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diff --git a/6288-h/6288-h.htm b/6288-h/6288-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e29b2c4 --- /dev/null +++ b/6288-h/6288-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8525 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + You Never Know Your Luck, by Gilbert Parker + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +Project Gutenberg's You Never Know Your Luck, Complete, by Gilbert Parker + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: You Never Know Your Luck, Complete + Being The Story Of A Matrimonial Deserter + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: October 18, 2006 [EBook #6288] +Last Updated: August 27, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU NEVER KNOW YOUR LUCK, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + YOU NEVER KNOW YOUR LUCK + </h1> + <h3> + [BEING THE STORY OF A MATRIMONIAL DESERTER] + </h3> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Gilbert Parker + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_INTR"> INTRODUCTION </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>YOU NEVER KNOW YOUR LUCK</b> </a><br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_4_0003"> PROEM </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> + CHAPTER I. </a> "PIONEERS, O PIONEERS” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> CLOSING THE DOORS + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + LOGAN TRIAL AND WHAT CAME OF IT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> + CHAPTER IV. </a> "STRENGTH SHALL BE GIVEN THEE” <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> A STORY TO BE TOLD + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> "HERE + ENDETH THE FIRST LESSON” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER + VII. </a> A WOMAN’S WAY TO KNOWLEDGE <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> ALL ABOUT AN + UNOPENED LETTER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> NIGHT + SHADE AND MORNING GLORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. + </a> "S. O. S.” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER + XI. </a> IN THE CAMP OF THE DESERTER <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> AT THE RECEIPT OF + CUSTOM <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> KITTY + SPEAKS HER MIND AGAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV. + </a> AWAITING THE VERDICT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0015"> + CHAPTER XV. </a> "MALE AND FEMALE CREATED HE THEM” <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> “‘TWAS FOR YOUR + PLEASURE YOU CAME HERE,” <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER + XVII. </a> WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT? <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a> <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_INTR" id="link2H_INTR"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + INTRODUCTION + </h2> + <p> + This volume contains two novels dealing with the life of prairie people in + the town of Askatoon in the far West. ‘The World for Sale’ and the latter + portion of ‘The Money Master’ deal with the same life, and ‘The Money + Master’ contained some of the characters to be found in ‘Wild Youth’. ‘The + World for Sale’ also was a picture of prairie country with strife between + a modern Anglo-Canadian town and a French-Canadian town in the West. These + books are of the same people; but ‘You Never Know Your Luck’ and ‘Wild + Youth’ have several characters which move prominently through both. + </p> + <p> + In the introduction to ‘The World for Sale’ in this series, I drew a + description of prairie life, and I need not repeat what was said there. + ‘In You Never Know Your Luck’ there is a Proem which describes briefly the + look of the prairie and suggests characteristics of the life of the + people. The basis of the book has a letter written by a wife to her + husband at a critical time in his career when he had broken his promise to + her. One or two critics said the situation is impossible, because no man + would carry a letter unopened for a long number of years. My reply is: + that it is exactly what I myself did. I have still a letter written to me + which was delivered at my door sixteen years ago. I have never read it, + and my reason for not reading it was that I realised, as I think, what its + contents were. I knew that the letter would annoy, and there it lies. The + writer of the letter who was then my enemy is now my friend. The chief + character in the book, Crozier, was an Irishman, with all the Irishman’s + cleverness, sensitiveness, audacity, and timidity; for both those latter + qualities are characteristic of the Irish race, and as I am half Irish I + can understand why I suppressed a letter and why Crozier did. Crozier is + the type of man that comes occasionally to the Dominion of Canada; and + Kitty Tynan is the sort of girl that the great West breeds. She did an + immoral thing in opening the letter that Crozier had suppressed, but she + did it in a good cause—for Crozier’s sake; she made his wife write + another letter, and she placed it again in the envelope for Crozier to + open and see. Whatever lack of morality there was in her act was balanced + by the good end to the story, though it meant the sacrifice of Kitty’s + love for Crozier, and the making of his wife happy once more. + </p> + <p> + As for ‘Wild Youth’ I make no apology for it. It is still fresh in the + minds of the American public, and it is true to the life. Some critics + frankly called it melodramatic. I do not object to the term. I know + nothing more melodramatic than certain of the plots of Shakespeare’s + plays. Thomas Hardy is melodramatic; Joseph Conrad is melodramatic; Balzac + was melodramatic, and so were Victor Hugo, Charles Dickens, and Sir Walter + Scott. The charge of melodrama is not one that should disturb a writer of + fiction. The question is, are the characters melodramatic. Will anyone + suggest to me the marriage of a girl of seventeen with a man over sixty is + melodramatic. It may be, but I think it tragical, and so it was in this + case. As for Orlando Guise, I describe the man as I knew him, and he is + still alive. Some comments upon the story suggested that it was impossible + for a man to spend the night on the prairie with a woman whom he loved + without causing her to forget her marriage vows. It is not sentimental to + say that is nonsense. It is a prurient mind that only sees evil in a + situation of the sort. Why it should be desirable to make a young man and + woman commit a misdemeanor to secure the praise of a critic is beyond + imagination. It would be easy enough to do. I did it in The Right of Way. + I did it in others of my books. What happens to one man and one woman does + not necessarily happen to another. There are men who, for love of a woman, + would not take advantage of her insecurity. There are others who would. In + my books I have made both classes do their will, and both are true to + life. It does not matter what one book is or is not, but it does matter + that an author writes his book with a sense of the fitting and the true. + </p> + <p> + Both these books were written to present that side of life in Canada which + is not wintry and forbidding. There is warmth of summer in both tales, and + thrilling air and the beauty of the wild countryside. As for the cold, it + is severe in most parts of Canada, but the air is dry, and the sharpness + is not felt as it is in this damper climate of England. Canadians feel the + cold of a March or November day in London far more than the cold of a day + in Winnipeg, with the thermometer many degrees below zero. Both these + books present the summer side of Canada, which is as delightful as that of + any climate in the world; both show the modern western life which is + greatly changed since the days when Pierre roamed the very fields where + these tales take place. It should never be forgotten that British Columbia + has a climate like that of England, where, on the Coast, it is never + colder than here, and where there is rain instead of snow in winter. + </p> + <p> + There is much humour and good nature in the West, and this also I tried to + bring out in these two books; and Askatoon is as cosmopolitan as London. + Canada in the West has all races, and it was consistent of me to give a + Chinaman of noble birth a part to play in the tragicomedy. I have a great + respect for the Chinaman, and he is a good servant and a faithful friend. + Such a Chinaman as Li Choo I knew in British Columbia, and all I did was + to throw him on the Eastern side of the Rockies, a few miles from the + border of the farthest Western province. The Chinaman’s death was faithful + in its detail, and it was true to his nature. He had to die, and with the + old pagan philosophy, still practised in China and Japan, he chose the + better way, to his mind. Princes still destroy themselves in old Japan, as + recent history proves. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + YOU NEVER KNOW YOUR LUCK + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PROEM + </h2> + <p> + Have you ever seen it in reaping-time? A sea of gold it is, with gentle + billows telling of sleep and not of storm, which, like regiments afoot, + salute the reaper and say, “All is fulfilled in the light of the sun and + the way of the earth; let the sharp knife fall.” The countless million + heads are heavy with fruition, and sun glorifies and breeze cradles them + to the hour of harvest. The air-like the tingle of water from a + mountain-spring in the throat of the worn wayfarer, bringing a sense of + the dust of the world flushed away. + </p> + <p> + Arcady? Look closely. Like islands in the shining yellow sea, are houses—sometimes + in a clump of trees, sometimes only like bare-backed domesticity or naked + industry in the workfield. Also rising here and there in the expanse, + clouds that wind skyward, spreading out in a powdery mist. They look like + the rolling smoke of incense, of sacrifice. Sacrifice it is. The vast + steam-threshers are mightily devouring what their servants, the monster + steam-reapers, have gleaned for them. Soon, when September comes, all that + waving sea will be still. What was gold will still be a rusted gold, but + near to the earth-the stubble of the corn now lying in vast garners by the + railway lines, awaiting transport east and west and south and across the + seas. + </p> + <p> + Not Arcady this, but a land of industry in the grip of industrialists, + whose determination to achieve riches is, in spite of themselves, + chastened by the magnitude and orderly process of nature’s travail which + is not pain. Here Nature hides her internal striving under a smother of + white for many months in every year, when what is now gold in the sun will + be a soft—sometimes, too, a hard-shining coverlet like impacted + wool. Then, instead of the majestic clouds of incense from the threshers, + will rise blue spiral wreaths of smoke from the lonely home. There the + farmer rests till spring, comforting himself in the thought that while he + waits, far under the snow the wheat is slowly expanding; and as in April, + the white frost flies out of the soil into the sun, it will push upward + and outward, green and vigorous, greeting his eye with the “What cheer, + partner!” of a mate in the scheme of nature. + </p> + <p> + Not Arcady; and yet many of the joys of Arcady are here—bright, + singing birds, wide adventurous rivers, innumerable streams, the squirrel + in the wood and the bracken, the wildcat stealing through the undergrowth, + the lizard glittering by the stone, the fish leaping in the stream, the + plaint of the whippoorwill, the call of the bluebird, the golden flash of + the oriole, the honk of the wild geese overhead, the whirr of the mallard + from the sedge. And, more than all, a human voice declaring by its joy in + song that not only God looks upon the world and finds it very good. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. “PIONEERS, O PIONEERS” + </h2> + <p> + If you had stood on the borders of Askatoon, a prairie town, on the + pathway to the Rockies one late August day not many years ago, you would + have heard a fresh young human voice singing into the morning, as its + possessor looked, from a coat she was brushing, out over the “field of the + cloth of gold,” which your eye has already been invited to see. With the + gift of singing for joy at all, you should be able to sing very joyously + at twenty-two. This morning singer was just that age; and if you had + looked at the golden carpet of wheat stretching for scores of miles, + before you looked at her, you would have thought her curiously in tone + with the scene. She was a symphony in gold—nothing less. Her hair, + her cheeks, her eyes, her skin, her laugh, her voice they were all gold. + Everything about her was so demonstratively golden that you might have had + a suspicion it was made and not born; as though it was unreal, and the + girl herself a proper subject of suspicion. The eyelashes were so long and + so black, the eyes were so topaz, the hair was so like such a cloud of + gold as would be found on Joan of Are as seen by a mediaeval painter, that + an air of faint artificiality surrounded what was in every other way a + remarkable effort of nature to give this region, where she was so very + busy, a keynote. + </p> + <p> + Poseurs have said that nature is garish or exaggerated more often than + not; but it is a libel. She is aristocratic to the nth degree, and is + never over done; courage she has, but no ostentation. There was, however, + just a slight touch of over-emphasis in this singing-girl’s presentation—that + you were bound to say, if you considered her quite apart from her place in + this nature-scheme. She was not wholly aristocratic; she was lacking in + that high, social refinement which would have made her gold not so golden, + her black eyelashes not so black. Being unaristocratic is not always a + matter of birth, though it may be a matter of parentage. + </p> + <p> + Her parentage was honest and respectable and not exalted. Her father had + been an engineer, who had lost his life on a new railway of the West. His + widow had received a pension from the company insufficient to maintain + her, and so she kept boarders, the coat of one of whom her daughter was + now brushing as she sang. The widow herself was the origin of the girl’s + slight disqualification for being of that higher circle of selection which + nature arranges long before society makes its judicial decision. The + father had been a man of high intelligence, which his daughter to a real + degree inherited; but the mother, as kind a soul as ever lived, was a + product of southern English rural life—a little sumptuous, but + wholesome, and for her daughter’s sake at least, keeping herself well and + safely within the moral pale in the midst of marked temptations. She was + forty-five, and it said a good deal for her ample but proper graces that + at forty-five she had numerous admirers. The girl was English in + appearance, with a touch perhaps of Spanish—why, who can say? Was it + because of those Spanish hidalgoes wrecked on the Irish coast long since? + Her mind and her tongue, however, were Irish like her father’s. You would + have liked her, everybody did,—yet you would have thought that + nature had failed in self-confidence for once, she was so pointedly + designed to express the ancient dame’s colour-scheme, even to the delicate + auriferous down on her youthful cheek and the purse-proud look of her + faintly retrousse nose; though in fact she never had had a purse and + scarcely needed one. In any case she had an ample pocket in her dress. + </p> + <p> + This fairly full description of her is given not because she is the most + important person in the story, but because the end of the story would have + been entirely different had it not been for her; and because she herself + was one of those who are so much the sport of circumstances or chance that + they express the full meaning of the title of this story. As a line + beneath the title explains, the tale concerns a matrimonial deserter. + Certainly this girl had never deserted matrimony, though she had on more + than one occasion avoided it; and there had been men mean and low enough + to imagine they might allure her to the conditions of matrimony without + its status. + </p> + <p> + As with her mother the advertisement of her appearance was wholly + misleading. A man had once said to her that “she looked too gay to be + good,” but in all essentials she was as good as she was gay, and indeed + rather better. Her mother had not kept boarders for seven years without + getting some useful knowledge of the world, or without imparting useful + knowledge; and there were men who, having paid their bills on demand, + turned from her wiser if not better men. Because they had pursued the old + but inglorious profession of hunting tame things, Mrs. Tyndall Tynan had + exacted compensation in one way or another—by extras, by occasional + and deliberate omission of table luxuries, and by making them pay for + their own mending, which she herself only did when her boarders behaved + themselves well. She scored in any contest—in spite of her rather + small brain, large heart, and ardent appearance. A very clever, shiftless + Irish husband had made her develop shrewdness, and she was so busy + watching and fending her daughter that she did not need to watch and fend + herself to the same extent as she would have done had she been free and + childless and thirty. The widow Tynan was practical, and she saw none of + those things which made her daughter stand for minutes at a time and look + into the distance over the prairie towards the sunset light or the + grey-blue foothills. She never sang—she had never sung a note in her + life; but this girl of hers, with a man’s coat in her hand, and eyes on + the joyous scene before her, was for ever humming or singing. She had even + sung in the church choir till she declined to do so any longer, because + strangers stared at her so; which goes to show that she was not so vain as + people of her colouring sometimes are. It was just as bad, however, when + she sat in the congregation; for then, too, if she sang, people stared at + her. So it was that she seldom went to church at all; but it was not + because of this that her ideas of right and wrong were quite individual + and not conventional, as the tale of the matrimonial deserter will show. + </p> + <p> + This was not church, however, and briskly applying a light whisk-broom to + the coat, she hummed one of the songs her father taught her when he was in + his buoyant or in his sentimental moods, and that was a fair proportion of + the time. It used to perplex her the thrilling buoyancy and the creepy + melancholy which alternately mastered her father; but as a child she had + become so inured to it that she was not surprised at the alternate pensive + gaiety and the blazing exhilaration of the particular man whose coat she + now dusted long after there remained a speck of dust upon it. This was the + song she sang: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Whereaway, whereaway goes the lad that once was mine? + Hereaway I waited him, hereaway and oft; + When I sang my song to him, bright his eyes began to shine— + Hereaway I loved him well, for my heart was soft. + + “Hereaway my heart was soft; when he kissed my happy eyes, + Held my hand, and pressed his cheek warm against my brow, + Home I saw upon the earth, heaven stood there in the skies— + ‘Whereaway, whereaway goes my lover now?’” + + “Whereaway goes my lad—tell me, has he gone alone? + Never harsh word did I speak, never hurt I gave; + Strong he was and beautiful; like a heron he has flown— + Hereaway, hereaway will I make my grave. + + “When once more the lad I loved hereaway, hereaway, + Comes to lay his hand in mine, kiss me on the brow, + I will whisper down the wind, he will weep to hear me say— + ‘Whereaway, whereaway goes my lover now?’” + </pre> + <p> + There was a plaintive quality in the voice of this russet maiden in + perfect keeping with the music and the words; and though her lips smiled, + there was a deep, wistful look in her eyes more in harmony with the coming + autumn than with this gorgeous harvest-time. + </p> + <p> + For a moment after she had finished singing she stood motionless, absorbed + by the far horizon; then suddenly she gave a little shake of the body and + said in a brisk, playfully chiding way: + </p> + <p> + “Kitty Tynan, Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!” There was no one near, so + far as eye could see, so it was clear that the words were addressed to + herself. She was expressing that wonder which so many people feel at + discovering in themselves long-concealed characteristics, or find + themselves doing things out of their natural orbit, as they think. If any + one had told Kitty Tynan that she had rare imagination, she would have + wondered what was meant. If anyone had said to her, “What are you dreaming + about, Kitty?” she would have understood, however, for she had had fits of + dreaming ever since she was a child, and they had increased during the + past few years—since the man came to live with them whose coat she + was brushing. Perhaps this was only imitation, because the man had a habit + of standing or sitting still and looking into space for minutes—and + on Sundays for hours—at a time; and often she had watched him as he + lay on his back in the long grass, head on a hillock, hat down over his + eyes, while the smoke from his pipe came curling up from beneath the rim. + Also she had seen him more than once sitting with a letter before him and + gazing at it for many minutes together. She had also noted that it was the + same letter on each occasion; that it was a closed letter, and also that + it was unstamped. She knew that, because she had seen it in his desk—the + desk once belonging to her father, a sloping thing with a green-baize top. + Sometimes he kept it locked, but very often he did not; and more than + once, when he had asked her to get him something from the desk, not out of + meanness, but chiefly because her moral standard had not a multitude of + delicate punctilios, she had examined the envelope curiously. The envelope + bore a woman’s handwriting, and the name on it was not that of the man who + owned the coat—and the letter. The name on the envelope was Shiel + Crozier, but the name of the man who owned the coat was J. G. Kerry—James + Gathorne Kerry, so he said. + </p> + <p> + Kitty Tynan had certainly enough imagination to make her cherish a + mystery. She wondered greatly what it all meant. Never in anything else + had she been inquisitive or prying where the man was concerned; but she + felt that this letter had the heart of a story, and she had made up fifty + stories which she thought would fit the case of J. G. Kerry, who for over + four years had lived in her mother’s house. He had become part of her + life, perhaps just because he was a man,—and what home is a real + home without a man?—perhaps because he always had a kind, quiet, + confidential word for her, or a word of stimulating cheerfulness; indeed, + he showed in his manner occasionally almost a boisterous hilarity. He + undoubtedly was what her mother called “a queer dick,” but also “a pippin + with a perfect core,” which was her way of saying that he was a man to be + trusted with herself and with her daughter; one who would stand loyally by + a friend or a woman. He had stood by them both when Augustus Burlingame, + the lawyer, who had boarded with them when J. G. Kerry first came, + coarsely exceeded the bounds of liberal friendliness which marked the + household, and by furtive attempts at intimacy began to make life + impossible for both mother and daughter. Burlingame took it into his head, + when he received notice that his rooms were needed for another boarder, + that J. G. Kerry was the cause of it. Perhaps this was not without reason, + since Kerry had seen Kitty Tynan angrily unclasping Burlingame’s arm from + around her waist, and had used cutting and decisive words to the + sensualist afterwards. + </p> + <p> + There had taken the place of Augustus Burlingame a land-agent—Jesse + Bulrush—who came and went like a catapult, now in domicile for three + days together, now gone for three weeks; a voluble, gaseous, humorous + fellow, who covered up a well of commercial evasiveness, honesty and + adroitness by a perspiring gaiety natural in its origin and convenient for + harmless deceit. He was fifty, and no gallant save in words; and, as a + wary bachelor of many years’ standing, it was a long time before he showed + a tendency to blandish a good-looking middle-aged nurse named Egan who + also lodged with Mrs. Tynan; though even a plain-faced nurse in uniform + has an advantage over a handsome unprofessional woman. Jesse Bulrush and + J. G. Kerry were friends—became indeed such confidential friends to + all appearance, though their social origin was evidently so different, + that Kitty Tynan, when she wished to have a pleasant conversation which + gave her a glow for hours afterwards, talked to the fat man of his lean + and aristocratic-looking friend. + </p> + <p> + “Got his head where it ought to be—on his shoulders; and it ain’t + for playing football with,” was the frequent remark of Mr. Bulrush + concerning Mr. Kerry. This always made Kitty Tynan want to sing, she could + not have told why, save that it seemed to her the equivalent of a long + history of the man whose past lay in mists that never lifted, and whom + even the inquisitive Burlingame had been unable to “discover” when he + lived in the same house. But then Kitty Tynan was as fond of singing as a + canary, and relieved her feelings constantly by this virtuous and becoming + means, with her good contralto voice. She was indeed a creature of + contradictions; for if ever any one should have had a soprano voice it was + she. She looked a soprano. + </p> + <p> + What she was thinking of as she sang with Kerry’s coat in her hand it + would be hard to discover by the process of elimination, as the detectives + say when tracking down a criminal. It is, however, of no consequence; but + it was clear that the song she sang had moved her, for there was the glint + of a tear in her eye as she turned towards the house, the words of the + lyric singing themselves over in her brain: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hereaway my heart was soft; when he kissed my happy eyes, + Held my hand, and pressed his cheek warm against my brow, + Home I saw upon the hearth, heaven stood there in the skies’ + Whereaway, whereaway goes my lover now?”’ +</pre> + <p> + She knew that no lover had left her; that none was in the habit of laying + his warm cheek against her brow; and perhaps that was why she had said + aloud to herself, “Kitty Tynan, Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!” Perhaps—and + perhaps not. + </p> + <p> + As she stepped forward towards the door she heard a voice within the + house, and she quickened her footsteps. The blood in her face, the look in + her eye quickened also. And now a figure appeared in the doorway—a + figure in shirt-sleeves, which shook a fist at the hurrying girl. + </p> + <p> + “Villain’!” he said gaily, for he was in one of his absurd, ebullient + moods—after a long talk with Jesse Bulrush. “Hither with my coat; my + spotless coat in a spotted world,—the unbelievable anomaly— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘For the earth of a dusty to-day + Is the dust of an earthy to-morrow.’” + </pre> + <p> + When he talked like this she did not understand him, but she thought it + was clever beyond thinking—a heavenly jumble. “If it wasn’t for me + you’d be carted for rubbish,” she replied joyously as she helped him on + with his coat, though he had made a motion to take it from her. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you singing—what was it?” he asked cheerily, while it could + be seen that his mind was preoccupied. The song she had sung, floating + through the air, had seemed familiar to him, while he had been greatly + engaged with a big business thing he had been planning for a long time, + with Jesse Bulrush in the background or foreground, as scout or rear-guard + or what you will: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Whereaway, whereaway goes the lad that once was mine? + Hereaway, I waited him, hereaway and oft—‘” + </pre> + <p> + she hummed with an exaggerated gaiety in her voice, for the song had + saddened her, she knew not why. At the words the flaming exhilaration of + the man’s face vanished and his eyes took on a poignant, distant look. + </p> + <p> + “That—oh, that!” he said, and with a little jerk of the head and a + clenching of the hand he moved towards the street. + </p> + <p> + “Your hat!” she called after him, and ran inside the house. An instant + later she gave it to him. Now his face was clear and his eyes smiled + kindly at her. + </p> + <p> + “‘Whereaway, hereaway’ is a wonderful song,” he said. “We used to sing it + when I was a boy—and after, and after. It’s an old song—old as + the hills. Well, thanks, Kitty Tynan. What a girl you are—to be so + kind to a fellow like—me!” