eyes full of tears. At last she did -speak. "George," said she, "if I could be wife -to thee, as thou'dst have me be, I'd go down -on my knees and thank God! But it can't be, -George. It can't be! I've set my heart."</p> - -<p>There was no doubting what she said. In the -sound of her voice there was something that -seemed as much as her words to settle the matter -for good and all. Whenever I am at a funeral -and hear the reading of the burial service it -brings back to me the sound of her voice that -day. Only there is a promise of hope in the -burial service—and that there was not for me -in Tess's words.</p> - -<p>"It's John that's between us?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she said, speaking slow, "it's John." -She was quiet for a minute and then went on -again, still speaking slow: "I don't understand -it myself, George. Thou'rt a better-hearted man -than he is, and I truly think I love him less -than I do thee. But—but I love him in another -way."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Damn him!" said I.</p> - -<p>That got out before I could stop it, but when -it had got out I wasn't sorry. It told what I felt -then—and it tells what I feel now. John's taking -her from me was stealing, and nothing less. -We were together when I found her, he and I; -but I first saw her and I first touched her—and -he gave me his share in her, though he had no -real share in her, when he knew what my finding -was. And so his taking her from me was stealing: -and that is God's truth!</p> - -<p>Tess said nothing back to me. She only looked -at me sorrowful for a minute, and then looked -down again at the bit of wreck on the sands. -By the sigh she gave I knew pretty well what -was in her mind.</p> - -<p>I'd had my answer, and that was the end of it. -"I'll be going now, Tess," I said; and I got -up and she got up with me. I was not feeling -steady on my legs, and like enough I had a queer -look on me. As for Tess, she was near as white -as a dead woman, though some of her whiteness -may have come from the yellow sunshine on her -out of the western sky. Up there on top of the -Ness we still had the sun with us, though he -was almost gone among the foul weather yellow -clouds.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Thou'lt try to forgive me, George," she said, -speaking low, and her mouth sort of twitching.</p> - -<p>"I love thee, Tess," I said; "and where -there's love there can be no talk of forgiveness. -But John has the hate of me, and I tell thee -fairly I'll hurt him if I can!"</p> - -<p>With that I left her—there on Covehithe -Ness, over the very spot where the sea brought -her to me—and went walking back along the -cliff-edge: and not seeing anything clearly because -I was thinking about John, and what I'd -like to do to him, and there was a sort of red -blur before my eyes.</p> - -<p>After a while I turned and looked back. My -eyes had cleared a bit, but what I saw made them -red again. Tess was not alone on the Ness. John -was with her. The two stood out strong in the -last of the yellow sunshine against a cloud-bank -on the far edge of the sky. I suppose that Tess -being hurt that way for him brought John to -his bearings—making him love her the more for -sorrow's sake, and for anger's sake making him -ready to throw Grace Gryce over. Like enough -he had been watching for his chance to get -to her, waiting till I was gone. Anyway, there -he was—and I knew what he was saying to her -as well as if I'd heard the words. It is no won<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>der -that the blood got into my eyes again as I -started back along the path. But I did not go -far. Somehow I managed to pull myself together -and turn again. What I had to settle -with John Heath could be settled best when he -and I were alone.</p> - - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<p>When Tess came home to supper that night -she was all changed again: her looks gay once -more, and her step light, and a sort of flutter -about her lips—as if she was wanting to smile -and was trying not to—and a soft look in her -eyes that I never had seen there, but knew the -meaning of and found the worst of all.</p> - -<p>I couldn't eat my supper; and got up presently -and went out leaving it—my mother looking -after me wondering—and walked up and -down on the cliff-edge in the darkness with my -heart all in a blaze of hate for John. For a -good while I had been looking for what I knew -was in the way of coming to me; but it was -different, and worse, and hurt more than I had -counted on, when at last it came. Out there in -the darkness I staid until the night was well -on—not wanting for a while to hear the sound of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -Tess's voice nor to lay eyes on her. Not until -I was sure, by the lights being out in the house, -that she'd gone to bed, did I go in again. My -mother was waiting waking for me. She came -to me in the dark and put her arms around me -and kissed me; by which I knew that Tess had -been telling her—and knew, too, she always -having looked to the wedding of us, that her -heart was sore along with mine. But I could -not bear even her soft touch on the hurt that -I had. I just kissed her back again and broke -away from her and went to bed. And in the -very early morning, not having slept much, I -slipped out of the house before either she or -Tess was stirring and down to my boat and so -away to sea.</p> - -<p>What I was after was to get some quiet time -to myself that would steady me before I had -things out with John. I was not clear in my -mind how I meant to settle with him. I did -know, though, that I meant to have some sort of -a fair fight with him that would end in my killing -him or in him killing me—and I knew that -to tackle him with my head all in a buzz would -be to throw too many chances his way. And so I -got away in my boat, at the day-dawn, to the -sea's quietness: where I could clear my head of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -the buzzing that was in it and put some sort of -shape to my plans.</p> - -<p>Had I been in my sober senses that morning -I never should have gone away seaward at all. -Backing up the promise of the yellow sunset of -the night before, pink clouds were showing in -the eastern sky as I started; and as I sailed on -in loneliness—standing straight out from the -land on a soft leading wind from the south-west -westerly—the pink turned to a pale red and then -to a deep red, and at last the sun came up out -of the water a great ball of fire. The look of the -sea, too, all in an oily bubble, and the set of the -ground-swell, told me plain enough—even without -the sunrise fairly shouting it in the ears of -me—that a change of wind was coming before -mid-day, and that pretty soon after the wind -shifted it would be blowing a gale.</p> - -<p>I will say this, though: If I'd missed seeing -the red sunrise—and all the more if I'd been -full of happiness and my wits gone a wool-gathering—I -might have thought from the look -and the feel of the water, and from the set of -the high clouds, that the wind would not blow -to hurt anything for a good twelve hours. That -much I'll say by way of excuse for John. Like -enough he slept late that morning—through ly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>ing -awake the night before thinking what he'd -be likely to think—and so missed seeing the sun's -warning. When he did get away in his boat -it was well past eight o'clock; and there was no -man on the beach when he started, so they told -me, to counsel him. And, all being said, even a -good sailor—and that John was—starting off as -he was to buy a wedding-ring might not look as -sharp as he ought to look at the sea and at the sky.</p> - -<p>As to my own sailing seaward—I seeing the -storm-signals and knowing the meaning of them—I -have no more to say than that I was hot -for a fight with anything that morning, and -didn't care much what I had it with or how it -came. Anybody who knows how to sail a boat, -and to sail one well, knows what joy there is -in getting the better of foul winds and rough -seas for the mere fun of the thing; but there is -still more joy in a tussle of that sort when you -are in a towering rage. Then you are ready to -push the fight farther by taking more and bigger -death-chances: since a man in bitter anger—at -least in such bitter anger as I was in then—does -not care much whether he pulls through -safely or gets drowned. And so I went on my -course seaward, on that soft wind blowing more -and more lazily, until the coast line was lost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -in the water behind me: knowing well enough, -and glad to have it that way, that the wind -would lull and lull until it failed me, and that -then I would get a blow out of the northeast -that would give me all the fight I wanted, and -perhaps a bit to spare!</p> - -<p>But because I meant my fight to be a good -one, and meant to win it, I got myself ready for -it. When the wind did fail—the sun was put -out by that time, and from high up in the northeast -the scud was flying over me—I took in and -snugged away everything but my mainsail, and -put a double reef in that with the reef-points -knotted to hold. Then I waited, drifting south -a little—the flood having made half an hour before, -and the set of the ebb taking me that way.</p> - -<p>I did not have to wait long. Out of the mist, -banked thick to the north-eastward, came the -moaning that a strong wind makes when it's -rushing down on you; then from under the -mist swept out a dark riffle that broke the oily -bubble of the water and put life into it; and -then the wind got to me with a bang. There was -more of it than I had counted on having at the -first, showing that the gale behind it was a -strong one and coming down fast; but I had -the nose of my boat pointed up to meet it, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -with no more than a bit of a rattle I got away -close-hauled. There was no going back to Southwold, -of course. What I was heading for was -the Pakefield Gat into the Stanford Channel, -and so to the harbour at Lowestoft; and I pretty -well knew from the first that no matter how close -I bit into the wind—and my boat was a -weatherly one—I had my work cut out for me -if I meant to keep from going to leeward of the -Pakefield Gat in the gale that was coming on.</p> - -<p>Go to leeward I did, and badly. When I -raised the coast again, and a lift of the mist -gave me my bearings, I saw that Kessingland -tower was my landfall. As to working up from -there to the Pakefield Gat—the edge of the gale -by that time being fairly on me—I knew that -it was clean impossible. I still had two chances -left—one being to cross the Barnard by the -Wreck Gat, and the other to round into Covehithe -Channel across the tail of the bank. To -the first of these the wind would help me; but -I knew that even with the wind's help it would -be ticklish work trying to squeeze through that -narrow place at the half ebb—when the strong -outset of the current would be meeting the inpour -of the storm-driven sea. It would be better, -so I settled after a minute's thinking, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -pass that chance and take the other—which -would be a fairly sure one, though a close one -too. And so I wore around—with a bad wallow -in the trough of the sea that set everything to -shaking for a minute—and got on my new -course pretty well on the wind.</p> - -<p>Just as I was making ready for wearing, and -so had my hands full, I glimpsed the sail of -a boat in the mist up to windward; and when I -was come about she was abeam to leeward, showing -her high weather side to me, not twenty -yards away. Then I saw that it was John -Heath's boat, and that John was standing up -alone in her at the helm. Why the fool had -not staid safe in Lowestoft harbour, God only -knows. But it's only fair to him, again, to say -that he must have got away from Lowestoft a -good while before the wind shifted; and like -enough he would have worked down to Southwold, -and got his boat safe beached there before -trouble came, if the calm had not caught -him sooner than it did me—he being all the time -close under the land.</p> - - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<p>Some of my rage had gone out of me in my -fight to windward in the gale's teeth; but when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -I saw John close by me there it all came back to -me. For half a minute the thought was in my -head to run him down and sink him—and I had -the wind of him and could have done it. Even -in my rage, though, I could not play a coward -trick like that on him; and before I could make -any other plan up he set me in the way of one -himself.</p> - -<p>"I'm making for the Wreck Gat," he sung -out. "Give me a lead in, George—'tis better -known to thee than to me."</p> - -<p>Had I stopped to think about it, his asking -me to lead him in would have been a puzzle -to me, he being just as good a sailor as I was -and just as well knowing every twist of the -sea and the sands. But I didn't stop to think -about the queerness of what he wanted—why he -was for making things double safe by my leading -him is clear enough to me now—because my -wits were at work at something else.</p> - -<p>While the words were coming out of his -mouth—it all was in my head like a flash—I -saw my way to settling with him, and to settling -fair. He was crazy to want to try for it through -the Wreck Gat on the half tide, with the run of -the ebb meeting the onset of the breakers and -a whole gale blowing. But his being crazy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -that way was his look out, not mine. I'd give -him the lead in that he wanted—asking him to -take nothing that I didn't take first myself, and -giving him a better chance than I had because -I'd be setting the course for him and he'd have -only to follow on. That either of us would pull -through would be as it might be. As to my own -chance, such as it was, I was ready for it: knowing -that I would be no worse off dead with him -than I was living with him—and a long sight -better off if I put him in the way of the drowning -that would finish him, and yet myself won -through alive.</p> - -<p>That was what got into my head like a flash -while he was hailing me, and mighty pleased I -was with it. "Follow on," I sung out. "I'll -give thee a lead." And to myself I was saying: -"Yes, a lead to hell!"</p> - -<p>"All right," he sung out back to me—and -let his boat fall off a bit that I might draw -ahead of him. As he dropped astern, and the -uptilt of his weather rail no longer hid the inside -of his boat from me, I saw that there was a -biggish bunch of something covered with a tarpaulin' -in the stern sheets close by his feet. -But I gave no thought to it: all my thought -being fixed on what was ahead of me and him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -in the next half hour. I was glad that we had -to wait a little. Every minute of waiting meant -more wind, and so a bigger fight in the Wreck -Gat between the out-running current and the in-running -sea. I had a feeling in my bones that -I would pull through and that he wouldn't, and -I was keen to see the smash of him as his boat -took the sands. After that smash came, the rest -of his life could be counted in minutes and seconds—as -he floundered and drowned in that -wild tumble of sand-thickened waves. So I'd -have done with him and be quit of him; and -would have a good show—if I didn't drown -along with him—for winning Tess for my own. -If I did drown with him, or if—not being -drowned—Tess would have none of me, there -still would be this much to the good: I'd have -served him out for crossing me in my deep -heart-wish, and I'd have made certain that he -and she never could come together in this world -alive.</p> - -<p>All that I was thinking as I stood on ahead of -him, bucketing through the waves that every -minute were heavier with the churned up sand. -And I also was thinking, and I remember laughing -as the thought came to me, that there was -a sort of rightness in the way things were work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>ing -out with us—seeing that the ship that had -brought me my Tess, and the sea that had given -her to me, together were making the death-trap -for the man who had stolen away from me her -love.</p> - -<p>The wind was well up to a gale as we drove -on together, me leading him by a half dozen -boats' lengths, and from all along to leeward -of us came to us through the mist a sort of -a groaning roar as the breakers went banging -and grinding on the Barnard Bank. Nothing -but having the wind and the sea both with us, -when we stood in for the gat, saved us from -foundering; and yet that same also put us in -peril of it, because we had a wide open chance -of being pooped by the great following waves -which came hanging over and dragging at our -sterns.</p> - -<p>The mist thinned as we got closer in shoreward, -showing me the sand-heavy surf waiting -for its chance to scour the life out of us; but also -showing me Covehithe Ness, and Covehithe -church tower off to the left of it, and so giving -me the points that I wanted to steer by. As for -the look of the Wreck Gat, when we opened it, -the waves blustered over it so big, and were all -in such a whirl and a fury with the current meet<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>ing -them, that only a crazy man—as I have -said—ever would have tried for it. Just about -crazy I then was, and the look of it suited me. -In that sea the narrow channel was so lashed -by the breakers running off from the sands to -windward of it that there was no sign of a cleft -anywhere. No matter how we steered, getting -through it would be just hit or miss with us—and -with all my heart and soul I hoped that it -would be hit for me and miss for John.</p> - -<p>To make in, I had to bear up a little; and -getting the wind by even that little abeam gave -my boat a send to leeward that was near to -doing for me. I was glad of it, though; because -I knew that John would get that same send -in the wake of me—and with more chance of -its finishing him, his boat being a deal less -weatherly than mine. And so—as I grazed the -sands, and after the graze went on safe again—my -heart was light with the thought that -I'd got the better of him at last.</p> - -<div class="figcenter2em" id="ME"><img src="images/illo17.jpg" width="500" -height="421" alt="" title="" /> -<div class="caption"> -"THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME" -</div></div> - -<p>There was no looking back, though, to see -what had gone with him. All my eyes were -needed for my steering. Everywhere about me -the sand-heavy water was hugely rising in a -great roar and tumble; and as for the sands -under it, and there the worst danger was, it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -just good luck or bad luck about striking them—and -that was all that you could say. Twice -I felt a jar under me as the boat went deep -in the sea-trough; but I did not strike hard -enough to hurt me, and I lifted again so quick -that I did not broach-to. And then, when I -thought that I was fairly through, and had safe -water right ahead of me, there came a bang on -the boat's side—as the sea-trough took me down -again—that near stove me: and right at the -side of me, so close that I could have touched -it as I lay for a second there in the deep wave-hollow, -was the stern-post of Tess's sand-bedded -ship rising black out of the scum and foam. -One foot farther to leeward and the jagged iron -of it would have had me past praying for. But -it did no harm to me—and as the water covered -it again I shot on beyond it into what seemed -to me, after the sea I'd hammered through, almost -a mill-pond on the lee side of the bank.</p> - -<p>Then I could use my eyes to look behind me: -and what I saw will stay fixed in them till the -copper pennies cover them and I see with them -no more.</p> - -<p>In spite of his send to leeward at the start, -John had come through after me without taking -the ground; but he had gone farther to leeward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -than I had, and so was set—when smooth water -lay close ahead of him—fairly in death's way. -As I looked back I saw only the bow of his boat, -with the scrap of sail above it, riding on the -top of an oncoming wave. Then the boat tilted -forward, and came tearing down the wave-front -at a slant toward me, and I saw the whole -length of her: and what burned my eyes out -was seeing Tess there, standing brave and steady, -the two hands of her gripping fast the mast.</p> - -<p>It was not much more than a second that I had -to look at her. With a sharp sound of wood -splintering, that I heard above the noise that -the sea was making, the boat struck fair and full -on that iron set timber—and then the wave that -had sent her there was playing with the scattered -bits of her, and the sand-heavy breakers were -tumbling about the bodies of the two that she -had borne.</p> - -<p class="p2">If the sea meant to give me back my dead -Tess again, I knew where I should find her—and -there I did find her. On the shingle under -Covehithe Ness she was lying: come to me -there at the last, as she came to me there at -the first, a sea upcast. That last time she was -all mine. There was no John left living to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -steal her away from me. And if she was not -mine as I wanted her, at least she never was -his at all. In that far I had my will and way -over him, and for that much I am glad.</p> - -<p>And so, she being all my own, home along the -beach for the second time I carried her. It was -a wonder to me, as she lay in my arms, how light -she was—and she so tall!</p> - - -<p class="p6 center">THE END</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. 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Janvier - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: In Great Waters - Four Stories - -Author: Thomas A. Janvier - -Release Date: November 29, 2019 [EBook #60811] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN GREAT WATERS *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colon, The University of California and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by =equal - signs=. - - Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase. - - Blank pages have been eliminated. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the - original. - - - - -[Illustration: - - See page 223 - - "HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME"] - - - - - IN GREAT WATERS - - Four Stories - - - By - - THOMAS A. JANVIER - - - Author of - - "The Uncle of an Angel" "The Aztec Treasure-House" - "The Passing of Thomas" "In Old New York" etc. - - - _ILLUSTRATED_ - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS - 1901 - - - - - Copyright, 1901, by HARPER & BROTHERS. - - _All rights reserved._ - November, 1901. - - - - - TO - - C. A. J. - - - - -Contents - - - PAGE - - THE WRATH OF THE ZUYDER ZEE 3 - - A DULUTH TRAGEDY 65 - - THE DEATH-FIRES OF LES MARTIGUES 135 - - A SEA UPCAST 171 - - - - -Illustrations - - - "HOME ALONG THE BEACH FOR THE SECOND TIME" _Frontispiece_ - - "HE WAS A CRAZED MAN" _Facing p._ 6 - - "IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING" " 24 - - OLD JAAP " 56 - - "'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'" " 126 - - MARIUS " 136 - - "THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS" " 166 - - "THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME" " 220 - - - - -The Wrath of the Zuyder Zee - - -I - -Old Jaap Visser was mad. Out there on the island of Marken, in the -Zuyder Zee, he was the one madman, and a curiosity. The little -boys--all born web-footed, and eager as soon as they could walk to -toddle off on their stout little Dutch legs and take to the water--used -to run after him and jeer at him. An underlying fear gave zest to -this amusement. The older of them knew that he could lay a strange -binding curse upon people. The younger of them, resolving this concept -into simpler terms, knew that he could say something that would -hurt more than a spanking; and that would keep on hurting, in some -unexplained but dreadful way, beyond the sting of the worst spanking -that ever they had known. Therefore, while they jeered, they jeered -circumspectly. Out in the open--on the brick-paved pathways which -traverse the low marsh-land and unite the little knolls on which are -the villages: the Hafenbeurt (where the harbour is), the Kerkehof, and -the Kesbeurt--butter would not melt in their small Dutch mouths when -they met him. But when they had him at their mercy among the houses -of one or another of the villages things went differently. Then they -would yell "Old Jaap!" "Mad old Jaap!" after him--and as he turned upon -them would whip off their sabots, that they might run the more lightly, -and would dash around corners into safety: with delightful thrills of -dread running through their small scampish bodies at the thought of the -curse that certainly was flying after them, and that certainly would -make them no better than dead jelly-fish if they did not get around the -corner in time to ward it off! And old Jaap would be left free for a -moment from his tormentors, brandishing his staff in angry flourishes -and shouting his strange curse after them: "May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - -The young men and women of Marken, who never had known old Jaap save -as a madman, felt toward him much as the children did; though as -they got older, and came to understand the cause of his madness and -the effectiveness of his curse, their dread of him was apt to take -on a more serious cast. Even Krelis Kess, a notorious daredevil in -all other directions, and for a long while one of old Jaap's most -persistent tormentors, came in the end to treat him with a very -obliging civility. But then, to be sure, Marretje de Witt was old -Jaap's granddaughter--and everybody in Marken knew that this gentle -Marretje, because of her very unlikeness to him it was supposed, had -made capture of Krelis Kess's much too vagrant heart. One person, it -is true, did dissent from this view of the matter, and that was Geert -Thysen--who declared that Krelis was too much of a man really to care -for a pale-faced thing fit only to marry another oyster like herself. -And Geert's black eyes would snap, and her strong white teeth would -show in a smile that was not a pleasant one as she added: "A live man -who knows the nip of gin-and-water does not waste his time in drinking -weak tea!" But then, to quote the sense of the island folk again, -everybody in Marken knew that to win Krelis's love for herself Geert -Thysen would have given those bold black eyes of hers, and would have -said thank you, too! - -Among the old people of Marken, who had known old Jaap before his -madness came upon him, a very different feeling prevailed. They dreaded -him, of course, because they knew what his curse could accomplish; but, -also, they sorrowed for him--remembering the cruel grief which had come -upon him in his youth suddenly and had driven him mad. Well enough, -they said, might he call down his strange curse upon those who angered -him, for twice had he known the bitterness of it: when death, and again -worse than death, had struck at that which was dearer than the very -heart of him through the wrath of the Zuyder Zee. - -It all had happened so long back that only the old people had knowledge -of it--in the great storm out of the Arctic Ocean which had driven into -the Zuyder Zee the North Sea waters; and there had banked them up, -higher and higher, until the whole island of Marken was flooded and -half the dykes of the mainland were overrun. Old Jaap--who was young -Jaap, then--was afloat at his fishing when the storm came on, and his -young wife and her baby were alone at home. In her fear for him she -came down from the Kerkehof, where their home was, to the Hafenbeurt; -and there, standing upon the sea-wall that shelters the little harbour, -watching for him, was the last that ever was seen of her alive. When -his schuyt came in she had vanished--caught away by the up-leaping sea. -That was bad enough, but worse followed. A month later, when he was -at his fishing again--glad to be at work, that in the stress of it he -might a little forget his sorrow--his net came up heavy, and in it was -his dead wife. - -[Illustration: "HE WAS A CRAZED MAN"] - -Then it was that his madness fell upon him. By the time that he was -come back to Marken--sailing his schuyt for a long night through the -dark waters with that grewsomely ghastly lading--he was a crazed man. - - -II - -The shadow that rested on Jaap Visser's mind was a deep melancholy that -for the most part kept him silent, yet that was broken now and then by -outbursts of rage in which he raved against the cruel wickedness of the -sea. It did not unfit him for work. He had his living to make; and he -made it, as all the men of Marken made their living, by fishing. But -those who sailed with him in his schuyt said that always as the net -came home he hauled upon it with tight-shut eyes; that always, as it -was drawn inboard, he turned away--until the thrashing of the fish and -some word about the catch from his companions assured him that he might -look without fear of such a sight as that which had flashed burning -through his eyes and had turned his brain. - -When he was on land he spent little time in his own home: of which, and -of the baby motherless, his mother had taken charge. Usually he was to -be found within or lingering near the graveyard that lies between the -Kerkehof and the Hafenbeurt: an artificial mound, like those whereon -the several villages on the island are built, raised high enough -to be above the level of the waters which cover Marken in times of -great storm. Before this strange habit of his had become a matter of -notoriety, a dozen or more of the islanders, as they passed at night -along the path beside the graveyard, had been frightened pretty well -out of their wits by seeing his tall figure rise from among the graves -suddenly and stand sharply outlined against the star-gleam of the sky. - -But in those days, as I have said, his madness was no more than a -sombre melancholy--save for his fitful outbursts of rage against the -sea. The bitterness that came into his heart came later: when his -daughter was a woman grown and Jan de Witt married her--and presently -deserted her, as was known openly, for an Edam jade over on the -mainland. Things went worse and worse for a while: until one day when -old Jaap--even then they were beginning to call him old Jaap--fell into -a burning rage with his son-in-law and cursed him as he deserved for -the scoundrel that he was. - -It was down at the dock that the two men came together. The schuyts -were going out, and Jan was aboard his own boat making ready to cast -off. Half the island folk were there--the fishermen about to sail, and -their people come to see them get away. Some one--who did not see old -Jaap standing on the piling near where Jan's boat lay--called out: "The -fishing is good off Edam still, eh, Jan?" And then there was a general -laugh as Jan answered, laughing also: "Yes, there's good fishing off -Edam--better than there is nearer home." - -At this old Jaap broke forth into a passionate outburst against his -son-in-law: calling him by all the evil names that he could get -together, crying out against his wickedness and his cruelty, and -ending--as Jan's boat slid away from her moorings, with Jan standing at -the tiller laughing at the old man's fury--by calling out with a deep -grave energy, in strange contrast with his previous angry ravings: "God -cannot and will not forgive. He will judge you and He will punish you. -In His name I say to you: May the might of the angered waters be upon -you--may you perish in the wrath of the Zuyder Zee!" - -There was such a majesty in old Jaap's tone as he spoke those words, -and such intense conviction, that all who heard him were thrilled -strangely. Some of the old men of Marken, who were there that day, -still will tell you that it seemed as though they heard the voice of -one who truly was the very mouth-piece of God. Even Jan, they say, -paled a little; but only for a moment--and then he was off out of the -harbour with a jeer and a laugh. - -But that was Jan's last laugh and jeer at his father-in-law, and his -last sight of Marken. The next day the boats came hurrying home before -a storm, but Jan's boat did not come with them. At first it was thought -that he had put into the canal leading up to Edam--it was about there -that the other fishermen had lost sight of him--but a couple of days -later his boat drifted ashore, bottom upward, in the bight of Goudzee -south of Monnikendam. That left room for guess-work. Certainty came at -the end of a fortnight: when the two men who had been with him got back -to Marken--after a trip to England in the steamer that had picked them -up afloat--and told how the schuyt had gone over in the gale and spilt -them all out into the sea. As for Jan, he never came back at all. As he -and the other two men were thorough good sailors, and as the survivors -themselves were quite at a loss to account for their catastrophe, there -was only one way to explain the matter: old Jaap's