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!”—these were the very words she + had used about herself a little while before. The song—why did it + make Mr. Kerry take on such a queer look all at once when he heard it? + Kitty watched him striding down the street into the town. + </p> + <p> + Now a voice—a rich, quizzical, kindly voice-called out to her: + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, Miss Tynan, I want to be helped on with my coat,” it said. + </p> + <p> + Inside the house a fat, awkward man was struggling, or pretending to + struggle, into his coat. + </p> + <p> + “Roll into it, Mr. Rolypoly,” she answered cheerily as she entered. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I’m not the star boarder—nothing for me!” he said in + affected protest. + </p> + <p> + “A little more to starboard and you’ll get it on,” she retorted with a + glint of her late father’s raillery, and she gave the coat a twitch which + put it right on the ample shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Bully! bully!” he cried. “I’ll give you the tip for the Askatoon cup.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m a Christian. I hate horse-racers and gamblers,” she returned + mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll turn Christian—I want to be loved,” he bleated from the + doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Roll on, proud porpoise!” she rejoined, which shows that her conversation + was not quite aristocratic at all times. + </p> + <p> + “Golly, but she’s a gold dollar in a gold bank,” remarked Jesse Bulrush + warmly as he lurched into the street. + </p> + <p> + The girl stood still in the middle of the room looking dreamily down the + way the two men had gone. + </p> + <p> + The quiet of the late summer day surrounded her. She heard the dizzy din + of the bees, the sleepy grinding of the grass hoppers, the sough of the + solitary pine at the door, and then behind them all a whizzing, + machine-like sound. This particular sound went on and on. + </p> + <p> + She opened the door of the next room. Her mother sat at a sewing-machine + intent upon some work, the needle eating up a spreading piece of cloth. + </p> + <p> + “What are you making, mother?” Kitty asked. “New blinds for Mr. Kerry’s + bedroom-he likes this green colour,” the widow added with a slight flush, + due to leaning over the sewing-machine, no doubt. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody does everything for him,” remarked the girl almost pettishly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a nice spirit, I must say!” replied her mother reprovingly, the + machine almost stopping. + </p> + <p> + “If I said it in a different way it would be all right,” the other + returned with a smile, and she repeated the words with a winning soft + inflection, like a born actress. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty-Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!” declared her mother, and she + bent smiling over the machine, which presently buzzed on its devouring + way. Three people had said the same thing within a few minutes. A look of + pleasure stole over the girl’s face, and her bosom rose and fell with a + happy sigh. Somehow it was quite a wonderful day for her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. CLOSING THE DOORS + </h2> + <p> + There are many people who, in some subtle psychological way, are very like + their names; as though some one had whispered to “the parents of this + child” the name designed for it from the beginning of time. So it was with + Shiel Crozier. Does not the name suggest a man lean and flat, sinewy, + angular and isolated like a figure in one of El Greco’s pictures in the + Prado at Madrid? Does not the name suggest a figure of elongated humanity + with a touch of ancient mysticism and yet also of the fantastical humour + of Don Quixote? + </p> + <p> + In outward appearance Shiel Crozier, otherwise J. G. Kerry, of Askatoon, + was like his name for the greater part of the time. Take him in repose, + and he looked a lank ascetic who dreamed of a happy land where + flagellation was a joy and pain a panacea. In action, however, as when + Kitty Tynan helped him on with his coat, he was a pure improvisation of + nature. He had a face with a Cromwellian mole, which broke out in emotion + like an April day, with eyes changing from a blue-grey to the deepest + ultramarine that ever delighted the soul and made the reputation of an Old + Master. Even in the prairie town of Askatoon, where every man is so busy + that he scarcely knows his own children when he meets them, and almost + requires an introduction to his wife when the door closes on them at + bedtime, people took a second look at him when he passed. Many who came in + much direct contact with him, as Augustus Burlingame the lawyer had done, + tried to draw from him all there was to tell about himself; which is a + friendly custom of the far West. The native-born greatly desire to tell + about themselves. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, and are + childlike in the frank recitals of all they were and are and hope to be. + This covers up also a good deal of business acumen, shrewdness, and + secretiveness which is not so childlike and bland. + </p> + <p> + In this they are in sharp contrast to those not native-born. These come + from many places on the earth, and they are seldom garrulously historical. + Some of them go to the prairie country to forget they ever lived before, + and to begin the world again, having been hurt in life undeservingly; some + go to bury their mistakes or worse in pioneer work and adventure; some + flee from a wrath that would devour them—the law, society, or a + woman. + </p> + <p> + This much must be said at once for Crozier, that he had no crime to hide. + It was not because of crime that “He buckles up his talk like the + bellyband on a broncho,” as Malachi Deely, the exile from Tralee, said of + him; and Deely was a man of “horse-sense,” no doubt because he was a + horse-doctor—“a veterenny surgeon,” as his friends called him when + they wished to flatter him. Deely supplemented this chaste remark about + the broncho with the observation that, “Same as the broncho, you buckle + him tightest when you know the divil is stirring in his underbrush.” And + he added further, “‘Tis a woman that’s put the mumplaster on his tongue, + Sibley, and I bet you a hundred it’s another man’s wife.” + </p> + <p> + Like many a speculator, Malachi Deely would have made no profit out of his + bet in the end, for Shiel Crozier had had no trouble with the law, or with + another man’s wife, nor yet with any single maid—not yet; though + there was now Kitty Tynan in his path. Yet he had had trouble. There was + hint of it in his occasional profound abstraction; but more than all else + in the fact that here he was, a gentleman, having lived his life for over + four years past as a sort of horse-expert, overseer, and stud-manager for + Terry Brennan, the absentee millionaire. In the opinion of the West, + “big-bugs” did not come down to this kind of occupation unless they had + been roughly handled by fate or fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Talk? Watch me now, he talks like a testimonial in a frame,” said Malachi + Deely on the day this tale opens, to John Sibley, the gambling young + farmer who, strange to say, did well out of both gambling and farming. + </p> + <p> + “Words to him are like nuts to a monkey. He’s an artist, that man is. Been + in the circles where the band plays good and soft, where the music smells—fairly + smells like parfumery,” responded Sibley. “I’d like to get at the bottom + of him. There’s a real good story under his asbestos vest—something + that’d make a man call for the oh-be-joyful, same as I do now.” + </p> + <p> + After they had seen the world through the bottom of a tumbler Deely + continued the gossip. “Watch me now, been a friend of dukes in England—and + Ireland, that Mr. James Gathorne Kerry, as any one can see; and there he + is feelin’ the hocks of a filly or openin’ the jaws of a stud horse, + age-hunting! Why, you needn’t tell me—I’ve had my mind made up ever + since the day he broke the temper of Terry Brennan’s Inniskillen chestnut, + and won the gold cup with her afterwards. He just sort of appeared out of + the mist of the marnin’, there bein’ a divil’s lot of excursions and + conferences and holy gatherin’s in Askatoon that time back, ostensible for + the business which their names denote, like the Dioceesan Conference and + the Pure White Water Society. That was their bluff; but they’d come + herealong for one good pure white dioceesan thing before all, and that was + to see the dandiest horse-racing which ever infested the West. Come—he + come like that!”—Deely made a motion like a swoop of an aeroplane to + earth—“and here he is buckin’ about like a rough-neck same as you + and me; but yet a gent, a swell, a cream della cream, that’s turned his + back on a lady—a lady not his own wife, that’s my sure and sacred + belief.” + </p> + <p> + “You certainly have got women on the brain,” retorted Sibley. “I ain’t + ever seen such a man as you. There never was a woman crossing the street + on a muddy day that you didn’t sprint to get a look at her ankles. Behind + everything you see a woman. Horses is your profession, but woman is your + practice.” + </p> + <p> + “There ain’t but one thing worth livin’ for, and that’s a woman,” remarked + Deely. + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell Mrs. Deely that?” asked Sibley. + </p> + <p> + “Watch me now, she knows. What woman is there don’t know when her husband + is what he is! And it’s how I know that the trouble with James Gathorne + Kerry is a woman. I know the signs. Divils me own, he’s got ‘em in his + face.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s got in his face what don’t belong here and what you don’t know much + about—never having kept company with that sort,” rejoined Sibley. + </p> + <p> + “The way he lives and talks—‘No, thank you, I don’t care for any + thing,’ says he, when you’re standin’ at the door of a friendly saloon, + which is established by law to bespeak peace and goodwill towards men, and + you ask him pleasant to step inside. He don’t seem to have a single vice. + Haven’t we tried him? There was Belle Bingley, all frizzy hair and a + kicker; we put her on to him. But he give her ten dollars to buy a hat on + condition she behaved like a lady in the future—smilin’ at her, the + divil! And Belle, with temper like dinnemite, took it kneelin’ as it were, + and smiled back at him—her! Drink, women—nothin’ seems to have + a hold on him. What’s his vice? Sure, then, that’s what I say, what’s his + vice? He’s got to have one; any man as is a man has to have one vice.” + </p> + <p> + “Bosh! Look at me,” rejoined Sibley. “Drink women—nit! Not for me! + I’ve got no vice. I don’t even smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “No vice? Begobs, yours has got you like a tire on a wheel! Vice—what + do you call gamblin’? It’s the biggest vice ever tuk grip of a man. It’s + like a fever, and it’s got you, John, like the nail on your finger.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, p’r’aps, he’s got that vice too. P’r’aps J. G. Kerry’s got that + vice same as me.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, we’ll get to know all we want when he goes into the witness box + at the Logan murder trial next week. That’s what I’m waitin’ for,” Deely + returned, with a grin of anticipation. “That drug-eating Gus Burlingame’s + got a grudge against him somehow, and when a lawyer’s got a grudge against + you it’s just as well to look where y’ are goin’. Burlingame don’t care + what he does to get his way in court. What set him against Kerry I ain’t + sure, but, bedad, I think it’s looks. Burlingame goes in for lookin’ like + a picture in a frame—gold seals hangin’ beyant his vestpocket, broad + silk cord to his eye-glass, loose flowin’ tie, and long hair-makes him + look pretentuous and showy. But your ‘Mr. Kerry, sir,’ he don’t have any + tricks to make him look like a doge from Veenis and all the eyes of the + females battin’ where’er he goes. Jealousy, John Sibley, me boy, is a + cruil thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Why is it you ain’t jealous of him? There’s plenty of women that watch + you go down-town—you got a name for it, anyway,” remarked Sibley + maliciously. + </p> + <p> + Deely nodded sagely. “Watch me now, that’s right, me boy. I got a name for + it, but I want the game without the name, and that’s why I ain’t puttin’ + on any airs—none at all. I depend on me tongue, not on me looks, + which goes against me. I like Mr. J. G. Kerry. I’ve plenty dealin’s with + him, naturally, both of us being in the horse business, and I say he’s + right as a minted dollar as he goes now. Also, and behold, I’d take my + oath he never done anything to blush for. His touble’s been a woman—wayward + woman what stoops to folly! I give up tryin’ to pump him just as soon as I + made up my mind it was a woman. That shuts a man’s mouth like a poor-box. + </p> + <p> + “Next week’s fixed for the Logan killin’ case, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Monday comin’, for sure. I wouldn’t like to be in Mr. Kerry’s shoes. + Watch me now, if he gives the evidence they say he can give—the + prasecution say it—that M’Mahon Gang behind Logan ‘ll get him sure + as guns, one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “Some one ought to give Mr. Kerry the tip to get out and not give + evidence,” remarked Sibley sagely. Deely shook his head vigorously. + “Begobs, he’s had the tip all right, but he’s not goin’. He’s got as much + fear as a canary has whiskers. He doesn’t want to give evidence, he says, + but he wants to see the law do its work. Burlingame ‘ll try to make it out + manslaughter; but there’s a widow with children to suffer for the + manslaughter, just as much as though it was murder, and there isn’t a man + that doesn’t think murder was the game, and the grand joory had that idea + too. + </p> + <p> + “Between Gus Burlingame and that M’Mahon bunch of horse-thieves, the + stranger in a strange land ‘ll have to keep his eyes open, I’m thinkin’.” + </p> + <p> + “Divils me darlin’, his eyes are open all right,” returned Deely. + </p> + <p> + “Still, I’d like to jog his elbow,” Sibley answered reflectively. “It + couldn’t do any harm, and it might do good.” + </p> + <p> + Deely nodded good-naturedly. “If you want to so bad as that, John, you’ve + got the chance, for he’s up at the Sovereign Bank now. I seen him leave + the Great Overland Railway Bureau ten minutes ago and get away quick to + the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s he got on at the bank and the railway?” + </p> + <p> + “Some big deal, I guess. I’ve seen him with Studd Bradley.” + </p> + <p> + “The Great North Trust Company boss?” + </p> + <p> + “On it, my boy, on it—the other day as thick as thieves. Studd + Bradley doesn’t knit up with an outsider from the old country unless + there’s reason for it—good gold-currency reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “A land deal, eh?” ventured Sibley. “What did I say—speculation, + that’s his vice, same as mine! P’r’aps that’s what ruined him. Cards, + speculation, what’s the difference? And he’s got a quiet look, same as + me.” + </p> + <p> + Deely laughed loudly. “And bursts out same as you! Quiet one hour like a + mill-pond or a well, and then—swhish, he’s blazin’! He’s a volcano + in harness, that spalpeen.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s a volcano that doesn’t erupt when there’s danger,” responded Sibley. + “It’s when there’s just fun on that his volcano gets loose. I’ll go wait + for him at the bank. I got a fellow-feeling for Mr. Kerry. I’d like to + whisper in his ear that he’d better be lookin’ sharp for the M’Mahon Gang, + and that if he’s a man of peace he’d best take a holiday till after next + week, or get smallpox or something.” + </p> + <p> + The two friends lounged slowly up the street, and presently parted near + the door of the bank. As Sibley waited, his attention was drawn to a + window on the opposite side of the street at an angle from themselves. The + light was such that the room was revealed to its farthest corners, and + Sibley noted that three men were evidently carefully watching the bank, + and that one of the men was Studd Bradley, the so-called boss. The others + were local men of some position commercially and financially in the town. + Sibley did not give any sign that he noticed the three men, but he watched + carefully from under the rim of his hat. His imagination, however, read a + story of consequence in the secretive vigilance of the three, who + evidently thought that, standing far back in the room, they could not be + seen. + </p> + <p> + Presently the door of the bank opened, and Sibley saw Studd Bradley lean + forward eagerly, then draw back and speak hurriedly to his companions, + using a gesture of satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Something damn funny there!” Sibley said to himself, and stepped forward + to Crozier with a friendly exclamation. Crozier turned rather impatiently, + for his face was aflame with some exciting reflection. At this moment his + eyes were the deepest blue that could be imagined—an almost + impossible colour, like that of the Mediterranean when it reflects the + perfect sapphire of the sky. There was something almost wonderful in their + expression. A woman once said as she looked at a picture of Herschel, + whose eyes had the unworldly gaze of the great dreamer looking beyond this + sphere, “The stars startled him.” Such a look was in Crozier’s eyes now, + as though he was seeing the bright end of a long road, the desire of his + soul. + </p> + <p> + That, indeed, was what he saw. After two years of secret negotiation he + had (inspired by information dropped by Jesse Bulrush, his fellow-boarder) + made definite arrangements for a big land-deal in connection with the + route of a new railway and a town-site, which would mean more to him than + any one could know. If it went through, he would, for an investment of ten + thousand dollars, have a hundred and fifty thousand dollars; and that + would solve an everlasting problem for him. + </p> + <p> + He had reached a critical point in his enterprise. All that was wanted now + was ten thousand dollars in cash to enable him to close the great bargain + and make his hundred and fifty thousand. But to want ten thousand dollars + and to get it in a given space of time, when you have neither securities, + cash, nor real estate, is enough to keep you awake at night. Crozier had + been so busy with the delicate and difficult negotiations that he had not + deeply concerned himself with the absence of the necessary ten thousand + dollars. He thought he could get the money at any time, so good was the + proposition; and it was best to defer raising it to the last moment lest + some one learning the secret should forestall him. He must first have the + stake to be played for before he moved to get the cash with which to make + the throw. This is not generally thought a good way, but it was his way, + and it had yet to be tested. + </p> + <p> + There was no cloud of apprehension, however, in Crozier’s eyes as they met + those of Sibley. He liked Sibley. At this point it is not necessary to say + why. The reason will appear in due time. Sibley’s face had always + something of that immobility and gravity which Crozier’s face had part of + the time-paler, less intelligent, with dark lines and secret shadows + absent from Crozier’s face; but still with some of the El Greco + characteristics which marked so powerfully that of the man who passed as + J. G. Kerry. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Sibley,” he said, “glad to see you! Anything I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the other way if there’s any doing at all,” was the quick response. + </p> + <p> + “Well, let’s walk along together,” remarked Crozier a little abstractedly, + for he was thinking hard about his great enterprise. + </p> + <p> + “We might be seen,” said Sibley, with an obvious undermeaning meant to + provoke a question. + </p> + <p> + Crozier caught the undertone of suggestion. “Being about to burgle the + bank, it’s well not to be seen together—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m not in on that business, Mr. Kerry. I’m for breaking banks, not + burgling ‘em,” was the cheerful reply. + </p> + <p> + They laughed, but Crozier knew that the observant gambling farmer was not + talking at haphazard. They had met on the highway, as it were, many times + since Crozier had come to Askatoon, and Crozier knew his man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what are we going to do, and who will see us if we do it?” Crozier + asked briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Studd Bradley and his secret-service corps have got their eyes on this + street—and on you,” returned Sibley dryly. + </p> + <p> + Crozier’s face sobered and his eyes became less emotional. “I don’t see + them anywhere,” he answered, but looking nowhere. + </p> + <p> + “They’re in Gus Burlingame’s office. They had you under observation while + you were in the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn’t run off with the land, could I?” Crozier remarked dryly, yet + suggestively, in his desire to see how much Sibley knew. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you said it was a bank. I’ve no more idea what it is you’re tryin’ + to run off with than I know what an ace is goin’ to do when there’s a + joker in the pack,” remarked Sibley; “but I thought I’d tell you that + Bradley and his lot are watchin’ you gettin’ ready to run.” Then he + hastily told what he had seen. + </p> + <p> + Crozier was reassured. It was natural that Bradley & Co. should take + an interest in his movements. They would make a pile of money if he pulled + off the deal-far more than he would. It was not strange that they should + watch his invasion of the bank. They knew he wanted money, and a bank was + the place to get it. That was the way he viewed the matter on the instant. + He replied to Sibley cheerfully. “A hundred to one is a lot when you win + it,” he said enigmatically. + </p> + <p> + “It depends on how much you have on,” was Sibley’s quiet reply—“a + dollar or a thousand dollars. + </p> + <p> + “If you’ve got a big thing on, and you’ve got an outsider that you think + is goin’ to win and beat the favourite, it’s just as well to run no risks. + Believe me, Mr. Kerry, if you’ve got anything on that asks for your + attention, it’d be sense and saving if you didn’t give evidence at the + Logan Trial next week. It’s pretty well-guessed what you’re goin’ to say + and what you know, and you take it from me, the M’Mahon mob that’s behind + Logan ‘ll have it in for you. They’re terrors when they get goin’, and if + your evidence puts one of that lot away, ther’ll be trouble for you. I + wouldn’t do it—honest, I wouldn’t. I’ve been out West here a good + many years, and I know the place and the people. It’s a good place, and + there’s lots of first-class people here, but there’s a few offscourings + that hang like wolves on the edge of the sheepfold, ready to murder and + git.” + </p> + <p> + “That was what you wanted to see me about, wasn’t it?” Crozier asked + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the other was just a shot on the chance. I don’t like to see men + sneakin’ about and watching. If they do, you can bet there’s something + wrong. But the other thing, the Logan Trial business, is a dead certainty. + You’re only a new-comer, in a kind of way, and you don’t need to have the + same responsibility as the rest. The Law’ll get what it wants whether you + chip in or not. Let it alone. What’s the Law ever done for you that you + should run risks for it? It’s straight talk, Mr. Kerry. Have a cancer in + the bowels next week or go off to see a dyin’ brother, but don’t give + evidence at the Logan Trial—don’t do it. I got a feeling—I’m + superstitious—all sportsmen are. By following my instincts I’ve + saved myself a whole lot in my time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; all men that run chances have their superstitions, and they’re not + to be sneered at,” replied Crozier thoughtfully. “If you see black, don’t + play white; if you see a chestnut crumpled up, put your money on the bay + even when the chestnut is a favourite. Of course you’re superstitious, + Sibley. The tan and the green baize are covered with ghosts that want to + help you, if you’ll let them.” + </p> + <p> + Sibley’s mouth opened in amazement. Crozier was speaking with the look of + the man who hypnotises himself, who “sees things,” who dreams as only the + gambler and the plunger on the turf do dream, not even excepting the + latter-day Irish poets. + </p> + <p> + “Say, I was right what I said to Deely—I was right,” remarked Sibley + almost huskily, for it seemed to him as though he had found a long-lost + brother. No man except one who had staked all he had again and again could + have looked or spoken like that. + </p> + <p> + Crozier looked at the other thoughtfully for a moment, then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what you said to Deely, but I do know that I’m going to the + Logan Trial in spite of the M’Mahon mob. I don’t feel about it as you do. + I’ve got a different feeling, Sibley. I’ll play the game out. I shall not + hedge. I shall not play for safety. It’s everything on the favourite this + time.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ll excuse me, but Gus Burlingame is for the defence, and he’s got his + knife into you,” returned Sibley. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet.” Crozier smiled sardonically. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I apologise, but what I’ve said, Mr. Kerry, is said as man to man. + You’re ridin’ game in a tough place, as any man has to do who starts with + only his pants and his head on. That’s the way you begun here, I guess; + and I don’t want to see your horse tumble because some one throws a + fence-rail at its legs. Your class has enemies always in a new country—jealousy, + envy.” + </p> + <p> + The lean, aristocratic, angular Crozier, with a musing look on his long + face, grown ascetic again, as he held out his hand and gripped that of the + other, said warmly: “I’m just as much obliged to you as though I took your + advice, Sibley. I am not taking it, but I am taking a pledge to return the + compliment to you if ever I get the chance.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, most men get chances of that kind,” was the gratified reply of the + gambling farmer, and then Crozier turned quickly and entered the doorway + of the British Bank, the rival of that from which he had turned in brave + disappointment a little while before. + </p> + <p> + Left alone in the street, Sibley looked back with the instinct of the + hunter. As he expected, he saw a head thrust out from the window where + Studd Bradley and his friends had been. There was an hotel opposite the + British Bank. He entered and waited. Bradley and one of his companions + presently came in and seated themselves far back in the shadow, where they + could watch the doorway of the bank. + </p> + <p> + It was quite a half-hour before Shiel Crozier emerged from the bank. His + face was set and pale. For an instant he stood as though wondering which + way to go, then he moved up the street the way he had come. + </p> + <p> + Sibley heard a low, poisonous laugh of triumph rankle through the hotel + office. He turned round. Bradley, the over-fed, over-confident, + over-estimated financier, laid a hand on the shoulder of his companion as + they moved towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “That’s another gate shut,” he said. “I guess we can close ‘em all with a + little care. It’s working all right. He’s got no chance of raising the + cash,” he added, as the two passed the chair where Sibley sat—with + his hat over his eyes, chewing an unlighted cigar. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what it is, but it’s dirt—and muck at that,” John + Sibley remarked as he rose from his chair and followed the two into the + street. + </p> + <p> + Bradley and his friends were trying steadily to close up the avenues of + credit to the man to whom the success of his enterprise meant so much. To + crowd him out would mean an extra hundred and fifty thousand dollars for + themselves. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE LOGAN TRIAL AND WHAT CAME OF IT + </h2> + <p> + What the case was in which Shiel Crozier was to give evidence is not + important; what came from the giving of his testimony is all that matters; + and this story would never have been written if he had not entered the + witness-box. + </p> + <p> + A court-room at any time seems a little warmer than any other spot to all + except the prisoner; but on a July day it is likely to be a punishment for + both innocent and guilty. A man had been killed by one of the group of + toughs called locally the M’Mahon Gang, and against the charge of murder + that of manslaughter had been set up in defence; and manslaughter might + mean jail for a year or two or no jail at all. Any evidence which + justified the charge of murder would mean not jail, but the rope in due + course; for this was not Montana or Idaho, where the law’s delays + outlasted even the memory of the crime committed. + </p> + <p> + The court-room of Askatoon was crowded to suffocation, for the M’Mahons + were detested, and the murdered man had a good reputation in the district. + Besides, a widow and three children mourned their loss, and the widow was + in court. Also Crozier’s evidence was expected to be sensational, and to + prove the swivel on which the fate of the accused man would hang. Among + those on the inside it was also known that the clever but dissipated + Augustus Burlingame, the counsel for the prisoner, had a grudge against + Crozier,—no one quite knew why except Kitty Tynan and her mother, + and that cross-examination would be pressed mercilessly when Crozier + entered the witness-box. As Burlingame came into the court-room he said to + the Young Doctor—he was always spoken of as the Young Doctor in + Askatoon, though he had been there a good many years and he was no longer + as young as he looked—who was also called as a witness, “We’ll know + more about Mr. J. G. Kerry when this trial is over than will suit his + book.” It did not occur to Augustus Burlingame that in Crozier, who knew + why he had fled the house of the showy but virtuous Mrs. Tynan, he might + find a witness of a mental and moral calibre with baffling qualities and + some gift of riposte. + </p> + <p> + Crozier entered the witness-box at a stage when excitement was at fever + height; for the M’Mahon Gang had given evidence which every one believed + to be perjured; and the widow of the slain man was weeping bitterly in her + seat because of noxious falsehoods sworn against her honest husband. + </p> + <p> + There was certainly something credible and prepossessing in the look of + Crozier. He might be this or that, but he carried no evil or vice of + character in his face. He was in his grave mood this summer afternoon. + There he stood with his long face and the very heavy eyebrows, + clean-shaven, hard-bitten, as though by wind and weather, composed and + forceful, the mole on his chin a kind of challenge to the vertical dimple + in his cheek, his high forehead more benevolent than intellectual, his + brown hair faintly sprinkled with grey and a bit unmanageable, his + fathomless eyes shining. “No man ought to have such eyes,” remarked a + woman present to the Young Doctor, who abstractedly nodded assent, for, + like Malachi Deely and John Sibley, he himself had a theory about Crozier; + and he had a fear of what the savage enmity of the morally diseased + Burlingame might do. He had made up his mind that so intense a + scrupulousness as Crozier had shown since coming to Askatoon had behind it + not only character, but the rigidity of a set purpose; and that view was + supported by the stern economy of Crozier’s daily life, broken only by + sudden bursts of generosity for those in need. + </p> + <p> + In the box Crozier kept his eye on the crown attorney, who prosecuted, and + on the judge. He appeared not to see any one in the court-room, though + Kitty Tynan had so placed herself that he must see her if he looked at the + audience at all. Kitty thought him magnificent as he told his story with a + simple parsimony but a careful choice of words which made every syllable + poignant with effect. She liked him in his grave mood even better than + when he was aflame with an internal fire of his own creation, when he was + almost wildly vivid with life. + </p> + <p> + “He’s two men,” she had often said to herself; and she said it now as she + looked at him in the witness-box, measuring out his words and measuring + off at the same time the span of a murderer’s life; for when the crown + attorney said to the judge that he had concluded his examination there was + no one in the room—not even the graceless Burlingame—who did + not think the prisoner guilty. + </p> + <p> + “That is all,” the crown attorney said to Crozier as he sank into his + chair, greatly pleased with one of the best witnesses who had ever been + through his hands—lucid, concentrated, exact, knowing just where he + was going and reaching his goal without meandering. Crozier was about to + step down when Burlingame rose. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to ask a few questions,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Crozier bowed and turned, again grasping the rail of the witness-box with + one hand, while with an air of cogitation and suspense he stroked his chin + with the long fingers of the other hand. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked Burlingame in a tone a little louder than he + had used hitherto in the trial, indeed even louder than lawyers generally + use when they want to bully a witness. In this case it was as though he + wished to summon the attention of the court. + </p> + <p> + For a second Crozier’s fingers caught his chin almost spasmodically. The + real meaning of the question, what lay behind it, flashed to his mind. He + saw in lightning illumination the course Burlingame meant to pursue. For a + moment his heart seemed to stand still, and he turned slightly pale, but + the blue of his eyes took on a new steely look—a look also of + striking watchfulness, as of an animal conscious of its danger, yet + conscious too of its power when at bay. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” Burlingame asked again in a somewhat louder tone, and + turned to look at the jury, as if bidding them note the hesitation of the + witness; though, indeed, the waiting was so slight that none but a + trickster like Burlingame would have taken advantage of it, and only then + when there was much behind. + </p> + <p> + For a moment longer Crozier remained silent, getting strength, as it were, + and saying to himself, “What does he know?” and then, with a composed look + of inquiry at the judge, who appeared to take no notice, he said: “I have + already, in evidence, given my name to the court.” + </p> + <p> + “Witness, what is your name?” again almost shouted the lawyer, with a note + of indignation in his voice, as though here was a dangerous fellow + committing a misdemeanour in their very presence. He spread out his hands + to the jury, as though bidding them observe, if they would, this witness + hesitating in answer to a simple, primary question—a witness who had + just sworn a man’s life away! + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “James Gathorne Kerry, as I have already given it to the court,” was the + calm reply. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live?” + </p> + <p> + “In Askatoon, as I have already said in evidence; and if it is necessary + to give my domicile, I live at the house of Mrs. Tyndall Tynan, Pearl + Street—as you know so well.” + </p> + <p> + The tone in which he uttered the last few words was such that even the + judge pricked up his ears. + </p> + <p> + A look of hatred came into the decadent but able lawyer’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Where do you live when you are at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tynan’s house is the only home I have at present.” + </p> + <p> + He was outwitting the pursuer so far, but it only gained him time, as he + knew; and he knew also that no suggestive hint concerning the episode at + Mrs. Tynan’s, when Burlingame was asked to leave her house, would be of + any avail now. + </p> + <p> + “Where were you born?” + </p> + <p> + “In Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “What part of Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “County Kerry.” + </p> + <p> + “What place—what town or city or village in County Kerry?” + </p> + <p> + “In neither.” + </p> + <p> + “What house, then—what estate?” Burlingame was more than nettled; + and he sharpened his sword. + </p> + <p> + “The estate of Castlegarry.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your name in Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + In the short silence that followed, the quick-drawn breath of many excited + and some agitated people could be heard. Among the latter were Mrs. Tynan + and her daughter and Malachi Deely; among those who held their breath in + suspense were John Sibley, Studd Bradley the financier, and the Young + Doctor. The swish of a skirt seemed ridiculously loud in the hush, and the + scratching of the judge’s quill pen was noisily irritating. + </p> + <p> + “My name in Ireland was James Shiel Gathorne Crozier, commonly called + Shiel Crozier,” came the even reply from the witness-box. + </p> + <p> + “James Shiel Gathorne Crozier in Ireland, but James Gathorne Kerry here!” + Burlingame turned to the jury significantly. “What other name have you + been known by in or out of Ireland?” he added sharply to Crozier. “No + other name so far as I know.” + </p> + <p> + “No other name so far as you know,” repeated the lawyer in a sarcastic + tone intended to impress the court. + </p> + <p> + “Who was your father?” + </p> + <p> + “John Gathorne Crozier.” + </p> + <p> + “Any title?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a baronet.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his business?” + </p> + <p> + “He had no profession, though he had business, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, he lived by his wits?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he was not a lawyer! I have said he had no profession. He lived on + his money on his estate.” + </p> + <p> + The judge waved down the laughter at Burlingame’s expense. + </p> + <p> + “In official documents what was his description?” snarled Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “‘Gentleman’ was his designation in official documents.” + </p> + <p> + “You, then, were the son of a gentleman?” There was a hateful suggestion + in the tone. + </p> + <p> + “I was.” + </p> + <p> + “A legitimate son?” + </p> + <p> + Nothing in Crozier’s face showed what he felt, except his eyes, and they + had a look in them which might well have made his questioner shrink. He + turned calmly to the judge. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour, does this bear upon the case? Must I answer this legal + libertine?” + </p> + <p> + At the word libertine, the judge, the whole court, and the audience + started; but it was presently clear the witness meant that the questioner + was abusing his legal privileges, though the people present interpreted it + another way, and quite rightly. + </p> + <p> + The reply of the judge was in favour of the lawyer. “I do not quite see + the full significance of the line of defence, but I think I must allow the + question,” was the judge’s gentle and reluctant reply, for he was greatly + impressed by this witness, by his transparent honesty and + straightforwardness. + </p> + <p> + “Were you a legitimate son of John Gathorne Crozier and his wife?” asked + Burlingame. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, a legitimate son,” answered Crozier in an even voice. + </p> + <p> + “Is John Gathorne Crozier still living?” + </p> + <p> + “I said that gentleman was his designation in official documents. I + supposed that would convey the fact that he was not living, but I see you + do not quickly grasp a point.” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame was stung by the laughter in the court and ventured a riposte. + </p> + <p> + “But is once a gentleman always a gentleman an infallible rule?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose not; I did not mean to convey that; but once a rogue always a + bad lawyer holds good in every country,” was Crozier’s comment in a low, + quiet voice which stirred and amused the audience again. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask counsel to put questions which have some relevance even to his + own line of defence,” remarked the judge sternly. “This is not a corner + grocery.” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame bowed. He had had a facer, but he had also shown the witness to + have been living under an assumed name. That was a good start. He hoped to + add to the discredit. He had absolutely no knowledge of Crozier’s origin + and past; but he was in a position to find it out if Crozier told the + truth on oath, and he was sure he would. + </p> + <p> + “Where was your domicile in the old country?” Burlingame asked. + </p> + <p> + “In County Kerry—with a flat in London.” + </p> + <p> + “An estate in County Kerry?” + </p> + <p> + “A house and two thousand acres.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it your property still?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not.” + </p> + <p> + “You sold it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “If you did not sell, how is it that you do not own it?” + </p> + <p> + “It was sold for me—in spite of me.” + </p> + <p> + The judge smiled, the people smiled, the jury smiled. Truly, though a + life-history was being exposed with incredible slowness—“like + pulling teeth,” as the Young Doctor said—it was being touched off + with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You were in debt?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get into debt?” + </p> + <p> + “By spending more than my income.” + </p> + <p> + If Askatoon had been proud of its legal talent in the past it had now + reason for revising its opinion. Burlingame was frittering away the effect + of his inquiry by elaboration of details. What he gained by the main + startling fact he lost in the details by which the witness scored. He + asked another main question. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “To make money.” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t do it there?” + </p> + <p> + “They were too many for me over there, so I thought I’d come here,” slyly + answered Crozier, and with a grave face; at which the solemn scene of a + prisoner being tried for his life was shaken by a broad smiling, which in + some cases became laughter haughtily suppressed by the court attendant. + </p> + <p> + “Have you made money here?” + </p> + <p> + “A little—with expectations.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your income in Ireland?” + </p> + <p> + “It began with three thousand pounds—” + </p> + <p> + “Fifteen thousand dollars about?” + </p> + <p> + “About that—about a lawyer’s fee for one whisper to a client less + than that. It began with that and ended with nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you escaped?” + </p> + <p> + “From creditors, lawyers, and other such? No, I found you here.” + </p> + <p> + The judge intervened again almost harshly on the laughter of the court, + with the remark that a man was being tried for his life; that ribaldry was + out of place; and that, unless the course pursued by the counsel was to + discredit the reliability of the character of the witness, the examination + was in excess of the privilege of counsel. + </p> + <p> + “Your honour has rightly apprehended what my purpose is,” Burlingame said + deprecatingly. He then turned to Crozier again, and his voice rose as it + did when he began the examination. It was as though he was starting all + over again. + </p> + <p> + “What was it compelled” (he was boldly venturing) “you to leave Ireland at + last? What was the incident which drove you out from the land where you + were born—from being the owner of two thousand acres”— + </p> + <p> + “Partly bog,” interposed Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “—From being the owner of two thousand acres to becoming a kind of + head-groom on a ranch? What was the cause of your flight?” + </p> + <p> + “Flight! I came in one of the steamers of the Company for which your firm + are the agents. Eleven days it took to come from Glasgow to Quebec.” + </p> + <p> + Again the court rippled, again the attendant intervened. + </p> + <p> + Burlingame was nonplussed this time, but he gathered himself together. + </p> + <p> + “What was the process of law which forced you to leave your own land?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all.” + </p> + <p> + “What were your debts when you left?” + </p> + <p> + “None at all.” + </p> + <p> + “How much was the last debt you paid?” + </p> + <p> + “Two thousand five hundred pounds.” + </p> + <p> + “What was its nature?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a debt of honour—do you understand?” The subtle challenge of + the voice, the sarcasm, was not lost. Again there was a struggle on the + part of the audience not to laugh outright, and so be driven from the + court as had been threatened. + </p> + <p> + The judge interposed again with the remark, not very severe in tone, that + the witness was not in the box to ask questions, but to answer them. At + the same time he must remind counsel that the examination must discontinue + unless something more relevant immediately appeared in the evidence. + </p> + <p> + There was silence again for a moment, and even Crozier himself seemed to + steel himself for a question he felt was coming. + </p> + <p> + “Are you married or single?” asked Burlingame, and he did not need to + raise his voice to summon the interest of the court. + </p> + <p> + “I was married.” + </p> + <p> + One person in the audience nearly cried out. It was Kitty Tynan. She had + never allowed herself to think of that, but even if she had, what + difference could it make whether he was married or single, since he was + out of her star? + </p> + <p> + “Are you not married now?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean you do not know if you have been divorced?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean your wife is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? That you do not know whether your wife is living or + dead?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you heard from her since you saw her last?” + </p> + <p> + “I had one letter.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty Tynan thought of the unopened letter in a woman’s handwriting in the + green baize desk in her mother’s house. + </p> + <p> + “No more?” + </p> + <p> + “No more.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we to understand that you do not know whether your wife is living or + dead?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no information that she is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave her?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not said that I left her. Primarily I left Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “Assuming that she is alive, your wife will not live with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what information have you to that effect?” The judge informed Crozier + that he must not ask questions of counsel. + </p> + <p> + “Why is she not with you here?” + </p> + <p> + “As you said, I am only picking up a living here, and even the passage by + your own second-class steamship line is expensive.” + </p> + <p> + The judge suppressed a smile. He greatly liked the witness. + </p> + <p> + “Do you deny that you parted from your wife in anger?” + </p> + <p> + “When I am asked that question I will try to answer it. Meanwhile, I do + not deny what has not been put before me in the usual way.” + </p> + <p> + Here the judge sternly rebuked the counsel, who ventured upon one last + question. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any children?” + </p> + <p> + “None.” + </p> + <p> + “Has your brother, who inherited, any children?” + </p> + <p> + “None that I know of.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you the heir-presumptive to the baronetcy?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet your wife will not live with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Call Mrs. Crozier as a witness and see. Meanwhile, I am not upon my + trial.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the judge, who promptly called upon Burlingame to conclude + his examination. + </p> + <p> + Burlingame asked two questions more. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you change your name when you came here?” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to obliterate myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I put it to you, that what you want is to avoid the outraged law of your + own country.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I want to avoid the outrageous lawyers of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was a pause in the proceedings, and on a protest from the + crown attorney the judge put an end to the cross-examination with the + solemn reminder that a man was being tried for his life, and that the + present proceedings were a lamentable reflection on the levity of human + nature—in Askatoon. Turning with friendly scrutiny to Crozier, he + said: + </p> + <p> + “In the early stage of his examination the witness informed the court that + he had made a heavy loss through a debt of honour immediately before + leaving England. Will he say in what way he incurred the obligation? Are + we to assume that it was through gambling-card-playing, or other games of + chance?” + </p> + <p> + “Through backing the wrong horse,” was Crozier’s instant reply. + </p> + <p> + “That phrase is often applied to mining or other unreal flights for + fortune,” said the judge, with a dry smile. + </p> + <p> + “This was a real horse on a real flight to the winning-post,” added + Crozier, with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Honest contest with man or horse is no crime, but it is tragedy to stake + all on the contest and lose,” was the judge’s grave and pedagogic comment. + “We shall now hear from the counsel for defence his reason for conducting + his cross-examination on such unusual lines. Latitude of this kind is only + permissible if it opens up any weakness in the case against the prisoner.” + </p> + <p> + The judge thus did Burlingame a good turn as well as Crozier, by creating + an atmosphere of gravity, even of tragedy, in which Burlingame could make + his speech in defence of the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + Burlingame started hesitatingly, got into his stride, assembled the points + of his defence with the skill of which he really was capable. He made a + strong appeal for acquittal, but if not acquittal, then a verdict of + manslaughter. He showed that the only real evidence which could convict + his man of murder was that of the witness Crozier. If he had been content + to discredit evidence of the witness by an adroit but guarded misuse of + the facts he had brought out regarding Crozier’s past, to emphasise the + fact that he was living under an assumed name and that his bona fides was + doubtful, he might have impressed the jury to some slight degree. He could + not, however, control the malice he felt, and he was smarting from + Crozier’s retorts. He had a vanity easily lacerated, and he was now too + savage to abate the ferocity of his forensic attack. He sat down, however, + with a sure sense of failure. Every orator knows when he is beating the + air, even when his audience is quiet and apparently attentive. + </p> + <p> + The crown attorney was a man of the serenest method and of cold, + unforensic logic. He had a deadly precision of speech, a very remarkable + memory, and a great power of organising and assembling his facts. There + was little left of Burlingame’s appeal when he sat down. He declared that + to discredit Crozier’s evidence because he chose to use another name than + his own, because he was parted from his wife, because he left England + practically penniless to earn an honest living—no one had shown it + was not—was the last resort of legal desperation. It was an + indefensible thing to endeavour to create prejudice against a man because + of his own evidence given with great frankness. Not one single word of + evidence had the defence brought to discredit Crozier, save by Crozier’s + own word of mouth; and if Crozier had cared to commit perjury, the defence + could not have proved him guilty of it. Even if Crozier had not told the + truth as it was, counsel for the defence would have found it impossible to + convict him of falsehood. But even if Crozier was a perjurer, justice + demanded that his evidence should be weighed as truth from its own + inherent probability and supported by surrounding facts. In a long + experience he had never seen animus against a witness so recklessly + exhibited as by counsel in this case. + </p> + <p> + The judge was not quite so severe in his summing up, but he did say of + Crozier that his direct replies to Burlingame’s questions, intended to + prejudice him in the eyes of the community into which he had come a + stranger, bore undoubted evidence of truth; for if he had chosen to say + what might have saved him from the suspicions, ill or well founded, of his + present fellow-citizens, he might have done so with impunity, save for the + reproach of his own conscience. On the whole, the judge summed up + powerfully against the prisoner Logan, with the result that the jury were + not out for more than a half-hour. Their verdict was, guilty of murder. + </p> + <p> + In the scene which followed, Crozier dropped his head into his hand and + sat immovable as the judge put on the black cap and delivered sentence. + When the prisoner left the dock, and the crowd began to disperse, + satisfied that justice had been done—save in that small circle where + the M’Mahons were supreme—Crozier rose with other witnesses to + leave. As he looked ahead of him the first face he saw was that of Kitty + Tynan, and something in it startled him. Where had he seen that look + before? Yes, he remembered. It was when he was twenty-one and had been + sent away to Algiers because he was falling in love with a farmer’s + daughter. As he drove down a lane with his father towards the railway + station, those long years ago, he had seen the girl’s face looking at him + from the window of a labourer’s cottage at the crossroads; and its + stupefied desolation haunted him for many years, even after the girl had + married and gone to live in Scotland—that place of torment for an + Irish soul. + </p> + <p> + The look in Kitty Tynan’s face reminded him of that farmer’s lass in his + boyhood’s history. He was to blame then—was he to blame now? + Certainly not consciously, not by any intended word or act. Now he met her + eyes and smiled at her, not gaily, not gravely, but with a kind of + whimsical helplessness; for she was the first to remind him that he was + leaving the court-room in a different position (if not a different man) + from that in which he entered it. He had entered the court-room as James + Gathorne Kerry, and he was leaving it as Shiel Crozier; and somehow James + Gathorne Kerry had always been to himself a different man from Shiel + Crozier, with different views, different feelings, if not different + characteristics. + </p> + <p> + He saw faces turned to him, a few with intense curiosity, fewer still with + a little furtiveness, some with amusement, and many with unmistakable + approval; for one thing was clear, if his own evidence was correct: he was + the son of a baronet, he was heir-presumptive to a baronetcy, and he had + scored off Augustus Burlingame in a way which delighted a naturally + humorous people. He noted, however, that the nod which Studd Bradley, the + financier, gave him had in it an enigmatic something which puzzled him. + Surely Bradley could not be prejudiced against him because of the evidence + he had given. There was nothing criminal in living under an assumed name, + which, anyhow, was his own name in three-fourths of it, and in the other + part was the name of the county where he was born. + </p> + <p> + “Divils me own, I told you he was up among the dukes,” said Malachi Deely + to John Sibley as they came out. “And he’s from me own county, and I know + the name well enough; an’ a damn good name it is. The bulls of Castlegarry + was famous in the south of Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve a warm spot for him. I was right, you see. Backing horses ruined + him,” said Sibley in reply; and he looked at Crozier admiringly. + </p> + <p> + There is the communion of saints, but nearer and dearer is the communion + of sinners; for a common danger is their bond, and that is even more than + a common hope. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. “STRENGTH SHALL BE GIVEN THEE” + </h2> + <p> + On the evening of the day of the trial, Mrs. Tynan, having fixed the new + blind to the window of Shiel Crozier’s room, which was on the ground-floor + front, was lowering and raising it to see if it worked properly, when out + in the moonlit street she saw a wagon approaching her house surrounded and + followed by obviously excited men. Once before she had seen just such a + group nearing her door. That was when her husband was brought home to die + in her arms. She had a sudden conviction, as, holding the blind in her + hand, she looked out into the night, that again tragedy was to cross her + threshold. Standing for an instant under the fascination of terror, she + recovered herself with a shiver, and, stepping down from the chair where + she had been fixing the blind, with the instinct of real woman, she ran to + the bed of the room where she was, and made it ready. Why did she feel + that it was Shiel Crozier’s bed which should be made ready? Or did she not + feel it? Was it only a dazed, automatic act, not connected with the person + who was to lie in the bed? Was she then a fatalist? Were trouble and + sorrow so much her portion that to her mind this tragedy, whatever it was, + must touch the man nearest to her—and certainly Shiel Crozier was + far nearer than Jesse Bulrush. Quite apart from wealth or position, + personality plays a part more powerful than all else in the eyes of every + woman who has a soul which has substance enough to exist at all. Such men + as Crozier have compensations for “whate’er they lack.” It never occurred + to Mrs. Tynan to go to Jesse Bulrush’s room or the room of middle-aged, + comely Nurse Egan. She did the instinctive thing, as did the woman who + sent a man a rope as a gift, on the ground that the fortune in his hand + said that he was born not to be drowned. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan’s instinct was right. By the time she had put the bed into + shape, got a bowl of water ready, lighted a lamp, and drawn the bed out + from the wall, there was a knocking at the door. In a moment she had + opened it, and was faced by John Sibley, whose hat was off as though he + were in the presence of death. This gave her a shock, and her eyes strove + painfully to see the figure which was being borne feet foremost over her + threshold. + </p> + <p> + “It’s Mr. Crozier?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He was shot coming home here—by the M’Mahon mob, I guess,” returned + Sibley huskily. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is he dead?” she asked tremblingly. “No. Hurt bad.” + </p> + <p> + “The kindest man—it’d break Kitty’s heart—and mine,” she added + hastily, for she might be misunderstood; and John Sibley had shown signs + of interest in her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s the Young Doctor?” she asked, catching sight of Crozier’s face as + they laid him on the bed. “He’s done the first aid, and he’s off getting + what’s needed for the operation. He’ll be here in a minute or so,” said a + banker who, a few days before, had refused Crozier credit. + </p> + <p> + “Gently, gently—don’t do it that way,” said Mrs. Tynan in sharp + reproof as they began to take off Crozier’s clothes. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to stay while we do it?” asked a maker of mineral waters, + who whined at the prayer meetings of a soul saved and roared at his + employees like a soul damned. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t be a fool!” was the impatient reply. “I’ve a grown-up girl and + I’ve had a husband. Don’t pull at his vest like that. Go away. You don’t + know how. I’ve had experience—my husband... There, wait till I cut + it away with the scissors. Cover him with the quilt. Now, then, catch hold + of his trousers under the quilt, and draw them off slowly.... There you + are—and nothing to shock the modesty of a grown-up woman or any + other when a life’s at stake. What does the Young Doctor say?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! He’s coming to,” interposed the banker. It was as though the quiet + that followed the removal of his clothes and the touch of Mrs. Tynan’s + hand on his head had called Crozier back from unconsciousness. + </p> + <p> + The first face he saw was that of the banker. In spite of the loss of + blood and his pitiable condition, a whimsical expression came to his eyes. + “Lucky for you you didn’t lend me the money,” he said feebly. + </p> + <p> + The banker shook his head. “I’m not thinking of that, Mr. Crozier. God + knows, I’m not!” + </p> + <p> + Crozier caught sight of Mrs. Tynan. “It’s hard on you to have me brought + here,” he murmured as she took his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Not so hard as if they hadn’t,” she replied. “That’s what a home’s for—not + just a place for eating and drinking and sleeping.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn’t part of the bargain,” he said weakly. + </p> + <p> + “It was my part of the bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “Here’s Kitty,” said the maker of mineral waters, as there was the swish + of a skirt at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you calling ‘Kitty’?” asked the girl indignantly, as they + motioned her back from the bedside. “There’s too many people here,” she + added abruptly to her mother. “We can take care of him”—she nodded + towards the bed. “We don’t want any help except—except from John + Sibley, if he will stay, and you too,” she added to the banker. + </p> + <p> + She had not yet looked at the figure on the bed. She felt she could not do + so while all these people were in the room. She needed time to adjust + herself to the situation. It was as though she was the authority in the + household and took control even of her mother. Mrs. Tynan understood. She + had a great belief in her daughter and admired her cleverness, and she was + always ready to be ruled by her; it was like being “bossed” by the man she + had lost. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you’d all better go,” Mrs. Tynan said. “He wants all the air he can + get, and I can’t make things ready with all of you in the room. Go + outdoors for a while, anyway. It’s summer and you’ll not take cold! The + Young Doctor has work to do, and my girl and I and these two will help him + plenty.” She motioned towards the banker and the gambling farmer. + </p> + <p> + In a moment the room was cleared of all save the four and Crozier, who + knew that upon the coming operation depended his life. He had been + conscious when the Young Doctor said this was so, and he was thinking, as + he lay there watching these two women out of his nearly closed eyes, that + he would like to be back in Ireland at Castlegarry with the girl he had + married and had left without a good-bye near five years gone. If he had to + die he would like to die at home; and that could not be. + </p> + <p> + Kitty had the courage to turn towards him now. As she caught sight of his + face for the first time—she had so far kept her head turned away—she + became very pale. Then, suddenly, she gathered herself together. Going + over to the bed, she took the limp hand lying on the coverlet. + </p> + <p> + “Courage, soldier,” she said in the colloquialism her father often used, + and she smiled at Crozier a great-hearted, helpful smile. + </p> + <p> + “You are a brick of bricks, Kitty Tynan,” he whispered, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes the Young Doctor,” said Mrs. Tynan as the door opened + unceremoniously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I have to make an excursion,” Crozier said, “and I mayn’t come + back. If I don’t, au revoir, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “You are coming back all right,” she answered firmly. “It’ll take more + than a horse-thief’s bullet to kill you. You’ve got to come back. You’re + as tough as nails. And I’ll hold your hand all through it—yes, I + will!” she added to the Young Doctor, who had patted her shoulder and told + her to go to another room. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to help you, doctor-man, if you please,” she said, as he turned + to the box of instruments which his assistant held. + </p> + <p> + “There’s another—one of my colleagues—coming I hope,” the + Young Doctor replied. + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right, but I am staying to see Mr. Crozier through. I said I’d + hold his hand, and I’m going to do it,” she added firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; put on a big apron, and see that you go through with us if you + start. No nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “There’ll be no nonsense from me,” she answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I want the bed in the middle of the room,” the Young Doctor said, and the + others gently moved it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. A STORY TO BE TOLD + </h2> + <p> + A great surgeon said a few years ago that he was never nervous when + performing an operation, though there was sometimes a moment when every + resource of character, skill, and brain came into play. That was when, + having diagnosed correctly and operated, a new and unexpected seat of + trouble and peril was exposed, and instant action had to be taken. The + great man naturally rose to the situation and dealt with it coolly; but he + paid the price afterwards in his sleep when, night after night, he + performed the operation over and over again with the same strain on his + subconscious self. + </p> + <p> + So it was with Kitty Tynan in her small way. She had insisted on being + allowed to help at the operation, and the Young Doctor, who had a good + knowledge of life and knew the stuff in her, consented; and so far as the + operation was concerned she justified his faith in her. When the banker + had to leave the room at the sight of the carnage, she remained, and she + and John Sibley were as cool as the Young Doctor and his fellow-anatomist, + till it was all over, and Shiel Crozier was started again on a safe + journey back to health. Then a thing, which would have been amusing if it + had not been so deeply human, happened. She and John Sibley went out of + the house together into the moonlit night, and the reaction seized them + both at the same moment. She gave a gulp and burst into tears, and he, + though as tall as Crozier, also broke down, and they sat on the stump of a + tree together, her hand in his, and cried like two children. + </p> + <p> + “Never since I was a little runt—did I—never cried in thirty + years—and here I am-leaking like a pail!” Thus spoke John Sibley in + gasps and squeezing Kitty’s hand all the time unconsciously, but + spontaneously, and as part of what he felt. He would not, however, have + dared to hold her hand on any other occasion, while always wanting to hold + it, and wanting her also to share his not wholly reputed, though far from + precarious, existence. He had never got so far as to tell her that; but if + she had understanding she would realise after to-night what he had in his + mind. She, feeling her arm thrill with the magnetism of his very vital + palm, had her turn at explanation. “I wouldn’t have broke down myself—it + was all your fault,” she said. “I saw it—yes—in your face as + we left the house. I’m so glad it’s over safe—no one belonging to + him here, and not knowing if he’d wake up alive or not—I just was + swamped.” + </p> + <p> + He took up the misty excuse and explanation. “I had a feeling for him from + the start; and then that Logan Trial to-day, and the way he talked out + straight, and told the truth to shame the devil—it’s what does a man + good! And going bung over a horserace—that’s what got me too, where + I was young and tender. Swatted that Burlingame every time—one eye, + two eyes all black, teeth out, nose flattened—called him an + ‘outrageous lawyer’—my, that last clip was a good one! You bet he’s + a sport—Crozier.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded eagerly while still wiping her red eyes. “He made the judge + smile—I saw it, not ten minutes before his honour put on the black + cap. You couldn’t have believed it, if you hadn’t seen it— + </p> + <p> + “Here, let go my hand,” she added, suddenly conscious of the enormity John + Sibley was committing by squeezing it now. + </p> + <p> + It is perfectly true that she did not quite realise that he had taken her + hand—that he had taken her hand. She was conscious in a nice, + sympathetic way that her hand had been taken, but it was lost in the + abstraction of her emotion. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, here, let it go quick!” she added—“and not because mother’s + coming, either,” she added as the door opened and her mother came out—not + to spy, not to reproach her daughter for sitting with a man in the + moonlight at ten o’clock at night, but—good, practical soul—to + bring them each a cup of beef-tea. + </p> + <p> + “Here, you two,” she said as she hurried to them. “You need something + after that business in there, and there isn’t time to get supper ready. + It’s as good for you as supper, anyway. I don’t believe in underfeeding. + Nothing’s too good to swallow.” + </p> + <p> + She watched them sip the tea slowly like two schoolchildren. + </p> + <p> + “And when you’ve drunk it you must go right to bed, Kitty,” she added + presently. “You’ve had your own way, and you saw the thing through; but + there’s always a reaction, and you’ll pay for it. It wasn’t fit work for a + girl of your age; but I’m proud of your nerve, and I’m glad you showed the + Young Doctor what you can do. You’ve got your father’s brains and my + grit,” she added with a sigh of satisfaction. “Come along—bed now, + Kitty. If you get too tired you’ll have bad dreams.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps she was too tired. In any case she had dreams. Just as the great + surgeon performed his operation over and over in his sleep, so Kitty + Tynan, through long hours that night, and for many nights afterwards, saw + the swift knives, helped to staunch the blood, held the basin, disinfected + the instruments which had made an attack on the man of men in her eyes, + and saw the wound stitched up—the last act of the business before + the Young Doctor turned to her and said, “You’ll do wherever you’re put in + life, Miss Kitty Tynan. You’re a great girl. And now get some fresh air + and forget all about it.” + </p> + <p> + Forget all about it! So, the Young Doctor knew what happened after a + terrific experience like that! In truth, he knew only too well. Great + surgeons do surgery only and have innumerable operations to give them + skill; but a country physician and surgeon must be a sane being to keep + his nerve when called on to use the knife, and he must have a more than + usual gift for such business. That is what the Young Doctor had; but he + knew it was not easy to forget those scenes in which man carved the body + of fellow-man, laying bare the very vitals of existence, seeing “the + wheels go round.” + </p> + <p> + It haunted Kitty Tynan in the night-time, and perhaps it was that which + toned down a little the colour of her face—the kind of difference of + colouring there is between natural gold and 14-carat. But in the daytime + she was quite happy, and though there was haunting, it was Shiel Crozier + who, first helpless, then convalescent, was haunted by her presence. It + gave him pleasure, but it was a pleasure which brought pain. He was not so + blind that he had not caught at her romance, in which he was the central + figure—a romance which had not vanished since the day he declared in + the court-room that he was married, or had been married. Kitty’s eyes told + their own story, and it made him uneasy and remorseful. Yet he could not + remember when, even for an instant, he had played with her. She had always + seemed part of a simple family life for which he and Jesse Bulrush and her + mother and the nurse-Nurse Egan-were responsible. What a blessing Nurse + Egan had been! Otherwise, all the nursing would have been performed by + Kitty and her mother, and it might well have broken them down, for they + were determined to nurse him themselves. + </p> + <p> + When, however, Nurse Egan came back, two days after the operation was + performed, they included her in the responsibility, as one of the family; + and as she had no other important case on at the time, fortunately she + could give Crozier almost undivided attention. She had been at first + disposed to keep Kitty out of the sick-chamber, as no place for a girl, + but she soon abandoned that position, for Kitty was not the girl ever to + think of impropriety. She was primitive and she had rather a + before-the-flood nature, but she had not the faintest vulgar strain in + her. Her mind was essentially pure; nothing material in her had been + awakened. Her greatest joy was to do the many things for the patient which + a nurse must do—prepare his food, give him drink, adjust his + pillows, bathe his face and hands, take his temperature; and on his part + he tried hard to disguise from her the apprehension he felt, and to avoid + any hint by word or look that he saw anything save the actions of a kind + heart. True, her views as to what was proper and improper might possibly + be on a different plane from his own. For instance, he had seen girls of + her station in the West kiss young men freely—men whom they had no + thought of marrying; and that was not the custom of his own class in his + home-country. + </p> + <p> + As he got well slowly, and life opened out before him again, he felt he + had to pursue a new course, and in that course he must take account of + Kitty Tynan, though he could not decide how. He had a deep confidence in + the Young Doctor, in his judgment and his character; and it was almost + inevitable that he should tell his life-story to the man whose skill had + saved him from death in a strange land, with all undone he wanted to do + ere he returned to a land which was not strange. + </p> + <p> + The thing happened, as such things do happen, in a quite natural way one + day when he and the Young Doctor were discussing the probable verdict + against the man who had shot him—the trial was to come on soon, and + once again Augustus Burlingame was to be counsel for the defence, and once + again Crozier would have to appear in a witness-box. + </p> + <p> + “I think you ought to know, Crozier, that, in view of the trial, + Burlingame has written to a firm of lawyers in Kerry to get full + information about your past,” the Young Doctor said. + </p> + <p> + Crozier gave one of those little jerks of the head characteristic of him + and said: “Why, of course; I knew he would do that after I gave my + evidence in the Logan Trial.” He raised himself on his elbow. “I owe you a + great deal,” he added feelingly, “and I can’t repay you in cash or + kindness for what you have done; but it is due you to tell you my whole + story, and that is what I propose to do now.” + </p> + <p> + “If you think—” + </p> + <p> + “I do think; and also I want both Mrs. Tynan and her daughter to hear my + story. Better, truer friends a man could not have; and I want them to know + the worst and the best there is, if there is any best. They and you have + trusted me, been too good to me, and what I said at the trial is not + enough. I want to do what I’ve never done before. I want to tell + everything. It will do me good; and perhaps as I tell it I’ll see myself + and everything else in a truer light than I’ve yet seen it all.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure you want Mrs. Tynan and her daughter to hear?” + </p> + <p> + “Absolutely sure.” + </p> + <p> + “They are not in your rank in life, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “They are my friends, and I owe them more than I can say. There is nothing + they cannot or should not hear. I can say that at least.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I ask them to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Give me a swig of water first. It won’t be easy, but—” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand, and the Young Doctor grasped it. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the latter said: “You are sure you will not be sorry? That it is + not a mood of the moment due to physical weakness?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure. I determined on it the day I was shot—and before I was + shot.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” The Young Doctor disappeared. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. “HERE ENDETH THE FIRST LESSON” + </h2> + <p> + The stillness of a summer’s day in Prairie Land has all the + characteristics of music. That is not so paradoxical as it seems. The + effect of some music is to produce a divine quiescence of the senses, a + suspension of motion and aggressive life; to reduce existence to mere + pulsation. It was this kind of feeling which pervaded that region of + sentient being when Shiel Crozier told his story. The sounds that + sprinkled the general stillness were in themselves sleepy notes of the + pervasive music of somnolent nature—the sough of the pine at the + door, the murmur of insect life, the low, thudding beat of the + steam-thresher out of sight hard by, the purring of the cat in the arms of + Kitty Tynan as, with fascinated eyes, she listened to a man tell the tale + of a life as distant from that which she lived as she was from Eve. + </p> + <p> + She felt more awed than curious as the tale went on; it even seemed to her + she was listening to a theme beyond her sphere, like some shameless + eavesdropper at the curtains of a secret ceremonial. Once or twice she + looked at her mother and at the Young Doctor, as though to reassure + herself that she was not a vulgar intruder. It was far more impressive to + her, and to the Young Doctor too, than the scene at the Logan Trial when a + man was sentenced to death. It was strangely magnetic, this tale of a + man’s existence; and the clock which sounded so loud on the mantelpiece, + as it mechanically ticked off the time, seemed only part of some + mysterious machinery of life. Once a dove swept down upon the window-sill, + and, peering in, filled one of the pauses in the recital with its deep + contralto note, and then fled like a small blue cloud into the wide and—as + it seemed—everlasting peace beyond the doorway. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing at all between themselves and the far sky-line save + little clumps of trees here and there, little clusters of buildings and + houses—no visible animal life. Everything conspired to give a + dignity in keeping with the drama of failure being unfolded in the + commonplace home of the widow Tynan. Yet the home too had its dignity. The + engineer father had had tastes, and he had insisted on plain, unfigured + curtains and wallpaper and carpets, when carpets were used; and though his + wife had at first protested against the unfigured carpets as more + difficult to keep clean and as showing the dirt too easily, she had come + to like the one-colour scheme, and in that respect her home had an + individuality rare in her surroundings. + </p> + <p> + That was why Kitty Tynan had always a good background; for what her bright + colouring would have been in the midst of gaudy, cheap chintzes and + “Axminsters,” such as abounded in Askatoon, is better left to the + imagination. It was not, therefore, in sordid, mean, or incongruous + surroundings that Crozier told his tale; as would no doubt have been + arranged by a dramatist, if he had had the making and the setting of the + story; and if it were not a true tale told just as it happened. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the tale was the more impressive because of Crozier’s deep + baritone voice, capable, as it was, of much modulation, yet, except when + he was excited, having a slight monotone like the note of a violin with + the mute upon the strings. + </p> + <p> + This was his tale: + </p> + <p> + “Well, to begin with, I was born at Castlegarry, in Kerry—you know + the main facts from what I said in court. As a boy I wasn’t so bad a sort. + I had one peculiarity. I always wanted ‘to have something on,’ as John + Sibley would say. No matter what it was, I must have something on it. And + I was very lucky—worse luck!” + </p> + <p> + They all laughed at the bull. “I feel at home at once,” murmured the Young + Doctor, for he had come from near Enniskillen years agone, and there is + not so much difference between Enniskillen and Kerry when it comes to + Irish bulls. + </p> + <p> + “Worse luck, it was,” continued Crozier, “because it made me confident of + always winning. It’s hard to say how early I began to believe I could see + things that were going to happen. By the hour I used to shake the dice on + the billiard-table at Castlegarry, trying to see with my eyes shut the + numbers about to come up. Of course now and then I saw the right numbers; + and it deepened the conviction that if I cultivated the gift I’d be able + to be right nearly every time. When I went to a horse-race I used to + fasten my mind on the signal, and tried to see beforehand the number of + the winner. Again sometimes I was very right indeed, and that deepened my + confidence in myself. I was always at it. I’d try and guess—try and + see—the number of the hymn which was on the paper in the vicar’s + hand before he gave it out, and I would bet with myself on it. I would bet + with myself or with anybody available on any conceivable thing—the + minutes late a train would be; the pints of milk a cow would give; the + people who would be at a hunt breakfast; the babies that would be + christened on a Sunday; the number of eyes in a peck of raw potatoes. I + was out against the universe. But it wasn’t serious at all—just a + boy’s mania—till one day my father met me in London when I came down + from Oxford, and took me to Thwaite’s Club in St. James’s Street. There + was the thing that finished me. I was twenty-one, and restless-minded, and + with eyes wide open. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he took me to Thwaite’s where I was to become a member, and after a + little while he left me to go and have a long pow-wow with the committee—he + was a member of it. He told me to make myself at home, and I did so as + soon as his back was turned. Almost the first thing with which I became + sociable was a book which, at my first sight of it, had a fascination for + me. The binding was very old, and the leather was worn, as you will see + the leather of a pocketbook, till it looks and feels like a nice soap. + That book brought me here.” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and in the silence the Young Doctor pushed a glass of milk and + brandy towards him. He sipped the contents. The others were in a state of + tension. Kitty Tynan’s eyes were fixed on him as though hypnotised, and + the Young Doctor was scarcely less interested; while the widow knitted + harder and faster than she had ever done, and she could knit very fast + indeed. + </p> + <p> + “It was the betting-book of Thwaite’s, and it dated back almost to the + time of the conquest of Quebec. Great men dead and gone long ago—near + a hundred and fifty years ago-had put down their bets in the book, for + Thwaite’s was then what it is now, the highest and best sporting club in + the world.