curse had taken -effect! - -After that old Jaap had a place still more apart from the other -islanders. What he had done to one he could do to another, it was -whispered--and thenceforward he was both shunned and dreaded because of -the power for life and death that was believed to be his. The reflex of -this popular conviction seemed to find a place in his own heart, and -now and again he would threaten with his curse those who got at odds -with him. But he never uttered it; and the fact was observed that even -in the case of the teasing little boys he was careful not to curse any -one of his tormentors by name. - - -III - -Certainly, if ever old Jaap had cursed any particular little boy it -would have been Krelis Kess--who was quite the worst boy on the island, -and who usually was the leader of the troop that hung about the old -man's heels. - -And even when Krelis got to be a big young fellow of twenty--old enough -to go on escapades in Amsterdam of which the rumour, coming back to -Marken, made all steady-going folk on the island look askance at -him--he still took an ugly pleasure, as occasion offered, in stirring -up old Jaap's wrath. If the old man chanced to pass by while he was -sitting of a Sunday afternoon in Jan de Jong's tavern, drinking more -gin-and-water than was good for him, it was one of his jokes to call -out through the open window "Mad old Jaap!" in the shrill voice of a -child; and to repeat his cry, with different inflections but always -in the same shrill tones, until the old man would go off into a fury -and shout his curse at the little boys who seemed to be so close -about him but who could not anywhere be seen. At that Krelis would -fall to laughing mightily, and so would the loose young fellows his -companions--who had found out that that would send his hand to his -pocket and give them free drinks all around. - -Under such conditions it is not surprising that the wonder, and also -the regret, of these young scapegraces was very great when on a certain -Sunday afternoon in mid-spring time Krelis not only did not volunteer -his usual pleasantry at old Jaap's expense--as the old man came -shambling up the narrow street toward the tavern--but actually refused -to practise it when it was suggested to him. And the wonder grew to -be blank astonishment, a minute later, when he went to the window and -begged Herr Visser to come in and have a glass of schnapps with him! -To hear old Jaap called "Herr Visser" by anybody was enough to stretch -to the widest any pair of Marken ears; but to hear him addressed in -that stately fashion by Krelis Kess was enough to make any Marken man -believe that his ears had gone crazy! - -At first the young scamps in the tavern were quite sure that Krelis -was about to play some new trick on old Jaap, and that this wonderful -politeness was the beginning of it. But the marvel increased when -the old man--who liked schnapps as well as anybody--joined the little -company of tosspots and was treated by Krelis with as much respect as -though he had been a burgomaster! And more than that, when the session -was ended--and old Jaap, to whom such treats came rarely, was so far -fuddled that he could not manage his legs easily--Krelis said that -nothing could be pleasanter than a walk across to the Kerkehof in the -cool of the evening, and so gave him a steadying arm home. As the two -set off together the young fellows left behind stared at each other in -sheer amazement; and such of the Marken folk as chanced to meet this -strangely assorted couple marching amicably arm in arm together were -inclined to disbelieve in their own eyes! - -For a week, while they all were away at their fishing, there was a lull -in the excitement; but it was aroused again the next Sunday when Krelis -did not come as usual to the tavern--and went to a white heat when a -late arrival, a young fellow who lived in the Kerkehof, told that as he -came past Jaap Visser's house he had seen Krelis sitting on the bench -in front of it talking away with old Jaap and making eyes behind old -Jaap's back at Marretje. At first, being so entirely incredible, this -statement was scouted scornfully; but it aroused so lively a discussion -that presently the whole company left the tavern and went over in a -body to the Kerkehof bent upon disproving or verifying it--and there, -sure enough, were old Jaap and Krelis smoking their pipes together, and -Marretje along with them, on the bench in front of old Jaap's door! - -Young Jan de Jong--the son of the tavern-keeper--expressed the feelings -of the company when he said, later, that as they stood there looking at -that strange sight you might have knocked down the whole of them with -the flirt of a skate's tail! But they did not stop long to look at it. -Krelis glared at them so savagely, and his big fists doubled up in so -threatening a fashion, that they took themselves off in a hurry--and -back to the tavern to talk it over, while they bathed their wonder in -very lightly watered gin. - - -IV - -That was the beginning of Krelis Kess's courting of Marretje de -Witt--about which, in a moment, all the island blazed with talk. -Until then, in a light-loving way, Krelis had been keeping company -with Geert Thysen. That seemed a natural sort of match, for Geert and -Krelis had much the same bold way with them and well enough might have -paired. But Geert, like Krelis, had a devil of a temper, and it was -supposed that an angry spat between them had sent Krelis flying off in -a rage from her spit-firing--and that the gentle Marretje had caught -his heart on the rebound. The elders, reasoning together out of their -worldly wisdom, perceived that under the law of liking for unlike this -bold-going young fellow very well might be drawn toward a maiden all -gentleness; and that, because of her gentleness, Marretje would find a -thrilling pleasure in the strong love-making with which Krelis would -strive to take her heart by storm. All that, as they knew, was human -nature. Had they known books also they would have cited the case of -Desdemona and the Moor. - -However, there was not much time for talking. Krelis was not of the -sort to let grass grow under his feet in any matter, and in a love -matter least of all. Nor were there any obstacles to bar his way. He -had his own boat, that came to him when his father was drowned; and he -had his own house in the Kesbeurt, where he had lived alone since his -mother had ended a notably short widowhood by marrying a second time. -Old Jaap, moreover, was ready enough to accept as a son-in-law the only -man in Marken who ever had styled him Herr Visser, and who in addition -to that unparalleled courtesy had given him in quick succession nearly -a dozen bottles of the best Schiedam. There was nothing to hinder the -marriage, therefore, but Marretje's shyness--and Krelis overcame that -quickly in his own masterful way. - -And so everybody saw that matters were like to come quickly to a -climax--everybody, that is, except Geert Thysen, who said flatly that -the marriage was both impossible and absurd. Geert had her own notion -that Krelis was serving her out for her hard words to him, and was only -waiting for a soft word to come back to her--and she bit those full red -lips of hers with her strong teeth and resolved that she would keep -him waiting until he was quite in despair. Then, at the very last, she -would whistle him back to her--with a laugh in his face first, and then -such a kiss as all the Marretjes in the world could not give him--and -the comedy of his mock courtship would be at an end. Sometimes, to be -sure, the thought did cross her mind that Krelis might not come to her -whistle. Then the color would go out of her red cheeks a little, and -as she ground her big white teeth together she would have a half-formed -vision of Krelis lying dead somewhere with a knife in his heart. But -visions of this sort came seldom, and were quickly banished--with a -sharp little laugh at her own folly in fancying even for an instant -that Krelis could hesitate in choosing between herself and that limp -pale doll. - -And then, one day, she found herself face to face with the fact that -Krelis had not been playing a comedy at all. The news was all over the -island that he and Marretje were to be married the next Sunday; and -that he meant to be married handsomely, with a great wedding-feast at -Jan de Jong's tavern in Jan de Jong's best style. "So there's an end of -your lover for you, Geert Thysen!" said Jaantje de Waard, who brought -the news to her. - -At this Geert's red cheeks grew a little redder, and her big black eyes -had a brighter flash to them; but she only laughed as she answered: -"It's one thing to lay the net--but it's another to haul it in!" And -Jaantje remembered afterward what a strange look was in her face as she -said those strange words. - - -V - -The wedding was the finest that had been known in Marken for years. At -the church the parson gave his "Golden Clasp" address, which was the -most beautiful of his three wedding addresses and cost five gulden. -Then the company streamed away along the brick-paved pathway from the -Kerkehof to the Hafenbeurt, with the sunshine gleaming gallantly on the -white caps and white aprons of the women and on the shiny high hats -of the men, while the wind fluttered the little Dutch flags--and they -all walked much more steadily then than they did when they took their -after-breakfast walk, before the dancing began. In that second walk -the men's legs wavered a good deal, and some of them had trouble in -steering the stems of their long pipes to their mouths. But that is not -to be wondered at when you think what a breakfast it was! Jan de Jong -fairly excelled himself. They talk about it in Marken to this day! - -While the wedding-party walked unsteadily abroad the big room in the -tavern was cleared; and when the company was come back again, much the -better for fresh air and exercise, the dancing began. And just then a -very queer thing happened: Krelis led off the dance with Geert Thysen -instead of with Marretje his bride! - -Some say that Geert made him promise to do this as the price of her -coming to the wedding; others say that it was done on the spur of the -moment--was one of Geert's sudden whims that Krelis, who also was given -to sudden whims, fell in with. About the truth of this matter there -can be only guess-work, but about what happened there is plain fact: -Just as the set was forming, Krelis dropped Marretje's hand and said -lightly: "You won't mind, Marretje, will you? It's for old friendship's -sake, you know." And with that he took the hand of Geert Thysen, who -was standing close beside him, and away he went with her in the dance. -Those who think that it had been arranged between them beforehand point -out that Geert had refused all offers to dance and had come close to -Krelis just as the set was formed. There is something in that, I think. -But whether they had planned it or had not planned it, the fact remains -that Marretje's place at the head of the dance at her own wedding was -taken by another woman; and as the set was complete without her, she -did not dance at all until the first figure came to an end. They say -that there were tears in her eyes as she stood alone there--and that -she was very white when Krelis took her hand again, at the end of the -first figure, and gave her for the rest of the dance the place at the -head of it that was hers. They say, too, that Geert stood watching -them--when Krelis had left her and had taken his bride again--with a -hot blaze of color coming and going in her cheeks, and with a wonderful -flashing and sparkling of her great black eyes. And before the dance -ended Geert went home. - -There was a great crackling of talk, of course, about this slight that -Krelis had put upon Marretje on her wedding-day; and people shook their -heads and said that worse must come after it. Some of the stories about -Krelis's escapades in Amsterdam were raked up again and were pointed -with a fresh moral. As for Geert, the Marken women had but one opinion -of her--and the least unkindly expression of it was that she was -walking in a very dangerous path. But when echoes of this talk came to -Geert's ears--as they did, of course--she merely curled her red lips -a little and said that as she was neither a weak woman nor a foolish -woman she was safe to walk where she pleased. - - -VI - -It was a little disconcerting to the prophets of evil that the weeks -and the months slipped away without any signs of the fulfilment of -their prophecies. However keen may have been Marretje's sorrow on -her wedding-day, it was not lasting. Indeed, her gentle nature was -so filled with a worshipping love for Krelis that he had only to -give her a single light look of affection or a half-careless kiss to -fill her whole being with happiness. He was a god to her--this gayly -daring young fellow who had raised her up to be a shy little queen -in a queendom, she was sure, such as never had been for any other -woman in all the world. And Krelis was very well pleased with her -frank adoration. It was tickling to his vanity that she should be so -completely and so eagerly his loving slave. - -Next to her love for Krelis--and partly because it was a part of her -love for him--Marretje's greatest joy was in her housekeeping. She -had taken a just pride in the tidiness of her housekeeping for her -grandfather; but it was a very different and far more exciting matter -to furbish and polish a house that really was her own. And Krelis's -house, of which she was the proud mistress, was far bigger and far -finer than her old home. It was a stately dwelling, for Marken, -standing on an out-jutting ridge of earth at the back of the Kesbeurt, -close upon a delightful little canal--and from the back doorway was a -restful far-off outlook over the marsh-land to the level horizon of -the Zuyder Zee. Marretje loved that outlook, and she had it before her -often: for down beside the canal was her scouring-shelf--where she -scoured away through long sunny mornings, while Krelis was away at his -fishing, until her pots and kettles ranged in the sunlight shone like -burnished gold. - -Yet the fact should be added that when the old men of Marken talked -together about this fine house of Krelis Kess's they would shake their -heads a little--saying that a better spending of money would have been -for a smaller house founded on solid piling, instead of for this showy -dwelling standing on an out-thrust earth bank which well enough might -crumble away beneath it in some time of tremendous tempest when all -the island should be overswept and beaten by the sea. - -For the most part, of course--save for little chats with her -neighbours--Marretje was alone in that fine house of hers. Old Jaap had -come to live with the young people--as was only fair, since he had no -one but his granddaughter to care for him--but both he and Krelis spent -all their week-days afloat at their fishing and only their Sundays at -home. Yet now and then the old man, making some excuse for not going -out with the fleet, would give himself a turn at shore duty; and would -sit in his big chair, smoking his long pipe very contentedly, watching -his granddaughter at her endless scouring and cleaning, and listening -to her little bursts of song. In his unsettled old mind he sometimes -fancied that the years had rolled backward and that he was watching -his own young wife again; and in his old heart he would dream young -love-dreams by the hour together--blessedly forgetting that the love -and the happiness which had made his life beautiful had been snatched -away from him and lost forever in the wrathful waters of the Zuyder Zee. - -[Illustration: "IT WAS A STATELY DWELLING"] - -But Marretje's love-dreams were living ones. As Krelis lounged over -his pipe of a Sunday morning, taking life easily in his clean Sunday -clothes, he would say an airy word or two in praise of her housekeeping -that fairly would set her to blushing with happiness--and what with the -colour in her fair face and the light in her blue eyes she would be so -entirely charming that Krelis's own eyes would go to sparkling, and he -would draw her close to him and fondle her in a genuinely loverlike -fashion that would fill her with a very tender joy. Krelis was quite -sincere in his love-making. His little Marretje's soft beauty, and her -shy delight in his caresses, went down into an unsounded depth and -touched an unknown strain of gentleness in his easy-going heart. - -But even on the first Sunday after they were married Krelis went off -after dinner--it had been a wonder of a dinner that Marretje had -cooked for him: she had been planning it the week through!--to join -his companions as usual at Jan de Jong's. This came hard on Marretje. -She had been counting so much on that afternoon! A dozen little tender -confidences had been put aside during the morning to be made then -comfortably: when the dinner things would all be cleared away, and her -grandfather would have gone to take his usual Sunday look at his boat, -and she and Krelis would be sitting at their ease--delightfully alone -together for the first time in their lives! - -She had thought it all out, and had arranged in her own mind that they -would sit on the steps above her scouring-shelf--at the back of the -house and hidden away from everybody--with the canal at their feet, -and in front of them the level loneliness of the marsh-land stretching -away and losing itself in the level loneliness of the sea. She had -a cushion all ready for Krelis to sit on, and a smaller cushion for -herself that was to go on the next lower step--and she blushed a little -to herself as she thought how she would make a back to lean against out -of Krelis's big knees. And then, just as she had finished her clearing -away and was getting out the cushions, Krelis put on his hat and said -that he thought he would step across to the tavern and have a look at -the boys. The boys would laugh at him, he said, if he settled right -down into being an old married man--and he tried to give a better -send-off to this small pleasantry by laughing at it himself. But he -did not laugh very heartily, and he almost turned back again when he -got to the bridge--thinking how the light of happiness which had made -Marretje's face so beautiful through that Sunday morning suddenly had -died out of it as he came away. And then he pulled himself together -with the reflection that she would be all right again when he got back -to her at supper-time, and so went on. When he was come to the tavern -he forgot all about Marretje's unhappiness, for the boys welcomed him -with a cheer. - -Being in this way forsaken, Marretje carried out what was left of her -broken plan forlornly--arranging the cushions on the two steps, and -sitting on the lower one with her elbow resting on the upper one, and -gazing out sorrowfully across the marsh-land and the sea. That great -loneliness of sedge and sea and sky made her own loneliness more -bitter: and then came the hurting thought that just a week before, very -nearly at that same hour, Krelis still more cruelly had forsaken her -while he led with Geert Thysen their wedding-dance. - -After a while old Jaap came home and seated himself beside her. He was -silent, as was his habit, but having him that way soothed and comforted -her. As she leaned her head against his shoulder and held his big bony -hands the old man went off into one of his dream-fancies that his -young wife was beside him again--and perhaps, in some subtle way, that -also helped to take the sting out of her pain. When Krelis came home at -supper-time, walking a little unsteadily, he did not miss her flow of -chattering talk that had gone on through the morning; and presently it -began again--for Krelis returned in high good-humour, and his fire of -pretty speeches and his kisses quickly brought happiness back to her -sore little heart. Knowing thereafter what to expect of a Sunday, her -pleasure was less lively--but so was her pain. - - -VII - -It was a little past the turn of the half-year after the wedding that -the prophets of evil pricked up their ears hopefully--as there began to -go humming through Marken a soft buzz of talk about the carryings on -of Geert Thysen and Krelis Kess. It was only vague talk, to be sure; -but then when talk of that sort is vague there is the more seaway -for speculation and inference. All sorts of rumours went flashing -about--and carried the more weight, perhaps, because they could not -be traced to a starting-point and were disavowed by each person who -passed them on. The sum of them became quite amazing before long! - -In the end, of course, this talk worked around to Marretje. Bit by -bit, one kind friend after another brought her variations of the same -budget of news, pleading their friendship for her as the excuse for -their chattering; and all of them were a good deal disconcerted by the -placid way, with scarcely a word of comment, in which she suffered them -to talk on. Only when they took to saying harsh things about Krelis -did they rouse her a little. Then she would stop them shortly, and -with a quiet insistence that put them in an awkward corner, by asking -them to remember that it was her husband whom they were talking about, -and that what they were saying was not fit for his wife to hear. This -line of rejoinder was disconcerting to her interlocutors. To be put -in the wrong, that way, while performing for conscience' sake a very -unpleasant duty, could not but arouse resentment. Presently it began -to be said that Marretje was a poor-spirited thing upon whom friendly -sympathy was thrown away. - -Perhaps it was because Marretje was not feeling very strong just then -that she took matters so quietly. Certainly she had not much energy -to spare, and her days went slowly and heavily. Even on the Sunday -mornings when she had Krelis at home with her--and a good many of his -Sundays were spent away from the island, in order, as he explained, -that he might get off on the Mondays earlier to his fishing--she found -it hard to keep up the laughing talk and the light-hearted way with him -that he seemed to think always were his due. When she flagged a little -he told her not to be sulky--and that cut her sharply, for she thought -that he ought to feel in his own heart how very tenderly she was loving -him in those days, and how earnestly she was longing for a tender and -sustaining love in return. - -It is uncertain how much of all this old Jaap understood, but a part -of it he certainly did understand. In some matters his clouded brain -seemed to work with a curious clearness, and especially had he a -strange faculty for getting close to troubled hearts. Many there were -in Marken, on whom sorrow had fallen, who had been comforted by his -sympathy; and who had found it the more soothing and helpful because -it was given with no more than a gentle look or a few gentle words. -In this same soft way, that asked for no answer and that needed none, -he comforted Marretje in that sad time of her loneliness. Many a day, -when the other fishermen kept the sea, he kept the land--letting his -boat go away to the fishing without him while he made company at home -for his granddaughter, and even helped her in the heavier part of her -house-work with his big clumsy old hands. These awkward efforts to -serve her touched Marretje's heart very keenly--yet also added a pang -to her sorrow because of her longing that Krelis might show his love -for her in the same way. - -But old Jaap had his work to do at sea, and Marretje had to make the -best of many and many a weary and lonely day. Being in so poor a way -she could busy herself but little with her house-work--nor was there -much incentive to scour and polish since Krelis had ceased to commend -her housekeeping; and, indeed, was at home so little that he was -indifferent as to whether she kept her house well or ill. - -And so she spent much of her time as she had spent that first lonely -Sunday afternoon--sitting on the steps above her scouring-shelf, -looking out sadly and dreamily across the marsh-land and the sea. Or -she would walk slowly to the end of the village, where rough steps -went down to a little-used canal, and there would lean against the -rail while she gazed steadfastly across the marshes seaward--trying to -fancy that she could see the fishing fleet, and trying to build in her -breast little hope-castles in which Krelis again was all her own. They -comforted her, these hope-castles: even though always, when the week -ended and the fleet was back again, they came crashing down. Sometimes -Krelis's boat did not return at all. Sometimes it returned without him. -When he did come back in it very little of his idle Sunday was passed -at home. The dark months of winter dragged on wearily. Grey chill -clouds hung over Marken, and grey chill clouds rested on this poor -Marretje's heart. - - -VIII - -But one glad day in the early spring-time the sun shone again--when -Krelis bent down over her bed with a look of real love in his bright -eyes and kissed her; and then--in a half-fearful way that made her -laugh at him with a weak little laugh in which there was great -happiness--kissed also his little son. "As if his father's kiss could -hurt this great strong boy!" she said in a tone of vast superiority: -and held the little atom close to her breast with all the strength -of her feeble arms. She loved with a double love this little Krelis: -greatly for himself and for the strong thrilling joy of motherhood, but -perhaps even more because his coming had brought the other Krelis back -again into the deep chambers of her heart. - -It was the prettiest of sights, presently, when she was up and about -again, to see Marretje standing in front of her own door in the spring -sunshine holding this famous little Krelis in her arms. Then, as now, -young mothers were common enough in Marken; but there was a look of -radiant happiness about Marretje--so the old people will tell you--that -made her different from any young mother whom ever they saw. "Her face -was as shining as the face of an angel!" one of the old women said to -me--when I heard this story told in Marken on a summer day. And this -same old woman told me that through that time of Marretje's great -happiness Geert Thysen walked sullen: ready at any moment, without -cause or reason, to fly out into what the old woman called a yellow -rage. - -But even from the first the matrons of the island, knowing in such -matters, pulled long faces when they talked about the little Krelis -among themselves. Krelis Kess's son, they said, should not have been -so frail a child; and then they would account for this puny baby by -casting back to the time when Marretje was orphaned before she was -weaned, and so was started in life without the toughness and sturdiness -with which the Marken folk as a rule are dowered. These worthy women -had much good advice to give, and gave it freely, as to how the little -Krelis should be dealt with to strengthen him; but Marretje paid scant -attention to their suggestions, being satisfied in her own mind that -this wonderful baby of hers really was--as she had said he was on the -day when his father first kissed him--a great strong boy. - -Krelis, seeing his little son only once a week, was the first to notice -that he was not so strong as a healthy child should be; but when he -said so to Marretje she gave him such a rating that he decided he must -be all wrong. And then, one day, Geert Thysen opened both his and -Marretje's eyes. - -It was a bright Sunday afternoon, when the little Krelis was between -two and three months old, that Marretje was sitting with him on her -lap, suckling him, on the steps above her scouring-shelf; and Krelis -was seated on the step above her, and she really was making a back of -his big knees. What with the joy of her motherhood, and her joy because -her Krelis was her own again, it seemed to Marretje as though in all -the world there was only happiness. She held the little Krelis close -to her, crooning a soft song sweetly over the tiny creature nestled to -her heart; and as she suckled him there tingled through her breast, and -thence through all her being, thrills of that strange subtle ecstasy -which only mothers know. And Krelis, in his own way, shared Marretje's -great happiness: as they sat there lonely, looking out over the -marsh-land seaward, their hearts very near together because of the deep -love that was in both of them for their child. Presently Krelis leaned -a little forward, and with a touch rarely loving and tender encircled -the two in his big arms and drew Marretje still closer against his -knees. And they sat there for a while so--in the bright silence of that -sunny afternoon, fronting that still outlook over level spaces cut -only by the level sky-line far away--their two hearts throbbing gently -and very full. - -A little noise broke the deep silence suddenly, and an instant later -Geert Thysen was almost within arm's-length of them--standing in a boat -which she had poled very quietly along the canal. Krelis unclasped his -arms and drew back quickly; but Marretje bent forward and grasped the -little Krelis still more closely, as though to shield him from harm. -For a moment there was silence. Krelis flushed and looked uneasy, -almost ashamed. There was a dull burning light in Geert's black eyes -and her face was pale and drawn. She was the first to speak. - -"You're quite right to make the most of your sick baby," she said. "You -won't have him long." - -"He's not a sick baby," Marretje answered furiously. "He's as strong -and well as he can be!" - -Geert laughed. "That puny little thing strong and well!" she answered. -"Much it is that you know about babies, Marretje! Don't you see how the -veins show through his skin? Don't you see the marks under his eyes? -Don't you see how little he is, and how he don't grow? In another -month you'll know more. He'll be over yonder in the graveyard by that -time!" And then she flashed a look on Krelis of that sort of hate which -comes when love goes wrong as she added: "And it is no more than you -deserve, Krelis Kess. You might have had a strong woman for a wife, and -then you would have had a strong child!" With that she gave a sudden -thrust with the pole that sent her boat flying away from them, and in -an instant vanished around a turn in the canal. - - -IX - -Within a week the story of what had happened between them was all -over Marken. Geert Thysen herself must have told what she had done. -Certainly Krelis did not tell; and Marretje, having no one else to -turn to, told only her grandfather. But various versions of the story -went about the island, and the comment upon all of them by the Marken -folk was the same: that Krelis had played the part of a coward in -suffering such words to be spoken to his wife with never a word on his -side of reply. Old Jaap, they say, blazed out into one of his mad -rages against his son-in-law. Some say that he then laid the curse upon -him--but that never will be known certainly, for the bout between the -two men took place when they were alone. - -What is known to be true is that Krelis for a while was as a man -stunned; and that when he came to himself again--this was after -the little Krelis was laid away in the graveyard--what love he had -for Marretje was turned to an angry hatred because she had let his -boy die. He said this not only to his neighbours but to Marretje -herself--telling her that their child had died because she had borne it -weakly into the world and had given it no strength with which to live. - -Even a strong woman, being well-nigh heart-broken--as Marretje was -when her baby was lost to her--could not have stood up against a -blow like that. And Marretje, who was not a strong woman, felt the -heart-breaking bitterness of what Krelis said because she knew that it -was true. Very soon she was as feeble and as wan as the little Krelis -had been. Happiness was no more for her, and she longed only for the -forgetfulness of sorrow which would come to her when she should be -as the little Krelis was. And so her slight hold on life loosened -quickly, and presently she and the little Krelis lay in the graveyard -side by side. - -She had a very nice funeral, so one of the old women in Marken told me: -the best bier and the best pall were used, and the minister gave his -best address--the one called "The Mourning Wreath"--at the grave. And, -to end with, there was a breakfast in Jan de Jong's tavern that was of -the best too. It was only just to Krelis, the old woman said, to say -that in the matter of the funeral he behaved very well indeed. - -But one thing which he did at that breakfast showed that it was for his -own pride, and not for the sake of Marretje, that everything was done -in so fine a style. On Marken there was left no near woman relative of -Marretje's, and when the guests came to the table they were a good deal -scandalized by finding that Geert Thysen was to be seated on Krelis's -right hand. Old Jaap's place was on his left, but when the old man saw -who was to take the seat on the right he drew back quickly from the -table and left the room. - -At that, for a full half-minute there was an awkward pause--until -Krelis, in a strong voice, bade the company be seated: and added that -no one had a better right to the seat beside him than Marretje's oldest -friend. As he made this speech a