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty Tynan’s face had a curious look, for there was a club in Askatoon, + and it was said that all the “sports” assembled there. She had no idea + what Thwaite’s Club in St. James’s Street would look like; but that did + not matter. She supposed it must be as big as the Askatoon Court House at + least. + </p> + <p> + “Bets—bets—bets by men whose names were in every history, and + the names of their sons and grandsons and great-grandsons; and all betting + on the oddest things as well as the most natural things in the world. Some + of the bets made were as mad as the bets I made myself. Oh! ridiculous, + some of them were; and then again bets on things that stirred the world to + the centre, from the loss of America to the beheading of Louis XVI. + </p> + <p> + “It was strange enough to see the half-dozen lines of a bet by a marquis + whose great-grandson bet on the Franco-German War; that the Government + which imposed the tea-tax in America would be out of power within six + months; or that the French Canadians would join the colonists in what is + now the United States if they revolted. This would be cheek-by-jowl with a + bet that an heir would be born to one new-married pair before another + pair. The very last bet made on the day I opened the book was that Queen + Victoria would make Lord Salisbury a duke, that a certain gentleman known + as S. S. could find his own door in St. James’s Square, blindfold, from + the club, and that Corsair would win the Derby. + </p> + <p> + “For two long hours I sat forgetful of everything around me, while I read + that record—to me the most interesting the world could show. Every + line was part of the history of the country, a part of the history of many + lives, and it was all part of the ritual of the temple of the great god + Chance. I was fascinated, lost in a land of wonders. Men came and went, + but silently. At last there entered a gentleman whose picture I had so + often seen in the papers—a man as well known in the sporting world + as was Chamberlain in the political world. He was dressed spectacularly, + but his face oozed good-nature, though his eyes were like bright bits of + coal. He bred horses, he raced this, he backed that, he laid against the + other; he was one of the greatest plungers, one of the biggest figures on + the turf. He had been a kind of god to me—a god in a grey + frock-coat, with a grey top-hat and field-glasses slung over his shoulder; + or in a hunting-suit of the most picturesque kind—great pockets in a + well-fitting coat, splendid striped waistcoat. Well, there, I only mention + this because it played so big a part in bringing me to Askatoon. + </p> + <p> + “He came up to the table where I sat in the room with the beautiful Adam’s + fireplace and the ceiling like an architrave of Valhalla, and said, ‘Do + you mind—for one minute?’ and he reached out a hand for the book. + </p> + <p> + “I made way for him, and I suppose admiration showed in my eyes, because + as he hastily wrote—what a generous scrawl it was!—he said to + me, ‘Haven’t we met somewhere before? I seem to remember your face. + </p> + <p> + “Great gentleman, I thought, because it was certain he knew he had never + seen me before, and I was overcome by the reflection that he wished to be + civil in that way to me. ‘It’s my father’s face you remember, I should + think,’ I answered. ‘He is a member here. I am only a visitor. I haven’t + been elected yet.’ ‘Ah, we must see to that!’ he said with a smile, and + laid a hand on my shoulder as though he’d known me many a year—and I + only twenty-one. ‘Who is your father?’ he asked. When I told him he + nodded. ‘Yes, yes, I know him—Crozier of Castlegarry; but I knew his + father far better, though he was so much older than me, and indeed your + grandfather also. Look—in this book is the first bet I ever made + here after my election to the club, and it was made with your grandfather. + There’s no age in the kingdom of sport, dear lad,’ he added, laughing—‘neither + age nor sex nor position nor place. It’s the one democratic thing in the + modern world. It’s a republic inside this old monarchy of ours. Look, here + it is, my first bet with your grandfather—and I’m only sixty now!’ + He smoothed the page with his hand in a manner such as I have seen a dean + do with his sermon-paper in a cathedral puplit. ‘Here it is, thirty-six + years ago.’ He read the bet aloud. It was on the Derby, he himself having + bet that the Prince of Wale’s horse would win. ‘Your grandfather, dear + lad,’ he repeated, ‘but you’ll find no bets of mine with your father. He + didn’t inherit that strain, but your grandfather and your + great-grandfather had it—sportsmen both, afraid of nothing, with big + minds, great eyes for seeing, and a sense for a winner almost uncanny. + Have you got it by any chance? Yes, yes, by George and by John, I see you + have; you are your grandfather to a hair! His portrait is here in the club—in + the next room. Have a look at it. He was only forty when it was done, and + you’re very like him; the cut of the jib is there.’ He took my hand. + ‘Good-bye, dear lad,’ he said; ‘we’ll meet-yes, we’ll meet often enough if + you are like your grandfather. And I’ll always like to see you,’ he added + generously. + </p> + <p> + “‘I always wanted to meet you,’ I answered. ‘I’ve cut your pictures out of + the papers to keep them—at Eton and Oxford.’ He laughed in great + good-humour and pride. ‘So so, so so, and I am a hero then, with one + follower! Well, well, dear lad, I don’t often go wrong, or anyhow I’m + oftener right than wrong, and you might do worse than follow me—but + no, I don’t want that responsibility. Go on your own—go on your + own.’ + </p> + <p> + “A minute more and he was gone with a wave of the hand, and in excitement + I picked up the betting-book. It almost took my breath away. He had staked + a thousand pounds that the favourite of the Derby would not win the race, + and that one of three outsiders would. As I sat overpowered by the + magnitude of the bet the door opened, and he appeared with another man, + not one with whose face I was then familiar, though as a duke and owner of + great possessions, he was familiar to society. ‘I’ve put it down,’ he + said. ‘Sign it, if it’s all in order.’ This the duke did, after + apologizing for disturbing me. He looked at me keenly as he turned away. + ‘Not the most elevating literature in the library,’ he said, smiling + ironically. ‘If you haven’t got a taste for it beyond control, don’t + cultivate it.’ He nodded kindly, and left; and again, till my father came + and found me, I buried myself in that book of fate—to me. I found + many entries in my grandfather’s name, but not one in my father’s name. I + have an idea that when a vice or virtue skips one generation, it appears + with increased violence or persistence in the next, for, passing over my + father into my defenceless breast, the spirit of sport went mad in me—or + almost so. No miser ever had a more cheerful and happy hour than I had as + I read the betting-book at Thwaites’. + </p> + <p> + “I became a member of Thwaite’s soon after I left Oxford. As some men go + to the Temple, some to the Stock Exchange, some to Parliament, I went to + Thwaite’s. It was the centre of my interest, and I took chambers in Park + Place, St. James’s Street, a few steps away. Here I met again constantly + the great sportsman who had noticed me so kindly, and I became his + follower, his disciple. I had started with him on a wave of prejudice in + his favour; because that day when I read in the betting-book what he had + staked against the favourite, I laid all the cash and credit I could get + with his outsiders and against the favourite, and I won five hundred + pounds. What he won—to my youthful eyes-was fabulous. There’s no use + saying what you think—you kind friends, who’ve always done something + in life—that I was a good-for-nothing creature to give myself up to + the turf, to horses and jockeys, and the janissaries of sport. You must + remember that for generations my family had run on a very narrow margin of + succession, there seldom, if ever, being more than two born in any + generation of the family, so that there was always enough for the younger + son or daughter; and to take up a profession was not necessary for + livelihood. If my mother, who was an intellectual and able woman, had + lived, it’s hard to tell what I should have become; for steered aright, + given true ideas of what life should mean to a man, I might have become + ambitious and forged ahead in one direction or another. But there it was, + she died when I was ten, and there was no one to mould me. At Eton, at + Oxford-well, they are not preparatory schools to the business of life. And + when at twenty-four I inherited the fortune my mother left me, I had only + one idea: to live the life of a sporting gentleman. I had a name as a + cricketer—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah—I remember, Crozier of Lammis!” interjected the Young Doctor + involuntarily. “I’m a north of Ireland man, but I remember—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lammis,” the sick man went on. “Castlegarry was my father’s place, + but my mother left me Lammis. When I got control of it, and of the + securities she left, I felt my oats, as they say; and I wasn’t long in + making a show of courage, not to say rashness, in following my leader. He + gave me luck for a time, indeed so great that I could even breed horses of + my own. But the luck went against him at last, and then, of course, + against me; and I began to feel that suction which, as it draws the cash + out of your pocket, the credit out of your bank, seems to draw also the + whole internal economy out of your body—a ghastly, empty, collapsing + thing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan gave a great sigh. She had once put two hundred dollars in a + mine—on paper—and it ended in a lawsuit; and on the verdict in + the lawsuit depended the two hundred dollars and more. When she read a + fatal telegram to her saying that all was lost, she had had that empty, + collapsing feeling. + </p> + <p> + Pausing for a moment, in which he sipped some milk, Crozier then + continued: “At last my leader died, and the see-saw of fortune began for + me; and a good deal of my sound timber was sawed into logs and made into + lumber to build some one else’s fortune. When things were balancing pretty + easily, I married. It wasn’t a sordid business to restore my fortunes—I’ll + say that for myself; but it wasn’t the thing to do, for I wasn’t secure in + my position. I might go on the rocks; but was there ever a gambler who + didn’t believe that he’d pull it off in a big way next time, and that the + turn of the wheel against him was only to tame his spirit? Was there ever + a gambler or sportsman of my class who didn’t talk about the ‘law of + chances,’ on the basis that if red, as it were, came up three times, black + stood a fair chance of coming up the fourth time? A silly enough + conclusion; for on the law of chances there’s no reason why red shouldn’t + come up three hundred times; and so I found that your run of bad luck may + be so long that you cannot have a chance to recover, and are out of it + before the wheel turns in your favour. I oughn’t to have married.” + </p> + <p> + His voice had changed in tone, his look become most grave, there was + something very like reverence in his face, and deprecating submission in + his eyes. His fingers fussed with the rug that covered his knees. + </p> + <p> + “God help the man that’s afraid of his own wife!” remarked the Young + Doctor to himself, not erroneously reading the expression of Crozier’s + face and the tone of his voice. “There’s nothing so unnerving.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I oughtn’t to have done it,” Crozier went on. “But I will say again + it wasn’t a sordid marriage, though she had great expectations, but not + immediate; and she was a girl of great character. She was able and + brilliant and splendid and far-seeing, and she knew her own mind, and was + radiantly handsome.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty Tynan almost sniffed. Through a whole fortnight she had, with a + courage and a right-mindedness quite remarkable, fought her infatuation + for this man, and as she fought she had imagined a hundred times what his + wife was like. She had pictured to herself a gossamer kind of woman, + delicate, and in contour like one of the fashion-plate figures she saw in + the picture-papers. She had imagined her with a wide, drooping hat, with a + soft, clinging gown, and a bodice like a great white handkerchief crossed + on her breast, holding a basket of flowers, while a King Charles spaniel + gambolled at her feet. + </p> + <p> + This was what she had imagined with a kind of awe; but the few words + Crozier had said of her gave the impression of a Juno, commanding, + exacting, bullying, sailing on with this man of men in her wake, who was + afraid of stepping on her train. Was it strange she should think that? She + was only a simple prairie girl who drew her own comparisons according to + her kind and from what she knew of life. So she imagined Crozier’s wife to + have been a sort of Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, who swept up the dust of + the universe with her skirts, and gave no chance at all to the children of + nature like Kitty, who wore skirts scarcely lower than their ankles. She + almost sniffed, and she became angry, too, that a man like Crozier, who + had faced the offensive Augustus Burlingame in the witness-box as he did; + who took the bullet of the assassin with such courage; who broke a horse + like a Mexican; who could ride like a leech on a filly’s flank, should + crumple up at the thought of a woman who, anyhow, couldn’t be taller than + Crozier himself was, and hadn’t a hand like a piece of steel and the skin + of an antelope. It was enough to make a cat laugh, or a woman cry with + rage. + </p> + <p> + “Able and brilliant and splendid and far-seeing, and radiantly handsome!” + There the picture was of a high, haughty, and overbearing woman, in + velvet, or brocade, or poplin-yes, something stiff and overbearing, like + grey poplin. Kitty looked at herself suddenly in the mirror-the + half-length mirror on the opposite wall—and she felt her hands + clench and her bosom beat hard under her pretty and inexpensive calico + frock, a thing for Chloe, not for Juno. + </p> + <p> + She was very angry with Crozier, for it was absurd, that look of + deprecating homage, that “Hush-she-is-coming” in his eyes. What a fool a + man was where a woman was concerned! Here she had been fighting herself + for a fortnight to conquer a useless passion for her man of all the world, + fit to command an array of giants; and she saw him now almost breathless + as he spoke of a great wild-cat of a woman who ought to be by his side + now. What sort of a woman was she anyhow, who could let him go into exile + as he had done and live apart from her all these years, while he “slogged + away”—that was the Western phrase which came to her mind—to + pull himself level with things again? Her feet shuffled unevenly on the + floor, and it would have been a joy to shake the in valid there with the + rapt look in his face. Unable to bear the situation without some + demonstration, she got to her feet and caught up the glass of brandy and + milk with a little exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” she said, holding the glass to his lips, “here, courage, soldier. + You don’t need to be afraid at a six-thousand-mile range.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor started, for she had said what was in his own mind, but + what he would not have said for a thousand dollars. It was fortunate that + Crozier was scarcely conscious of what she was saying. His mind was far + away. Yet, when she took the glass from him again, he touched her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is good enough for your friends, is it?” he said gratefully. + </p> + <p> + “That wouldn’t be an excuse for not getting them the best there was at + hand,” she answered with a little laugh, and at least the Young Doctor + read the meaning of her words. + </p> + <p> + Presently Crozier, with a sigh, continued: “If I had done what my wife + wanted from the start, I shouldn’t have been here. I’d have saved what was + left of a fortune, and I’d have had a home of my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she earning her living too?” asked Kitty softly, and Crozier did not + notice the irony under the question. + </p> + <p> + “She has a home of her own,” answered Crozier almost sharply. “Just before + the worst came to the worst she inherited her fortune—plenty of it, + as I got near the end of mine. One thing after another had gone. I was + mortgaged up to the eyes. I knew the money-lenders from Newry to Jewry and + Jewry to Jerusalem. Then it was I promised her I’d bet no more—never + again: I’d give up the turf; I’d try and start again. Down in my soul I + knew I couldn’t start again—not just then. But I wanted to please + her. She was remarkable in her way; she had one of the most imposing + intelligences I have ever known. So I promised. I promised I’d bet no + more.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor caught Kitty Tynan’s eyes by accident, and there was the + same look of understanding in both. They both knew that here was the real + tragedy of Crozier’s life. If he had had less reverence for his wife, less + of that obvious prostration of soul, he probably would never have come to + Askatoon. + </p> + <p> + “I broke my promise,” he murmured. “It was a horse—well, never mind. + I was as sure of Flamingo as that the sun would rise by day and set by + night. It was a certainty; and it was a certainty. The horse could win, it + would win; I had it from a sure source. My judgment was right, too. I bet + heavily on Flamingo, intending it for my last fling, and, to save what I + had left, to get back what I had lost. I could get big odds on him. It was + good enough. From what I knew, it was like picking up a gold-mine. And I + was right, right as could be. There was no chance about it. It was being + out where the rain fell to get wet. It was just being present when they + called the roll of the good people that God wished to be kind to. It meant + so much to me. I couldn’t bear to have nothing and my wife to have all. I + simply couldn’t stand—” + </p> + <p> + Again the Young Doctor met the glance of Kitty Tynan, and there was, once + more, a new and sudden look of comprehension in the eyes of both. They + began to see light where their man was concerned. + </p> + <p> + After a moment of struggle to control himself, Crozier proceeded: “It + didn’t seem like betting. Besides, I had planned it, that when I showed + her what I had won, she would shut her eyes to the broken promise, and I’d + make another, and keep it ever after. I put on all the cash there was to + put on, all I could raise on what was left of my property.” + </p> + <p> + He paused as though to get strength to continue. Then a look of intense + excitement suddenly possessed him, and there—passed over him a wave + of feeling which transformed him. The naturally grave mediaeval face + became fired, the eyes blazed, the skin shone, the mouth almost trembled + with agitation. He was the dreamer, the enthusiast, the fanatic almost, + with that look which the pioneer, the discoverer, the adventurer has when + he sees the end of his quest. + </p> + <p> + His voice rose, vibrated. “It was a day to make you thank Heaven the world + was made. Such days only come once in a while in England, but when they do + come, what price Arcady or Askatoon! Never had there been so big a Derby. + Everybody had the fever of the place at its worst. I was happy. I meant to + pouch my winnings and go straight to my wife and say, ‘Peccavi,’ and I + should hear her say to me, ‘Go and sin no more.’ Yes, I was happy. The + sky, the green of the fields, the still, home-like, comforting trees, the + mass of glorious colour, the hundreds of horses that weren’t running and + the scores that were to run, sleek and long, and made like shining silk + and steel, it all was like heaven on earth to me—a horse-race heaven + on earth. There you have the state of my mind in those days, the kind of + man I was.” + </p> + <p> + Sitting up, he gazed straight in front of him as though he saw Epsom Downs + before his eyes; as though he was watching the fateful race that bore him + down. He was terribly, exhaustingly alive. Something possessed him, and he + possessed his hearers. + </p> + <p> + “It was just as I said and knew—my horse, Flamingo, stretched away + from the rest at Tattenham Corner and came sailing away home two lengths + ahead. It was a sight to last a lifetime, and that was what I meant it to + be for me. The race was all Flamingo’s own, and the mob was going wild, + when all of a sudden a woman—the widow of a racing-man gone suddenly + mad—rushed out in front of the horse, snatched at its bridle with a + shrill cry and down she came, and down Flamingo and the jockey came, a + melee of crushed humanity. And that was how I lost my last two thousand + five hundred pounds, as I said at the Logan Trial.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh!” said Kitty Tynan, her face aflame, her eyes like topaz suns, her + hands wringing. “Oh, that was—oh, poor Flamingo!” she added. + </p> + <p> + A strange smile shot into Crozier’s face, and the dark passion of + reminiscence fled from his eyes. “Yes, you are right, little friend,” he + said. “That was the real tragedy after all. There was the horse doing his + best, his most beautiful best, as though he knew so much depended on him, + stretching himself with the last ounce of energy he could summon, feeling + the psalm of success in his heart—yes, he knows, he knows what he + has done, none so well!—and out comes a black, hateful thing against + him, and down he goes, his game over, his course run. I felt exactly as + you do, and I felt that before everything else when it happened. Then I + felt for myself afterwards, and I felt it hard, as you can think.” + </p> + <p> + The break went from his voice, but it rang with reflective, remembered + misery. “I was ruined. One thing was clear to me. I would not live on my + wife’s money. I would not eat and drink what her money bought. No, I would + not live on my wife. Her brother, a good enough, impulsive lad, with a + tongue of his own and too small to thresh, came to me in London the night + of the race. He said his sister had been in the country-down at Epsom—and + that she bitterly resented my having broken my promise and lost all I had. + He said he had never seen her so angry, and he gave me a letter from her. + On her return to town she had been obliged to go away at once to see her + sister taken suddenly ill. He added, with an unfeeling jibe, that he + wouldn’t like the reading of the letter himself. If he hadn’t been such a + chipmunk of a fellow I’d have wrung his neck. I put the letter her + letter-in my pocket, and next day gave my lawyer full instructions and a + power of attorney. Then I went straight to Glasgow, took steamer for + Canada, and here I am. That was near five years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And the letter from your wife?” asked Kitty Tynan demurely and slyly. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor looked at Crozier, surprised at her temerity, but Crozier + only smiled gently. “It is in the desk there. Bring it to me, please,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + In a moment Kitty was beside him with the letter. He took it, turned it + over, examined it carefully as though seeing it for the first time, and + laid it on his knee. + </p> + <p> + “I have never opened it,” he said. “There it is, just as it was handed to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know what is in it?” asked Kitty in a shocked voice. “Why, it + may be that—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know what is in it!” he replied. “Her brother’s confidences + were enough. I didn’t want to read it. I can imagine it all.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s pretty cowardly,” remarked Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not. It would only hurt, and the hurting could do no good. I + can hear what it says, and I don’t want to see it.” + </p> + <p> + He held the letter up to his ear whimsically. Then he handed it back to + her, and she replaced it in the desk. + </p> + <p> + “So, there it is, and there it is,” he sighed. “You have got my story, and + it’s bad enough, but you can see it’s not what Burlingame suggested.” + </p> + <p> + “Burlingame—but Burlingame’s beneath notice,” rejoined Kitty. “Isn’t + he, mother?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan nodded. Then, as though with sudden impulse, Kitty came forward + to Crozier and leaned over him. The look of a mother was in her eyes. + Somehow she seemed to herself twenty years older than this man with the + heart of a boy, who was afraid of his own wife. + </p> + <p> + “It’s time for your beef-tea, and when you’ve had it you must get your + sleep,” she said, with a hovering solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to give him a threshing first, if you don’t mind,” said the + Young Doctor to her. + </p> + <p> + “Please let a little good advice satisfy you,” Crozier remarked ruefully. + “It will seem like old times,” he added rather bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “You are too young to have had ‘old times,’” said Kitty with gentle scorn. + “I’ll like you better when you are older,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Naughty jade,” exclaimed the Young Doctor, “you ought to be more + respectful to those older than yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, grandpapa!” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. A WOMAN’S WAY TO KNOWLEDGE + </h2> + <p> + The harvest was over. The grain was cut, the prairie no longer waved like + a golden sea, but the smoke of the incense of sacrifice still rose in + innumerable spirals in the circle of the eye. The ground appeared bare and + ill-treated, like a sheep first shorn; but yet nothing could take away + from it the look of plenty, even as the fat sides of the shorn sheep + invite the satisfied eye of the expert. The land now, all stubble, still + looked good for anything. If bare, it did not seem starved. It was naked + and unshaven; it was stripped like a boxer for the rubbing-down after the + fight. Not so refined and suggestive and luxurious as when it was clothed + with the coat of ripe corn in the ear, it still showed the fibre of its + being to no disadvantage. And overhead the joy of the prairie grew apace. + </p> + <p> + September saw the vast prairie spaces around Askatoon shorn and shrivelled + of its glory of ripened grain, but with a new life come into the + air-sweet, stinging, vibrant life, which had the suggestion of nature + recreating her vitality, inflaming herself with Edenic strength, a battery + charging itself, to charge the world in turn with force and energy. + Morning gave pure elation, as though all created being must strive; noon + was the pulse of existence at the top of its activity; evening was + glamorous; and all the lower sky was spread with those colours which + Titian stole from the joyous horizon that filled his eyes. There was in + that evening light, somehow, just a touch of pensiveness—the triste + delicacy of heliotrope, harbinger of the Indian summer soon to come, when + the air would make all sensitive souls turn to the past and forget that + to-morrow was all in all. + </p> + <p> + Sensitive souls, however, are not so many as to crowd each other unduly in + this world, and they were not more numerous in Askatoon than elsewhere. + Not everybody was taking joy of sunrises and losing himself in the + delicate contentment of the sunset. There were many who took it all + without thought, who absorbed it unconsciously, and got something from it; + though there were many others who got nothing out of it at all, save the + health and comfort brought by a precious climate whose solicitous friend + is the sun. These heeded it little, even though a good number of them came + from the damp islands lying between the north Atlantic and the German + Ocean. From Erin and England and the land o’ cakes they came, had a few + days of staring bright-eyed happy incredulity as to the permanency of such + conditions, and then settled down to take it as it was, endless days of + sunshine and stirring vivacious air—as though they had always known + it and had it. + </p> + <p> + There were exceptions, and these had joy in what they saw and felt + according to the measure of their temperament. Shiel Crozier saw and felt + much of it, and probably the Young Doctor saw more of it than any one; + stray people here and there who take no part in this veracious tale had it + in greater or less degree; fat Jesse Bulrush was so sensitive to it that + he, as he himself said, “almost leaked sentimentality” and Kitty Tynan + possessed it. She was pulsing with life, as a bird drunken with the air’s + sweetness sings itself into an abandonment of motion. + </p> + <p> + Before Crozier came she had enjoyed existence as existence, wondering + often why it was she wanted to spring up from the ground with the idea + that she could fly, if she chose to try. Once when she was quite a little + girl she had said to her mother, “I’m going to ile away,” and her mother, + puzzled, asked her what she meant. Her reply was, “It’s in the hymn.” Her + mother persisted in asking what hymn; and was told with something like + scorn that it was the hymn she herself had taught her only child—“I’ll + away, I’ll away to the Promised Land.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty had thought that “I’ll away” meant some delicious motion which was + to ile, and she had visions of something between floating and flying as + being that blessed means of transportation. + </p> + <p> + As the years grew, she still wanted to “ile away” whenever the spirit of + elation seized her, and it had increased greatly since Shiel Crozier came. + Out of her star as he was, she still felt near to him, and as though she + understood him and he comprehended her. He had almost at once become to + her an admired mystery, which, however, at first she did not dare wish to + solve. She had been content to be a kind of handmaiden to a generous and + adored master. She knew that where he had been she could in one sense + never go, and yet she wanted to be near him just the same. This was + intensified after the Logan Trial and the shooting of the man who somehow + seemed to have made her live in a new way. + </p> + <p> + As long ago as she could recall she had, in a crude, untutored way, been + fond of the things that nature made beautiful; but now she seemed to see + them in a new light, but not because any one had deliberately taught her. + Indeed, it bored her almost to hear books read as Jesse Bulrush and Nurse + Egan, and even her mother, read them to Crozier after his operation, to + help him pass away the time. The only time she ever cared to listen—at + school, though quick and clever, she had never cared for the printed page—was + when, by chance, poetry or verses were read or recited. Then she would + listen eagerly, not attracted by the words, but by the music of the lines, + by the rhyme and rhythm, by the underlying feeling; and she got something + out of it which had in one sense nothing to do with the verses themselves + or with the conception of the poet. + </p> + <p> + Curiously enough, she most liked to hear Jesse Bulrush read. He was a born + sentimentalist, and this became by no means subtly apparent to Kitty + during Crozier’s illness. Whenever Nurse Egan was on duty Jesse contrived + to be about, and to make himself useful and ornamental too; for he was a + picturesque figure, with a taste for figured waistcoats and clean linen—he + always washed his own white trousers and waistcoats, and he had a taste in + ties, which he made for himself out of silk bought by the yard. He was, in + fact, a clean, wholesome man, with a flair for material things, as he had + shown in the land proposal on which Shiel Crozier’s fortunes hung, but + with no gift for carrying them out, having neither constructive ability + nor continuity of purpose. Yet he was an agreeable, humorous, sentimental + soul, who at fifty years of age found himself “an old bach,” as he called + himself, in love at last with a middle-aged nurse with dark brown hair and + set figure, keen, intelligent eyes, and a most cheerful, orderly, and + soothing way with her. + </p> + <p> + Before Shiel Crozier was taken ill their romance began; but it grew in + volume and intensity after the trial and the shooting, when they met by + the bedside of the wounded man. Jesse had been away so much in different + parts of the country before then that their individual merits never had + had a real chance to make permanent impression. By accident, however, his + business made it necessary for him to be much in Askatoon at the moment, + and it was a propitious time for the growth of the finer feelings. + </p> + <p> + It had given Jesse Bulrush real satisfaction that Kitty Tynan listened to + his reading of poetry—Longfellow, Byron, Tennyson, Whyte Melville, + and Adam Lindsay Gordon chiefly—with such absorbed interest. His + content was the greater because his lovely nurse—he did think she + was lovely, as Rubens thought his painted ladies beautiful, though their + cordial, ostentatious proportions are not what Raphael regarded as the + divine lines—because his lovely nurse listened to his fat, happy + voice rising and falling, swelling and receding on the waves of verse; + though it meant nothing to her that one who had the gift of pleasant sound + was using it on her behalf. + </p> + <p> + This was not apparent to her Bulrush, though Crozier and Kitty understood. + Jesse only saw in the blue-garbed, clear-visaged woman a mistress of his + heart, who had all the virtues and graces and who did not talk. That, to + him, was the best thing of all. She was a superb listener, and he was a + prodigious talker—was it not all appropriate? + </p> + <p> + One day he went searching for Kitty at her favourite retreat, a little + knoll behind and to the left of the house, where a half-dozen trees made a + pleasant resting-place at a fine look-out point. He found her in her usual + place, with a look almost pensive on her face. He did not notice that, for + he was excited and elated. + </p> + <p> + “I want to read you something I’ve written,” he said, and he drew from his + pocket a paper. + </p> + <p> + “If it’s another description of the timber-land you have for sale-please, + not to me,” she answered provokingly, for she guessed well what he held in + his hand. She had seen him writing it. She had even seen some of the lines + scrawled and re-scrawled on bits of paper, showing careful if not swift + and skillful manufacture. One of these crumpled-up bits of paper she had + in her pocket now, having recovered it that she might tease him by quoting + the lines at a provoking opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not that. It’s some verses I’ve written,” he said, with a wave of + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “All your own?” she asked with an air of assumed innocent interest, and he + did not see the frivolous gleam in her eyes, or notice the touch of aloes + on her tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Yes. I’ve always written verses more or less—I write a good + many advertisements in verse,” he added cheerfully. “They are very + popular. Not genius, quite, but there it is, the gift; and it has its uses + in commerce as in affairs of the heart. But if you’d rather not, if it + makes you tired—” + </p> + <p> + “Courage, soldier, bear your burden,” she said gaily. “Mount your horse + and get galloping,” she added, motioning him to sit. + </p> + <p> + A moment later he was pouring out his soul through a pleasing voice, from + fat lips, flanked by a high-coloured healthy cheek like a russet apple: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Like jewels of the sky they gleam, + Your eyes of light, your eyes of fire; + In their dark depths behold the dream + Of Life’s glad hope and Love’s desire. + + “Above your quiet brow, endowed + With Grecian charm to crown your grace, + Your hair in one soft Titian cloud + Throws heavenly shadows on your face.” + </pre> + <p> + “Well, I’ve never had verses written to me before,” Kitty remarked + demurely, when he had finished and sat looking at her questioningly. “But + ‘dark depths’—that isn’t the right thing to say of my eyes! And + Titian cloud of hair—is my hair Titian? I thought Titian hair was + bronzy-tawny was what Mr. Burlingame called it when he was spouting,”—her + upper lip curled in contempt. + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t you, and you know it,” he replied jerkily. She bridled. “Do you + mean to say that you come and read to me without a word of explanation, so + that I shouldn’t misunderstand, verses written for another? Am I to be + told now that my eyes aren’t eyes of light and eyes of fire, that I + haven’t got a Grecian brow? Do you dare to say those verses don’t fit me—except + for the Titian hair and heavenly shadows? And that I’ve got no right to + think they’re meant for me? Is it so, that a man that’s lived in my + mother’s house for years, eating at the same table with the family, and + having his clothes mended free, with supper to suit him and no questions + asked—is it so, that he reads me poetry, four lines at a stretch, + and a rhyme every other line, and then announces it isn’t for me!” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flashed, her bosom palpitated, her hand made passionate gestures, + and she really seemed a young fury let loose. For a moment he was deceived + by her acting; he did not see the lurking grin in the depths of her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Her voice shook with assumed passion. “Because I didn’t show what I felt + all these years, and only exposed my real feelings when you read those + verses to me, do you think any man who was a gentleman wouldn’t in the + circumstances say, ‘These verses are for you, Kitty Tynan’? You betrayed + me into showing you what I felt, and then you tell me your verses are for + another girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Girl! Girl! Girl!” he burst out. “Nurse is thirty-seven—she told me + so herself, and how could I tell that you—why, it’s absurd! I’ve + only thought of you always as a baby in long skirts”—she + spasmodically drew her skirts down over her pretty, shapely ankles, while + she kept her eyes covered with one hand—“and you’ve seen me makin’ + up to her ever since Crozier got the bullet. Ever since he was operated + on, I’ve—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, that’s right,” she interrupted. “That’s manly! Put the blame on + him—him that couldn’t help himself, struck by a horse-thief’s bullet + in the dark; him that’s no more to blame for your carryings on while death + was prowling about the door there—” + </p> + <p> + “Carryings on! Carryings on!” Jesse Bulrush was thoroughly excited and + indignant. The little devil, to put him in a hole like this! “Carryings + on! I’ve acted like a man all through—never anything else in your + house, and it’s a shame that I’ve got to listen to things that have never + been said of me in all my life. My mother was a good, true woman, and she + brought me up—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s it, put it on your mother now, poor woman! who isn’t here to + stretch out her hand and stop you from playing a double game with two + girls so placed they couldn’t help themselves—just doing kind acts + for a sick man.” Suddenly she got to her feet. “I tell you, Jesse Bulrush, + that you’re a man—you’re a man—” + </p> + <p> + But she could keep it up no longer. She burst out laughing, and the false + tears of the actress she dashed from her eyes as she added: “That you’re a + man after my own heart. But you can’t have it, even if you are after it, + and you are welcome to the thirty-seven-year-old seraph in there!” She + tossed a hand towards the house. + </p> + <p> + By this time he was on his feet too, almost bursting. “Well, you wicked + little rip—you Ellen Terry at twenty-two, to think you could play it + up like that! Why, never on the stage was there such—!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the poetry made me do it. It inspired me,” she gurgled. “I felt—why, + I felt here”—she pressed her hand to her heart “all the pangs of + unrequited love—oh, go away, go back to the house and read that to + her! She’s in the sitting-room, and my mother’s away down-town. Now’s your + chance, Claude Melnotte.” + </p> + <p> + She put both hands on his big, panting chest and pushed him backward + towards the house. “You’re good enough for anybody, and if I wasn’t so + young and daren’t leave mother till I get my wisdom-teeth cut, and till + I’m thirty-seven—oh, oh, oh!” She laughed till the tears came into + her eyes. “This is as good as—as a play.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the best acted play I ever saw, from ‘Ten Nights in a Bar-room’ to + ‘Struck Oil,’” rejoined Jesse Bulrush, with a face still half ashamed yet + beaming. “But, tell me, you heartless little woman, are the verses worth + anything? Do you think she’ll like them?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty grew suddenly serious, and a curious look he could not read deepened + in her eyes. “Nurse ‘ll like them—of course she will,” she said + gently. “She’ll like them because they are you. Read them to her as you + read them to me, and she’ll only hear your voice, and she’ll think them + clever and you a wonderful man, even if you are fifty and weigh a thousand + pounds. It doesn’t matter to a woman what a man’s saying or doing, or + whether he’s so much cleverer than she is, if she knows that under + everything he’s saying, ‘I love you.’ A man isn’t that way, but a woman + is. Now go.” Again she pushed him with a small brown hand. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty Tynan, what a girl you are!” he said admiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Then be a father to me,” she said teasingly. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t marry both your mother and nurse.” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps you can’t marry either,” she replied sarcastically, “and I know + that in any case you’ll never be any relative of mine by marriage. Get + going,” she said almost impatiently. + </p> + <p> + He turned to go, and she said after him, as he rolled away, “I’ll let you + hear some of my verses one day when you’re more developed and can + understand them.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bet they beat mine,” he called back. + </p> + <p> + “You’ll win your bet,” she answered, and stood leaning against a tree with + a curious look emerging and receding in her eyes. When he had disappeared, + sitting down, she drew from her breast a slip of paper, unfolded it, and + laid it on her knee. “It is better,” she said. “It’s not good poetry, of + course, but it’s truer, and it’s not done according to a pattern like his. + Yes, it’s real, real, real, and he’ll never see it—never see it now, + for I’ve fought it’ all out, and I’ve won.” + </p> + <p> + Then she slowly read the verses aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve won,” she said with determination. So many of her sex have said + things just as decisively, and while yet the exhilaration of their + decision was inflaming them, have done what they said they would never, + never, never do. Still there was a look in the fair face which meant a new + force awakened in her character. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she sat brooding, forgetful of the present and of the + little comedy of elderly lovers going on inside the house. She was + thinking of the way conventions hold and bind us; of the lack of freedom + in the lives of all, unless they live in wild places beyond the social + pale. Within the past few weeks she had had visions of such a world beyond + this active and ordered civilisation, where the will and the conscience of + a man or woman was the only law. She was not lawless in mind or spirit. + She was only rebelling against a situation in which she was bound hand and + foot, and could not follow her honest and exclusive desire, if she wished + to do so. + </p> + <p> + Here was a man who was married, yet in a real sense who had no wife. + Suppose that man cared for her, what a tragedy it would be for them to be + kept apart! This man did not love her, and so there was no tragedy for + both. Still all was not over yet—yes, all was “over and over and + over,” she said to herself as she sprang to her feet with a sharp + exclamation of disgust—with herself. + </p> + <p> + Her mother was coming hurriedly towards her from the house. There was a + quickness in her walk suggesting excitement, yet from the look in her face + it was plain that the news she brought was not painful. “He told me you + were here, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you I was here?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Bulrush.” + </p> + <p> + “So it’s all settled,” she said, with a little quirk of her shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he’s asked her, and they’re going to be married. It’s enough to make + you die laughing to see the two middle-aged doves cooing in there.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought perhaps it would be you. He said he would like to be a father + to me.” + </p> + <p> + “That would prevent me if nothing else would,” answered the widow of + Tyndall Tynan. “A stepfather to an unmarried girl, both eyeing each other + for a chance to find fault—if you please, no thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “That means you won’t get married till I’m out of the way?” asked Kitty, + with a look which was as much touched with myrrh as with mirth. + </p> + <p> + “It means I wouldn’t get married till you are married, anyway,” was the + complacent answer. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any one special that—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk nonsense. Since your father died I’ve only thought of his + child and mine, and I’ve not looked where I might. Instead, I’ve done my + best to prove that two women could live and succeed without a man to earn + for them; though of course without the pension it couldn’t have been done + in the style we’ve done it. We’ve got our place!” + </p> + <p> + There is a dignity attached to a pension which has an influence quite its + own, and in the most primitive communities it has an aristocratic + character which commands general respect. In Askatoon people gave Mrs. + Tynan a better place socially because of her pension than they would have + done if she had earned double the money which the pension brought her. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody has called on us,” she added with reflective pride. + </p> + <p> + “Principally since Mr. Crozier came,” added Kitty. “It’s funny, isn’t it, + how he made people respect him before they knew who he was?” + </p> + <p> + “He would make Satan stand up and take off his hat, if he paid Hades a + visit,” said Mrs. Tynan admiringly. “Anybody’d do anything for him.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty eyed her mother closely. There was a strange, far-away, brooding + look in Mrs. Tynan’s eyes, and she seemed for a moment lost in thought. + </p> + <p> + “You’re in love with him,” said Kitty sharply. + </p> + <p> + “I was, in a way,” answered her mother frankly. “I was, in a way, a kind + of way, till I knew he was married. But it didn’t mean anything. I never + thought of it except as a thing that couldn’t be.” + </p> + <p> + “Why couldn’t it be?” asked Kitty, smothering an agitation rising in her + breast. + </p> + <p> + “Because I always knew he belonged to where we didn’t, and because if he + was going to be in love himself, it would be with some girl like you. He’s + young enough for that, and it’s natural he should get as his profit the + years of youth that a young woman has yet to live.” + </p> + <p> + “As though it was a choice between you and me, for instance!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan started, but recovered herself. “Yes. If there had been any + choosing, he’d not have hesitated a minute. He’d have taken you, of + course. But he never gave either of us a thought that way.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that till—till after he’d told us his story,” replied + Kitty boldly. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened since then?” asked her mother, with sudden + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing has happened since. I don’t understand it, but it’s as though + he’d been asleep for a long time and was awake again.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan gravely regarded her daughter, and a look of fear came into her + face. “I knew you kept thinking of him always,” she said; “but you had + such sense, and he never showed any feeling for you; and young girls get + over things. Besides, you always showed you knew he wasn’t a possibility. + But since he told us that day about his being married and all, has—has + he been different towards you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a thing, not a word,” was the reply; “but—but there’s a + difference with him in a way. I feel it when I go in the room where he + is.” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve got to stop thinking of him,” insisted the elder woman + querulously. “You’ve got to stop it at once. It’s no good. It’s bad for + you. You’ve too much sense to go on caring for a man that—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m going to get married,” said Kitty firmly. “I’ve made up my mind. If + you have to think about one person, you should stop thinking about + another; anyhow, you’ve got to make yourself stop. So I’m going to marry—and + stop.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you going to marry, Kitty? You don’t mean to say it’s John + Sibley!” + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps. He keeps coming.” + </p> + <p> + “That gambling and racing fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “He owns a big farm, and it pays, and he has got an interest in a mine, + and—” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, you shan’t,” peevishly interjected Mrs. Tynan. “You shan’t. + He’s vicious. He’s—oh, you shan’t! I’d rather—” + </p> + <p> + “You’d rather I threw myself away—on a married man?” asked Kitty + covertly. + </p> + <p> + “My God—oh, Kitty!” said the other, breaking down. “You can’t mean + it—oh, you can’t mean that you’d—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got to work out my case in my own way,” broke in Kitty calmly. “I + know how I’ve got to do it. I have to make my own medicine—and take + it. You say John Sibley is vicious. He has only got one vice.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it enough? Gambling—” + </p> + <p> + “That isn’t a vice; it’s a sport. It’s the same as Mr. Crozier had. Mr. + Crozier did it with horses only, the other does it with cards and horses. + The only vice John Sibley’s got is me.” + </p> + <p> + “Is you?” asked her mother bewilderedly. + </p> + <p> + “Well, when you’ve got an idea you can’t control and it makes you its + slave, it’s a vice. I’m John’s vice, and I’m thinking of trying to cure + him of it—and cure myself too,” Kitty added, folding and unfolding + the paper in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here comes the Young Doctor,” said her mother, turning towards the house. + “I think you don’t mean to marry Sibley, but if you do, make him give up + gambling.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know that I want him to give it up,” answered Kitty musingly. + </p> + <p> + A moment later she was alone with the Young Doctor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. ALL ABOUT AN UNOPENED LETTER + </h2> + <p> + “What’s this you’ve been doing?” asked the Young Doctor, with a quizzical + smile. “We never can tell where you’ll break out.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty Tynan’s measles!” she rejoined, swinging her hat by its ribbon. + “Mine isn’t a one-sided character, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I know one of the sides quite well,” returned the Young Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Which, please, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor pretended to look wise. “The outside. I read it like a + book. It fits the life in which it moves like the paper on the wall. But + I’m not sure of the inside. In fact, I don’t think I know that at all.” + </p> + <p> + “So I couldn’t call you in if my character was sick inside, could I?” she + asked obliquely. + </p> + <p> + “I might have an operation, and see what’s wrong with it,” he answered + playfully. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she shivered. “I’ve had enough of operations to last me awhile,” + she rejoined. “I thought I could stand anything, but your operation on Mr. + Crozier taught me a lesson. I’d never be a doctor’s wife if I had to help + him cut up human beings.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll remember that,” the Young Doctor replied mockingly. + </p> + <p> + “But if it would help put things on a right basis, I’d make a bargain that + I wasn’t to help do the carving,” she rejoined wickedly. The Young Doctor + always incited her to say daring things. They understood each other well. + “So don’t let that stand in the way,” she added slyly. + </p> + <p> + “The man who marries you will be glad to get you without the anatomy,” he + returned gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “I wasn’t talking of a man; I was talking of a doctor.” + </p> + <p> + He threw up a hand and his eyebrows. “Isn’t a doctor a man?” + </p> + <p> + “Those I’ve seen have been mostly fish.” + </p> + <p> + “No feelings—eh?” + </p> + <p> + She looked him in the eyes, and he felt a kind of shiver go through him. + “Not enough to notice. I never observed you had any,” she replied. “If I + saw that you had, I’d be so frightened I’d fly. I’ve seen pictures of an + excited whale turning a boat full of men over. No, I couldn’t bear to see + you show any feeling.” + </p> + <p> + The dark eyes of the Young Doctor suddenly took on a look which was a + stranger to them. In his relations with women he was singularly + impersonal, but he was a man, and he was young enough to feel the Adam + stir in him. The hidden or controlled thing suddenly emerged. It was not + the look which would be in his eyes if he were speaking to the woman he + wanted to marry. Kitty saw it, and she did not understand it, for she had + at heart a feeling that she could go to him in any trouble of life and be + sure of healing. To her he seemed wonderful; but she thought of him as she + would have thought of her father, as a person of authority and knowledge—that + operation showed him a great man, she thought, so skillful and precise and + splendid; and the whole countryside had such confidence in him. + </p> + <p> + She regarded him as a being apart; but for a moment, an ominous moment, he + was almost one with that race of men who feed in strange pastures. She + only half saw the reddish glow which came swimming into his eyes, and she + did not realise it, for she did not expect to find it there. For an + instant, however, he saw with new eyes that primary eloquence of woman + life, the unspent splendour of youth, the warm joy of the material being, + the mystery of maidenhood in all its efflorescence. It was the emergence + of his own youth again, as why should it not be, since he had never + married and had never dallied! But in a moment it was gone again—driven + away. + </p> + <p> + “What a wicked little flirt you are!” he said, with a shake of the head. + “You’ll come to a bad end, if you don’t change your ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Perform an operation, then, if you think you know what’s the matter with + me,” she retorted. “Sometimes in operating for one disease we come on + another, and then there’s a lot of thinking to be done.” + </p> + <p> + The look in her face was quizzical, yet there was a strange, elusive + gravity in her eyes, an almost pathetic appealing. “If you were going to + operate on me, what would it be for?” she asked more flippantly than her + face showed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it’s obscure, and the symptoms are not usual, but I should strike + for the cancer love,” he answered, with a direct look. + </p> + <p> + She flushed and changed on the instant. “Is love a cancer?” she asked. All + at once she felt sure that he read her real story, and something very like + anger quickened in her. + </p> + <p> + “Unrequited love is,” he answered deliberately. “How do you know it is + unrequited?” she asked sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don’t know it,” he answered, dismayed by the look in her face. + “But I certainly hope I’m right. I do, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you were right, what would you do—as a surgeon?” she + questioned, with an undertone of meaning. + </p> + <p> + “I would remove the cause of the disease.” + </p> + <p> + She came close and looked him straight in the eyes. “You mean that he + should go? You think that would cure the disease? Well, you are not going + to interfere. You are not going to manoeuvre anything to get him away—I + know doctors’ tricks. You’d say he must go away east or west to the sea + for change of air to get well. That’s nonsense, and it isn’t necessary. + You are absolutely wrong in your diagnosis—if that’s what you call + it. He is going to stay here. You aren’t going to drive away one of our + boarders and take the bread out of our mouths. Anyhow, you’re wrong. You + think because a girl worships a man’s ability that she’s in love with him. + I adore your ability, but I’d as soon fall in love with a lobster—and + be boiled with the lobster in a black pot. Such conceit men have!” + </p> + <p> + He was not convinced. He had a deep-seeing eye, and he saw that she was + boldly trying to divert his belief or suspicion. He respected her for it. + He might have said he loved her for it—with a kind of love which can + be spoken of without blushing or giving cause to blush, or reason for + jealousy, anger, or apprehension. + </p> + <p> + He smiled down into her gold-brown eyes, and he thought what a real woman + she was. He felt, too, that she would tell him something that would give + him further light if he spoke wisely now. + </p> + <p> + “I’d like to see some proof that you are right, if I am wrong,” he + answered cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’m going to be married,” she said, with an air of finality. + </p> + <p> + He waved a hand deprecatingly. “Impossible—there’s no man worth it. + Who is the undeserving wretch?