little buzzing whisper went around -among the company, and some one even snickered down at the lower end -of the big room. But there was the breakfast, as good as it could be, -before them. It was much too good a breakfast to lose on a mere point -of etiquette. The whispering died out, and for a moment the guests -looked at one another in silence--and then there was a great scraping -and rattling of chairs as they all sat down. And Krelis and Geert -presided over the funeral feast with a most proper gravity--save that -now and then a glance passed between them that seemed to have more -meaning than was quite decorous in the case of those two: the one being -a maiden, and the other a widower whose wife had not been buried quite -two hours. - -Of course there was a good deal of talk about all this afterward; but -as public opinion had been moulded under favour able conditions--while -the mellowing influence of the good food and abundant drink was still -operative--the talk was not by any means relentlessly harsh. The men -openly smiled at the proof which Krelis had given that his loss was -not irreparable; and the women, with a certain primness, admitted -that--after all the talk there had been--Krelis owed it to Geert to -marry her with as little delay as the proprieties of the case would -allow. - -But even this kindly public opinion was strained sharply by the -discovery that the marriage was to take place only two months after -that funeral feast at which, to all intents and purposes, it had been -announced. That was going, the women said, altogether too fast. But -the men only laughed again--partly at the way in which the women were -standing up for the respect due to their sex, and partly at Krelis's -hurry to take on again the bonds from which he had been so very -recently set free. - -Here and there among the talkers a questioning word would be put in as -to how old Jaap would take this move on the part of his son-in-law. But -even the few people who bothered their heads with this phase of the -matter held that old Jaap never would have a clear enough understanding -of it to resent the dishonour put upon his granddaughter's memory. He -had returned to his home in the Kerkehof and was living there, in his -own queer way, solitary. He was madder than ever, people said; and -it was certain that he had gone back to his old habit of spending in -the graveyard all of the days and many of the nights which he passed -ashore. Often those who passed by night between the Hafenbeurt and the -Kerkehof saw him there--keeping his strange watch among the graves. - - -X - -What the Marken folk still speak of as "the great storm"--the worst -storm of which there is record in the island's history--set in a good -four-and-twenty hours before the December day on which Geert Thysen -and Krelis Kess were married. From the Polar ice-fields a rushing -and a mighty wind thundered southward over the Arctic Ocean and down -across the shallows of the North Sea--sucking away the water from the -Baltic, sending a roaring tide out through the English Channel into the -Atlantic, and piling higher and higher against the Holland coast a wall -of ocean: which broke at the one opening and went pouring onward into -the Zuyder Zee. - -Already on the morning of that wild wedding-day the waves were lapping -high about Marken, and here and there a dull gleam of water showed -where the marshes were overflowed. Just before daybreak the storm -lulled a little, but came on again with a fresh force after the unseen -sunrise, and grew stronger and stronger as the black day wore on. Down -by the little haven the fishermen were gathered in groups anxiously -watching their tossing boats--in dread lest in spite of the doubled and -tripled moorings they should fetch away. Steadily from the black sky -poured downward sheets of rain. - -According to Marken notions, even a landsman should not have ventured -to marry on a day like that; and for a fisherman to marry while such -a storm was raging was a sheer tempting of all the forces which work -together for evil in the tempests of the sea. Every one expected that -the wedding would be put off; and when word was passed around that -it was not to be put off, all of the older and steadier folk refused -with one voice to have anything to do with it. How Krelis succeeded in -inducing the minister to perform the ceremony no one ever knew--for -the minister was one of the many that day on Marken who never saw the -rising of another sun. He was not well liked, that minister, and -stories not to his credit were whispered about him; at least so one of -the old women told me--and more than half hinted that what happened to -him was a judgment upon him for his sins. - -Even when the wedding-party came across from the Kerkehof to the -Hafenbeurt, some little time before mid-day, the marshes on each side -of the raised path were marshes no longer, but open water--that was -whipped southward before the gale in little angry waves. There was no -chance for a show of finery. The men wore their oil-skins over their -Sunday clothes, and the women were wrapped in cloaks and shawls. But it -was a company of young dare-devils, that wedding-party, and the members -of it came on through the storm laughing and shouting--with Geert and -Krelis leading and the gayest madcaps of them all. So far from being -dismayed by the roaring tempest, those two wild natures seemed only -to be stirred and aroused by it to a fierce happiness. They say that -Geert never was so beautiful as she was that day--her face glowing with -a strong rich colour, her eyes sparkling with a wonderful brilliancy, -her full red lips parted and showing the gleam of those strong white -teeth of hers, her lithe body erect and poised confidently against the -furious wind which swept them all forward along the path. - -But as the party came near to the graveyard, lying midway between the -Kerkehof and the Hafenbeurt close beside the path, some of the young -men and women found their merriment oozing out of them. In that day -of black storm the rain-sodden mound was inexpressibly desolate. All -around it, save for the pathway leading up to its gate, the marsh was -flooded. The graveyard almost was an island--would be quite an island -should the water rise another foot. Rushed onward by the gale, shrewd -little waves were beating against its windward side so sharply that the -soft soil visibly was crumbling away--a sight which recalled a dim but -very grisly legend of how once a great storm had hurled such a sea upon -Marken that the dead bodies lying in that very spot had been torn from -their resting-places by the tumultuous waves. But crueler still was -the shivering thought of Marretje, only two months dead, lying in that -sodden ground in her storm-beaten grave. - -And then, as they came closer, the memory of Marretje was brought home -to them still more sharply and in a strangely startling way: as they -saw old Jaap uprise suddenly from where he had been crouched amidst -the graves. Bareheaded, with his long grey hair and long grey beard -soaked with the falling torrent and flying out before the wind, he -stood upright on the crest of the mound close above them--his tall lean -figure towering commandingly against the black rain clouds, defiant as -some old sea-god of the furious storm. - -He seemed to be speaking, but the storm noises were as a wall shutting -him off from them, and not until they had passed on a little and were -to leeward of him could they hear his words. Then they heard him -clearly: speaking slowly, with no trace of anger in his tones but -with a strange solemn fervour--as though he felt himself to be out -beyond the line which separates Time from Eternity, and from that -vantage-point uttered with authority the judgments of an outraged God. -It was to Geert and Krelis that he spoke, pointing at them with one -outstretched hand while the other was raised as though in invocation -toward the wild black sky: "For your sins the anger of God is loosed -upon you in His tempests, and in His name I curse you with a binding -curse. May the raging waters be upon you! May you perish in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - -A shudder went through all the wedding company. Even Krelis, half -stopping, suddenly paled. Only Geert, bolder than all of them put -together, held her own. With a quick motion she drew Krelis onward, and -her lip curled in that way of hers as she said to him: "What has old -Jaap to do with you or me, Krelis? He is a mad old fool!" And then she -looked straight at old Jaap, into the very eyes of him, and laughed -scornfully--as they all together went on again through the wind and -rain. - -But when they came to Jan de Jong's tavern, where the wedding-breakfast -was waiting for them, Krelis was the first to call for gin. He said -that he was cold. - - -XI - -It was the strangest wedding-feast, they say, that ever was held on -Marken: with the black tempest beating outside, and all the lamps in -the big room lighted--although the day still was on the morning side -of noon. Young Jan de Jong--the same who is old Jan de Jong now, and -who now keeps the tavern--remembers it all well, and tells how his -mother was for bundling the whole company out of doors. Such doings -would bring bad luck upon the house, she said--and went up-stairs and -locked herself into her room and took to praying when her husband told -her that bad luck never came with good money, and that what Krelis was -willing to pay for Krelis should have. - -But it was the wife who was right that time--as the husband knew a -very little later on. For that night Krelis's boat was one of those -swept away from their moorings and foundered, and Krelis's fine house -was undermined by the water and went out over the Zuyder Zee in -fragments--and so the wedding-feast never was paid for at all. And she -always said that but for her prayers their son would have been lost to -them too. Old Jan was very grave when he told me about this--and from -some of the others I learned that it was because of what happened to -him that night that he gave over the wild life that he had been leading -and became a steady man. - -At first, what with the blackness of the storm and the ringing in -everybody's ears of old Jaap's curse, the company was a dismal one. -But the plentiful hot gin-and-water that Krelis ordered--and led in -drinking--soon brought cheerfulness back again. As for Geert, she -had no need of gin-and-water: her high spirits held from first to -last. Seated on Krelis's right--just as she had been seated only a -little while before on the day of Marretje's funeral--she rattled away -steadily with her gay talk; and every now and then, they say, turned to -Krelis with a look that brought fire into his eyes! - -The walk after breakfast was out of the question. As the afternoon went -on the storm raged more and more tumultuously. There was nothing for it -but to have the room cleared of the chairs and table and go straight on -to the dancing; and that they did--excepting some of the weaker-headed -ones, whose legs were too badly tangled for such gay exercise and who -sat limply on the benches against the wall. - -This time it was not by favour but by right that Geert led the dance -with Krelis--her black eyes shining and her face all of a rich red -glow. And as she took her place at the head of it she said to Jaantje -de Waard: "Who's got him now, this lover of mine you said I'd lost, -Jaantje? Didn't I tell you that it's one thing to lay the net, but -it's another to haul it in?" And away she went, caught close to -Krelis, with a laugh on those red lips of hers and a brighter sparkle -in her black eyes. Jaantje said--it was she who told me, an old woman -now--that somehow this speech of Geert's, and the sudden thought that -it brought of dead Marretje out there in the graveyard, made her -feel so queasy in her stomach that she left the dance and went home -bare-headed through the storm. - -The dancing, with plenty of drink between whiles, went on until -evening; and after night-fall the company grew still merrier--partly -because of the punch, but more because the feast lost much of its -grewsomeness when they all knew that the darkness outside was the -ordinary darkness of black night and not the strange darkness of that -black day. But there was no break in the storm; and now and then, -when a fierce burst of wind fairly set the house to rocking on its -foundations, and sent the rain dashing in sheets against the windows, -there would be anxious talk among those of the dancers who came from -the Kerkehof or the Kesbeurt as to how they were to get home. From time -to time one of the men would open the door a little and take a look -outside--and would draw in again in a hurry and go straight to the -punch-bowl for comforting: for none of them had seen any storm like -that on Marken in all their lives. - -And so, when at last the storm did lull a little--this was about eight -o'clock in the evening, close upon the moonrise--there was a general -disposition to take advantage of the break and get away. And Krelis did -not urge his guests to stay longer, for he was of the same mind with -them--being eager to carry off homeward his Geert with the flashing -eyes. - -But when the men went out of doors together to have a look about them -they were brought up suddenly with a round turn. It is only a step from -Jan de Jong's tavern to the head of the path that dips downward and -leads across the marshes to the other villages. But when they had taken -that step no path was to be seen! Close at their feet, and stretching -away in front of them as far as their eyes could reach through the -night-gloom, was to be seen only tumultuous black water flecked here -and there with patches of foam. Everywhere over Marken, save the -graveyard mound and the knolls on which stood the several villages, -the ocean was in possession: right across the island were sweeping the -storm-lashed waves of the Zuyder Zee! - - -XII - -Though they all were filled with punch-begotten Dutch courage, not -one of them but Krelis--as they stood together looking out over what -should have been marsh-land and what was angry sea--thought even for -a moment of getting homeward before daylight should come again and -the gale should break away. And even Krelis would not have been for -facing such danger at an ordinary time: but just then his soul and body -were in commotion, and over the black stormy water he saw visions of -Geert beckoning him to those red lips of hers, and firing him with the -sparkle of her flashing eyes. - -"It's a bit of sea," he said lightly, "but if one of you will lend a -hand at an oar with me we'll manage it easily. Just here it's baddish. -But a stiff pull of a hundred yards will fetch us into smoother water -under the lee of the graveyard, and beyond that we'll be a little under -the lee of the Kerkehof--and then another spurt of stiff pulling will -fetch us home. Geert will steer, and we can count on her to steer well. -I wouldn't have risked it with Marretje at the tiller--but I've got -another sort of a wife now. Which of you'll come along?" - -There was a dead silence at that, for every one of the young fellows -standing there knew that to take a boat out into that water meant a -fight for life at every inch of the way. - -"Well, since you're all so modest," Krelis went on with a laugh, "I'll -pick out big Jan here to pull with me--and no offence to the rest of -you, for we all know that not another man on Marken pulls so strong an -oar." - -It was old Jan himself who told me this, and he said that when Krelis -chose him that way there was nothing for him to do but to say that he'd -go. But he said that he went pale at the thought of what was before -him, and would have given anything in the world to get out of the job. -All the others spoke up against their trying it; and that, he said, -while it scared him still more--for they all, in spite of the punch -that was in them, spoke very seriously--helped him to go ahead. It -would be something to talk about afterward, he thought, that he had -done what everybody else was afraid to do. And when the others found -that he and Krelis were not to be shaken, they set themselves to -bringing a strong boat across from the other side of the village and -getting it into the water--in a smooth place under the lee of one of -the houses--and lashing a lantern fast into its bows. - -When Krelis and Jan went back to the tavern to fetch Geert there was -another outcry. All the women got around Geert and declared that she -should not go. But Geert was ready always for any bit of daredeviltry, -and the readier when anybody tried to hold her back from it--and then -the way that Krelis looked at her would have taken her with him through -the very gates of hell. She only laughed at the other women, and made -them help her to put on the oil-skin hat and coat that Krelis fetched -for her to keep her dry against the pelting rain. And she laughed still -louder when she was rigged out in that queer dress--and what with her -sparkling eyes and her splendid colour was so bewitching under the big -hat that Krelis snatched a kiss from her and swore that at last he had -a wife just to his mind. - -All the company, muffled in shawls and cloaks, went along with them to -the water-side to see them start; and because there was no commotion -in the quiet nook where the boat was lying, and the darkness hid the -tumbling waves beyond, most of them thought that the only danger ahead -for Geert and the others was a thorough drenching--and were disposed to -make fun of this queer wedding-journey on which they were bound. But -the young men who had launched the boat knew better, and they tried -once more to make Krelis give over his purpose--or, at least, to wait -until the moon should rise a little and thin the clouds. And all the -answer that they got was a laugh from Geert and a joking invitation -from Krelis to come across to the Kesbeurt in the morning and join him -in a glass of grog. - -Krelis was to pull stroke, and so big Jan got into the boat ahead of -him--with his heart fairly down in his boots, he told me--and then -Krelis got in; and last of all Geert took her seat in the stern, and -as she gripped the tiller steadily gave the order to shove off. With -a strong push the young men gave the boat a start that sent it well -out from the shore, and then the oars bit into the water and they were -under way. - -One of the old women whom I talked with was of the wedding-party, and -down there by the shore that night, and she told me that they all -cheered and laughed for a minute as the boat with the lantern in her -bows shot off from the land. The thought of danger, she said, was quite -out of their minds. Right in front of them, less than a quarter of a -mile away, they saw the lights of the houses in the Kesbeurt shining -brightly, and plainly setting the course for Geert to steer; and they -knew that the two strongest men on Marken were at the oars. What they -all were laughing about, she said, was that anybody should be going -from the one village to the other in a boat--and that it should be a -wedding-journey, too! - -But it was only for a moment that their laughter lasted. The instant -that the boat was out of the sheltered smooth water they all knew that -not by one chance in a thousand could she live to fetch across. By the -light of the lantern fixed in her bows they saw plainly the wild tumult -of the sea around her--that caught her and seemed to stand her almost -straight on end as Geert held her strongly against the oncoming waves. -The old woman said that a thrill of horror ran through them all as they -realized what certainly must happen. By a common impulse down they -all went on their knees on the sodden ground, with the rain pelting -them--and she heard some one cry out in the darkness: "Old Jaap's curse -is upon them! May God pity and help them and have mercy on their souls!" - -[Illustration: OLD JAAP] - - -XIII - -Old Jan, who alone knew it, told me the rest of the story--but speaking -slowly and unwillingly, as though it all still were fresh before him -and very horribly real. - -He said that when the boat lifted as that first sea struck her it was -plain enough what was likely to happen to them--for they could not put -about to make the shore again without swamping, and with such a sea -running they were pretty certain to swamp quickly if they went on. But -Krelis was not the sort to give in, and he shouted over his shoulder: -"I've got you into a scrape, Jan; but if we can pull up under the lee -of the graveyard there's a chance for us still." And then he called to -Geert: "Now you can show what stuff you're made of, Geert. Steer for -the graveyard--and for God's sake hold her straight to the sea!" As for -Geert, she was as cool as the best man could have been, and she steered -as well as any man could have steered. The light from the lantern shone -full in her face, and old Jan said that her eyes kept on sparkling and -that her colour never changed. - -With that tremendous wind sweeping down on them, and with the waves -butting against the boat, and throwing her head up every instant, even -Jan and Krelis--and they were the best oarsmen on Marken--could make -only snail's way. But it heartened them to find that they made any way -at all--as they could tell that they were doing by seeing the lights -ashore crawling past them--and so they lashed away with their oars and -found a little hope growing again. Presently Krelis called out: "The -water's getting smoother, Jan. Another fifty yards and we'll be all -right!" - -That was true. They were creeping up steadily under the lee of the -graveyard, and the closer they got to it the more would it break the -force of the waves. If they could reach it they would be safe. - -Just as Krelis spoke, the boat struck against something so sharply that -she quivered all over and lost way. Neither of the men dared to turn -even for an instant; nor could their turning have done any good--all -that they could do was to row on. But Geert could look ahead, and the -lantern in the bows cast a little circle of light upon the furious -sea. As she peered over their shoulders a strange look came into her -face, Jan said, and then she spoke in a voice strained and strange: -"It's a coffin," she said, "and I see another one a little farther on. -The sea is washing away the graveyard--as it did that time long ago!" -And then the coffin went past them, so close that it struck against and -nearly unshipped Krelis's oar. - -Jan said that he trembled all over, and that a cold sweat broke out on -him. He felt himself going sick and giddy, and fell to wondering what -would happen should he be unable to keep on pulling--and how long it -took a man to drown. Then--but because of a ringing in his ears the -voice seemed to come faintly from very far away--he heard Krelis cry -out cheerily: "Pull, Jan! If we're getting among the coffins we'll be -safe in a dozen strokes more!" - -It was at that instant that a great wave lifted the bow of the boat -high out of the water, and as she fell away into the trough of the sea -she struck again--but that time with a crash that had in it the sound -of breaking boards. Jan knew that they must have struck the other -coffin that Geert had seen, and he was sure that the boat was stove in -and in another moment would fill and sink from under them. - -For what seemed a whole age to him there was a grinding and a crunching -beneath the keel; and then, as the boat swung free again, he saw Geert -go chalk-pale suddenly--as she stood peering eagerly forward--and -heard her give a great wild cry. And then her color rushed back into -her cheeks and her eyes glittered as she called out in a strong voice -resolutely: "It's Marretje come to take you from me, Krelis--but she -sha'n't, she sha'n't! You never really were her lover--and you always -were and always shall be mine! And I hate her and I'll get the better -of her dead just as I hated her and got the better of her alive!" And -with that Geert let go her hold upon the tiller and sprang forward and -clasped Krelis in her arms. - -Jan could not tell clearly what happened after that. All that he was -sure of was the sight for an instant, tossing beside the boat in the -circle of light cast by the lantern, of a lidless coffin in which lay -wrapped in her white shroud the dead golden-haired Marretje--and then -the boat broached to and went over, and there was nothing about him -but blackness and the tumultuous waves. As he went down into a hollow -of the sea he felt the ground beneath his feet, and that put courage -into him to make a fight for life. Struggling against the gale, and -against waves which grew smaller as he battled on through them, he went -forward with a heart-breaking slowness; and the strength was clean gone -out of him when he won his way at last up the lee side of the little -mound--and dropped down at full length there, in safe shelter amidst -the graves. - -"And Geert and Krelis?" I asked. - -"With her arms tight about him there was no chance for either of them," -he answered. And then he went on, speaking very solemnly: "The word -that was truth had been spoken against them. They perished in the wrath -of the Zuyder Zee!" - - - - -A Duluth Tragedy - - -I - -[Illustration] - -Jutting out from the rocky coast, a sand spit nearly seven miles -long, Minnesota Point is as a strong arm stretched forth to defend -the harbour of Duluth against the storms which breed in the frozen -North and come roaring down Lake Superior. Wisconsin Point, less than -half its length, almost meets it from the other shore. Between the -two is the narrow inlet through which in old times came the Canadian -voyageurs--on their way across Saint Louis Bay and up the windings of -the Saint Louis River to Pond du Lac, twenty miles farther westward. -That was in the fur-trading days of little sailing-vessels and -birch-bark canoes. Now, close to its shoulder, the Point is cut by a -canal through which the great black steamships come and go. - -Five-and-twenty years ago--before the canal was thought of, and when -the Duluth of the present, with its backing of twenty thousand miles -of railway, was a dream just beginning to be realized--Minnesota Point -was believed to have a great future. Close to its shoulder a town site -was staked out, and little wooden houses were built at a great rate. -Corner lots on that sand spit were at a premium. The "boom" was on. The -smash of '73 knocked the bottom out of everything for a while. When -good times came again the town site moved on westward a half-mile or -so and settled itself on the mainland. The little houses on the Point -were out of the running and were taken up by Swedes--who were content, -as Americans were not, to live a few steps away from the strenuous -centre of that inchoate metropolis. That time the "boom" was a genuine -one. The new city had come to stay. In course of time, to meet its -growing trade requirements, the canal was cut which made the Point an -island--and after that the Point was dead for good and all. - -Nowadays it is only in summer that a little life, other than that -of its few inhabitants, shows itself on Minnesota Point--when -camping-parties and picnic-parties go down by three miles of shaky -tramway to Oatka Beach. During all the rest of the year that sandy -barren, with its forlorn decaying houses and its dreary growth of pines -stunted by the harsh lake winds, is forgotten and desolate. Now and -then is heard the cry of a gull flying across it slowly; and always -against its outer side--with a thunderous crash in times of storm, in -times of calm with a sad soft lap-lapping--surge or ripple the deathly -cold waters of Lake Superior: waters so cold that whoever drowns in -them sinks quickly--not to rise again (as the drowned do usually), but -for all time, in chill companionship with the countless dead gathered -there through the ages, to be lost and hidden in those icy depths. - -The ghastly coldness of the water in which it is merged seems to -have numbed the Point and reconciled it to its bleak destiny. It has -accepted its fate: recognizing with a grim indifference that its -once glowing future has vanished irrevocably into what now is the -hopelessness of its nearly forgotten past. - - -II - -[Illustration] - -George Maltham, wandering out on the Point one Sunday morning in the -early spring-time--he had just come up from Chicago to take charge of -the Duluth end of his father's line of lake steamers and was lonely -in that strange place, and was the more disposed to be misanthropic -because he had a headache left over from the previous wet night at -the club--came promptly to the conclusion that he never had struck a -place so god-forsakenly dismal. Aside from his own feelings, there was -even more than usual to justify this opinion. The day was grey and -chill. A strong northeast wind was blowing that covered the lake with -white-caps and that sent a heavy surf rolling shoreward. A little ice, -left from the spring break-up, still was floating in the harbour. Under -these conditions the Point was at its cheerless worst. - -Maltham had crossed the canal by the row-boat ferry. Having mounted -the sodden steps and looked about him for a moment--in which time his -conclusion was reached as to the Point's god-forsaken dismalness--he -was for abandoning his intended explorations and going straight-away -back to the mainland. But when he turned to descend the steps the boat -had received some waiting passengers--three church-bound Swedish women -in their Sunday clothes--and had just pushed off. That little turn of -chance decided him. After all, he said to himself, it did not make -much difference. What he wanted was a walk to rid him of his headache; -and the Point offered him, as the rocky hill-sides of the mainland -conspicuously did not, a good long stretch of level land. - -Before him extended an absurdly wide street--laid out in magnificent -expectation of the traffic that never came to it--flanked in -far-reaching perspective by the little houses which sprang up in such -a hurry when the "boom" was on. In its centre was the tramway, its -road-bed laid with wooden planks. The dingy open tram-car, in which -the church-bound Swedish women had come up to the ferry, started away -creakingly while he stood watching it. That was the only sight or sound -of life. For some little time, in the stillness, he could hear the -driver addressing Swedish remarks of an encouraging or abusive nature -to his mule. - -Taking the planked tramway in preference to the rotten wooden sidewalks -full of pitfalls, Maltham walked on briskly for a mile or so--his -headache leaving him in the keen air--until the last of the little -houses was passed. There the vast street suddenly dribbled off into -a straggling sandy road, which wound through thickets of bushy white -birch and a sparse growth of stunted pines. The tramway, along which -he continued, went on through the brush in a straight line. The -Point had narrowed to a couple of hundred yards. Through rifts in -the tangle about him he could see heaps of storm-piled drift-wood -scattered along the lake-side beach--on which the surf was pounding -heavily. On the harbour side the beach was broken by inthrusts of -sedgy swamp. Presently he came to a sandy open space in which, beside -a weather-worn little wooden church, was a neglected graveyard that -seemed to give the last touch of dreariness to that dismal solitude. - -The graveyard was a waste of sand, save where bushy patches of birch -had sprung up in it from wind-borne seeds. Swept by many storms, the -sandy mounds were disappearing. Still marking the graves were a few -shabby wooden crosses and a dozen or so of slanting or fallen wooden -slabs. Once these short-lived monuments had been painted white and had -borne legends in black lettering. But only a Swedish word or a Swedish -name remained here and there legible--for the sun and the wind and the -rain had been doing their erasing work steadily for years. One slab -alone stood nearly upright and retained a few partly decipherable lines -in English. But even on that Maltham could make out only the scattered -words: "Sacred.... Ulrica.... Royal House of Sweden ... ever beloved -... of Major Calhoun Ashley," and a date that seemed to be 1879. - -His headache had gone, but it had left him heavy and dejected. That -fragmentary epitaph increased his sombreness. Even had he been in a -cheerful mood he could not have failed to perceive the pathetic irony -of it all. There was more than the ordinary cruelty of death and -forgetfulness, he thought, about that grave so desolate of one who -had been connected--it did not matter how--with a "royal house," and -who was described in those almost illegible lines as "ever beloved." -That was human nature down to the hard pan, he thought; and with a -half-smile and a half-sigh over the fate of that poor dead Ulrica he -turned away from the graveyard and walked on. Half-whimsically he -wondered if he had reached the climax of the melancholy which brooded -over that dreary sand spit. As he stated the case to himself, short of -finding a man lying murdered among the birch-bushes it was not likely -that he would strike anything able to raise that graveyard's hand! - -The murdered man did not materialize, and the next out-of-the-way -sight that he came across--when he had walked on past the dingy and -forgotten-looking little church--was a big ramshackling wooden house -of such pretentious absurdity that his first glimpse of it fairly made -him laugh. Its square centre was a wooden tower of three stories, -battlemented, flanked by two battlemented wings. A veranda ran along -the lower floor, and above the veranda was a gallery. Some of the -windows were boarded over; others had scraps of carpet stuck into their -glassless gaps--and all had Venetian shutters (singularly at odds with -the climate of that region) hanging dubiously and with many broken -slats. The paint had weathered away, and bricks had fallen from the -chimney-tops--a loss which gave to the queer structure, in conjunction -with lapses in its wooden battlements, a sadly broken-crested air. -As a whole, it suggested a badly done caricature of an old-fashioned -Southern homestead--of which the essence of the caricature was finding -it in that bleak Northern land. - - -III - -[Illustration] - -Maltham had come to a full stop in front of this absurd dwelling, which -was set a little back from the road in a dishevelled enclosure, and -as he stood examining in an amused way its various eccentricities he -became aware that from one of the lower windows a man was watching him. - -This was disconcerting, and he turned to walk on. But before he had -gone a dozen steps the front door opened and the man came outside. -He was dressed in shabby grey clothes with a certain suggestion of a -military cut about them; but in spite of his shabbiness he had the look -of a gentleman. He was sixty, or thereabouts, and seemed to have been -well set up when he was younger--before the slouch had settled on his -shoulders and before he had taken on a good many unnecessary inches -about his waist. From where he stood on the veranda he hailed Maltham -cordially: - -"Won't yo' come in, suh? I have obsehved youah smiles at my old house -heah-- No, no, yo' owe me no apology, suh," he went on quickly, as -Maltham attempted a confused disclaimer. "Yo' ah quite justified in -laughing, suh, at my foolish fancy--that went wrong mainly because the -Yankee ca'pentah whom I employed to realize it was a hopelessly damned -fool. But it was a creditable sentiment, suh, which led me to desiah -to reproduce heah in godfo'saken Minnesotah my ancestral home in the -grand old State of South Cahrolina--the house that my grandfatheh built -theah and named Eutaw Castle, as I have named its pore successeh, -because of the honorable paht he bo' in the battle of Eutaw Springs. -The result, I admit, is a thing to laugh at, suh--but not the ideah. -No, suh, not the ideah! But come in, suh, come in! The exterioh of -Eutaw Castle may be a failuah; but within it, suh, yo' will find in -this cold No'th'en region the genuine wahm hospitality of a true -Southe'n home!" - -Maltham perceived that the only apology which he could offer for -laughing at this absurd house--the absurdity of which became rather -pathetic, he thought, in view of its genesis--was to accept its owner's -invitation to enter it. Acting on this conclusion, he turned into the -enclosure--the gate, hanging loosely on a single hinge, was standing -open--and mounted the veranda steps. - -As he reached the top step his host advanced and shook hands with -him warmly. "Yo'ah vehy welcome, suh," he said; and added, after -putting his hand to a pocket in search of something that evidently -was not there: "Ah, I find that I have not my cahd-case about me. -Yo' must pehmit me to introduce myself: Majoh Calhoun Ashley, of the -Confedehrate sehvice, suh--and vehy much at youahs." - -Maltham started a little as he heard this name, and the small shock so -far threw him off his balance that as he handed his card to the Major -he said: "Then it was your name that I saw just now in--" And stopped -short, inwardly cursing himself for his awkwardness. - -"That yo' saw in the little graveyahd, on the tomb of my eveh-beloved -wife, suh," the Major replied--with a quaver in his voice which -compelled Maltham mentally to reverse his recent generalizations. The -Major was silent for a moment, and then continued: "Heh grave is not -yet mahked fitly, suh, as no doubt yo' obsehved. Cihcumstances oveh -which I have had no control have prevented me from erecting as yet a -suitable monument oveh heh sacred remains. She was my queen, suh"--his -voice broke again--"and of a line of queens: a descendant, suh, from a -collateral branch of the ancient royal house of Sweden. I am hoping, -I am hoping, suh, that I shall be able soon to erect oveh heh last -resting-place a monument wo'thy of heh noble lineage and of hehself. I -am hoping, suh, to do that vehy soon." - -The Major again was silent for a moment; and then, pulling himself -together, he looked at Maltham's card--holding it a long way off -from his eyes. "Youah name is familiar to me, suh," he said, -"though fo' the moment I do not place it, and I am most happy to -make youah acquaintance. But come in, suh, come in. I am fo'getting -myself--keeping you standing this way outside of my own doah." - -He took Maltham cordially by the arm and led him through the doorway -into a wide bare hall; and thence into a big room on the right, that -was very scantily furnished but that was made cheerful by a rousing -drift-wood fire. Over the high mantel-piece was hung an officer's sword -with its belt. On the buckle of the belt were the letters C. S. A. -Excepting this rather pregnant bit of decoration, the whitewashed walls -were bare. - -The Major bustled with hospitality--pulling the bigger and more -comfortable of two arm-chairs to the fire and seating Maltham in it, -and then bringing out glasses and a bottle from a queer structure of -unpainted white pine that stood at one end of the room and had the look -of a sideboard gone wrong. - -"At the moment, suh," he said apologetically, "my cellah is badly -fuhnished and I am unable to offeh yo' wine. But if yo' have an -appreciative taste fo' Bourbon," he went on with more assurance, "I am -satisfied that yo' will find the ahticle in this bottle as sound as any -that the noble State of Kentucky eveh has produced. Will yo' oblige me, -suh, by saying when!" - -Not knowing about the previous wet night, and its still lingering -consequences, the promptness with which Maltham said "when" seemed to -disconcert the Major a little--but not sufficiently to deter him from -filling his own glass with a handsome liberality. Holding it at a level -with his lips, he turned toward his guest with the obvious intention of -drinking a toast. - -"May I have a little water, please?" put in Maltham. - -"I beg youah pahdon, suh. I humbly beg youah pahdon," the Major -answered. "I am not accustomed to dilute my own liquoh, and I most -thoughtlessly assumed that yo' would not desiah to dilute youahs. I -trust that yo' will excuse my seeming rudeness, suh. Yo' shall have at -once the bevehrage which yo' desiah." - -While still apologizing, the Major placed his glass on the table and -went to the door. Opening it he called: "Ulrica, my child, bring a -pitcheh of fresh wateh right away." - -Again Maltham gave a little start--as he had done when the Major had -introduced himself. In a vague sub-conscious way he felt that there -was something uncanny in thus finding living owners of names which he -had seen, within that very hour, scarcely legible above an uncared-for -grave. But the Major, talking on volubly, did not give him much -opportunity for these psychological reflections; and presently there -was the sound of footsteps in the hall outside, and then the door -opened and the owner of the grave-name appeared. - - -IV - -[Illustration] - -Because of the odd channel in which his thoughts were running, Maltham -had the still odder fancy for an instant that the young girl who -entered the room was the dead Ulrica of whom the Major had spoken--"a -queen, and of a line of queens." And even when this thought had -passed--so quickly that it was gone before he had risen to his feet to -greet her--the impression of her queenliness remained. For this living -woman bearing a dead name might have been Aslauga herself: so tall and -stately was she, and so fair with that cold beauty of the North of -which the soul is fire. Instinctively he felt the fire, and knew that -it still slumbered--and knew, too, that in the fulness of time, being -awakened, it would glow with a consuming splendour in her dark eyes. - -All this went in a flash through his mind before the Major said: -"Pehmit me, Mr. Maltham, to present yo' to my daughteh, Miss Ulrica -Ashley." And added: "Mr. Maltham was passing, Ulrica, and did me the -honeh to accept my invitation to come in." - -She put down the pitcher of water and gave Maltham her hand. "It -was very kind of you, sir," she said gravely. "We do not have many -visitors, and my father gets lonely with only me. It was very kind of -you, sir, indeed." She spoke with a certain precision, and with a very -slight accent--so slight that Maltham did not immediately notice it. -What he did notice, with her first words, was the curiously thrilling -quality of her low-pitched and very rich voice. - -"And don't you get lonely too?" he asked. - -"Why no," she answered with a little air of surprise. And speaking -slowly, as though she were working the matter out in her mind, she -added: "With me it is different, you see. I was born here on the Point -and I love it. And then I have the house to look after. And I have my -boat. And I can talk with the neighbours--though I do not often care -to. Father cannot talk with them, because he does not know Swedish as -I do. When he wants company he has to go all the way up to town. You -see, it is not the same with us at all." And then, as though she had -explained the matter sufficiently, she turned to the Major and asked: -"Do you want anything more, father?" - -"Nothing mo', my child--except that an extra place is to be set at -table. Mr. Maltham will dine with us, of co'se." - -At this Maltham protested a little; but presently yielded to Ulrica's, -"You will be doing a real kindness to father if you will stay, Mr. -Maltham," backed by the Major's peremptory: "Yo' ah my prisoneh, suh, -and in Eutaw Castle we don't permit ouah prisonehs to stahve!" The -matter being thus settled, Ulrica made a little formal bow and left the -room. - -"The wateh is at youah sehvice, suh," said the Major as the door -closed behind her. "I beg that yo' will dilute youah liquoh to youah -liking. Heah's to youah very good health, suh--and to ouah betteh -acquaintance." He drank his whiskey appreciatively, and as he set down -his empty glass continued: "May I ask, suh, if yo' ah living in Duluth, -oh mehly passing through? I ventuah to ask because a resident of this -town sca'cely would be likely to come down on the Point at this time of -yeah." - -"I began to be a resident only day before yesterday," Maltham answered. -"I've come to take charge here of our steamers--the Sunrise Line." - -"The Sunrise Line!" repeated the Major in a very eager tone. "The -biggest transpo'tation line on the lakes. The line of which that great -capitalist Mr. John L. Maltham is president. And to think, suh, that I -did not recognize youah name!" - -"John L. Maltham is my father," the young man said. - -"Why, of co'se, of co'se! I might have had the sense to know that as -soon as I looked at youah cahd. This is a most fo'tunate meeting, -Mr. Maltham--most fo'tunate for both of us. I shall not on this -occasion, when yo' ah my guest, enteh into a discussion of business -mattehs. But at an eahly day I shall have the honeh to lay befo' yo' -convincing reasons why youah tehminal docks should be established heah -on the Point--which a beneficent Providence cleahly intended to be -the shipping centeh of this metropolis--and prefehrably, suh, as the -meahest glance at a chaht of the bay will demonstrate, heah on my land. -Yo' will have the first choice of the wha'ves which I have projected; -and I may even say, suh, that any altehrations which will affo'd mo' -convenient accommodations to youah vessels still ah possible. Yes, suh, -the matteh has not gone so fah but that any reasonable changes which -yo' may desiah may yet be made." - -Remembering the sedgy swamps beside which he had passed that morning, -Maltham was satisfied that the Major's concluding statement was well -within the bounds of truth. But he was not prepared to meet off-hand so -radical a proposition, and while he was fumbling in his mind for some -sort of non-committal answer the Major went on again. - -"It is not fo' myself, suh," he said, "that I desiah to realize this -magnificent undehtaking. Living heah costs little, and what I get -from renting my land to camping pahties and fo' picnics gives me all -I need. And I'm an old man, anyway, and whetheh I die rich oh pore -don't matteh. It's fo' my daughteh's sake that I seek wealth, suh, not -fo' my own. That deah child of mine is heh sainted motheh oveh again, -Mr. Maltham--except that heh motheh's eyes weh blue. That is the only -diffehrence. And beside heh looks she has identically the same sweet -natuah, suh--the same exquisite goodness and beauty of haht. When my -great loss came to me," the Major's voice broke badly, "it was my love -fo' that deah child kept me alive. It breaks my haht, suh, to think of -dying and leaving heh heah alone and pore." - -Maltham had got to his bearings by this time and was able to frame a -reasonably diplomatic reply. "Well, perhaps we'd better not go into -the matter to-day," he said. "You see, our line has traffic agreements -with the N. P. and the Northwestern that must hold for the present, -anyway. And then I've only just taken charge, you know, and I must look -around a little before I do anything at all. But I might write to my -father to come up here when he can, and then he and you could have a -talk." - -The Major's look of eager cheerfulness faded at the beginning of -this cooling rejoinder, but he brightened again at its end. "A talk -with youah fatheh, suh," he answered, "would suit me down to the -ground-flo'. An oppo'tunity to discuss this great matteh info'mally -with a great capitalist has been what I've most desiahed fo' yeahs. -But I beg youah pahdon, suh. I am fo'getting the sacred duties of -hospitality. Pehmit me to fill youah glass." - -It seemed to pain him that his guest refused this invitation; but, -finding him obdurate, he kept the sacred duties of hospitality in -working order by exercising them freely upon himself. "Heah's to -the glorious futuah of Minnesotah Point, suh!" he said as he raised -his glass--and it was obvious that he would be off again upon the -exploitation of his hopelessly impossible project as soon as he put it -down. Greatly to Maltham's relief, the door opened at that juncture and -Ulrica entered to call them to dinner; and he was still more relieved, -when they were seated at table, by finding that his host dropped -business matters and left the glorious future of Minnesota Point -hanging in the air. - -At his own table, indeed, the Major was quite at his best. He told good -stories of his army life, and of his adventurous wanderings which ended -when he struck Duluth just at the beginning of its first "boom"; and -very entertaining was what he had to tell of that metropolis in its -embryotic days. - -But good though the Major's stories were, Maltham found still more -interesting the Major's daughter--who spoke but little, and who seemed -to be quite lost at times in her own thoughts. As he sat slightly -turned toward her father he could feel her eyes fixed upon him; and -more than once, facing about suddenly, he met her look full. When this -happened she was not disconcerted, nor did she immediately look away -from him--and he found himself thrilled curiously by her deeply intent -gaze. Yet the very frankness of it gave it a quality that was not -precisely flattering. He had the feeling that she was studying him in -much the same spirit that she would have studied some strange creature -that she might have come across in her walks in the woods. When he -tried to bring her into the talk he did not succeed; but this was -mainly because the Major invariably cut in before he could get beyond -a direct question and a direct reply. Only once--when her father made -some reference to her love for sailing--was her reserve, which was not -shyness, a little broken; and the few words that she spoke before the -Major broke in again were spoken so very eagerly that Maltham resolved -to bring her back to that subject when he could get the chance. Knowing -something of the ways of women, he knew that to set her to talking -about anything in which she was profoundly interested would lower her -guard at all points--and so would enable him to come in touch with her -thoughts. He wanted to get at her thoughts. He was sure that they were -not of a commonplace kind. - - -V - -[Illustration] - - -When the dinner was ended he made a stroke for the chance that he -wanted. "Will you show me your boat?" he asked. "I'm a bit of a sailor -myself, and I should like to see her very much indeed." - -"Oh, would you? I am so glad!" she answered eagerly. And then added -more quietly: "It is a real pleasure to show you the _Nixie_. I am very -fond of her and very proud of her. Father gave her to me three years -ago--after he sold a lot over in West Superior. And it was very good of -him, because he does not like sailing at all. Will you come now? It is -only a step down to the wharf." - -The Major declared that he must have his after-dinner pipe in comfort, -and they went off without him--going out by a side door and across a -half-acre of kitchen-garden, still in winter disorder, to the wharf -on the bay-side where the _Nixie_ was moored. She was a half-decked -twenty-foot cat-boat, clean in her lines and with the look of being -able to hold her own pretty well in a blow. - -"Is she not beautiful?" Ulrica asked with great pride. And presently, -when Maltham came to a pause in his praises, she added hesitatingly: -"Would you--would you care to come out in her for a little while?" - -"Indeed I would!" he answered instantly and earnestly. - -"Oh, thank you, thank you!" Ulrica exclaimed. "I do want you to see how -wonderfully she sails!" - -The boat was moored with her stern close to the wharf and with her bow -made fast to an outstanding stake. When they had boarded her Ulrica -cast off the stern mooring, ran the boat out to the stake and made fast -with a short hitch, and then--as the boat swung around slowly in the -slack air under the land--set about hoisting the sail. She would not -permit Maltham to help her. He sat aft, steadying the tiller, watching -with delight her vigorous dexterity and her display of absolute -strength. When she had sheeted home and made fast she cast off the -bow mooring, and then stepped aft quickly and took the tiller from his -hand. For a few moments they drifted slowly. Then the breeze, coming -over the tree-tops, caught them and she leaned forward and dropped the -centreboard and brought the boat on the wind. It was a leading wind, -directly off the lake, that enabled them to make a single leg of it -across the bay. As the boat heeled over Maltham shifted his seat to the -weather side. This brought him a little in front of Ulrica, and below -her as she stood to steer. From under the bows came a soft hissing and -bubbling as the boat slid rapidly along. - -"Is she not wonderful?" Ulrica asked with a glowing enthusiasm. "Just -see how we are dropping that big sloop over yonder--and the Nixie not -half her size! But the _Nixie_ is well bred, you see, and the sloop is -not. She is as heavy all over as the _Nixie_ is clean and fine. Father -says that breeding is everything--in boats and in horses and in men. -He says that a gentleman is the finest thing that God ever created. It -was because the Southerners all were gentlemen that they whipped the -Yankees, you know." - -"But they didn't--the Yankees whipped them." - -"Only in the last few battles, father says--and those did not count, so -far as the principle is concerned," Ulrica answered conclusively. - -Maltham did not see his way to replying to this presentation of the -matter and was silent. Presently she went on, with a slight air of -apology: "I hope you did not mind my looking at you so much while we -were at dinner, Mr. Maltham. You see, except father, you are the only -gentleman I ever have had a chance to look at close, that way, in my -whole life. Father will not have much to do with the people living up -in town. Most of them are Yankees, and he does not like them. None of -them ever come to see us. The only people I ever talk with are our -neighbours; and they are just common people, you know--though some of -them are as good as they can be. And as father always is talking about -what a gentleman ought to be or ought not to be it is very interesting -really to meet one. That was the reason why I stared at you so. I hope -you did not mind." - -"I'm glad I interested you, even if it was only as a specimen of a -class," Maltham answered. "I hope that you found me a good specimen." -Her simplicity was so refreshing that he sought by a leading question -to induce a farther exhibition of it. "What is your ideal of a -gentleman?" he asked. - -"Oh, just the ordinary one," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. -"A gentleman must be absolutely brave, and must kill any man who -insults him--or, at least, must hurt him badly. He must be absolutely -honest--though he is not bound, of course, to tell all that he knows -when he is selling a horse. He must be absolutely true to the woman he -loves, and must never deceive her in any way. He must not refuse to -drink with another gentleman unless he is willing to fight him. He must -protect women and children. He must always be courteous--though he may -be excused for a little rudeness when he has been drinking and so is -not quite himself. He must be hospitable--ready to share his last crust -with anybody, and his last drink with anybody of his class. And he must -know how to ride and shoot and play the principal games of cards. Those -are the main things. You are all that, are you not?" - -She looked straight at him as she asked this question, speaking still -in the same entirely matter-of-fact tone. But Maltham did not look -straight back at her as he answered it. The creed that she set forth -had queer articles in it, but its essentials were searching--so -searching that his look was directed rather indefinitely toward the -horizon as he replied, a little weakly perhaps: "Why, of course." - -She seemed to be content with this not wholly conclusive answer; -but as he was not content with it himself, and rather dreaded a -cross-examination, he somewhat suddenly shifted the talk to a subject -that he was sure would engross her thoughts. "How splendidly the -_Nixie_ goes!" he said. "She is a racer, and no mistake!" - -"Indeed she is!" Ulrica exclaimed, with the fervour upon which he had -counted. "She is the very fastest boat on the bay. And then she is so -weatherly! Why, I can sail her into the very eye of the wind!" - -"Yes, she has the look of being weatherly. But she wouldn't be if you -didn't manage her so well. Who taught you how to sail?" - -"It was old Gustav Bergmann--one of the fishermen here on the Point, -you know. And he said," she went on with a little touch of pride, "that -he never could have made such a good sailor of me if I had not had it -in my blood--because I am a Swede." - -"But you are an American." - -Ulrica did not answer him immediately, and when she did speak it was -with the same curiously slow thoughtfulness that he had observed when -she was explaining the difference between her father's life and her own -life in the solitude of Minnesota Point. - -"I do not think I am," she said. "I do not know many American women, -but I am not like any American woman I know. You see, I am very like -my mother. Father says so, and I feel it--I cannot tell you just how I -feel it, but I do. For one thing, I am more than half a savage, father -says--like some of the wild Indians he has known. He is in fun, of -course, when he says that; but he really is right, I am sure. Did you -ever want to kill anybody, Mr. Maltham?" - -"No," said Maltham with a laugh, "I never did. Did you?" - -Ulrica remained grave. "Yes," she answered, "and I almost did it, too. -You see, it was this way: A man, one of the campers down on the Point, -was rude to me. He was drunk, I think. But I did not think about his -being drunk, and that I ought to make allowances for him. Somehow, I -had not time to think. Everything got red suddenly--and before I knew -what I was doing I had out my knife. The man gave a scream--not a cry, -but a real scream: he must have been a great coward, I suppose--and -jumped away just as I struck at him. I cut his arm a little, I think. -But I am not sure, for he ran away as hard as he could run. I was very -sorry that I had not killed him. I am very sorry still whenever I think -about it. Now that was not like an American woman. At least, I do not -know any American woman who would try to kill a man that way because -she really could not help trying to. Do you?" - -"No," Maltham answered, drawing a quick breath that came close to being -a gasp. Ulrica's entire placidity, and her argumentative manner, had -made her story rather coldly thrilling--and it was quite thrilling -enough without those adjuncts, he thought. - -She seemed pleased that his answer confirmed her own opinion. "Yes, I -think I am right about myself," she went on. "I am sure that it is my -Swedish blood that makes me like that. We do not often get angry, you -know, we Swedes: but when we do, our anger is rage. We do not think -nor reason. Suddenly we see red, as I did that day, and we want to -strike to kill. It is queer, is it not, that we should be made like -that?" - -Maltham certainly was discovering the strange thoughts that he had -set himself to search for. They rather set his nerves on edge. As she -uttered her calm reflection upon the oddity of the Swedish temperament -he shivered a little. - -"I am afraid that you are cold," she said anxiously. "Shall we go -about? Father will not like it if I make you uncomfortable." - -"I am not at all cold," he answered. "And the sailing is delightful. -Don't let us go about yet." - -"Well, if you are quite sure that you are not cold, we will not. I do -want to take you down to the inlet and show you what a glorious sea is -running on the lake to-day. It is only half a mile more." - -They sailed on for a little while in silence. The swift send of the -boat through the water seemed so to fill Ulrica with delight that she -did not care to speak--nor did Maltham, who was busied with his own -confused thoughts. Suddenly some new and startling concepts of manhood -and of womanhood had been thrust into his mind. They puzzled him, -and he was not at all sure that he liked them. But he was absolutely -sure that this curious and very beautiful woman who had uttered them -interested him more profoundly than any woman whom ever he had known. -That fact also bothered him, and he tried to blink it. That he could -not blink it was one reason why his thoughts were confused. Presently, -being accustomed to slide along the lines of least resistance, he gave -up trying. "After all," was his conclusion, so far as he came to a -conclusion, "it is only for a day." - - -VI - -[Illustration] - -As they neared the inlet the water roughened a little and the wind grew -stronger. Ulrica eased off the sheet, and steadied it with a turn -around the pin. In a few minutes more they had opened the inlet fairly, -and beyond it could see the lake--stretching away indefinitely until -its cold grey surface was lost against the cold grey sky. A very heavy -sea was running. In every direction was the gleam of white-caps. On the -beaches to the left and right of them a high surf was booming in. They -ran on, close-hauled, until they were nearly through the inlet and were -come into a bubble of water that set the boat to dancing like a cork. -Now and then, as she fell off, a wave would take her with a thump and -cover them with a cloud of spray. - -The helm was pulling hard, but Ulrica managed it as easily and as -knowingly as she had managed the setting of the sail--standing with -her feet well apart, firmly braced, her tall figure yielding to the -boat's motion with a superb grace. Suddenly a gust of wind carried -away her hat, and in another moment the great mass of her golden hair -was blowing out behind her in the strong eddy from the sail. Her face -was radiant. Every drop of her Norse blood was tingling in her veins. -Aslauga herself never was more gloriously beautiful--and never more -joyously drove her boat onward through a stormy sea. - -But Maltham did not perceive her beauty, nor did he in the least share -her glowing enthusiasm. He had passed beyond mere nervousness and was -beginning to be frightened. It seemed to him that she let the boat fall -off purposely--as though to give the waves a chance to buffet it, and -then to show her command over them by bringing it up again sharply into -the wind; and he was certain that if they carried on for another five -minutes, and so got outside the inlet, they would be swamped. - -"Don't you think that we had better go about?" he asked. It did not -please him to find that he had not complete control over his voice. - -"But it is so glorious," she answered. "Shall we not keep on just a -little way?" - -"No!" he said sharply. "We must go about at once. We are in great -danger as it is." He felt that he had turned pale. In spite of his -strong effort to steady it, his voice shook badly and also was a little -shrill. - -"Oh, of course," she replied, with a queer glance at him that he did -not at all fancy; "if you feel that way about it we will." The radiance -died away from her face as she spoke, and with it went her intoxication -of delight. And then her expression grew anxious as she looked about -her, and in an anxious tone she added: "Indeed you are quite right, Mr. -Maltham. We really are in a bad place here. I ought never to have come -out so far. We must try to get back at once. But it will not be easy. I -am not sure that the _Nixie_ will stand it. I am sure, though, that she -will do her best--and I will try to wear her as soon as I see a chance." - -She luffed a little, that she might get more sea-room to leeward, and -scanned the oncoming waves closely but without a sign of fear. "Now I -think I can do it," she said presently, and put up the helm. - -It was a ticklish move, for they were at the very mouth of the inlet, -but the _Nixie_ paid off steadily until she came full into the trough -of the sea. There she wallowed for a bad ten seconds. A wave broke -over the coaming of the cockpit and set it all aflow. Maltham went -still whiter, and began to take off his coat. It was with the greatest -difficulty that he kept back a scream. Then the boat swung around to -her course--Ulrica's hold upon the tiller was a very steady one--and in -another minute they were sliding back safely before the wind. In five -minutes more they were in the smooth water of the bay. - -Ulrica was the first to speak, and she spoke in most contrite tones. -"It was very, very wrong in me to do that, Mr. Maltham," she said. "And -it was wicked of me, too--for I have given my solemn promise to father -that I never will go out on the lake when it is rough at all. Please, -please forgive me for taking you into such danger in such a foolish -way. It was touch and go, you know, that we pulled through. Please say -that you forgive me. It will make me a little less wretched if you do." - -The danger was all over, and Maltham had got back both his color and -his courage again. "Why, it was nothing!" he said. "Or, rather, it was -a good deal--for it gave me a chance to see what a magnificent sailor -you are. And--and it was splendidly exciting out there, wasn't it?" - -"Wasn't it!" she echoed rapturously. "And oh," she went on, "I _am_ so -glad that you take it that way! It is a real load off my mind! Will you -please take the tiller for a minute while I put up my hair?" - -As she arranged the shining masses of her golden hair--her full -round arms uplifted, the wind pressing her draperies close about -her--Maltham watched her with a burning intentness. The glowing -reaction following escape from mortal peril was upon him and the tide -of his barely saved life was running full. In Ulrica's stronger nature -the same tide may have been running still more impetuously. For an -instant their eyes met. She flushed and looked away. - -He did not speak, and the silence seemed to grow irksome to her. She -broke it, but with a perceptible effort, as she took the tiller again. -"Do you know," she said, "I did think for a minute that you were -scared." She laughed a little, and then went on more easily: "And if -you really had been scared I should have known, of course, that you -were not a gentleman! Was it not absurd?" - -Her words roused him, and at the same time chilled him. "Yes, it was -very absurd," he answered not quite easily. And then, with presence of -mind added: "But I _was_ scared, and badly scared--for you. I did not -see how I possibly could get you ashore if the boat filled." - -"You could not have done it--we should have been drowned," Ulrica -replied with quiet conviction. "But because you are a gentleman it was -natural, I suppose, for you not to think about yourself and to worry -that way about