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you to-morrow,” she replied. “He doesn’t know yet how happy + he’s going to be. What did you come here for? Why did you want to see me?” + she added. “You had something you were going to tell me. Hadn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s quite right,” he replied. “It’s about Crozier. This is my last + visit to him professionally. He can go on now without my care. Yours will + be sufficient for him. It has been all along the very best care he could + have had. It did more for him than all the rest, it—” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean that,” she interrupted, with a flush and a bosom that + leaped under her pretty gown. “You don’t mean that I was of more use than + the nurse—than the future Mrs. Jesse Bulrush?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean just that,” he answered. “Nearly every sick person, every sick + man, I should say, has his mascot, his ministering angel, as it were. It’s + a kind of obsession, and it often means life or death, whether the mascot + can stand the strain of the situation. I knew an old man—down by + Dingley’s Flat it was, and he wanted a boy—his grand-nephew-beside + him always. He was getting well, but the boy took sick and the old man + died the next day. The boy had been his medicine. Sometimes it’s a + particular nurse that does the trick; but whoever it is, it’s a great + vital fact. Well, that’s the part you played to Mr. Shiel Crozier of + Lammis and Castlegarry aforetime. He owes you much.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” she said softly, her eyes on the distance. + </p> + <p> + “She is in love with him in spite of what she says,” remarked the Young + Doctor to himself. “Well,” he continued aloud, “the fact is, Crozier’s + almost well in a way, but his mind is in a state, and he is not going to + get wholly right as things are. Since things came out in court, since he + told us his whole story, he has been different. It’s as though—” + </p> + <p> + She interrupted him hastily and with suppressed emotion. “Yes, yes, do you + think I’ve not noticed that? He’s been asleep in a way for five years, and + now he’s awake again. He is not James Gathorne Kerry now; he is James + Shiel Gathorne Crozier, and—oh, you understand: he’s back again + where he was before—before he left her.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor nodded approvingly. “What a little brazen wonder you are! + I declare you see more than—” + </p> + <p> + “Yet you won’t have me?” she asked mockingly. “You’re too clever for me,” + he rejoined with spirit. “I’m too conceited. I must marry a girl that’d + kneel to me and think me as wise as Socrates. But he’s back again, as you + say, and, in my view, his wife ought to be back again also.” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to be here,” was Kitty’s swift reply, “though I think mighty + little of her—mighty little, I can tell you. Stuckup, great tall + stork of a woman, that lords it over a man as though she was a goddess. + Wears diamonds in the middle of the day, I suppose, and cold-blooded as—as + a fish.” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to have married me, according to your opinion of me. You said I + was a fish,” remarked the Young Doctor, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “The whale and the catfish!” + </p> + <p> + “Heavens, what spite!” he rejoined. “Catfish—what do you know about + Mrs. Crozier? You may be brutally unjust—waspishly unjust, I should + say.” + </p> + <p> + “Do I look like a wasp?” she asked half tearfully. She was in a strange + mood. + </p> + <p> + “You look like a golden busy bee,” he answered. “But tell me, how did you + come to know enough about her to call her a cat?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, as you say, I was a busy golden bee,” she retorted. + </p> + <p> + “That information doesn’t get me much further,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I opened that letter,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “‘That letter’—you mean you opened the letter he showed us which he + had left sealed as it came to him five years ago?” The Young Doctor’s face + wore a look of dismay. + </p> + <p> + “I steamed the envelope open—how else could I have done it! I + steamed it open, saw what I wanted, and closed it up again.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor’s face was pale now. This was a terrible revelation. He + had a man’s view of such conduct. He almost shrank from her, though she + stood there as inviting and innocent a specimen of girlhood as the eye + could wish to see. She did not look dishonourable. + </p> + <p> + “Do you realise what that means?” he asked in a cold, hard tone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, don’t put on that look and don’t talk like John the + Evangelist,” she retorted. “I did it, not out of curiosity, and not to do + any one harm, but to do her good—his wife.” + </p> + <p> + “It was dishonourable—wicked and dishonourable.” + </p> + <p> + “If you talk like that, Mr. Piety, I’m off,” she rejoined, and she started + away. + </p> + <p> + “Wait—wait,” he said, laying firm fingers on her arm. “Of course you + did it for a good purpose. I know. You cared enough for him for that.” + </p> + <p> + He had said the right thing, and she halted and faced him. “I cared enough + to do a good deal more than that if necessary. He has been like a second + father to me, and—” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a light of humour shot into the eyes of both. Sheil Crozier as a + “father” to her was too artificial not to provoke their sense of the + grotesque. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to find out his wife’s address to write to her and tell her to + come quick,” she explained. “It was when he was at the worst. And then, + too, I wanted to know the kind of woman she was before I wrote to her. So—” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to say you read that letter which he had kept unopened and + unread for five long years?” The Young Doctor was certainly disturbed + again. + </p> + <p> + “Every word of it,” Kitty answered shamelessly, “and I’m not sorry. It was + in a good cause. If he had said, ‘Courage, soldier,’ and opened it five + years ago, it would have been good for him. Better to get things like that + over.” + </p> + <p> + “It was that kind of a letter, was it—a catfish letter?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed a little scornfully. “Yes, just like that, Mr. Easily + Shocked. Great, showy, purse-proud creature!” + </p> + <p> + “And you wrote to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—a letter that would make her come if anything would. Talk of + tact—I was as smooth as a billiard-ball. But she hasn’t come.” + </p> + <p> + “The day after the operation I cabled to her,” said the Young Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Then you steamed the letter open and read it too?” asked Kitty + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. Ladies first-and last,” was the equally sarcastic answer. + “I cabled to Castlegarry, his father’s place, also to Lammis that he + mentioned when he told us his story. Crozier of Lammis, he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wrote to the London address in the letter,” added Kitty. “I don’t + think she’ll come. I asked her to cable me, and she hasn’t. I wrote such a + nice letter, too. I did it for his sake.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor laid his hands on both her shoulders. “Kitty Tynan, the + man who gets you will get what he doesn’t deserve,” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + “That might mean anything.” + </p> + <p> + “It means that Crozier owes you more than he can guess.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes shone with a strange, soft glow. “In spite of opening the + letter?” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor nodded, then added humorously: “That letter you wrote her—I’m + not sure that my cable wouldn’t have far more effect than your letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not. You tried to frighten her, but I tried to coax her, to + make her feel ashamed. I wrote as though I was fifty.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor regarded her dubiously. “What was the sort of thing you + said to her?” + </p> + <p> + “For one thing, I said that he had every comfort and attention two loving + women and one fond nurse could give him; but that, of course, his + legitimate wife would naturally be glad to be beside him when he passed + away, and that if she made haste she might be here in time.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor leaned against a tree shaking with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “What are you smiling at?” Kitty asked ironically. “Oh, she’ll be sure to + come—nothing will keep her away after being coaxed like that!” he + said, when he could get breath. + </p> + <p> + “Laughing at me as though I was a clown in a circus!” she exclaimed. + “Laughing when, as you say yourself, the man that she—the cat—wrote + that fiendish letter to is in trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “It was a fiendish letter, was it?” he asked, suddenly sobered again. “No, + no, don’t tell me,” he added, with a protesting gesture. “I don’t want to + hear. I don’t want to know. I oughtn’t to know. Besides, if she comes, I + don’t want to be prejudiced against her. He is troubled, poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is. There’s the big land deal—his syndicate. He’s got + a chance of making a fortune, and he can’t do it because—but Jesse + Bulrush told me in confidence, so I can’t explain.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea, a pretty good idea. Askatoon is small.” + </p> + <p> + “And mean sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what you know. Perhaps I can help him,” urged the Young Doctor. + “I have helped more than one good man turn a sharp corner here.” + </p> + <p> + She caught his arm. “You are as good as gold.” + </p> + <p> + “You are—impossible,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + They talked of Crozier’s land deal and syndicate as they walked slowly + towards the house. Mrs. Tynan met them at the door, a look of excitement + in her face. “A telegram for you Kitty,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For me!” exclaimed Kitty eagerly. “It’s a year since I had one.” + </p> + <p> + She tore open the yellow envelope. A light shot up in her face. She thrust + the telegram into the Young Doctor’s hands. + </p> + <p> + “She’s coming; his wife’s coming. She’s in Quebec now. It was my letter—my + letter, not your cable, that brought her,” Kitty added triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. NIGHT SHADE AND MORNING GLORY + </h2> + <p> + It was as though Crozier had been told of the coming of his wife, for when + night came, on the day Kitty had received her telegram, he could not + sleep. He was the sport of a consuming restlessness. His brain would not + be still. He could not discharge from it the thoughts of the day and make + it vacuous. It would not relax. It seized with intentness on each thing in + turn, which was part of his life at the moment, and gave it an abnormal + significance. In vain he tried to shake himself free of the successive + obsessions which stormed down the path of the night, dragging him after + them, a slave lashed to the wheels of a chariot of flame. + </p> + <p> + At last it was the land deal and syndicate on which his future depended, + and the savage fate which seemed about to snatch his fortune away as it + had done so often before; as it had done on the day when Flamingo went + down near the post at the Derby with a madwoman dragging at the bridle. He + had had a sure thing then, and it was whisked away just when it would have + enabled him to pass the crisis of his life. Wife, home, the old + fascinating, crowded life—they had all vanished because of that vile + trick of destiny; and ever since then he had been wandering in the + wilderness through years that brought no fruit of his labours. Yet here + was his chance, his great chance, to get back what he had and was in the + old misspent days, with new purposes in life to follow and serve; and it + was all in cruel danger of being swept away when almost within his grasp. + </p> + <p> + If he could but achieve the big deal, he could return to wife and home, he + could be master in his own house, not a dependent on his wife’s bounty. + That very evening Jesse Bulrush, elated by his own good fortune in + capturing Cupid, had told him as sadly as was possible, while his own + fortunes were, as he thought, soaring, that every avenue of credit seemed + closed; that neither bank nor money-lender, trust nor loan company, would + let him have the ten thousand dollars necessary for him to hold his place + in the syndicate; while each of the other members of the clique had flatly + and cheerfully refused, saying they were busy carrying their own loads. + Crozier had commanded Jesse not to approach them, but the fat idealist had + an idea that his tongue had a gift of wheedling, and he believed that he + could make them “shell out,” as he put it. He had failed, and he was + obliged to say so, when Crozier, suspecting, brought him to book. + </p> + <p> + “They mean to crowd you out—that’s their game,” Bulrush had said. + “They’ve closed up all the ways to cash or credit. They’re laying to do + you out of your share. Unless you put up the cash within the four days + left, they’ll put it through without you. They told me to tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + And Crozier had not even cursed them. He said to Jesse Bulrush that it was + an old game to get hold of a patent that made a fortune for a song while + the patentee died in the poor-house. Yet that four days was time enough + for a live man to do a “flurry of work,” and he was fit enough to walk up + their backs yet with hobnailed boots, as they said in Kerry when a man was + out for war. + </p> + <p> + Over and over again this hovering tragedy drove sleep from his eyes; and + in the spaces between there were a hundred fleeting visions of little and + big things to torture him—remembrances of incidents when debts and + disasters dogged his footsteps; and behind them all, floating among the + elves and gnomes of ill-luck and disappointment, was a woman’s face. It + was not his wife’s face, not a face that belonged to the old life, but one + which had been part of his daily existence for over four years. It was the + first face he saw when he came back from consciousness after the operation + which saved his life—the face of Kitty Tynan. + </p> + <p> + And ever since the day when he had told the story of his life this face + had kept passing before his eyes with a disturbing persistence. Kitty had + said to her mother and to the Young Doctor that he had seemed after he had + told his story like one who had awakened; and in a sense it was + startlingly true. It was as though, while he was living under an assumed + name, the real James Shiel Gathorne Crozier did not exist, or was in the + far background of the doings and sayings of J. G. Kerry. His wife and the + past had been shadowy in a way, had been as part of a life lived out, + which would return in some distant day, but was not vital to the present. + Much as he had loved his wife, the violent wrench away from her had seemed + almost as complete as death itself; but the resumption of his own name and + the telling if his story had produced a complete psychological change in + him mentally and bodily. The impersonal feeling which had marked his + relations with the two women of this household, and with all women, was + suddenly gone. He longed for the arms of a woman round his neck—it + was five years since any woman’s arms had been there, since he had kissed + any woman’s lips. Now, in the hour when his fortunes were again in the + fatal balance, when he would be started again for a fair race with the + wife from whom he had been so long parted, another face came between. + </p> + <p> + All at once the question Burlingame asked him, as to whether his wife was + living, came to him. He had never for an instant thought of her as dead, + but now a sharp and terrifying anxiety came to him. If his wife was + living! Living? Her death had never been even a remote possibility to his + mind, though the parting had had the decisiveness of death. Beneath all + his shrewdness and ability he was at heart a dreamer, a romanticist to + whom life was an adventure in a half-real world. + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to sleep. He tossed from side to side. Once he got up in + the dark and drank great draughts of water; once again, as he thought of + Mona, his wife, as she was in the first days of their married life, a + sudden impulse seized him. He sprang from his bed, lit a candle, went to + the desk where the unopened letter lay, and took it out. With the feeling + that he must destroy this record, this unread but, as he knew, ugly record + of their differences, and so clear her memory of any cruelty, of any act + of anger, he was about to hold it to the flame of the candle when he + thought he heard a sound behind him as of the door of his room gently + closing. Laying the letter down, he went to the door and opened it. There + was no one stirring. Yet he had a feeling as though some one was there in + the darkness. His lips framed the words, + </p> + <p> + “Who is it? Is any one there?” but he did not utter them. + </p> + <p> + A kind of awe possessed him. He was Celtic; he had been fed on the + supernatural when he was a child; he had had strange, indefinable + experiences or hallucinations in the days when he lived at Castlegarry, + and all his life he had been a friend of the mystical. It is hard to tell + what he thought as he stood there and peered into the darkness of the + other room-the living-room of the house. He was in a state of trance, + almost, a victim of the night. But as he closed the door softly the words + of the song that Kitty Tynan had sung to him the day when he found her + brushing his coat came to him and flooded his brain. The last two verses + of the song kept drowning his sense of the actual, and he was swayed by + the superstition of bygone ancestors: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Whereaway goes my lad—tell me, has he gone alone? + Never harsh word did I speak, never hurt I gave; + Strong he was and beautiful; like a heron he has flown + Hereaway, hereaway will I make my grave. + + “When once more the lad I loved hereaway, hereaway, + Comes to lay his hand in mine, kiss me on the brow, + I will whisper down the wind, he will weep to hear me say— + ‘Whereaway, whereaway goes my lover now?’” + </pre> + <p> + He went to bed again, but sleep would not come. The verses of the lament + kept singing in his brain. He tossed from side to side, he sought to + control himself, but it was of no avail. Suddenly he remembered the bed of + boughs he had made for himself at the place where Kitty had had her + meeting with the Young Doctor the previous day. Before he was shot he used + to sleep in the open in the summer-time. If he could get to sleep anywhere + it would be there. + </p> + <p> + Hastily dressing himself in flannel shirt and trousers, and dragging a + blanket from the bed, he found his way to the bedroom door, went into the + other room, and felt his way to the front door, which would open into the + night. All at once he was conscious of another presence in the room, but + the folk-song was still beating in his brain, and he reproved himself for + succumbing to fantasy. Finding the front door in the dark, he opened it + and stepped outside. There was no moon, but there were millions of stars + in the blue vault above, and there was enough light for him to make his + way to the place where he had slept “hereaway and oft.” + </p> + <p> + He knew that the bed of boughs would be dry, but the night would be his, + and the good, cool ground, and the soughing of the pines, and the sweet, + infinitesimal and innumerable sounds of the breathing, sleeping earth. He + found the place and threw himself down. Why, here were green boughs under + him, not the dried remains of what he had placed there! Kitty—it was + Kitty, dear, gay, joyous, various Kitty, who had done this thing, thinking + that he might want to sleep in the open again after his illness. Kitty—it + was she who had so thoughtfully served him; Kitty, with the instinct of + strong, unselfish womanhood, with the gift of the outdoor life, with the + unpurchasable gift of friendship. What a girl she was! How rich she could + make the life of a man! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Hereaway my heart was soft; when he kissed my happy eyes, + Held my hand, and laid his cheek warm against my brow, + Home I saw upon the earth, heaven stood there in the skies + Whereaway, whereaway goes my lover now?” + </pre> + <p> + How different she was, this child of the West, of Nature, from the woman + he had left behind in England, the sophisticated, well-appointed, + well-controlled girl; too well-controlled even in the first days of + married life; too well-controlled for him who had the rushing impulses of + a Celtic warrior of olden days. Delicate, refined, perfectly poised, and + Kitty beside her like a sunflower to a sprig of heliotrope! Mona—Kitty, + the two names, the two who, so far, had touched his life, each in her own + way, as none others had done, they floated before his eyes till sight and + feeling grew dim. With a last effort he strove to eject Kitty from his + thoughts, for there was the wife he had won in the race of life, and he + must stand by her, play the game, ride honestly, even in exile from her, + run straight, even with that unopened, bitter, upbraiding letter in the— + </p> + <p> + He fell asleep, and soon and slowly and ever so dimly the opal light of + the prairie dawn crept shyly over the landscape. With it came stealing the + figure of a girl towards the group of trees where lay the man of Lammis on + the bed of green boughs which she had renewed for him. She had followed + him from the dark room, where she had waited near him through the night—near + him, to be near him for the last time; alone with him and the kind, holy + night before the morrow came which belonged to the other woman, who had + written to him as she never could have written to any man in whose arms + she ever had lain. And the pity and the tragedy of it was that he loved + his wife—the catfish wife. The sharp, pitiless instinct of love told + her that the stirring in his veins which had come of late to him, which + beat higher, even poignantly, when she was near him now, was only the + reflection of what he felt for his wife. She knew the unmerciful truth, + but it only deepened what she felt for him, yet what she must put away + from herself after to-morrow. Those verses she wrote—they were to + show that she had conquered herself. Yet, but a few hours after, here she + was kneeling outside his door at night, here she was pursuing him to the + place where he slept. The coming of the other woman—she knew well + that she was something to this man of men—had roused in her all she + had felt, had intensified it. + </p> + <p> + She trembled, but she drew near, accompanied by the heavenly odours of the + freshened herbs and foliage and the cool tenderness of the river close by. + In her white dress and loosened hair she was like some spirit of a + new-born world finding her way to the place she must call home. It was all + so dim, so like clouded silver, the trees and the grass and the bushes and + the night. Noiselessly she stole over the grass and into the shadows of + the trees where he lay. Again and again she paused. What would she do if + he was awake and saw her? She did not know. The moment must take care of + itself. She longed to find him sleeping. + </p> + <p> + It was so. The hazy light showed his face upward to the skies, his breast + rising and falling in a heavy, luxurious sleep. + </p> + <p> + She drew nearer and nearer till she was kneeling beside him. His face was + warm with colour even in the night air, warmer than she had ever seen it. + One hand lay across his chest and one was thrown back over his head with + the abandon of perfect rest. All the anxiety and restlessness which had + tortured him had fled, and his manhood showed bold and serene in the + brightening dusk. + </p> + <p> + A sob almost broke from her as she gazed her fill, then slowly she leaned + over and softly pressed her lips to his—the first time that ever in + love they had been given to any man. She had the impulse to throw her arms + round him, but she mastered herself. He stirred, but he did not wake. His + lips moved as she withdrew hers. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” he said in the quick, broken way of the dreamer. + </p> + <p> + She rose swiftly and fled away among the trees towards the house. + </p> + <p> + What he had said in his sleep—was it in reality the words of + unconsciousness, or was it subconscious knowledge?—they kept ringing + in her ears. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” he had said when she kissed him. There was a light of joy in + her eyes now, though she felt that the words were meant for another. Yet + it was her kiss, her own kiss, which had made him say it. If—but + with happy eyes she stole to her room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. “S. O. S.” + </h2> + <p> + At breakfast next morning Kitty did not appear. Had it been possible she + would have fled into the far prairie and set up a lonely tabernacle there; + for with the day came a reaction from the courage possessing her the night + before and in the opal wakening of the dawn. When broad daylight came she + felt as though her bones were water and her body a wisp of straw. She + could not bear to meet Shiel Crozier’s eyes, and thus it was she had an + early breakfast on the plea that she had ironing to do. She was not, + however, prepared to see Jesse Bulrush drive up with a buggy after + breakfast and take Crozier away. When she did see them at the gate the + impulse came to cry out to Crozier; what to say she did not know, but + still to cry out. The cry on her lips was that which she had seen in the + newspaper the day before, the cry of the shipwrecked seafarers, the signal + of the wireless telegraphy, “S. O. S.”—the piteous call, “Save Our + Souls!” It sprang to her lips, but it got no farther except in an + unconscious whisper. On the instant she felt so weak and shaken and lonely + that she wanted to lean upon some one stronger than herself; as she used + to lean against her father, while he sat with one arm round her studying + his railway problems. She had been self-sufficient enough all her life,—“an + independent little bird of freedom,” as Crozier had called her; but she + was like a boat tossed on mountainous waves now. + </p> + <p> + “S. O. S.!