me. You could not help it, of course--but I like it, all -the same." - -Maltham reddened slightly. Instead of answering her he asked: "Would -you mind running up along the Point and landing me on the other side of -the canal? I want to hurry home and get into dry things--and that will -save me a lot of time, you know." - -"Oh," she cried in a tone of deep concern, "are you not coming back -with me? I shall have a dreadful time with father, and I am counting on -you to help me through." - -Maltham had foreseen that trouble with the Major was impending, and -wanted to keep out of it. He disliked scenes. "Of course, if you want -me to, I'll go back with you," he answered. And added, drawing himself -together and shivering a little, "I don't believe that I shall catch -much cold." - -"What a selfish creature I am!" Ulrica exclaimed impetuously. "Of -course you must hurry home as fast as you can. What I shall get from -father will not be the half of what I deserve. And to think of my -thinking about your getting me off from a scolding at the cost of your -being ill! Please do not hate me for it--though you ought to, I am -sure!" - -Having carried his point, Maltham could afford to be amiable again. He -looked straight into her eyes, and for an instant touched her hand, as -he said: "No, I shall not--hate you!" His voice was low. He drawled -slightly. The break gave to his phrase a telling emphasis. - -It was not quite fair. He knew thoroughly the game that he was playing; -while Ulrica, save so far as her instinct might guide her, did not know -it at all. She did not answer him--and he was silent because silence -just then was the right move. And so they went on without words until -they were come to the landing-place beside the canal. Even then--for -he did not wish to weaken a strong impression--he made the parting a -short one: urging that she also must hurry home and get on dry clothes. -It did not strike her, either then or later, that he would have shown -a more practical solicitude in the premises had he not made her come -three miles out of her way. - -Indeed, as she sailed those three miles back again, her mind was in -no condition to work clearly. In a confused way, that yet was very -delightful, she went over to herself the events of that wonderful -day--in which, as she vaguely realized, her girlhood had ended and her -womanhood had begun. But she dwelt most upon the look that he had given -her when he told her, with the break in his phrase, that he would not -hate her; and upon the touch of his hand at parting, and his final -speech, also with a break in it: "I shall see you to-morrow--if you -care to have me come." - -At the club that evening Maltham wrote a very entertaining letter -to Miss Eleanor Strangford, in Chicago: telling her about the queer -old Major and his half-wild daughter, and how the daughter had taken -him out sailing and had brought him back drenched through. He was a -believer in frankness, and this letter--while not exhaustive--was -of a sort to put him right on the record in case an account of his -adventures should reach his correspondent by some other way. He would -have written it promptly in any circumstances. It was the more apposite -because he had promised to write every Sunday to Miss Strangford--to -whom he was engaged. - - -VII - -[Illustration] - -Maltham left his office early the next afternoon and went down the -Point again. He had no headache, the wind had shifted to the southward, -and all about him was a flood of spring sunshine. Yet even under these -cheerful conditions he found the Point rather drearily desolate. He -gave the graveyard a wide berth when he came to it, and looked away -from it. His desire was strong that he might forget where he had -seen Ulrica's name for the first time. He was not superstitious, -exactly; but his sub-consciousness that the direction in which he -was sliding--along the lines of least resistance--was at least -questionable, made him rather open to feelings about bad and good luck. - -Being arrived at Eutaw Castle, he inferred from what the Major said -and from what Ulrica looked that the domestic storm of the previous day -had been a vigorous one--and was glad that he had kept out of it. But -it had blown over pretty well, and his good-natured chaff about their -adventure swept away the few remaining clouds. - -"It is vehy handsome of yo', suh," said the Major, "to treat the matteh -as yo' do. My daughteh's conduct was most inexcusable--fo' when she -cahried yo' into that great dangeh she broke heh sacred wo'd to me." - -"But it was quite as much my fault as hers," Maltham answered. "I -should not have let her go. You see, the sailing was so delightfully -exciting that we both lost our heads a little. Luckily, I got mine back -before it was too late." - -"Yo' behaved nobly, suh, nobly! My daughteh has told me how youah only -thought was of heh dangeh, and how white yo' went when yo' realized -youah inability to save heh if the boat went down. Those weh the -feelings of a gentleman, suh, and of a vehy gallant gentleman--such as -yo' suahly ah. Youah conduct could not have been fineh, Mr. Maltham, -had yo' been bo'n and bred in South Cahrolina. Suh, I can say no mo' -than that!" - -Ulrica took little part in the talk. Her eyes were dull and she moved -languidly, as though she were weary. Not until her father left the -room--going to fetch his maps and charts, that he might demonstrate the -Point's glorious future--did she speak freely. - -"I could not sleep last night, Mr. Maltham," she said hurriedly. "I -lay awake the whole night--thinking about what I had done, and about -what you must think about me for doing it. If I had drowned you, after -breaking my word to father that way, it would have been almost murder. -It was very noble of you, just now, to say that it was as much your -fault as it was mine. But it was not. It was my fault all the way -through." - -"But the danger was just as great for you as it was for me," Maltham -answered. "You would have been drowned too, you know." - -"Oh, that would not have counted. It would not have counted at all. I -should have got only what I deserved." - -Maltham came close to her and took her hand. "Don't you think that it -would have counted for a good deal to _me_?" he asked. Then he dropped -her hand quickly and moved away from her as the Major re-entered the -room. - -Inasmuch as he would have been drowned along with her, this speech was -lacking in logic; but Ulrica, who was not on the lookout for logic -just then, was more than satisfied with it. Suddenly she was elate -again. For the dread that had kept her wakeful had vanished: his second -thoughts about the peril into which she had taken him had not set him -against her--he still was the same! She could not answer him with her -lips, but she answered him with her eyes. - -Maltham's feelings were complex as he saw the effect that his words -had upon her. He had made several resolutions not to say anything of -that sort to her again. Even if she did like flirting (as he had put -it in his own mind) it was not quite the thing, under the existing -conditions, for him to flirt with her. He resolutely kept the word -flirting well forward in his thoughts. It agreeably qualified the -entire situation. As he very well knew, Miss Strangford was not above -flirting herself. But it was not easy to classify under that head -Ulrica's sudden change in manner and the look that she had given him. -In spite of himself, his first impression of her would come back and -get in the way of the new impression that he very much wished to form. -When he first had seen her--only the day before, but time does not -count in the ordinary way in the case of those who have been close to -the gates of death together--he had felt the fire that was in her, and -had known that it slumbered. After what he had just seen in her eyes he -could not conquer the conviction that the fire slumbered no longer and -that he had kindled its strong flame. - -Nor did he wholly wish to conquer this conviction. It was thrillingly -delightful to think that he had gained so great a power over her, for -all her queenliness, in so short a time. Over Miss Strangford--the -contrast was a natural one--he had very little power. That young lady -was not queenly, but she had a notable aptitude for ruling--and came -by it honestly, from a father whose hard head and hard hand made him -conspicuous even among Chicago men of affairs. It was her strength that -had attracted him to her; and the discovery that with her strength was -sweetness that had made him love her. He was satisfied that she loved -him in return--but he could not fancy her giving him such a look as -Ulrica had just given him; still less could he fancy her whole being -irradiated by a touch and a word. - -And so he came again to the same half-formed conclusion that he had -come to in the boat on the preceding day: he would let matters drift -along pleasantly a little farther before he set them as they should be -with a strong hand. - -This chain of thought went through his mind while the Major was -exhibiting the maps and expounding the Point's future; and his -half-conclusion was a little hastened by the Major's abrupt stop, and -sudden facing about upon him with: "I feah, suh, that yo' do not quite -follow me. If I have not made myself cleah, suh, I will present the -matteh in anotheh way." - -Maltham shot a quizzical glance at Ulrica--which made her think that -she knew where his thoughts had been wool-gathering, and so brought -more light to her eyes--and answered with a becoming gravity: "The fact -is I didn't quite catch the point that you were making, Major, and I'll -be very much obliged if you'll take the trouble to go over it again." - -"It is no trouble--it is a pleasuah, suh," the Major replied with an -animated affability. And with that he was off again, and ran on for -an hour or more--until he had established the glorious future of -Minnesota Point in what he believed to be convincing terms. "When the -time to which I am looking fo'wa'd comes, Mr. Maltham, and it will come -vehy soon, suh," he said in enthusiastic conclusion, "it stands to -reason that the fortunes of this great metropolis of the No'thwest will -be fo'eveh and unchangeably established. Only I must wahn yo', suh, -that we must begin to get ready fo' it right away. We must take time by -the fo'lock and provide at once--I say at once, suh--fo' the needs of -that magnificent futuah that is almost heah now!" - -He took a long breath as he finished his peroration, and then came down -smiling to the level of ordinary conversation and added: "I feah, Mr. -Maltham, that I pehmit my enthusiasm to get away with me a little. I -feah I may even boah yo', suh. I promise not to say anotheh wohd on -the subject this evening. And now, as it is only a little while befo' -suppeh, we cannot do betteh, suh, than to take a drink." - -Maltham had not intended to stay to supper. He even had intended not -to. But he did--and on through the evening until the Major had to warn -him that he either must consent to sleep in Eutaw Castle or else -hurry along up the Point before the ferry-boat stopped running for the -night. The Major urged him warmly to stay. Finding that his invitation -certainly would not be accepted, he went off for a lantern--and was -rather put out when Maltham declined it and said that he could find his -way very well by the light of the stars. - -Actually, Maltham did not find his way very well by the light of the -stars. Two or three times he ran against trees. Once--this was while he -was trying to give the graveyard a wide offing--he stumbled over a root -and fell heavily. When he got up again he found that he had wrenched -his leg, and that every step he took gave him intense pain. But he was -glad of his flounderings against trees, and of his fall and the keen -pain that followed it--for he was savage with himself. - -And yet it was not his fault, he grumbled. Why had the Major gone off -that way to hunt up a lantern--and so left them alone? Toward the end -of his walk--his pain having quieted his excitement, and so lessened -his hatred of himself--he added much more lightly: "But what does a -single kiss amount to, after all?" - - -VIII - -[Illustration] - -It was on a day in the early autumn that Maltham at last decided -definitely--making effective his half-formed resolution of the -spring-time--to stop drifting and to set things as they should be with -a strong hand. But he had to admit, even as he formed this resolution, -that setting things quite as they should be no longer was within his -power. - -The summer had gone quickly, most astonishingly quickly, he thought; -and for the most part pleasantly--though it had been broken by -certain interludes, not pleasant, during which he had been even more -savage with himself than he had been during that walk homeward from -Eutaw Castle in the dark. But, no matter how it had gone, the summer -definitely was ended--and so were his amusing sessions with the Major -over the future of Minnesota Point, and his sails with Ulrica on the -lake and about the bay. Ice already had begun to form in the sheltered -parts of the harbour, and the next shift of wind into the North would -close the port for the winter by freezing everything hard and fast. All -the big ships had steamed away eastward. On the previous day he had -despatched the last vessel of his own line. His work for the season -was over, and he was ready to return to Chicago. In fact, he had his -berth engaged on that night's train. Moreover, in another month he was -to be married: in her latest letter Miss Strangford had fixed the day. -Then they were going over to the Riviera, and probably to Egypt. In -the spring they were coming back again, but not to Duluth nor even to -Chicago. He was to take charge of the Eastern office of the line, and -their home would be in New York. These various moves were so definite -and so final as to justify him in saying to himself, as he did say to -himself, that the Duluth episode was closed. - -He had hesitated about going down to Eutaw Castle to say good-bye, but -in the end had perceived that the visit was a necessity. The Major -and Ulrica knew that he was to leave Duluth when navigation was -closed for the winter--indeed, of late, Ulrica had referred to that -fact frequently--but he had not confided to them the remainder of his -rather radical programme. He meant to do that later by letter--from -the Riviera or from Egypt. In the mean time, until he was married and -across the Atlantic, it was essential to keep unbroken the friendly -relations which had made his summer--even with its bad interludes--so -keenly delightful to him; and to go away without paying a farewell -visit he knew would be to risk a rupture that very easily might lead -on to a catastrophe. Moreover, as he said to himself, there need not -be anything final about it. Even though the harbour did freeze, the -railways remained open--and it was only sixteen hours from Chicago to -Duluth by the fast train. To suggest that he might be running up again -soon would be a very simple matter: and would not be straining the -truth, for he knew that the pull upon him to run up in just that way -would be almost irresistibly strong. - -In fact, the pull was of such strength that all of his not excessive -will power had to be exerted to make him go away at all--at least, -to go away alone. Very many times he had thought of the possibility -of reversing his programme completely: of making his wedding journey -with Ulrica, and of writing from some far-off place to Miss Strangford -that he had happened to marry somebody else and that she was free. -But each time that he had considered this alternative he had realized -that its cost would come too high: a break with his own people, the -loss of the good berth open to him in New York, the loss of his share -of Miss Strangford's share of the grain-elevators and other desirable -properties which would come to her when her father died. But for these -practical considerations, as he frequently and sorrowingly had assured -himself, he would not have hesitated for a moment--being satisfied -that, aside from them, such a reversal of his plans would be better in -every way. For he knew that while Miss Strangford had and Ulrica had -not his formal promise to marry her, it was Ulrica who had the firmer -hold upon his heart; and he also knew that while Ulrica would meet his -decision against her savagely--and, as he believed, feebly--with her -passion, Miss Strangford would meet the reverse of that decision calmly -and firmly with her strength. The dilemma so nearly touched the verge -of his endurance that he even had contemplated evading it altogether -by shooting himself. But he had not got beyond contemplation. For that -sort of thing he was lacking in nerve. - -It was because facing what he knew was a final parting--even though -Ulrica would not know it--would be so bitter hard for him that he had -hesitated about making his visit of good-bye. But when he had decided -that it was a necessity--that the risk involved in not making it -outweighed the pain that it would cost him--he came about again: adding -to his argument, almost with a sob, that he could not go away like -that, anyhow--that he _must_ see her once more! - -And so he went down the Point again, knowing that he went for the last -time--and on much the same sort of a day, as it happened, as that on -which his first visit had been made: a grey, chill day, with a strong -wind drawing down the lake that tufted it with white-caps and that sent -a heavy surf booming in upon the shore. He had no headache, but he had -a heartache that was still harder to bear. - -He had intended to take the tram-car--that he might hurry down to the -Castle, and get through with what he had to do there, and so away -again quickly. But when he had crossed the canal he let the car go -off without him--for the good reason that the meeting and the parting -might not come so soon. And for this same reason he walked slowly, -irresolutely. Once or twice he halted and almost turned back. It all -was very unlike his brisk, assured advance on that far back day--ages -before, it seemed to him--when he went down the Point for the first -time. - -As he went onward, slowly, he was thinking about that day: how it had -been without intention that he turned eastward instead of westward -when he started on his walk; how a whim of the moment had led him to -cross the canal; how the mere chance of the three church-bound women -hurrying into the ferry-boat had prevented his immediate return. He -fell to wondering, dully, what "chance" is, anyway--this force which -with a grim humour uses our most unconsidered actions for the making or -the unmaking of our lives; and the hopeless puzzle of it all kept his -mind unprofitably employed until he had passed the last of the little -houses, and had gone on through the stunted pines, and so was come to -the desolate graveyard. - -He did not shun the graveyard, as he had shunned it all the summer -long. The need for that was past--now that, in reality, Ulrica's name -had come to be to him a name upon a grave. For a while he stood with -his arms resting on the broken fence, looking before him in a dull way -and feeling a dull surprise because he found the dismal place still -precisely as he remembered it. That in so very long a time it should -not have become more ruinous seemed to him unreasonable. Then he walked -on past the little church, still slowly and hesitatingly, and so came -at last to the Castle. Oddly enough, the Major was standing again at -the same lower window, and saw him, and came out to welcome him. For -a moment he had a queer feeling that perhaps it still was that first -day--that he might have been dozing in the pine woods, somewhere, and -that the past summer was all a dream. - -The Major was beaming with friendliness. "Aha, Masteh Geo'ge, I'm glad -to see yo' and to congratulate yo'!" he said heartily. And he gave -Maltham a cordial dig in the ribs as he added: "Yo' ah a sly dog, a -vehy sly dog, my boy, to keep youah secret from us! But I happened to -be up in town yestehday, and by the mehest chance I met Captain Todd, -of youah boat, and he told me why yo' ah going back to Chicago in such -a huhy, suh! It is a great match, a magnificent match that yo' ah -making, Geo'ge, and I congratulate yo' with all my haht. I should be -glad of the oppo'tunity to congratulate Miss Strangfo'd also. Fo' I am -not flattehing yo', Geo'ge, when I tell yo' that she could not have -found a betteh husband had she gone to look fo' him in South Cahrolina. -Suh, I can say no mo' than that!" - -The Major's speech was long enough, fortunately, for Maltham to get -over the shock of its beginning before he had to answer it. But even -with that breathing space his answer was so lame that the Major had to -invent an excuse for its lack of heartiness. "I don't doubt that afteh -youah chilly walk, Geo'ge, yo' ah half frozen," he said. "Come right in -and have a drink. It will do yo' good, suh. It will take the chill out -of youah bones!" - -Maltham was glad to accept this invitation, and the size of the drink -that he took did the Major's heart good. "That's right, Geo'ge!" he -said with great approval. "A South-Cahrolinian couldn't show a betteh -appreciation of good liquoh than that!" He raised his glass and -continued: "I drink, suh, to Miss Strangfo'd's health, and to youahs. -May yo' both have the long lives of happiness that yo' both desehve!" - -He put down his empty glass and added: "I will call Ulrica. She will -be glad to see yo' and to offeh yo' heh congratulations." He paused -for a moment, and then went on in a less cheerful tone: "But I must -wahn yo', Geo'ge, that she has a bad headache and is not quite hehself -to-day--and so may not manifest that wahm co'diality in regahd to youah -present and futuah happiness that she suahly feels. I confess, Geo'ge," -the Major continued anxiously, "I am not quite comfo'table about heh. -She seems mo' out of so'ts than a meah headache ought to make heh. And -fo' the last month and mo', as yo' may have obsehved youahself, she -has not seemed to be hehself at all. I don't mind speaking this way -frankly to yo', Geo'ge, fo' yo' know how my haht is wrapped up in heh. -As I once told yo', it was only my love fo' that deah child that kept -me alive when heh motheh left me," the Major's voice was very unsteady, -"and it is God's own truth that if anything went wrong with heh; if--if -I weh to lose heh too, Geo'ge, I suahly should want to give right up -and die. I could not live without heh--I don't think that I could live -without heh fo' a single day!" - -There were tears in the Major's eyes as he spoke, and his last word -was almost a sob. Maltham was very pale. He did not attempt an answer. - -"Thank yo', Geo'ge," the Major went on presently. "I see by youah looks -that I have youah sympathy. I am most grateful to yo' fo' it, most -grateful indeed!" In a moment he added: "Hahk! She's coming now! I heah -heh step outside. Hahk how heavy and slow it is--and she always as -light on heh feet as a bird! To heah heh walk that way almost breaks my -haht!" And then he checked himself suddenly, and tried to look rather -unusually cheerful as Ulrica entered the room. - - -IX - -[Illustration] - -Being braced to meet some sort of a storm, Maltham was rather put about -by not encountering it. Ulrica certainly was looking the worse for her -headache--her eyes were duller than usual, and there were dark marks -under them, and she was very pale; but she did not seem to be at all -excited, and the greeting that she gave him was out of the ordinary -only in that she did not offer him her hand. He drew a quick breath, -and the tense muscles of his mind relaxed. If she were taking it in -that quiet way, he thought, he had worked himself into heroics for -nothing. And then, quite naturally, he felt a sharp pang of resentment -because she did take it so quietly. Her calmness ruffled his self-love. - -As she remained silent, making no reference to Maltham's engagement, -the Major felt that the proprieties of the case were not being attended -to and prompted her. "I have been wishing Geo'ge joy and prospehrity, -my deah," he said. "Have yo' nothing to say to him youahself about his -coming happiness?" - -"Yes," she answered slowly, "I have a great deal to say to him--so much -that I am going to carry him off in the _Nixie_ to say it." She turned -to Maltham and added: "You will come with me for a last sail, will you -not?" - -Maltham hesitated, and then answered doubtfully: "Isn't it a little -cold for sailing to-day? Your father says that you are not feeling -well. I do think that it will be better not to go--unless you really -insist upon it, of course." - -"Yo' mustn't think of such a thing!" the Major struck in peremptorily. -"The weatheh is like ice. Yo' will catch yo' death of cold!" - -"It is no colder, father, than that day when I took George out in -the _Nixie_ for the first time--and it will do my head good," Ulrica -answered. And added, to Maltham: "I do insist. Come!" - -Against the Major's active remonstrance, and against Maltham's passive -resistance, she carried her point. "Come!" she said again--and led -Maltham out by the side door into the ragged garden. There she left him -for a moment and returned to her father--who was standing in a very -melancholy way before the fire. - -"Do not mind, father," she said. "It is the best thing for me--it is -the only thing for me." - -He looked at her inquiringly, puzzled by her words and by her vehement -tone. Suddenly she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. -"Remember always, father, that I have loved you with my whole heart -for almost my whole life long. And remember always," she went on with -a curiously savage earnestness, "that I am loving you with my whole -heart--with every bit of it--to-day!" - -"I am suah yo' ah, my daughteh," the Major answered, very huskily. - -She kissed him again, holding him tight in her arms. Then she unclasped -her arms with a sudden quick energy and swiftly left the room. - -She led Maltham silently to the boat, and silently--when she had cast -off the mooring--motioned to him to enter it. He found this silence -ominous, and tried to break it. But the commonplace words which he -wanted to speak would not come. - -And then, as he sat in the stern and mechanically steadied the tiller -while she hoisted the sail, the queer feeling again came over him that -it still was that wonderful first day. This feeling grew stronger as -all that he remembered so well was repeated: Ulrica's rapid movement -aft to the tiller; his own shifting of his seat; her quick loosing of -the centreboard as the wind caught them; and then the heeling over of -the boat, and her steady motion, and the bubbling hiss of the water -beneath the bow. It all so lulled him, so numbed his sense of time and -fact, that suddenly he looked up in her face and smiled--just as he -had done on that first day. - -[Illustration: "'I HAVE LOVED YOU WITH MY WHOLE HEART'"] - -But the look in Ulrica's eyes killed his smile, and brought him back -with a sharp wrench to reality. Her eyes no longer were dull. They were -glowing--and they seemed to cut into him like knives. - -"Well," she asked, "have you anything to say for yourself?" - -"No," he answered, "except that fate has been too strong for me." - -"Fate sometimes is held accountable for a great deal," she said dryly, -but with a catch in her voice. - -They were silent again, and for a long while. The boat was running down -the bay rapidly--even more rapidly, the wind being much stronger, than -on that first day. They could hear, as they had not heard then, the -surf crashing upon the outer beach of the Point. - -The silence became more than he could stand. "Can you forgive me?" he -asked at last. - -Ulrica looked at him with a curious surprise. "No," she answered quite -calmly. "Think for a moment about what you have done and about what you -intend to do. Do you not see that it is impossible?" - -"But I love you!" he cried eagerly. "I love you more than I can tell. -It is not my will that is separating us--it is fate!" - -Her look softened for an instant as he began, but as he ended it -hardened again. She did not answer him. A strong gust of wind heeled -the boat farther over. They were going at a slashing rate. Before them -the inlet was opening. The booming of the surf was very loud. - -He saw that his words had taken hold upon her, and repeated them: "I -do love you, Ulrica--and, oh, you don't know how very wretched I have -been! More than once in this past month I have been very near killing -myself." - -She gave him a searching look, and seemed satisfied that he spoke the -truth. "I am glad that you have wanted to kill yourself," she said -slowly and earnestly. They were at the mouth of the inlet. As she -spoke, she luffed sharply and they entered it close-hauled. - -"Yes," she repeated, speaking still more earnestly, "I am very glad of -that. It makes me feel much easier in my mind about what I am going to -do." - -Her tone startled him. He looked up at her quickly and anxiously. "What -are you going to do?" he asked. - -"Drown you," she answered simply. - -For an instant he did not take in the meaning of her words. Then his -face became very white, though he tried to smile. His voice shook as -he said: "I do not think that this is a good time for joking." The -boat was biting her way into the wind sharply, plunging and bucketing -through the partly spent waves which came in from outside. - -"You know that I am not joking," Ulrica answered very quietly. "I am -going to drown you, and to drown myself too. I have thought it all out, -and this seems the best thing to do. It is the best for father," her -voice trembled, "and it is the best," she went on again, firmly, "for -me. As for you, it does not matter whether it is the best for you or -not--it is what you deserve. For you are a liar and a traitor--a liar -and a traitor to me, and to that other woman too!" As she spoke these -last words her calmness left her, and there was the ring of passionate -anger in her tone. The fire that she had been smothering, at last was -in full blaze. - -They were at the very mouth of the inlet. The white-capped surface -of the lake swelled and tossed before them. The boat was wallowing -heavily. - -Maltham's paleness changed to a greenish-grey. He uttered a shrill -scream--a cry of weakly helpless terror. "Put about! For God's sake put -about!" he gasped. "We shall be drowned!" - -For answer, she hauled the sheet a little and brought the boat still -closer into the wind--heading straight out into the lake. "I told -you once that the _Nixie_ could sail into the wind's eye," she said, -coolly. "Now she is doing it. Does she not go well?" - -At that, being desperate, he rallied a little. Springing to his feet, -but standing unsteadily, he grasped the tiller and tried to shift the -helm. Ulrica, standing firmly, laid her hand flat against his breast -and thrust him away savagely--with such force that he reeled backward -and fell, striking against the combing and barely missing going over -the side. - -"You fool!" she exclaimed. "Do you not see that it is too late?" She -did not trouble herself to look at him. Her gaze was fixed in a keen -ecstasy on the great oncoming waves. - -What she said was true--it was too late. They were fairly out on the -open lake, and all possibility of return was gone. To try to go about -would be to throw the _Nixie_ into the trough of the sea--and so send -her rolling over like a log. At the best, the little boat could live in -that surge and welter for only a very few minutes more. - -Maltham did not attempt to rise. His fall had hurt him, and what little -was left of his spirit was cowed. He lay in a miserable heap, uttering -little whimpering moans. The complaining noise that he made annoyed -her. For the last time she looked at him, burning him for an instant -with her glowing eyes. "Silence, you coward!" she cried, fiercely--and -at her strong command he was still. Then her look was fixed on the -great oncoming waves again, and she cast him out from her mind. - -Even in her rage--partly because of it--Ulrica felt in every drop of -her Norse blood the glow and the thrill of this glorious battle with -great waters. The sheer delight of it was worth dying for--and so -richly worth living through to the very last tingling instant that she -steered with a strong and a steady hand. And again--as she stood firmly -on the tossing boat, her draperies blown close about her, her loosened -hair streaming out in golden splendour--she was Aslauga's very self. -Sorrow and life together were ending well for her--in high emotion -that filled and satisfied her soul. Magnificent, commanding, defiant, -she sailed on in joyful triumph: glad and eager to give herself -strongly to the strong death-clasp of the waves. - -[Illustration] - - - - -The Death-Fires of Les Martigues - - -I - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -That is one of our old sayings here in Provence. I used to laugh at it -when I was young. I do not laugh at it now. When those words come into -my heart, and they come often, I go by the rough hard way that leads -upward to Notre Dame de la Garde until I come to the Crime Cross--it is -a wearying toil for me to get up that steep hill-side, I am so stiff -and old now--and there I cast fresh stones upon the heap at the foot of -the cross. Each stone cast there, you know, is a prayer for forgiveness -for some hidden crime: not a light fault, but a crime. The stones must -be little stones, yet the heap is very wide and high--though every -winter, when the great mistrals are blowing across the Etang de Berre, -the little stones are whirled away down the hill-side. I do not know -how this custom began, nor when; but it is a very old custom with us -here in Les Martigues. - -Once in every year I go up to the Crime Cross by night. This is on -All Souls Eve. First I light the lamp over Magali's breast where she -lies sleeping in the graveyard: going to the graveyard at dusk, as the -others do, in the long procession that creeps up thither from the three -parts of our town--from Jonquieres, and the Isle, and Ferrieres--to -light the death-fires over the dear dead ones' graves. I go with the -very first, as soon as the sun is down. I like to be alone with Magali -while I light the little lamp that will be a guide for her soul through -that night when souls are free; that will keep it safe from the devils -who are free that night too. I do not like the low buzzing of voices -which comes later, when the crowd is there, nor the broken cries and -sobs. And when her lamp is lit, and I have lit my mother's lamp, I -hurry away from the graveyard and the moaning people--threading my -steps among the graves on which the lights are beginning to glimmer, -and through the oncoming crowd, and then by the lonely path through the -olive-orchards, and so up the stony height until I come at last to the -Crime Cross--panting, aching--and my watch begins. - -[Illustration: MARIUS] - -Up on that high hill-side, open to the west, a little of the dying -daylight lingers. Eastward, like a big black mirror, lies the great -etang; and far away across its still waters the mountain chain -above Berre and Rognac rises purple-grey against the darker sky. -In the west still are faint crimson blotches, or dashes of dull -blood-red--reflected again, and made brighter, in the Etang de Caronte: -that stretches away between the long downward slopes of the hills, -on which stone-pines stand out in black patches, until its gleaming -waters merge into the faint glow upon the waters of the Mediterranean. -Above me is the sanctuary of Notre Dame de la Garde, a dark mass on -the height above the olive-trees: of old a refuge for sinful bodies, -and still a refuge where sinful souls may seek grace in prayer from -their agony. And below me, on the slope far downward, is the graveyard: -where the death-fires multiply each moment, as more and more lamps -are lighted, until at last it is like a little fallen heaven of tiny -stars. Only in its midst is an island of darkness where no lamps are. -That is where the children lie together: the blessed innocents who have -died sinless, and who wander not on All Souls Eve because when sweet -death came to them their pure spirits went straight home to God. And -beyond the graveyard, below it, is the black outspread of the town: its -blackness deepened by a bright window here and there, and by the few -street lamps, and by the bright reflections which shine up from the -waters of its canals. - -Seeing all this--yet only half seeing it, for my heart is full of other -things--I sit there at the foot of the Crime Cross in the darkness, -prayerful, sorrowful, while the night wears on. Sometimes I hear -footsteps coming up the rocky path, and then the shadowy figure of -a man or of a woman breaks out from the gloom and suddenly is close -beside me--and I hear the rattle of little stones cast upon the heap -behind me, on the other side of the cross. Presently, the rite ended, -whoever it is fades back into the gloom again and passes away. And I -know that another sinful soul has been close beside my sinful soul for -a moment: seeking in penitent supplication, as I am seeking, rest -in forgiveness for an undiscovered crime. But I am sure that none of -them sees--as I see in the gloom there always--a man's white face on -which the moonlight is shining, and beyond that white face the glint -of moonlight on a raging sea; and I am sure that on none of their -blackened souls rests a burden as heavy as that which rests on mine. - -I am very weary of my burden, and old and broken too. It is my comfort -to know that I shall die soon. But, also, the thought of that comfort -troubles me. For I am a lone man, and childless. When I go, none -of Magali's race, none of my race, will be left alive here in Les -Martigues. Our death-fires will not be lighted. We shall wander in -darkness on All Souls Eve. - - -II - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My old mother, God rest her, said that to me when first she began to -see that my love was set on Magali--and saw, too, that I was winning -from Magali the love that belonged to Jan, who had her promise. - -"It is an old man's lifetime, mother," I said, "since a wolf has been -seen near Les Martigues." And I laughed and kissed her. - -"Worse than a wolf is a heart that covets what it may not have, -Marius," she answered. "Magali is as good as Jan's wife, and you know -it. For a year she has been promised to him. She is my dead sister's -child, and she is in my care--and in your care too, because you and -she and I are all that is left of us, and you are the head of our -house, the man. You are doing wickedness in trying to take her away -from Jan--and Jan your own close friend, who saved your life out of the -sea. The match is a good match for Magali, and she was contented with -it until you--living here close beside her in your own house--began -to steal away her heart from him. It is rascal work, Marius, that you -are doing. You are playing false as a house-father and false as a -friend--and God help me that I must speak such words to my own son! -That is why I say, and I say it solemnly, 'God keep you from the -she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!' That desire has no right -to be in your heart, Marius. Drag it out of your heart and cast it -away!" - -But I only laughed and kissed her again, and told her that I would -take good care of myself if a she-wolf tried to eat me--and so I went -away, still laughing, to my fishing in the Gulf of Fos. - -But I did not laugh when I was alone in my boat, slipping down the -Etang de Caronte seaward. What she had said had made me see things -clearly which until then had been half hid in a haze. We had slipped -into our love for each other, Magali and I, softly and easily--just as -my boat was slipping down the etang. Every day of our lives we were -together, in the close way that housemates are together in a little -house of four rooms. Before I got up in the morning I could hear her -moving near me, only a thin wall between us; and her movements, again, -were the last sounds that I heard at night. She waited on me at my -meals. She helped my mother to mend my clothes--the very patches on my -coat would bring to my mind the sight of her as she sat sewing at night -beside the lamp. We were as close together as a brother and a sister -could be; and in my dulness I had fancied for a long while that what I -had felt for her was only what a brother would feel. - -What first opened my eyes a little was the way that I felt about it -when she gave her promise to Jan. For all our lives Jan and I had been -close friends: and most close since that day when the squall struck our -boats, as we lay near together, and I went overboard, and Jan--letting -his own boat take its chances--came overboard after me because he knew -that I could not swim. It was by a hair's-breadth only that we were not -drowned together. After we were safe I told him that my life was his. -And I meant it, then. Until Magali came between us I would have died -for him with a right good will. After that I was ready enough that he -should do the dying--and so be gone out of my way. - -When he got Magali's promise, I say, my ugly feeling against him began. -But it was not very strong at first, and I was not clear about it in my -own mind. All that I felt was that, somehow, he had got between me and -the sun. For one thing, I did not want to be clear about it. Down in -the roots of me I knew that I had no right to that sunshine, and that -Jan had--and I could not help thinking about how he had come overboard -after me and had held me up there in the tumbling sea, and how I had -told him that my life was his. But with this went a little thin -thought, stirring now and then in the bottom of my mind though I would -not own to it, that in giving him my life--which still was his if he -wanted it--I had not given him the right to spoil my life for me while -leaving me still alive. And I did my best not to think one way or the -other, and was glad that it all was a blur and a haze. - -And all the while I was living close beside Magali in that little -house, with the sound of her steps always near me and the sound of her -voice always in my ears. She had a very sweet voice, with a freshness -and a brightness in it that seemed to me like the brightness of her -eyes--and Magali's great black eyes were the brightest eyes that ever I -saw. Even in Arles, where all the women are beautiful, there would be -a buzz among the people lining Les Lices when Magali walked there of -a feast-day, wearing the beautiful dress that our women wear here in -Provence. To look at her made you think of an Easter morning sun. - - -III - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother's words kept on ringing in my ears after I had left her. -Suddenly the haze was gone and I saw clearly--and I knew that my -heart's deep desire was to have Magali for my very own. And with that -sudden coming of clear sight I knew, too, that I could have her. Out -of the past came a crowd of memories which proved it to me. In my dull -way, I say, I had fancied that I loved Magali as a sister, and I had -tried to keep that fancy always by me in my haze. But with the haze -gone--swept away by my mother's words as the mistral sweeps away our -Mediterranean fogs--I knew that Magali never had been the fool that I -had been. - -I remembered her looks and her ways with me from the very day when she -came to us, when she was just turned of sixteen: how she used sometimes -to lay her hand lightly on my shoulder, how she would bend over to look -at the net that I was mending until her hair brushed against my cheek -or my forehead, how she always was bringing things to show me that I -could not see rightly unless she stood very close at my side, and most -of all how a dozen times a day she would be flashing at me her great -black eyes. And I remembered how moody and how strange in her ways she -was just before Jan got his promise from her; and how, when she told -me that her promise was given, she gave me a look like none that ever -I had from her, and said slowly: "The fisherman who will not catch any -fish at all because he cannot catch the fish he wants most--is a fool, -Marius!" - -Yet even then I did not understand; though, as I say, my eyes were -opened a little and I had the feeling that Jan had got between me -and the sun. That feeling grew stronger because of the way that she -treated him and treated me. Jan was for hurrying the marriage, but she -kept him dangling and always was putting him off. As for me, I got all -sides of her moods and tempers. Sometimes she scarcely would speak to -me. Sometimes she would give me looks from those big black eyes of -hers that thrilled me through! Sometimes she would hang about me in a -patient sad way that made me think of a dog begging for food. And the -colour so went out of her face that her big black eyes looked bigger -and blacker still. - -Then it was that I began to find in the haze that was about me a -refuge--because I did not want to see clear. I let my thoughts go out -to Magali, and stopped them before they got to Jan. It would be time -enough, I reasoned--though I did not really reason it: I only felt -it--to think about him when I had to. For the passing hours it was -enough to have the sweetness of being near Magali--and that grew to -be a greater sweetness with every fresh new day. Presently I noticed -that her colour had come back again; and it seemed to me--though that -may have been only because of my new love of her--that she had a new -beauty, tender and strange. Certainly there was a new brightness, a -curiously glowing brightness, in her eyes. - -For Jan, things went hardly in those days. Having her promise, he had -rights in her--as we say in Provence. But he did not get many of his -rights. Half the time when he claimed her for walks on the hill-sides -among the olive-orchards, she would not go with him--because she had -her work to do at home, she said. And there was I, where her work was, -at home! For a while Jan did not see beyond the end of his nose about -it. I do not think that ever it crossed his mind to think of me in the -matter--not, that is, until some one with better eyes than his eyes -helped him to see. For he knew that I was his friend, and I suppose -that he remembered what I had told him about my life being his. And -even when his eyes were helped, he would not at first fully believe -what he must plainly have seen. But he soon believed enough to make him -change his manner toward me, and to make him watch sharp for something -that would give him the right to speak words to me which would bring -matters to a fair settlement by blows. And I was ready, as I have -said--though I would not fairly own it to myself--to come to blows with -him. For I wanted him dead, and out of my way. - -And so my mother's words, which had made me at last see clearly, stayed -by me as I went sailing in my boat softly seaward down the etang. And -they struck deeper into me because Jan's boat was just ahead of mine; -and the sight of him, and the thought of how he had saved my life only -to cross it, made me long to run him down and drown him, and so be quit -of him for good and all. I made up my mind then that, whether I killed -him or left him living, it would be I who should have Magali and not he. - - -IV - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother said that again to me when I came home that night from my -fishing; and she said it to me often as the days went on. She saw the -change that had come to me, and she knew what was in my soul. It is -not wonderful, when you stop to think about it, that a man's mother -should know what is in his soul: for the body in which that soul is, -the living home of it, is a part of her own. And she grew sad and -weary-looking when she found that her words had no hold on me, and -there came into her eyes the sorrowful look that comes into the eyes of -old people who are soon to die. - -But Magali's eyes were the only eyes that I cared for then, and they -seemed to me to grow brighter and brighter every day. When she and I -walked in the olive-orchards together in the starlight the glow of them -outshone the star-glow. It seemed to light up my heart. - -I do not think that we talked much in those walks. I do not seem to -remember our talking. But we understood each other, and we were agreed -about what we were to do. I was old enough to marry as I pleased, but -Magali was not--she could not marry without my mother's word. We meant -to force that word. Some day we would go off in my boat together--over -to Les Saintes Maries, perhaps; or perhaps to Marseille. It did not -matter where we went. When we came back again, at the end of two or -three days, my mother no longer could deny us--she would have to give -in. And no one would think the worse of Magali: for that is our common -way of settling a tangled love-matter here in Provence. - -But I did not take account of Jan in my plans, and that was where I -made a mistake. Jan had just as strong a will as I had, and every -bit of his will was set upon keeping Magali for himself. I wanted -her to break with him entirely, but that she would not do. She was a -true Provencale--and I never yet knew one of our women who would rest -satisfied with one lover when she could have two. If she can get more -than two, that is better still. While I hung back from her, Magali was -more than ready to come to me; but when she found me eager after her, -and knew that she had a grip on me, she danced away. - -And so, before long, Jan again had his walks with her in the -olive-orchards by starlight just as I did, and likely enough her eyes -glowed for him just as they did for me. When they were off that way -together I would get into a wild-beast rage over it. Sometimes I would -follow them, fingering my knife. I suppose that he felt like that when -the turn was mine. Anyhow, the love-making chances which she gave -him--even though in my heart I still was sure of her--kept me always -watching him; and I could see that he always was watching me. Very -likely he felt sure of her too, and that was his reason--just as it was -my reason--for not bringing our matter to a fighting end. I was ready -enough to kill him, God knows. Unless his eyes lied when he looked at -me, he was ready to kill me. - -And in that way the summer slipped past and the autumn came, and -neither of us gained anything. I was getting into a black rage over -it all. Down inside of me was a feeling like fire in my stomach that -made me not want to eat, and that made what I did eat go wrong. My poor -mother had given up trying to talk to me. She saw that she could not -change my way--and, too, I suppose that she pretty well understood it -all: for she had lived her life, and she knew the ways of our men and -of our women when love stings them here in Provence. Only, her sadness -grew upon her with her hopelessness. What I remember most clearly as -I think of her in those last days is her pale old face and the dying -look in her sorrowful eyes. - -But seeing her in that way grief-struck only made my black rage -blacker and the fire in my stomach burn hotter. I had the feeling that -there was a devil down there who all the time was getting bigger and -stronger: and that before long he and I would take matters in hand -together and settle them for good and all. As for keeping on with -things as they were, it was not to be thought of. Better than much more -of such a hell-life would be ending everything by killing Jan. - -What made me hang back from that was the certainty that if I did kill -him--even in a fair fight, with his chance as good as mine--I would -lose Magali beyond all hope: for the gendarmes would have me away in a -whiff to jail--and then off would go my head, or, what would be just -as bad, off I would go head and all to Cayenne. It was no comfort to -me to know that Magali would almost cry her eyes out over losing me. -Of course she would do that, being a Provencale. But before her eyes -were quite out she would stop crying; and then in a moment she would -be laughing again; and in another moment she would be freshly in love -once more--with some man who was not murdered and who was not gone for -his lifetime over seas. And all that, also, would be because she was a -Provencale. - - -V - -All the devils are let loose on earth on All Souls Eve--that is a fact -known to everybody here in Provence. But whether it was one of those -loosed devils, or the devil that had grown big in my own inside, that -made me do what I did I do not know. What I do know, certainly, is that -about dusk on All Saints Day the thought of how I could force things to -be as I wanted them to be came into my heart. - -My thought was not a new thought, exactly. It was only that I would do -what we had planned to do to make my mother give in to us: get Magali -into my boat and carry her off with me for a day or two to Les Saintes. -But it came to me with the new meaning that in that way I could make -Magali give in to me too. When we came back she would be ready enough -to marry me, and my mother would be for hurrying our marrying along. -It all was as plain and as sure as anything could be. And, as I have -said, nobody would think the worse of Magali afterward; because that -way of cutting through such difficulties is a common way with us in -Provence. - -And All Souls Eve was the time of all times for doing it. The whole -town is in commotion then. In the churches, when the Vespers of All -Saints are finished, the Vespers of the Dead are said. Then, just -after sunset, the streets are crowded with our people hurrying to -the graveyard with their lanterns for the graves. Nothing is thought -about but the death-fires. From all the church towers--in Jonquieres, -in the Isle, in Ferrieres--comes the sad dull tolling of bells. After -that, for an hour or more, the town is almost deserted. Only the very -old, and the very young, and the sick with their watchers, and the -bell-ringers in the towers, are left there. Everybody else is in the -graveyard, high up on the hill-side: first busied in setting the lights -and in weeping over dead loved ones; and then, when the duty to the -dead ones is done with, in walking about through the graveyard to see -the show. In Provence we take a great interest in every sort of show. - -Magali and I had no death-fires to kindle, for in the graveyard were -no dead of ours. Our people were of Les Saintes Maries, and there -their graves were--and my father, who was drowned at his fishing, had -no grave at all. But we went always to the graveyard on All Souls -Eve, and most times together, that we might see the show with the -others and enjoy the bustle of the crowd. And so there was nothing out -of the common when I asked her to come with me; and off we started -together--leaving my old mother weeping at home for my dead father, who -could have no death-fire lit for him because his bones were lying lost -to us far away in the depths of the sea. - -Our house was in the eastern quarter of the town, in Jonquieres. To -reach the graveyard we had to cross the Isle, and go through Ferrieres, -and then up the hill-side beyond. But I did not mean that we should do -that; and when we had crossed the Canal du Roi I said to Magali that we -would turn, before we went onward, and walk down past the Fish-market -to the end of the Isle--that from there we might see the lights glowing -in the dusk on the slope rising above us black against the western sky. -We had done that before--it is a pretty sight to see all those far-off -glittering points of light above, and then to see their glittering -reflections near by in the water below--and she willingly came with me. - -But I had more in view. Down at the end of the Isle, along with the -other boats moored at the wharf there to be near the Fish-market, my -boat was lying; and when we were come close to her I said suddenly, as -though the thought had entered my head that minute, that we would go -aboard of her and run out a little way--and so see the death-fires more -clearly because they would be less hidden by the shoulder of the hill. -I did not have to speak twice. Magali was aboard of the boat on the -instant, and was clapping her hands at the notion--for she had, as all -our women have, a great pleasure in following any sudden fancy which -promises something amusing and also a little strange. And I was quick -after her, and had the lines cast off and began to get up the sail. - -"Oh," she said, "won't the oars do? Need we bother with the sail for -such a little way?" - -But I did not answer her, and went on with what I was doing, while -the boat drifted quickly out from land before the gusts of wind which -struck us harder and harder as we cleared the point of the Isle. Until -then I had not thought about the weather--my mind had been full of the -other and bigger thought. The gusts of wind waked me up a little, and -as I looked at the sky I began to have doubts that I could do what I -wanted to do; for it was plain that a gale was rising which would make -ticklish work for me even out on the Gulf of Fos--and would make pretty -near impossible my keeping on to Les Saintes over the open sea. And I -had about made up my mind that we must go back, and that I must carry -out my plan some other time, when there came a hail to us from the -shore. - -"Where are you going?" called a voice--and as we turned our looks -shoreward there was Jan. He had been following us, I suppose--just as I -sometimes had followed him. - -Before I could answer him, Magali spoke. "We are going out on the water -to see the death-fires, Jan," she said. "We are going only a very -little way." - -Her words angered me. There was something in them that seemed to show -that he had the right to question her. That settled me in my purpose. -Storm or no storm, on I would go. And I brought the boat up to the -wind, so as to lay our course straight down the Etang de Caronte, and -called out to him: "We are going where you cannot follow. Good-bye!" - -And then a gust of wind heeled us over, and we went on suddenly with -a dash--as a horse goes when you spur him--and the water boiled and -hissed under our bows. In another half-minute we were clear of the -shelter of the point, and then the wind came down on us off the hills -in a rush so strong that I had to ease off the sheet sharply--and I had -a queer feeling about what was ahead of me out on the Gulf of Fos. - -"Marius! Marius! What are you doing?" Magali cried in a shiver of -fright: for she knew by that time that something was back of it all in -my mind. As she spoke I could see through the dusk that Jan was running -up the sail of his boat, and in a minute more would be after us. - -"I am doing what I ought to have done long ago," I said. "I am taking -you for my own. There is nothing to fear, dear Magali. You shall not -be in danger. I had meant to take you to Les Saintes. But a gale is -rising and we cannot get to Les Saintes to-night. We will run across -the Gulf of Fos and anchor in the Grau de Gloria. There is a shepherd's -hut near the Grau. I will make a fire in it and you can sleep there -comfortably, while I watch outside. After all, it makes no difference -where we go. I shall have carried you off--when we go back you must be -my wife." - -She did not understand at first. She was too much frightened with the -suddenness of it all, and with the coming of Jan, and with the boat -flying on through the rushing of the wind. I looked back and saw that -Jan had got away after us. Dimly I could make out his sail through the -dusk that lay thick upon the water. Beyond it and above it was a broad -patch of brightness where all the death-fires were burning together in -the graveyard. We had come too far to see any longer those many points -of light singly. In a mass, they made against the black hill-side a -great bright glow. - - -VI - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -My mother's words seemed to sound in my ears loudly, coming with the -rush of wind that eddied around me out of the sail's belly. They gave -me a queer start, as the thought came with them that here at last my -heart's deep desire would be mine presently--if only I could snatch it -and keep it from the she-wolf of the sea. - -Magali was silent--half standing, half sitting, against the weather -side of the boat, close in front of me as I stood at the tiller with -the sheet in my hand. She had got over her fright. I could tell that by -the brightness of her eyes, and by the warm colour in her cheeks that -I had a glimpse of as we flashed past the break in the hills where the -Mas Labillon stands. And in that moment while the dusk was thinned a -little I could see, too, that she was breathing hard. I know what our -women are, and I know what she was feeling. Our women like to be fought -for, and any one of them gladly would have been in Magali's place--with -the two strongest and handsomest men in Les Martigues in a fair way to -come to a death-grip for her in the whirl of a rising storm. - -Back in the dusk, against the faint glow of the death-fires, I could -see the sail of Jan's boat dipping and swaying with the thrusts of the -wind-gusts as it came on after me. It had gained a little; and I knew -that it would gain more, for Jan's boat was a speedier boat than mine -on the wind. Close-hauled, I could walk away from him; but in running -down the Etang de Caronte I had no choice in my sailing. Out on the -Gulf of Fos, if I dared take that chance, and if he dared follow me, -I could bear up to windward and so shake him off--making for the Anse -d'Auguette and taking shelter there. But even my hot blood chilled a -little at the thought of going out that night on the Gulf of Fos. When -we were down near the end of the etang--close to the Salines, where it -is widest--the wind that pelted down on us from the hills was terribly -strong. It was hard to stand against even there, where the water was -smooth. Outside, it would be still stronger, and the water would be all -in a boil. And at the end, to get into the Anse d'Auguette, we should -have to take the risk of a roaring sea abeam. - -But any risk was better than the risk of what might happen if Jan -overhauled me. Now that I fairly had Magali away from him, I did not -want to fight him. What might come in a fight in rough water--where the -winds and the waves would have to be reckoned with, and with the most -careful reckoning might play tricks on me--was too uncertain; while -if I could stand him off and get away from him, so that even for one -night I could keep Magali with me, the game would be won. After that, -if he wanted it, I would fight him as much as he pleased. - -The thought that I would win--in spite of Jan and in spite of the -storm, too--made all my blood tingle. More by habit than anything else -I sailed the boat: for my eyes were fixed on Magali's eyes, shining -there close to me, and my heart was full of her. We did not speak, but -once she turned and looked at me--bending forward a little, so that her -face was within a foot of mine. What she saw in my eyes was so easy to -read that she gave all at once a half-laugh and a half-sob--and then -turned away and peered through the blustering darkness toward Jan's -sail. Somehow, the way she did that made me feel that she was holding -the balance between us; that she was waiting--as the she among wild -beasts waits while the males are fighting for her--for the stronger of -us to win. After that I was ready to face the Gulf of Fos. - -The time for facing the gulf was close on me, too. We had run through -the canal of the Salines and were out in the open water of Bouc--the -great harbour at the mouth of the etang. The gale roared down on us, -now that there was little land to break it, and we began to hear the -boom of the waves pounding on the rocks outside. I luffed well into the -wind and bore up for the narrows opening seaward where the Fort de Bouc -light-house stands. The water still was not rough enough to trouble us. -It would not be rough until we were at the very mouth of the narrows. -Then, all at once, would come the crush and fury of the wind and sea. -I knew what it would be like: and again a chill shot through me at -the thought of risking everything on that one great chance. But I -had one thing to comfort me: the moon had risen--and while the light -came brokenly, as the clouds thinned and thickened again, there was -brightness enough even at the darkest for me to lay a course when I -got out among the tumbling waves. Yet only a man half mad with passion -would have thought of fronting such a danger; and even I might have -held back at the last moment had I not been stung to go on. - -Jan had so gained on me in the run down the etang that as we came out -from the canal of the Salines his boat was within less than a dozen -rods of mine; and as I hauled my sheet and bore up for the narrows he -shot down upon us and for a moment was almost under our stern. And at -that Magali gave a little jump and a half-gasp, and laid her hand upon -mine, crying: "Marius! Quick! Sail faster! He will take me from you! -Get me away! Get me away!" - -And then I knew that she no longer balanced us, but that her heart was -for me. After that I would have faced not only the Gulf of Fos but the -open Mediterranean in the worst storm that ever blew. - - -VII - -"God keep you from the she-wolf, and from your heart's deep desire!" - -The words were in my ears again as we went flying on toward the -narrows--with the reflection of the flame in the light-house making -a broad bright path for us, and the flame itself rising high before -us against the cloud-rack like a ball of fire. But God was not with -me then, and I gave those warning words no heed. I was drunk with the -gladness that came to me when Magali made her choice between us; and -all that I thought was that even if we did go down together, out there -in the Gulf of Fos, I still would be keeping her from Jan and holding -her for my own. That there might be any other ending for us never -crossed my mind. - -Jan did not think, I suppose, that I would dare to go outside the -harbour. He was in a rage too, no doubt; but, still, he must have been -a good deal cooler than I was--for a rage of hate does not boil in the -very bones of a man, as a rage of love does--and so cool enough to know -that it was sheer craziness to take a boat out into that sea. What I -meant to do must have come to him with suddenness--as we drew so close -to the light-house that the flame no longer was reflected ahead of us, -and the narrows were open over my starboard bow, and I let the boat -fall off from the wind and headed her into the broken water made by -the inroll of half-spent waves. In my run close-hauled I had dropped -him, but not so much as I thought I should, and as I came on the wind -again--and hung for a moment before gathering fresh headway--he ranged -up once more within hail. - -"Where are you going? Are you crazy?" he called out--and though he must -have shouted with all the strength of his big lungs his voice came thin -through the wind to us, and broken by the pounding of the sea. - -"Where you won't dare to follow!" I called back to him--and we went -rushing on below the big old fort, that carries the light on its tower, -through the short passage between the harbour and the Gulf of Fos. - -Something he answered, but what it was I do not know: for as we cleared -the shelter of the fort--but while the tail of rock beyond it still was -to windward, so that I could not luff--down with a crash on us came -the gale. I could only let fly the sheet--but even with the sheet all -out over we went until the sail was deep in the water, and over the -leeward gunwale the waves came hissing in. I thought that there was the -end of it; but the boat had such way on her that even on her beam ends -and with the sail dragging she went on until we had cleared the rocks; -and then I luffed her and she rose slowly, and for the moment was safe -again with her nose in the wind. - -Magali's face was dead white--like a dead woman's face, only for her -shining eyes. She fell to leeward as the boat went over--I could not -spare a hand to save her--and struck hard against the gunwale. When the -boat righted and she got up again her forehead was bleeding. On her -white face the blood was like a black stain. But she put her hand on -mine and said: "I am not frightened, Marius. I love you!" - -Jan was close aboard again. As our way had deadened he had overhauled -us; and because he saw what had happened to my boat he was able to -bring his boat through the narrows without going over. - -"Marius! Marius! For God's sake, for Magali's sake, put about!" he -shouted. "It is the only chance to save her. Put about, I say!" - -He was only a little way to leeward of us, but I barely made out his -words. The wind was roaring past us, and the waves were banging like -cannon on the rocks close by. - -What he said was the truth, and I knew it. I knew that the gale was -only just beginning, and that no boat could live through it for -another hour. And then one of the devils loose on that All Souls Eve, -or perhaps it was my own devil inside of me, put a new evil thought -into my heart: making clear to me how I might get rid of Jan for good -and all, and without its ending in my losing my head or in my losing -Magali by being sent overseas. It was a chance, to be sure, and full of -danger. But just then I was ready for any danger or for any chance. - -[Illustration: "THE OTHERS WERE UPCAST ON THE ROCKS"] - -"Lie down in the bottom of the boat, Magali," I called sharply. "That -is the safest place for you. We are going about." - -I spoke the truth to Magali; but, also, I did not want her to see what -happened. She did what I told her to do, and then I began to wear the -boat around. How I did it without swamping, I do not know. Perhaps the -devils of All Souls Eve held up my mast through the black moments while -we lay wallowing in the trough of the sea. But I did do it; and when I -was come about I headed straight for Jan's boat--lying dead to leeward -of me, not twenty yards away. The clouds thinned suddenly and almost -the full light of the moon was with us. We could see each other's faces -plainly--and in mine he saw what I meant to do. - -"It will be all of us together, Marius!" he called to me. "Do you want -to murder Magali too?" - -But I did not believe that it would be all of us together: for I knew -that his boat was an old one, and that mine was new and strong. And, -also, the devils had me in their hold. The gale was behind me, driving -me down upon him like a thunder-bolt. As I shot close to him the moon -shone out full for a moment through a rift in the clouds. In that -moment I saw his face clearly. The moonlight gleamed on it. It was a -ghastly dead white. But I do not suppose that it was for himself that -he was afraid. Jan was not a coward, or he would not have jumped after -me when I was drowning in the stormy sea. - -Once more he called to me. "Marius! For the sake of Magali--" - -And then there was a crashing and a rending of planks as I shot against -his boat, and a sudden upspringing of my own boat under me. And after -that, for a long while, a roaring of water about me, and my own body -tumbled and thrust hither and thither in it, and at last a blow which -seemed to dash me down into a vast black depth that was all buzzing -with little blazing stars. - - * * * * * - -But the others were upcast on the rocks dead. - - - - -A Sea Upcast - - -I - -When we East Anglians be set to do a thing, we be set firm. We come at -what we want by slow thinking, but when we know what we want we hold -fast by it--being born stubborn, and also being born staunch. It is -the same with our hating and with our loving: we fire slowly, but when -at last the fire is kindled it burns so strongly in the very hearts of -us--with a white glow, hotter than any flame--that there is no putting -it out again short of putting out our lives. - -Men and women alike, we are born that way; and we fishermen of the -Suffolk and Norfolk coast likewise are bred that way: seeing that -from the time we go afloat as youngsters until the time that we are -drowned, or are grown so old and rusty that there is no more strength -for sea-fighting left in us, our lives for the most part are spent in -fighting the North Sea. That is a fight that needs stubbornness to -carry it through to a finish. Also, it needs knowledge of the ocean's -tricks and turns--because the North Sea can do what we East Anglians -can't do: it can smile at you and lie. A man must have a deal of -training before he can tell by the feel of it in his own insides that -close over beyond a still sea and a sun-bright sky a storm is cooking -up that will kill him if it can. And even when he feels the coming of -it--if he be well to seaward, or if he be tempted by the fish being -plenty and by the bareness of his own pockets to hold on in the face of -it--he must have more in his head than any coast pilot has if he is to -win home to Yarmouth Harbour or to Lowestoft Roads. - -For God in his cruelty has set more traps to kill seafarers off this -easterly outjut of England, I do believe, than He has set anywhere else -in all the world: there being from Covehithe Ness northward to the -Winterton Overfalls nothing but a maze of deadly shoals--all cut up by -channels in which there is no sea-room--that fairly makes you queazy to -think about when you are coming shoreward in a northeast gale. And as -if that were not enough to make sure of man-food for the fishes, the -currents that swirl and play among these shoals are up to some fresh -wickedness with every hour of the tide-run and with every half shift of -wind. Whether you make in for Yarmouth by Hemesby Hole to the north, or -by the Hewett Channel to the south, or split the difference by running -through Caister Road, it is all one: twisting about the Overfalls and -the Middle Cross Sand and the South Scroby, there the currents are. -What they will be doing with you, or how they will be doing it, you -can't even make a good guess at; all that you can know for certain -being that they will be doing their worst by you at the half tide. - -At least, though, the Lowestoft men and the Yarmouth men have a good -harbour when once they fetch it; and by that much are better off than -we Southwold men, who have no harbour at all. With anything of a sea -running there is no making a landing under Southwold Cliff--though it -is safe enough when once your boat is beached and hauled up there; and -so, if the storm gets ahead of us, there is nothing left but to run for -Lowestoft: and a nice time we often have of it, with an on-shore gale -blowing, working up into the Covehithe Channel under the tail of the -Barnard Bank! As for beating up to seaward of the Barnard and running -in through Pakefield Gat, anybody can try for it who has a mind to--and -who has a boat that can eat the very heart out of the wind. Sometimes -you do fetch it. But what happens to you most times is best known to -the Newcome Shoal. When you have cleared the Barnard--if so be you do -clear it--the Newcome lies close under your lee for all the rest of -the run. What it has done for us fishermen you can see when the spring -tides bare it and show black scraps of old boats wrecked there, and -sometimes a gleam of sand-whitened bones. - -For a good many years we had another chance, though a poor one, and -that was to make a longish leg off shore and then run in before the -wind and cross the Barnard into Covehithe Channel through what we -called the Wreck Gat--a cut in the bank that the currents made striking -against a wrecked ship buried there. The Wreck Gat is gone now--closed -by the same storm that nearly closed my life for me--and you will not -find it marked nowadays on the charts. Its going was a good riddance. -At the best it was a desperate bad place to get through; and at its -worst it was about the same as a sea pitfall: and that nobody knows -better than I do, seeing that I was the last man to get through it -alive. But when you happened to be to windward of it, if it served at -all, it served better than running down a half mile farther and trying -to round the tail of the bank. - -Very many craft beside our own fisher-boats find their death-harbour -on our East Anglian sands. Our coast, as it has a right to be, is the -dread of every sailor man who sails the narrow seas. Great ships, -storm-swept on our sands, are sucked down into the depths of them, -or are hammered to pieces on the top of them, as light-heartedly as -though they were no more than cock-boats. And the supply of ships to be -wrecked there is unending--since the half of the trade of the world, -they say, sails past our shores. From every land they come: and many -and many a one of them comes but never goes. Down on them bangs the -northeast wind with a roar and a rattle--and presently our sands have -hold of them with a grip that is to keep them fast there till the last -day! Sometimes the dead men who were living sailors aboard those ships -come ashore to us, though they are more like to find graves in the -sands that murdered them or to be swept out to sea; sometimes, by a -twist of chance that you may call a miracle, the sea has a fancy for -casting one or two of them ashore alive. Dazed and half mad creatures -those live ones are, usually: their wits all jangled and shaken by the -great horror that has been upon them while they tossed among the waves. - -And so, as you may see, we men of the Suffolk and Norfolk coast need -the stiff backbone that we have as our birthright for the sea-fighting -that is our life-work; and it is not to be wondered at that our life of -sea-fighting makes us still more set and stubborn in our ways. - - -II - -My little Tess came to me, a sea upcast, after one of our great -northeast gales. I myself found her: lying where the waves had landed -her on the shingle, and where they had left her with the fall of the -tide. - -I was but a bit of a lad myself, then, going on to be eight years -old. Storms had no fright in them for me in those days. What I most -was thinking about when one was blowing--while my poor mother, if my -father was out in his boat, would be looking wild-eyed seaward, or in -the bed-room praying for him on her knees--was what I'd be picking up -on the shingle when the gale was over and the sea gone down. Later on, -when I came to know that at the gale's end I might be lying myself on -the shingle, along with the other wreckage, I got to looking at storms -in a different way. - -That blow that brought my Tess to me had no fears in it for my poor -mother, seeing that it came in the night time and my father safe at -home. The noise of my father getting up wakened me; and in a sleepy -way I watched him from my little bed, when he had the lamp lighted, -hurrying his clothes on that he might go down to where his boat was -hauled up on the shingle and heave her with the capstan still higher -above the on-run of the waves. And as I lay there, very drowsy, -watching my father drag his big boots on and hearing the roar of the -wind and feeling the shaking that it was giving to our house-walls, -there came suddenly the sharp loud bang of a gun. - -My father stopped as he heard it--with one leg in the air and his hands -gripping the boot-straps, I can see him now. "That's from close by!" -he said. "God help them--they must be ashore on the Barnard Bank!" Then -he jammed his other boot on, jumped into his sou'wester, and was gone -on a run. My mother ran to the door--I know now, having myself helped -to get men ashore from wrecked ships at my life's peril, what her fear -was--and called after him into the darkness: "Don't thou go to putting -thy life in danger, George May!" What she said did no good. The wind -swallowed her words before they got to him. For a minute or two she -stood in the doorway, all blown about; then, putting her weight on it, -she got the door shut and came back into the bed-room and knelt by the -bedside praying for him. I still was very drowsy. Presently I went off -to sleep again, thinking--God forgive me for it!--that if a ship had -stranded on the Barnard I'd find some pretty pickings when morning came -and the storm was over and I could get down to the shore. - -And that was my first thought when I wakened, and found the sun shining -and the wind blowing no more than a gentle breeze. My father was home -again, and safe and sound. There had been no chance for a rescue, -he said--the ship being deep down in the sands, and all her people -swept out of her, by the time that daylight came. And so I bolted my -breakfast, and the very minute that I had it inside of me I was off -down the cliff-path and along the beach northward to find what I could -find. All the other Southwold boys were hurrying that way too; but our -house being up at the north end of the village gave me the start of all -of them but John Heath, who lived close by us, and he came down the -cliff-path at my heels. - -The Barnard Bank lies off shore from Covehithe Ness, and under the Ness -our pickings would be most like to be. At the best they would be but -little things--buckets and baskets and brooms and odd oars, and such -like--the coast guard men seeing to it that we got no more; but things, -all the same, that any boy would jump for: and so away John and I ran -together, and we kept together until we were under the Ness--and could -see the broken stern-post of the wreck, all that was left to see of -her, sticking up from the Barnard going bare with the falling tide. -There I passed him--he giving a shout and stopping to pick up a basket -that I missed seeing because on my side weed covered it--and so was -leading him as we rounded the Ness by a dozen yards. And then it was I -who gave a shout--and made a dash for a big white bundle that was lying -in a nook of the shingle just above the lap of the waves. - -John saw the bundle almost as soon as I did, and raced me for it. But -I did see it first, and I touched it first, and so it fairly was mine. -A white sheet was the outside of it; and at one corner, under the -sheet, a bit of a blanket showed. I would have none of John's help as I -unwrapped it. He stood beside me, though, and said as I opened it that -even if I had touched it first we had seen it together--which wasn't -so--and that we must go share and share. I did not answer him, being -full of wonder what I was like to come to when I had the bundle undone. -In a good deal of a hurry I got the sheet loose, it was knotted at the -corners, and then the blanket, and then still another blanket that was -under the first one: and when that inner wrapping was opened there was -lying--a little live baby! It looked up into my face with its big black -eyes, and it blinked them for a minute--having been all shut up in the -dark and the sunlight bothering it--and then it smiled at me as if I'd -just waked it up not from the very edge of death in the sea but from a -comfortable nap in its cradle on land! - -John Heath burst out laughing. "You can have my share of it, George," -said he; "we've got babies enough of our own at home." And with that he -ran away and began to look again for brooms and buckets along the shore. - -But I loved my little Tess from that first sight of her, and I was -glad that John had said that I might have his share in her; though of -course, because I first saw her and first touched her, he had no real -share in her at all. So I wrapped her up again as well as I could in -her blankets--leaving the wet sheet lying there--and set off for home -along the shore, carrying her in my arms. Tired enough I got before I -had lugged my load that long way, and up the cliff, and so to our house -door. In the doorway my mother was standing, and I put the bundle in -her arms. "Lord save us!" said my mother. "What's the boy got here?" - -"Mother," said I, "it's a little beautiful live baby--and I found it, -and it's mine!" - - -III - -That was the way that my Tess came to me: and I know now how good my -father and my mother were in letting me keep her for my own--they with -only what my father could make by his fishing to live on, and the wolf -never very far away from the door. But the look of those black eyes of -hers and the smile in them won my mother's love to her, just as it had -won mine; and my mother told me, too, long years afterward, that her -heart was hungry for the girl baby that God had not given her--and she -said that Tess seemed to be her very own baby from the minute that she -took her close to her breast from my tired little arms. - -As to where Tess came from--from what port in all the wide world the -ship sailed that brought her to us--we had no way of knowing. Nothing -but Tess in her bundle came ashore from the wreck; and what was left of -the ship burrowed down into the sands so fast and so far that there was -to be seen of her only a broken bit of her stern-post at the storm's -ending. Even after the set of the currents against her sunken hull, on -the next spring tide, had cut through the Barnard Bank and so made the -Wreck Gat, no part of her but her broken stern-post ever showed. Tess -herself, though, told us what her own name was, and so gave us a notion -as to what land she belonged to; but we should have been none the -wiser for her telling it--she talking in words that were the same as -Greek to us--if the Vicar had not lent us a hand. - -My finding the baby made a stir in the whole village, and everybody -had to have a look at her. In the afternoon along came the Vicar -too--smiling through his gold spectacles, as he always did, and -swinging his black cane. By that time, having had all the milk she -could hold, and a good nap, and more milk again, Tess was as bright as -a new sixpence: just as though she had not passed that morning nearer -to death than ever she was like to pass again and live. She was lying -snug in my mother's arms before the fire, and in her own fashion was -talking away at a great rate--and my mother's heart quite breaking -because her pretty chatter was all in heathen words that nobody could -get at the meaning of. But the Vicar, being very learned, understood -her in a minute. "Why, it's Spanish," said he. "It's Spanish as sure as -you're born! She's calling you 'madrecita,' Mrs. May--which is the same -as 'motherkin,' you know. But I can't make even a guess at the rest of -it. Everything ends in 'ita'--real baby-talk." - -"Do kindly ask her, sir, what her blessed little name is," said my -mother. "It'll bring her a deal closer to us to know her name." - -"I'll try her in Latin," said the Vicar--"that's the best that I can -manage--and it'll be hit or miss if she understands." And then he bent -over the little tot--she being then a bit over two years old, my mother -thought--and asked her what her name was in Latin words. - -For a minute there was a puzzled look in the big black eyes of her and -her brow puckered. And then she smiled all over her pretty face and -answered, as clear as you please: "Tesita." That a baby no bigger than -that understood Latin always has seemed to me most like a miracle of -anything that ever I have known! - -My mother looked bothered and chap-fallen. "It's not a real name at -all," she said, and sighed over it. - -"It's a very good name indeed, Mrs. May," said the Vicar; "only she's -giving you her baby way of saying it. Her name is Theresa. 'Tesita' is -the same as our 'Tess' would be, you know." - -"Theresa! Tess!" cried my mother, brightening up all in a minute. "Why, -that was my own dear mother's name! Her having that name seems to make -her in real truth mine, sir!" And she hugged the baby close to the -heart of her, and all in the same breath cried over it and laughed over -it--thinking, I suppose, of her mother dead and buried, and thankful -for the daughter that she so longed for that had come to her upcast by -the sea. - -More than what her name was, as is not to be wondered at, Tess never -told us; and the only thing in the world that gave us any knowledge -of her--and that no more than that her people were like to be -gentlefolk--was a gold chain about her neck, under her little night -gown, with a locket fast to it on which were some letters in such a -jumble that even the Vicar could not make head nor tail of them, though -he tried hard. - - -IV - -Whatever part of the world Tess came from, it was plain enough by the -look of her--and more and more plain as she grew up into a tall and -lanky girl, and then into a tall slim woman--that Suffolk was a long -way off from the land where she was born. - -Our Suffolk folk, for the most part, are shortish and thickset and fair -and blue eyed. We men--being whipped about by the wind and weather, -and the sea-salt tanned into us--lose our fairness early and go a -bun-brown; but our women--having no salt spray in their faces, and only -their just allowance of sunshine--have their blue eyes matched with the -red and white cheeks that they were born with; and their hair, though -sometimes it goes darkish, usually is a bright chestnut or a bright -brown. Also, our women are steady-going and sensible; though I must say -that now and then they are a bit hard to get along with: being given -to doing their thinking slowly, and to being mighty fast set in their -own notions when once they have made their minds up--the same as we -men. As for Tess--with her black eyes and her black hair, and her face -all a cream white with not a touch of red in it--she was like none of -them; and she could think more out-of-the-way things and be more sorts -of a girl in five minutes than any Suffolk lass that ever I came across -could think or be in a whole year! - -Tess was unlike our girls in another matter: she had a mighty hot -spit-fire temper of her own. Our girls, the same as our men, are -easy-going and anger slowly; but when they do anger they are glowing -hot to their very finger-tips, and a long while it takes them to cool -off. But Tess would blaze up all in a minute--and as often as not with -no real reason for it--and be for a while such an out-and-out little -fury that she would send everything scudding before her; and then would -pull up suddenly in the thick of it, and seem to forget all about it, -and like enough laugh at the people around her looking scared! Somehow, -though, it was seldom that she let me have a turn of her tantrums; and -when she did they'd be over in no time, and she'd have her arms around -me and be begging me to kiss her and to tell her that I didn't mind. -I suppose that she was that way with me because for my part--having -from the very first so loved her that quarreling with her was clean -impossible--I used just to stand and stare at her in her passions; and -like enough be showing by the look in my eyes the puzzled sorrow that I -was feeling in my inside. As to answering her anger with my anger, it -never once crossed my mind. - -With John Heath things went differently. He would go ugly when she -flew out at him--and would keep his anger by him after hers long was -over and done with, and would show it by putting some hurt upon her -in a dirty way. A good many thrashings I gave John Heath, at one -time or another, for that sort of thing; and the greatest piece of -unreasonableness that Tess ever put on me, which is saying much for it, -was on that score: she being then ten years old, or thereabouts, and -John and I well turned of sixteen. - -Some trick that he played on her--I don't know what it was--set her -in a rage against him, and he made her worse by laughing at her, and -she ended by throwing sand in his eyes. Then his anger got up, and he -caught her--being twice the size of her--and boxed her ears. I came -along just then, and I can see the look of her now. She was not crying, -as any ordinary child would have been--John having meant to hurt her, -and hit hard. She was standing straight in front of him with her little -hands gripped into fists as if she meant to fight him, that cream white -face of hers gone a real dead white, a perfect blaze of passion in her -big black eyes. In another second or so she'd have been flying at him -if I'd given her the chance. But I didn't--I sailed right in and myself -gave him what he needed; and when I had finished with him I had so well -blackened the two eyes of him that he forgot about the sand. But after -it all was over, so far from being obliged to me, what did Tess do but -fall to crying because I'd hurt him, and to saying that he'd only given -her what she deserved! For a week and more she would not speak to me, -and all that time she was trotting about sorrowfully at John's heels. -It seemed as though all of a sudden she had got to loving him because -he had played the man and the master to her; and I'm sure that his love -for her had its beginning then too. - -John's folks and my folks, as I have said, lived up at the north end -of the village, a bit apart, and that made us three keep most together -while we were little; but Tess never had much to do with the other -children, even when she got big enough to be with them at school. They -did not get along with her, being puzzled by her whims and fancies and -set against her by her spit-fire ways. And she did not get along with -them because she was quick about everything and all of them were slow. -When she began to grow up, though, matters changed a good deal. The -boys--she being like nobody else in the village--picked her out to make -love to, and that set the girls by the ears. Tess liked the love-making -a deal more than I liked her to like it; and she didn't mind what the -girls said to her because her wits were nimbler than their wits and -she always could give them better than they could send. - -So things went while the years went till Tess was turned of seventeen, -and was shot up into a tall slim woman in all ways so beautiful as to -be, I do believe, the most beautiful woman that God ever made. And then -it was that Grace Gryce, damn her for it, found a whip that served to -lash her; and so cruel a whip that she was near to lashing the life out -of her with it at a single blow. - - -V - -According to our Suffolk notions, Grace Gryce was a beauty: being -strongly set up and full built and well rounded, with cheeks as red as -strawberries, and blue eyes that for any good looking man had a smile -in them, and over all a head of bright-brown hair. Had Tess been out -of the way she'd have had things all as she wanted them, not another -girl in the village for looks coming near her; and so it was only human -nature, I suppose, that she hated Tess for crossing her--making her -always go second, and a bad second, with the men. - -It was about John Heath, though, that the heart of the matter was. -All the village knew that Grace fancied him, and that he half fancied -her--and would have fancied her altogether had Tess been out of -the way. Making up his mind between them--John always was a thick -thinker--did not seem to come easy to him. The whims and the ways -of Tess--that made a dozen different sorts of girl of her in five -minutes--seemed to set him off from her a-most as much as they set him -on: being a sort of puzzle, I'm free to say, that other men beside John -couldn't well understand. With Grace it was different. She might blow -hot or she might blow cold with him; or she might show her temper--she -had a-plenty of it--and give him the rough side of her tongue: but what -she meant and what she wanted always was plain and clear. To be sure, -this is only my guess why he hung in the wind between them. Maybe he -set too little store on Tess's love because it came to him too easily; -maybe he thought that by seeming to love her lightly he best could hold -her fast. - -Hold her fast he did, and that is certain. In spite of all her -whimsies, he had her love; and it was his, as I have said, from the -time when he man-mastered her by boxing the little ears of her--she -being only ten years old. Always after that, even when she was at her -sauciest and her airiest, he had only to speak short and sharp to her -and she'd come to heel to him like a dog. Sometimes, seeing her taking -orders from him that way was close to setting me wild: I having my -whole heart fixed on her, and ready to give the very hands of me to -have from her the half of what she gave him. Not but what she loved me -too, in her own fashion, and dearly. She showed that by the way that -she used to come to me in all her little hurts and troubles; and the -sweetness and the comfortingness of her to me and to my mother always, -but most when my poor father was drowned, was beyond any words that I -have to put it in. But my pain was that the love which she had for me -was of the same sort that she had for my mother--and I was not wanting -from her love of that kind. And so it cut to the quick of me--I who -would have kissed her shoe-soles--to see her so ready always to be meek -and humble at a word from John. There were times, and a good many of -them--seeing her so dog-faithful to him, and he almost as careless of -her as if she had been no more than a dog to him--that I saw red as I -looked at him, and got burning hot in the insides of me, and was as -close to murdering him as I well could be and he still go on alive. - -Like enough Grace Gryce--being of the same stock that I was, and made -much as I was--had the same feeling for Tess that I had for John; and -Grace, being a woman, had nothing to stop her from murdering Tess in a -woman's way. She would have done it sooner had her wits been quicker. -Time and again they had had their word-fights together, and Tess always -getting the better of her because Grace's wits, like the rest of her, -were heavy and slow. - -It was down by the boats, under the Gun Hill, that they fought the -round out in which Grace drew blood at last. A lot of the girls were -together there and Tess, for a wonder, happened to be with them. They -all were saying to her what hard things they could think of; and she, -in her quick way, was hitting back at them and scoring off them all. -Poor sort of stuff it was that they were giving her: calling her "Miss -Fine-Airs" and "Miss Maypole," and scorning the black eyes and the pale -face of her, and girding at her the best they could because in no way -was she like themselves. - -"It's a pity I'm so many kinds of ugliness!" says Tess in her saucy -way, and making it worse by laughing. "It's a true pity that I'm not -pretty, like all the rest of you, and so am left lonely. If only I'd -some of your good looks, you see, I might have, as the rest of you -have, a lot of men at my heels." - -That was a shot that hit all of them, but it hit Grace the hardest -and she answered it. "It's better," said she, "to go your whole life -without a man at your heels than it is to spend your whole life -dog-tagging at the heels of a man." - -The girls laughed at that, knowing well what Grace was driving at. But -Tess was ready with her answer and whipped back with it: "Well, it's -better to tag at a man's heels and he pleased with it than it is to -want to tag there and he not letting you--liking a may-pole, maybe, -better than a butter-tub, and caring more, maybe, for grace by nature -than for Grace by name." - -That turned the joke--only it was no joke--on Grace again; and as the -girls had not much more liking for her than they had for Tess, seeing -that she spoiled what few man-chances Tess left them, they laughed at -her as hard as they could laugh. - -Grace's slow anger had been getting hotter and hotter in her. That shot -of Tess's, and the girls all laughing at her, brought it to a boil. - -"Who be'st thou, to open thy ugly mouth to me?" she jerked out, with -a squeak in her voice and her blue eyes blazing. "Who be'st thou, -anyway? Who knows the father or the mother of thee? Who knows what foul -folk in what foul land bore thee? Dog-tag thou may'st, but--mark my -words--naught will come of it: because thou'rt not fit for John Heath -or for any other honest man to have dealings with--thou rotten upcast -of the sea!" - -Tess was holding her head high and was scornful-looking when this -speech began; but the ending of it, so Mary Benacre told my mother, -seemed like a knife in her heart. Her face went a sort of a pasty -white, so Mary said; and she seemed to choke, somehow, and put her hand -up to her throat in a fluttering kind of way as if her throat hurt her. -And then she sort of staggered, and made a grab at the boat she was -standing by and leaned against it--looking, so Mary said, as if she was -like to die. - -"Mayhap now thou'lt keep quiet a bit," Grace said, with her hands on -her fat hips and her elbows out; and with that, and a flounce at her, -turned away. The other girls, all except Mary, went along with Grace; -but not talking, and most of them scared-looking: feeling, like -enough, as men would feel standing by at the end of a knife-fight, when -one man is down with a cut that has done for him and there is a smell -of blood in the air. - -Mary staid behind--she was a good sort, was Mary Benacre--and went to -Tess and tried to comfort her. Tess didn't answer her, but just looked -at her with a pitiful sort of stare out of her black eyes that Mary -said was like the look of some poor dumb thing that had no other way of -telling how bad its hurt was. And then, rousing herself up, Tess pushed -Mary away from her and started for home on a run. Mary did not follow -her, but later on she came and told my mother just what had happened -and gave her Grace Gryce's words. - -It was well that Mary came, that way, and told a clear story about it -all. What Tess told--when she came flying into the house and caught -my mother around the neck and put her poor head on my mother's breast -and went off into a passion of crying there--was such a muddle that my -mother knew only that Grace Gryce had said something to her that was -wickedly cruel. Tess cried and cried, as if she'd cry the very life out -of her; and kept sobbing out that she was a sea upcast, and a nobody's -daughter, and that the sea would have done better by her had it -drowned her, and that she hoped she'd die soon and be forgotten--until -she drove my mother almost wild. - -And so it went for a long while with her, my mother petting her and -crying over her, until at last--the feel, I suppose, of my mother's -warm love for her getting into her poor hurt heart and comforting -her--she began to quiet down. Then my mother got her to bed--she -was as weak as water--and made a pot of bone-set tea for her; and -pretty soon after she'd drunk a cup or two of it she dropped off to -sleep. She still was sleeping when Mary Benacre came and told the -whole story; and so stirred up my mother's anger--and she was a very -gentle-natured woman, my mother was--that it was all she could do, she -said afterwards, not to go straight off to Grace Gryce and give her a -beating with her own hands. - - -VI - -When Tess came to breakfast the next morning it gave me a real turn to -look at her. Somehow, at a single jump, she seemed to have changed from -a girl to a woman--and to an old woman at that. Suddenly she had got -to be all withered like, and the airs that she used to give herself and -all the pretty ways of her were gone. She just moped in a chair in a -corner--she who'd never been quiet for five minutes together, any more -than a bird--with a far-away look in her beautiful eyes, and the glint -of tears in them. Sorrow had got into the very bones of her. "Dost -think I really am come of such foul folk that I'm not fit for honest -company?" she asked my mother--and if she asked that question once that -morning she asked it a dozen times. - -In a way, of course, she had known what she was all her life long. "My -sea-baby" was my mother's pet name for her at the first; and by that -pet-name, when most tender with her, my mother called her till the -last. How she had come to us, how I had found her where the waves had -left her and had carried her home in my little tired arms, she had been -told over and over again. Sometimes she used to make up stories about -herself in her light-fancied way: telling us that she was a great lady -of Spain, and that some fine morning the great Spanish lord her father -would come to Southwold by some chance or other, and would know her by -the chain and the locket, and would take her home with him and marry -her to a duke--or to a prince, even--in her own land. We'd see that -she'd be pretending to herself while she told them to us that these -stories were true, and I think that she did half believe in them. But -it was not real believing that she had in them; it was the sort of -believing that you have in things in dreams. Her love was given to my -mother and to my father--and to me, too, though not in the way that I -wanted it--and we were the true kinsfolk of her heart. On our side, -we all so loved her, and made her feel so truly that she was our very -own, that the thought of her being a nobody's child never had a chance -to get into her mind. And her own fancies about herself--always that -her own dream people were great people in the dream land where they -lived--kept her from seeing the other chance of the matter: that they -as well might be mean people, who would put shame on her should ever -she come to know who they were. Into her head that cruel thought never -got until Grace Gryce put it there; and put there with it the crueller -thought that her being a nobody's child was what made John stand off -from her, he thinking her not fit to be his wife. - -Tess was fearing, maybe, that even if John had not had that feeling -about her he was like to have it after Grace had set him in the way of -it. And maybe she was thinking, too, that if she had been hurt for the -sake of him, and so deserved loving pity from him, it was Grace who for -the sake of him had done the hurting--and that it was Grace who had -won. Our girls are best pleased with the lover who fights to a finish -some other man in love with them and well thrashes him. Tess may have -fancied that John would take it that way; and so end by settling that -Grace, having the most fire and fight in her, was the most to his mind. -But what really came of it all with John, as far as I can make out, was -that his getting them fairly set the one against the other cleared his -thick wits up and brought him to a choice. - -And so, being in every way sorrowful, Tess was like a dead girl that -day; and my heart was just breaking for her. When dinner time came she -roused up a bit and helped my mother, as she always did--though my -mother wanted her to keep resting--and tried in a pitiful sort of way -to talk a little and to pretend that she was not in bitter pain; but -those pretty feet of hers, so light always, dragged after her in her -walking, and she was all wizened-looking, and there were black marks -under her beautiful sorrowing eyes. My mother helped to make talk with -her, though my mother was wiping her own tears away when she got the -chance; but as for me, I was tongue-tied by the hurt and the anger in -me and could not say a word. What I was thinking was, how glad I'd be -to wring Grace Gryce's neck for her if only she was a man! - -After dinner I went out to a bench in front of our house, but a bit -away from it, and sat there trying to comfort myself with a pipe--and -not finding much even in a pipe to comfort me--until the sun, all -yellow, began to drop down toward the Gun Hill into a bad looking -yellow sky. All the while I had the tail of my eye bearing on our door, -and at last I saw Tess come out of it. She took a quick look at the -back of me, sitting quiet there; and then, I not turning toward her, -off she walked along the edge of the cliff to the northward. At first -I didn't know what to do--thinking that if she wanted to be alone I -ought to leave her to her loneliness--and I sat on and smoked another -pipe before I could make up my mind. But the longer I sat there the -stronger my drawing was to go to her. What was hurting her most, as -I well enough knew, was the thought of having neither kith nor kin -for herself, along with the dread that even if she found her people -they might only be a shame to her--and that was a hurt that having a -husband would cure for her, seeing that she would get a new and a good -rating in the world when she got her husband's name. And so, at last, -I started after her to tell her all that was in the heart of me; and -thinking more, and this is the truth, of what I could do to comfort her -by taking the sting out of Grace Gryce's words than of how in that same -way I could win my own happiness. - -I walked on so far--across the dip in the land where the old river was, -and up on the cliffs again--that I began to think she had turned about -inland and so had gone that way home. But at last I came up with her, -on the very top of Covehithe Ness. - -She was sitting at the cliff-edge, bent forward a little with her -elbows on her knees and her face in her hands; and as I came close to -her I saw that she was crying in that quiet sort of way that people cry -in when they have touched despair. I walked so softly on the grass that -she did not hear my footsteps; but she was not put out when she looked -up and saw me standing over her--by which I think, and am the happier -for thinking it, that she had not gone there of set purpose to meet -with John. - -"Sit thee down here, George. I'm glad thou'rt come," she said, and she -reached me her hand. - -When I was on the grass beside her--she still keeping her hand in mine, -as if the touch of something that loved her was a comfort to her--she -had nothing to say for a bit, but just leaned her head against my -shoulder and cried softly there. - -The tide was out and a long stretch of the Barnard Bank lay bared below -us, with here and there the black bones of some dead ship lying buried -in them sticking up from the sands. Slicing deep in the bank was the -Wreck Gat, with the last of the ebb running out through it from the -Covehithe Channel and the undercut sides of it falling down into the -water and melting away. At the edge of it was the sunken ship that -had made it: the ship that had brought Tess to us from her birth-land -beyond the seas. As I have said, no more of the wreck showed than her -broken stern-post: a bit of black timber, all jagged with twisted iron -bolts and weed-grown and barnacled, upstanding at one side of the -channel from the water and not high out of it even at low tide. When -the tide was in, and any sort of a sea was running, you stood a good -chance of finding just where it was by having your boat stove on it: -for then it did not show at all, except now and then in the hollow of -the waves. - -Tess was looking down on it, her head still resting on my shoulder, and -after a while she said: "If only we could dig that ship up, George, -we might find what would tell that I'm not come of foul folk, after -all"--and then she began to cry again in the same silent sort of way. -I couldn't get an answer for her--what she said hurt me so, and she -crying on my shoulder, and I feeling the beating of her heart. - -"It was good of thee, George," she went on again, presently, "to save -the baby life of me; but it's a true truth thou'dst have done me more -of a kindness hadst thou just thrown me back into the sea. I'd be glad -to be there now, George. Down there under the water it would make no -difference what sort of folk I come of. And I'd be resting there as I -can't rest here--for down there my pain would be gone." - -My throat was so choked up that I had hard work to get my words out of -it, and when they did come they sounded queer. "Tess! Tess!" I said. -"Thou'lt kill me dead talking that way. As if the like of thee could -come of foul folk! A lord duke would be the least to be fit father to -thee--and proud of thee he well might be! But what does it matter, -Tess, what thy folk were who owned thee at the beginning? They gave -thee to the sea's keeping--and the sea gave thee to me. By right of -finding, thou'rt mine. It was I who found thee, down on the shingle -there, and from the first minute that ever I laid eyes on thee I loved -thee--and the only change in me has been that always I've loved thee -more and more. Whether thy people were foul folk or fair folk is all -one to me. It's thyself that I'm loving--and with every bit of the love -that is in my heart. Let me make thee the wife of me, Tess--and then -thou'lt have no need to fret about who thy forbears were for thou'lt -have no more to do with them, being made a part of me and mine." - -I talked at such a rate, when I did get set a-going, that my own words -ran away with me; and I got the feeling that they ran away with Tess -too. But when I had ended, and she lifted up her head from my shoulder -and looked straight into the eyes of me, I knew by what her eyes had -in them--before ever she said a word back to me--that what I wanted -most in the whole world for myself I could not have. - -It seemed to me an hour before she spoke, she all the time looking -straight into my eyes and her own eyes full of tears. At last she did -speak. "George," said she, "if I could be wife to thee, as thou'dst -have me be, I'd go down on my knees and thank God! But it can't be, -George. It can't be! I've set my heart." - -There was no doubting what she said. In the sound of her voice there -was something that seemed as much as her words to settle the matter for -good and all. Whenever I am at a funeral and hear the reading of the -burial service it brings back to me the sound of her voice that day. -Only there is a promise of hope in the burial service--and that there -was not for me in Tess's words. - -"It's John that's between us?" I asked. - -"Yes," she said, speaking slow, "it's John." She was quiet for a minute -and then went on again, still speaking slow: "I don't understand it -myself, George. Thou'rt a better-hearted man than he is, and I truly -think I love him less than I do thee. But--but I love him in another -way." - -"Damn him!" said I. - -That got out before I could stop it, but when it had got out I wasn't -sorry. It told what I felt then--and it tells what I feel now. John's -taking her from me was stealing, and nothing less. We were together -when I found her, he and I; but I first saw her and I first touched -her--and he gave me his share in her, though he had no real share in -her, when he knew what my finding was. And so his taking her from me -was stealing: and that is God's truth! - -Tess said nothing back to me. She only looked at me sorrowful for a -minute, and then looked down again at the bit of wreck on the sands. By -the sigh she gave I knew pretty well what was in her mind. - -I'd had my answer, and that was the end of it. "I'll be going now, -Tess," I said; and I got up and she got up with me. I was not feeling -steady on my legs, and like enough I had a queer look on me. As for -Tess, she was near as white as a dead woman, though some of her -whiteness may have come from the yellow sunshine on her out of the -western sky. Up there on top of the Ness we still had the sun with us, -though he was almost gone among the foul weather yellow clouds. - -"Thou'lt try to forgive me, George," she said, speaking low, and her -mouth sort of twitching. - -"I love thee, Tess," I said; "and where there's love there can be no -talk of forgiveness. But John has the hate of me, and I tell thee -fairly I'll hurt him if I can!" - -With that I left her--there on Covehithe Ness, over the very spot where -the sea brought her to me--and went walking back along the cliff-edge: -and not seeing anything clearly because I was thinking about John, and -what I'd like to do to him, and there was a sort of red blur before my -eyes. - -After a while I turned and looked back. My eyes had cleared a bit, -but what I saw made them red again. Tess was not alone on the Ness. -John was with her. The two stood out strong in the last of the -yellow sunshine against a cloud-bank on the far edge of the sky. I -suppose that Tess being hurt that way for him brought John to his -bearings--making him love her the more for sorrow's sake, and for -anger's sake making him ready to throw Grace Gryce over. Like enough -he had been watching for his chance to get to her, waiting till I was -gone. Anyway, there he was--and I knew what he was saying to her as -well as if I'd heard the words. It is no wonder that the blood got -into my eyes again as I started back along the path. But I did not go -far. Somehow I managed to pull myself together and turn again. What I -had to settle with John Heath could be settled best when he and I were -alone. - - -VII - -When Tess came home to supper that night she was all changed again: her -looks gay once more, and her step light, and a sort of flutter about -her lips--as if she was wanting to smile and was trying not to--and a -soft look in her eyes that I never had seen there, but knew the meaning -of and found the worst of all. - -I couldn't eat my supper; and got up presently and went out leaving -it--my mother looking after me wondering--and walked up and down on the -cliff-edge in the darkness with my heart all in a blaze of hate for -John. For a good while I had been looking for what I knew was in the -way of coming to me; but it was different, and worse, and hurt more -than I had counted on, when at last it came. Out there in the darkness -I staid until the night was well on--not wanting for a while to hear -the sound of Tess's voice nor to lay eyes on her. Not until I was -sure, by the lights being out in the house, that she'd gone to bed, did -I go in again. My mother was waiting waking for me. She came to me in -the dark and put her arms around me and kissed me; by which I knew that -Tess had been telling her--and knew, too, she always having looked to -the wedding of us, that her heart was sore along with mine. But I could -not bear even her soft touch on the hurt that I had. I just kissed her -back again and broke away from her and went to bed. And in the very -early morning, not having slept much, I slipped out of the house before -either she or Tess was stirring and down to my boat and so away to sea. - -What I was after was to get some quiet time to myself that would steady -me before I had things out with John. I was not clear in my mind how -I meant to settle with him. I did know, though, that I meant to have -some sort of a fair fight with him that would end in my killing him or -in him killing me--and I knew that to tackle him with my head all in a -buzz would be to throw too many chances his way. And so I got away in -my boat, at the day-dawn, to the sea's quietness: where I could clear -my head of the buzzing that was in it and put some sort of shape to my -plans. - -Had I been in my sober senses that morning I never should have gone -away seaward at all. Backing up the promise of the yellow sunset of -the night before, pink clouds were showing in the eastern sky as I -started; and as I sailed on in loneliness--standing straight out from -the land on a soft leading wind from the south-west westerly--the pink -turned to a pale red and then to a deep red, and at last the sun came -up out of the water a great ball of fire. The look of the sea, too, -all in an oily bubble, and the set of the ground-swell, told me plain -enough--even without the sunrise fairly shouting it in the ears of -me--that a change of wind was coming before mid-day, and that pretty -soon after the wind shifted it would be blowing a gale. - -I will say this, though: If I'd missed seeing the red sunrise--and -all the more if I'd been full of happiness and my wits gone a -wool-gathering--I might have thought from the look and the feel of the -water, and from the set of the high clouds, that the wind would not -blow to hurt anything for a good twelve hours. That much I'll say by -way of excuse for John. Like enough he slept late that morning--through -lying awake the night before thinking what he'd be likely to -think--and so missed seeing the sun's warning. When he did get away in -his boat it was well past eight o'clock; and there was no man on the -beach when he started, so they told me, to counsel him. And, all being -said, even a good sailor--and that John was--starting off as he was to -buy a wedding-ring might not look as sharp as he ought to look at the -sea and at the sky. - -As to my own sailing seaward--I seeing the storm-signals and knowing -the meaning of them--I have no more to say than that I was hot for -a fight with anything that morning, and didn't care much what I had -it with or how it came. Anybody who knows how to sail a boat, and to -sail one well, knows what joy there is in getting the better of foul -winds and rough seas for the mere fun of the thing; but there is still -more joy in a tussle of that sort when you are in a towering rage. -Then you are ready to push the fight farther by taking more and bigger -death-chances: since a man in bitter anger--at least in such bitter -anger as I was in then--does not care much whether he pulls through -safely or gets drowned. And so I went on my course seaward, on that -soft wind blowing more and more lazily, until the coast line was lost -in the water behind me: knowing well enough, and glad to have it that -way, that the wind would lull and lull until it failed me, and that -then I would get a blow out of the northeast that would give me all the -fight I wanted, and perhaps a bit to spare! - -But because I meant my fight to be a good one, and meant to win it, I -got myself ready for it. When the wind did fail--the sun was put out -by that time, and from high up in the northeast the scud was flying -over me--I took in and snugged away everything but my mainsail, and -put a double reef in that with the reef-points knotted to hold. Then -I waited, drifting south a little--the flood having made half an hour -before, and the set of the ebb taking me that way. - -I did not have to wait long. Out of the mist, banked thick to the -north-eastward, came the moaning that a strong wind makes when it's -rushing down on you; then from under the mist swept out a dark riffle -that broke the oily bubble of the water and put life into it; and -then the wind got to me with a bang. There was more of it than I had -counted on having at the first, showing that the gale behind it was a -strong one and coming down fast; but I had the nose of my boat pointed -up to meet it, and with no more than a bit of a rattle I got away -close-hauled. There was no going back to Southwold, of course. What I -was heading for was the Pakefield Gat into the Stanford Channel, and so -to the harbour at Lowestoft; and I pretty well knew from the first that -no matter how close I bit into the wind--and my boat was a weatherly -one--I had my work cut out for me if I meant to keep from going to -leeward of the Pakefield Gat in the gale that was coming on. - -Go to leeward I did, and badly. When I raised the coast again, and a -lift of the mist gave me my bearings, I saw that Kessingland tower was -my landfall. As to working up from there to the Pakefield Gat--the -edge of the gale by that time being fairly on me--I knew that it was -clean impossible. I still had two chances left--one being to cross the -Barnard by the Wreck Gat, and the other to round into Covehithe Channel -across the tail of the bank. To the first of these the wind would help -me; but I knew that even with the wind's help it would be ticklish -work trying to squeeze through that narrow place at the half ebb--when -the strong outset of the current would be meeting the inpour of the -storm-driven sea. It would be better, so I settled after a minute's -thinking, to pass that chance and take the other--which would be a -fairly sure one, though a close one too. And so I wore around--with a -bad wallow in the trough of the sea that set everything to shaking for -a minute--and got on my new course pretty well on the wind. - -Just as I was making ready for wearing, and so had my hands full, I -glimpsed the sail of a boat in the mist up to windward; and when I was -come about she was abeam to leeward, showing her high weather side to -me, not twenty yards away. Then I saw that it was John Heath's boat, -and that John was standing up alone in her at the helm. Why the fool -had not staid safe in Lowestoft harbour, God only knows. But it's only -fair to him, again, to say that he must have got away from Lowestoft -a good while before the wind shifted; and like enough he would have -worked down to Southwold, and got his boat safe beached there before -trouble came, if the calm had not caught him sooner than it did me--he -being all the time close under the land. - - -VIII - -Some of my rage had gone out of me in my fight to windward in the -gale's teeth; but when I saw John close by me there it all came back -to me. For half a minute the thought was in my head to run him down -and sink him--and I had the wind of him and could have done it. Even -in my rage, though, I could not play a coward trick like that on him; -and before I could make any other plan up he set me in the way of one -himself. - -"I'm making for the Wreck Gat," he sung out. "Give me a lead in, -George--'tis better known to thee than to me." - -Had I stopped to think about it, his asking me to lead him in would -have been a puzzle to me, he being just as good a sailor as I was -and just as well knowing every twist of the sea and the sands. But I -didn't stop to think about the queerness of what he wanted--why he was -for making things double safe by my leading him is clear enough to me -now--because my wits were at work at something else. - -While the words were coming out of his mouth--it all was in my head -like a flash--I saw my way to settling with him, and to settling fair. -He was crazy to want to try for it through the Wreck Gat on the half -tide, with the run of the ebb meeting the onset of the breakers and a -whole gale blowing. But his being crazy that way was his look out, -not mine. I'd give him the lead in that he wanted--asking him to take -nothing that I didn't take first myself, and giving him a better chance -than I had because I'd be setting the course for him and he'd have -only to follow on. That either of us would pull through would be as -it might be. As to my own chance, such as it was, I was ready for it: -knowing that I would be no worse off dead with him than I was living -with him--and a long sight better off if I put him in the way of the -drowning that would finish him, and yet myself won through alive. - -That was what got into my head like a flash while he was hailing me, -and mighty pleased I was with it. "Follow on," I sung out. "I'll give -thee a lead." And to myself I was saying: "Yes, a lead to hell!" - -"All right," he sung out back to me--and let his boat fall off a bit -that I might draw ahead of him. As he dropped astern, and the uptilt of -his weather rail no longer hid the inside of his boat from me, I saw -that there was a biggish bunch of something covered with a tarpaulin' -in the stern sheets close by his feet. But I gave no thought to it: all -my thought being fixed on what was ahead of me and him in the next -half hour. I was glad that we had to wait a little. Every minute of -waiting meant more wind, and so a bigger fight in the Wreck Gat between -the out-running current and the in-running sea. I had a feeling in my -bones that I would pull through and that he wouldn't, and I was keen -to see the smash of him as his boat took the sands. After that smash -came, the rest of his life could be counted in minutes and seconds--as -he floundered and drowned in that wild tumble of sand-thickened waves. -So I'd have done with him and be quit of him; and would have a good -show--if I didn't drown along with him--for winning Tess for my own. If -I did drown with him, or if--not being drowned--Tess would have none of -me, there still would be this much to the good: I'd have served him out -for crossing me in my deep heart-wish, and I'd have made certain that -he and she never could come together in this world alive. - -All that I was thinking as I stood on ahead of him, bucketing through -the waves that every minute were heavier with the churned up sand. And -I also was thinking, and I remember laughing as the thought came to me, -that there was a sort of rightness in the way things were working out -with us--seeing that the ship that had brought me my Tess, and the sea -that had given her to me, together were making the death-trap for the -man who had stolen away from me her love. - -The wind was well up to a gale as we drove on together, me leading him -by a half dozen boats' lengths, and from all along to leeward of us -came to us through the mist a sort of a groaning roar as the breakers -went banging and grinding on the Barnard Bank. Nothing but having the -wind and the sea both with us, when we stood in for the gat, saved us -from foundering; and yet that same also put us in peril of it, because -we had a wide open chance of being pooped by the great following waves -which came hanging over and dragging at our sterns. - -The mist thinned as we got closer in shoreward, showing me the -sand-heavy surf waiting for its chance to scour the life out of us; -but also showing me Covehithe Ness, and Covehithe church tower off to -the left of it, and so giving me the points that I wanted to steer -by. As for the look of the Wreck Gat, when we opened it, the waves -blustered over it so big, and were all in such a whirl and a fury with -the current meeting them, that only a crazy man--as I have said--ever -would have tried for it. Just about crazy I then was, and the look -of it suited me. In that sea the narrow channel was so lashed by the -breakers running off from the sands to windward of it that there was -no sign of a cleft anywhere. No matter how we steered, getting through -it would be just hit or miss with us--and with all my heart and soul I -hoped that it would be hit for me and miss for John. - -To make in, I had to bear up a little; and getting the wind by even -that little abeam gave my boat a send to leeward that was near to doing -for me. I was glad of it, though; because I knew that John would get -that same send in the wake of me--and with more chance of its finishing -him, his boat being a deal less weatherly than mine. And so--as I -grazed the sands, and after the graze went on safe again--my heart was -light with the thought that I'd got the better of him at last. - -[Illustration: "THEN I COULD USE MY EYES TO LOOK BEHIND ME"] - -There was no looking back, though, to see what had gone with him. All -my eyes were needed for my steering. Everywhere about me the sand-heavy -water was hugely rising in a great roar and tumble; and as for the -sands under it, and there the worst danger was, it was just good luck -or bad luck about striking them--and that was all that you could say. -Twice I felt a jar under me as the boat went deep in the sea-trough; -but I did not strike hard enough to hurt me, and I lifted again so -quick that I did not broach-to. And then, when I thought that I was -fairly through, and had safe water right ahead of me, there came a -bang on the boat's side--as the sea-trough took me down again--that -near stove me: and right at the side of me, so close that I could have -touched it as I lay for a second there in the deep wave-hollow, was the -stern-post of Tess's sand-bedded ship rising black out of the scum and -foam. One foot farther to leeward and the jagged iron of it would have -had me past praying for. But it did no harm to me--and as the water -covered it again I shot on beyond it into what seemed to me, after the -sea I'd hammered through, almost a mill-pond on the lee side of the -bank. - -Then I could use my eyes to look behind me: and what I saw will stay -fixed in them till the copper pennies cover them and I see with them no -more. - -In spite of his send to leeward at the start, John had come through -after me without taking the ground; but he had gone farther to leeward -than I had, and so was set--when smooth water lay close ahead of -him--fairly in death's way. As I looked back I saw only the bow of -his boat, with the scrap of sail above it, riding on the top of an -oncoming wave. Then the boat tilted forward, and came tearing down the -wave-front at a slant toward me, and I saw the whole length of her: -and what burned my eyes out was seeing Tess there, standing brave and -steady, the two hands of her gripping fast the mast. - -It was not much more than a second that I had to look at her. With a -sharp sound of wood splintering, that I heard above the noise that -the sea was making, the boat struck fair and full on that iron set -timber--and then the wave that had sent her there was playing with the -scattered bits of her, and the sand-heavy breakers were tumbling about -the bodies of the two that she had borne. - - * * * * * - -If the sea meant to give me back my dead Tess again, I knew where -I should find her--and there I did find her. On the shingle under -Covehithe Ness she was lying: come to me there at the last, as she came -to me there at the first, a sea upcast. That last time she was all -mine. There was no John left living to steal her away from me. And if -she was not mine as I wanted her, at least she never was his at all. In -that far I had my will and way over him, and for that much I am glad. - -And so, she being all my own, home along the beach for the second time -I carried her. It was a wonder to me, as she lay in my arms, how light -she was--and she so tall! - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Great Waters, by Thomas A. 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