—Save Our Souls!” + </p> + <p> + As though she really had made this poignant call Crozier turned round in + the buggy where he sat with Jesse Bulrush, pale but erect; and, with a + strange instinct, he looked straight to where she was. When he saw her his + face flushed, he could not have told why. Was it that there had passed to + him in his sleep the subconscious knowledge of the kiss which Kitty had + given him; and, after all, had he said “My darling” to her and not to the + wife far away across the seas, as he thought? A strange feeling, as of + secret intimacy, never felt before where Kitty was concerned, passed + through him now, and he was suddenly conscious that things were not as + they had ever been; that the old impersonal comradeship had vanished. It + disturbed, it almost shocked him. Whereupon he made a valiant effort to + recover the old ground, to get out of the new atmosphere into the old, + cheering air. + </p> + <p> + “Come and say good-bye, won’t you?” he called to her. + </p> + <p> + “S. O. S.—S. O. S.—S. O. S.!” was the cry in her heart, but + she called back to him from her lips, “I can’t. I’m too busy. Come back + soon, soldier.” + </p> + <p> + With a wave of the hand he was gone. “Not a care in the world she has,” + Crozier said to Jesse Bulrush. “She’s the sunniest creature Heaven ever + made.” + </p> + <p> + “Too skittish for me,” responded the other with a sidelong look, for he + had caught a note in Crozier’s voice which gave him a sudden suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “You want the kind you can drive with an oatstraw and a chirp—eh, my + friend?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I’ve got what I want,” was the reply. “Neither of us ‘ll kick over + the traces.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a lucky man,” replied Crozier. “You’ve got a remarkably big prize + in the lottery. She is a fine woman, is Nurse Egan, and I owe her a great + deal. I only hope things turn out so well that I can give her a good fat + wedding-present. But I shan’t be able to do anything that’s close to my + heart if I can’t get the cash for my share in the syndicate.” + </p> + <p> + “Courage, soldier, as Kitty Tynan says,” responded Jesse Bulrush cheerily. + “You never know your luck. The cash is waiting for you somewhere, and + it’ll turn up, be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not sure of that. I can see as plain as your nose how Bradley and his + clique have blocked me everywhere from getting credit, and I’d give five + years of my life to beat them in their dirty game. If I fail to get it at + Aspen Vale I’m done. But I’ll have a try, a good big try. How far exactly + is it? I’ve never gone by this trail.” + </p> + <p> + Bulrush shook his head reprovingly. “It’s too long a journey for you to + take after your knock-out. You’re not fit to travel yet. I don’t like it a + bit. Lydia said this morning it was a crime against yourself, going off + like this, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Lydia?—oh yes, pardonnez-moi, m’sieu’! I did not know her name was + Lydia.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t either till after we were engaged.” Crozier stared in blank + amazement. “You didn’t know her name till after you were engaged? What did + you call her before that?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I called her Nurse.” answered the fat lover. “We all called her + that, and it sounded comfortable and homelike and good for every day. It + had a sort of York-shilling confidence, and your life was in her hands—a + first-class you-and-me kind of feeling.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you stick to it, then?” + </p> + <p> + “She doesn’t want it. She says it sounds so old, and that I’d be calling + her ‘mother’ next.” + </p> + <p> + “And won’t you?” asked Crozier slyly. “Everything in season,” beamed + Jesse, and he shone, and was at once happy and composed. Crozier relapsed + into silence, for he was thinking that the lost years had been barren of + children. He turned to look at the home they had left. It was some + distance away now, but he could see Kitty still at the corner of the house + with a small harvest of laundered linen in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “She made that fresh bed of boughs for me—ah, but I had a good sleep + last night!” he added aloud. “I feel fit for the fight before me.” He drew + himself up and began to nod here and there to people who greeted him. + </p> + <p> + In the house behind them at that moment Kitty was saying to her mother, + “Where is he going, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “To Aspen Vale,” was the reply. “If you’d been at breakfast you’d have + heard. He’ll be gone two days, perhaps three.” + </p> + <p> + Three days! She regretted now that she had not said to herself, “Courage, + soldier,” and gone to say good-bye to him when he called to her. Perhaps + she would not see him again till after the other woman—till after + the wife-came. Then—then the house would be empty; then the house + would be so still. And then John Sibley would come and— + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. IN THE CAMP OF THE DESERTER + </h2> + <p> + Three days passed, but before they ended there came another telegram from + Mrs. Crozier stating the time of her expected arrival at Askatoon. It was + addressed to Kitty, and Kitty almost savagely tore it up into little + pieces and scattered it to the winds. She did not even wait to show it to + the Young Doctor; but he had a subtle instinct as to why she did not; and + he was rather more puzzled than usual at what was passing before his eyes. + In any case, the coming of the wife must alter all the relations existing + in the household of the widow Tynan. The old, unrestrained, careless + friendship could not continue. The newcomer would import an element of + caste and class which would freeze mother and daughter to the bones. + Crozier was the essence of democracy, which in its purest form is akin to + the most aristocratic element and is easily affiliated with it. He had no + fear of Crozier. Crozier would remain exactly the same; but would not + Crozier be whisked away out of Askatoon to a new fate, reconciled to being + a receiver of his wife’s bounty. + </p> + <p> + “If his wife gets her arms round his neck, and if she wants to get them + there, she will, and once there he’ll go with her like a gentleman,” said + the Young Doctor sarcastically. Admiring Crozier as he did, he also had + underneath all his knowledge of life an unreasonable apprehension of man’s + weakness where a woman was concerned. The man who would face a cannon’s + mouth would falter before the face of a woman whom he could crumple with + one hand. + </p> + <p> + The wife arrived before Crozier returned, and the Young Doctor and Kitty + met the train. The local operator had not divulged to any one the contents + of the telegram to Kitty, and there were no staring spectators on the + platform. As the great express stole in almost noiselessly, like a tired + serpent, Kitty watched its approach with outward cheerfulness. She had + braced herself to this moment, till she looked the most buoyant, joyous + thing in the world. It had not come easily. With desperation she had + fought a fight during these three lonely days, till at last she had + conquered, sleeping each night on Crozier’s star-lit bed of boughs and + coming in with the silver-grey light of dawn. Now she leaned forward with + heart beating fast; but with smiling face and with eyes so bright that she + deceived the Young Doctor. + </p> + <p> + There was no sign of inward emotion, of hidden troubles, as she leaned + forward to see the great lady step from the train—great in every + sense was this lady in her mind; imposing in stature, a Juno, a tragedy + queen, a Zenobia, a daughter of the gods who would not stoop to conquer. + She looked in vain, however, for the Mrs. Crozier she had imagined made no + appearance from the train. She hastened down the platform still with keen + eyes scanning the passengers, who were mostly alighting to stretch their + legs and get a breath of air. + </p> + <p> + “She’s not here,” she said at last darkly to the Young Doctor who had + followed her. + </p> + <p> + Then suddenly she saw emerge from a little group at the steps of a car a + child in a long dress—so it seemed to her, the being was so small + and delicate—and come forward, having hastily said good-bye to her + fellow-passengers. As the Young Doctor said afterwards, “She wasn’t bigger + than a fly,” and she certainly was as graceful and pretty and piquante as + a child-woman could be. + </p> + <p> + Presently, with her alert, rather assertive blue eyes she saw Kitty, and + came forward. “Miss Tynan?” she asked, with an encompassing look. + </p> + <p> + Now Kitty was idiomatic in her speech at times, and she occasionally used + slang of the best brand, but she avoided those colloquialisms which were + of the vocabulary of the uneducated. Indeed, she had had no inclination to + use them, for her father had set her a good example, and she liked to hear + good English spoken. That was why Crozier’s talk had been like music to + her; and she had been keen to distinguish between the rhetorical method of + Augustus Burlingame, who modelled himself on the orators of all the + continents, and was what might be called a synthetic elocutionist. Kitty + was as simple and natural as a girl could be, and as a rule had herself in + perfect command; but she was so stunned by the sight of this petite person + before her that, in reply to Mrs. Crozier’s question, she only said + abruptly + </p> + <p> + “The same!” + </p> + <p> + Then she came to herself and could have bitten her tongue out for that + plunge into the vernacular of the West; and forthwith a great prejudice + was set up in her mind against Mona Crozier, in whose eyes she caught a + look of quizzical criticism or, as she thought, contemptuous comment. That + for one instant she had been caught unawares and so had put herself at a + disadvantage angered her; but she had been embarrassed and confounded by + this miniature goddess, and her reply was a vague echo of talk she heard + around her every day. Also she could have choked the Young Doctor, whom + she caught looking at her with wondering humour, as though he was trying + to see “what her game was,” as he said to her afterwards. + </p> + <p> + It was all due to the fact that from the day of the Logan Trial, and + particularly from the day when Shiel Crozier had told his life-story, she + had always imagined his wife as a stately Amazonian being with the + carriage of a Boadicea. She had looked for an empress in splendid + garments, and—and here was a humming-bird of a woman, scarcely + bigger, than a child, with the buzzing energy of a bee, but with a queer + sort of manfulness too; with a square, slightly-projecting chin, as Kitty + came to notice afterwards; together with some small lines about the mouth + and at the eyes, which came from trouble endured and suffering undergone. + Kitty did not notice that, but the Young Doctor took it in with his + embracing glance, as the wife saluted Kitty with her inward comment, which + was: + </p> + <p> + “So this is the chit who wrote to me like a mother!” But Mona Crozier did + not underestimate Kitty for all that, and she wondered why it was that + Kitty had written as she did. One thing was quite clear: Kitty had had + good intentions, else why have written at all? + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts had passed through the mind of each, with a good many + others, while they were shaking hands; and the Young Doctor summoned his + man to carry Mona’s hand-luggage to the extra buggy he had brought to the + station. One of the many other thoughts that were passing through three + active minds was Kitty’s unspoken satire: + </p> + <p> + “Just think; this is the woman he talked of as though she was a moving + mountain which would fall on you and crush you, if you didn’t look out!” + </p> + <p> + No doubt Crozier would have repudiated this description of his talk, but + the fact was he had unconsciously spoken of Mona with a sort of hush in + his voice; for a woman to him was something outside real understanding. He + had a romantic mediaeval view, which translated weakness and beauty into a + miracle, and what psychologists call “an inspired control.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s no bigger than—than a wasp,” said Kitty to herself, after the + Young Doctor had assured Mrs. Crozier that her husband was almost well + again; that he had recovered more quickly than was expected, and had + gained strength wonderfully after the crisis was passed. + </p> + <p> + “An elephant can crush you, but a wasp can sting you,” was Kitty’s further + inward comment, “and that’s why he was always nervous when he spoke of + her.” Then, as the Young Doctor had already done, she noticed the tiny + lines about the tiny mouth, and the fine-spun webs about the bird-bright + eyes. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor attributed these lines mostly to anxiety and inward + suffering, but Kitty set them down as the outward signs of an inward + fretfulness and quarrelsomeness, which was rendered all the more offensive + in her eyes by the fact that Mona Crozier was the most, spotless thing she + had ever seen, at the end of a journey—and this, a journey across a + continent. Orderliness and prim exactness, taste and fastidiousness, + tireless tidiness were seen in every turn, in every fold of her dress, in + the way everything she wore had been put on, in the decision of every step + and gesture. Kitty noticed all this, and she said to herself, + </p> + <p> + “Wound up like a watch, cut like a cameo,” and she instinctively felt the + little dainty cameo-brooch at her own throat, the only jewellery she ever + wore, or had ever worn. + </p> + <p> + “Sensible of her not to bring a maid,” commented the Young Doctor + inwardly. “That would have thrown Kitty into a fit. Yet how she manages to + look like this after six thousand miles of sea and land going is beyond me—and + Crozier so rather careless in his ways. Not what you would call two notes + in the same key, she and Crozier,” he reflected as he told her she need + not trouble about her luggage, and took charge of the checks for it. + </p> + <p> + “My husband—is—is he quite better now?” Mrs. Crozier asked + with sharp anxiety, as the two-seated “rig” started away with the ladies + in the back seat. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, better, thanks to him,” was Kitty’s reply, nodding towards the Young + Doctor. + </p> + <p> + “You have told him I was coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t it better to have a talk with you first?” asked Kitty meaningly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crozier almost nervously twitched the little jet bag she carried, + then she looked Kitty in the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You will, of course, have reason for thinking so, if you say it,” was her + enigmatical reply. “And of course you will tell me. You did not let him + know that you had written to me, or that the doctor had cabled me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you got his cable?” questioned Kitty with a little ring of triumph in + her voice, meant to reach the ears of the Young Doctor. It did reach him, + and he replied to the question. + </p> + <p> + “We thought it better not; chiefly because he had in this country planned + his life with an exclusiveness, and on a principle which did not, + unfortunately, take you into account.” + </p> + <p> + The little lady blushed, or flushed. “May I ask how you know this to be + so, if it is so?” she asked, and there was the sharpness of the wasp in + her tone, as it seemed to Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “The Logan Trial—I mentioned it in my letter to you,” interposed + Kitty. “He was shot for the evidence he gave at the trial. Well, at the + trial a great many questions were asked by a lawyer who wanted to hurt + him, and he answered them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did the lawyer want to hurt him?” Mona Crozier asked quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Just mean-hearted envy and spite and devilry,” was Kitty’s answer. “They + were both handsome men, and perhaps that was it.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought my husband handsome, though he was always distinguished + looking,” was the quiet reply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you haven’t seen him at all for so long!” remarked Kitty, a + little spitefully. + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” Mrs. Crozier was nettled, though she did not show + it; but Kitty felt it was so, and was glad. + </p> + <p> + “He said so at the Logan Trial.” + </p> + <p> + “Was that the kind of question asked at the trial?” the wife quickly + interjected. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, lots of that kind,” returned Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “What was the object?” + </p> + <p> + “To make him look not so distinguished—like nothing. If a man isn’t + handsome, but only distinguished”—Kitty’s mood was dangerous—“and + you make him look cheap, that’s one advantage, and—” + </p> + <p> + Here the Young Doctor, having observed the rising tide of antagonism in + the tone of the voices behind him, gently interposed, and made it clear + that the purpose was to throw a shadow on the past of her husband in order + to discredit his evidence; to which Mrs. Crozier nodded her understanding. + She liked the Young Doctor, as who did not who came in contact with him, + except those who had fear of him, and who had an idea that he could read + their minds as he read their bodies. And even this girl at her side—Mona + Crozier realised that the part she had played was evidently an unselfish + one, though she felt with piercing intuition that whatever her husband + thought of the girl, the girl thought too much of her husband. Somehow, + all in a moment, it made her sorry for the girl’s sake. The girl had meant + well by her husband in sending for his wife, that was certain; and she did + not look bad. She was too sedately and reservedly dressed, in spite of her + auriferous face and head and her burnished tone, to be bad; too fearless + in eye, too concentrated to be the rover in fields where she had no tenure + or right. + </p> + <p> + She turned and looked Kitty squarely in the eyes, and a new, softer look + came into her own, subduing what to Kitty was the challenging alertness + and selfish inquisitiveness. + </p> + <p> + “You have been very good to Shiel—you two kind people,” she said, + and there came a sudden faint mist to her eyes. + </p> + <p> + That was her lucky moment, and she spoke as she did just in time, for + Kitty was beginning to resent her deeply; to dislike her far more than was + reasonable, and certainly without any justice. + </p> + <p> + Kitty spoke up quickly. “Well, you see, he was always kind and good to + other people, and that was why—” + </p> + <p> + “But that Mr. Burlingame did not like him?” The wife had a strange + intuition regarding Mr. Burlingame. She was sure that there was a woman in + the case—the girl beside her? + </p> + <p> + “That was because Mr. Burlingame was not kind or good to other people,” + was Kitty’s sedate response. There was an undertone of reflection in the + voice which did not escape Mrs. Crozier’s senses, and it also caught the + ear of the Young Doctor, to whom there came a sudden revelation of the + reason why Burlingame had left Mrs. Tynan’s house. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” exclaimed Mrs. Crozier enigmatically. Presently, with suppressed + excitement as she saw the Young Doctor reining in the horses slowly, she + added: “My husband—when have you arranged that I should see him?” + </p> + <p> + “When he gets back—home,” Kitty replied, with an accent on the last + word. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crozier started visibly. “When he gets back home-back from where? He + is not here?” she asked in a tone of chagrin. She had come a long way, and + she had pictured this meeting at the end of the journey with a hundred + variations, but never with this one—that she should not see Shiel at + once when the journey was over, if he was alive. Was it hurt pride or + disappointed love which spoke in her face, in her words? After all, it was + bad enough that her private life and affairs should be dragged out in a + court of law; that these two kind strangers, whom she had never seen till + a few minutes ago, should be in the inner circle of knowledge of the life + of her husband and herself, without her self-esteem being hurt like this. + She was very woman, and the look of the thing was not nice to her eyes, + while it must belittle her in theirs. Had this girl done it on purpose? + Yet why should she—she who had so appealed to her to come to him—have + sought to humiliate her? + </p> + <p> + Kitty was not quite sure what she ought to say. “You see, we expected him + back before this. He is very exact!” + </p> + <p> + “Very exact?” asked Mrs. Crozier in astonishment. This was a new phase of + Shiel Crozier’s character. He must, indeed, have changed since he had + caused her so much anxiety in days gone by. + </p> + <p> + “Usen’t he to be so?” asked Kitty, a little viciously. “He is so very + exact now,” she added. “He expected to be back home before this”—how + she loved to use that word home—“and so we thought he would be here + when you arrived. But he has been detained at Aspen Vale. He had a big + business deal on—” + </p> + <p> + “A big business deal? Is he—is he in a large way of business?” Mona + asked almost incredulously. Shiel Crozier in a large way of business, in a + big business deal? It did not seem possible. His had ever been the game of + chance. Business—business? + </p> + <p> + “He doesn’t talk himself, of course; that wouldn’t be like him,”—Kitty + had joy in giving this wife the character of her husband, “but they say + that if he succeeds in what he’s trying to do now he will make a great + deal of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he has not made it yet?” asked Mrs. Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “He has always been able to pay his board regularly, with enough left for + a pew in church,” answered Kitty with dry malice; for she mistook the + light in the other’s eyes, and thought it was avarice; and the love of + money had no place in Kitty’s make-up. She herself would never have been + influenced by money where a man was concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the house,” she quickly added; “our home, where Mr. Crozier lives. + He has the best room, so yours won’t be quite so good. It’s mother’s—she’s + giving it up to you. With your trunks and things, you’ll want a room to + yourself,” Kitty added, not at all unconscious that she was putting a + phase of the problem of Crozier and his wife in a very commonplace way; + but she did not look into Mrs. Crozier’s face as she said it. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crozier, however, was fully conscious of the poignancy of the remark, + and once again her face flushed slightly, though she kept outward + composure. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, mother, are you there?” Kitty called, as she escorted the wife up + the garden walk. + </p> + <p> + An instant later Mrs. Tynan cheerfully welcomed the disturber of the peace + of the home where Shiel Crozier had been the central figure for so long. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. AT THE RECEIPT OF CUSTOM + </h2> + <p> + “What are you laughing at, Kitty? You cackle like a young hen with her + first egg.” So spoke Mrs. Tynan to her daughter, who alternately swung + backwards and forwards in a big rocking-chair, silently gazing into the + distant sky, or sat still and “cackled” as her mother had said. + </p> + <p> + A person of real observation and astuteness, however, would have noticed + that Kitty’s laughter told a story which was not joy and gladness—neither + good humour nor the abandonment of a luxurious nature. It was tinged with + bitterness and had the smart of the nettle. + </p> + <p> + Her mother’s question only made her laugh the more, and at last Mrs. Tynan + stooped over her and said, “I could shake you, Kitty. You’d make a snail + fidget, and I’ve got enough to do to keep my senses steady with all the + house-work—and now her in there!” She tossed a hand behind her + fretfully. + </p> + <p> + Quick with love for her mother, as she always was, Kitty caught the + other’s trembling hand. “You’ve always had too much to do, mother; always + been slaving for others. You’ve never had time to think whether you’re + happy or not, or whether you’ve got a problem—that’s what people + call things, when they’re got so much time on their hands that they make a + play of their inside feelings and work it up till it sets them crazy.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan’s mouth tightened and her brow clouded. “I’ve had my problems + too, but I always made quick work of them. They never had a chance to + overlay me like a mother overlays her baby and kills it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not ‘like a mother overlays,’ but ‘as a mother overlays,’” returned Kitty + with a queer note to her voice. “That’s what they taught me at school. The + teacher was always picking us up on that kind of thing. I said a thing + worse than that when Mrs. Crozier”—her fingers motioned towards + another room—“came to-day. I don’t know what possessed me. I was off + my trolley, I suppose, as John Sibley puts it. Well, when Mrs. James Shiel + Gathorne Crozier said—oh, so sweetly and kindly—‘You are Miss + Tynan?’ what do you think I replied? I said to her, ‘The same’!” + </p> + <p> + Rather an acidly satisfied smile came to Mrs. Tynan’s lips. “That was like + the Slatterly girls,” she replied. “Your father would have said it was the + vernacular of the rail-head. He was a great man for odd words, but he knew + always just what he wanted to say and he said it out. You’ve got his gift. + You always say the right thing, and I don’t know why you made that break + with her—of all people.” + </p> + <p> + A meditative look came into Kitty’s eyes. “Mr. Crozier says every one has + an imp that loves to tease us, and trip us up, and make us appear + ridiculous before those we don’t want to have any advantage over us.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want Mrs. Crozier to have any advantage over you and me, I can + tell you that. Things’ll never be the same here again, Kitty dear, and + we’ve all got on so well; with him so considerate of every one, and a good + friend always, and just one of us, and his sickness making him seem like + our own, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, hush—will you hush, mother!” interposed Kitty sharply. “He’s + going away with her back to the old country, and we might just as well + think about getting other borders, for I suppose Mr. Bulrush and his bonny + bride will set up a little bulrush tabernacle on the banks of the Nile”—she + nodded in the direction of the river outside—“and they’ll find a + little Moses and will treat it as their very own.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, how can you!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty shrugged a shoulder. “It would be ridiculous for that pair to have + one of their own. It’s only the young mother with a new baby that looks + natural to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t talk that way, Kitty,” rejoined her mother sharply. “You aren’t fit + to judge of such things.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be before long,” said her daughter. “Anyway, Mrs. Crozier isn’t + any better able to talk than I am,” she added irrelevantly. “She never was + a mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t blame her,” said Mrs. Tynan severely. “That’s God’s business. I’d + be sorry for her, so far as that was concerned, if I were you. It’s not + her fault.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s an easy way of accounting for good undone,” returned Kitty. “P’r’aps + it was God’s fault, and p’r’aps if she had loved him more—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan’s face flushed with sudden irritation and that fretful look + came to her eyes which accompanies a lack of comprehension. “Upon my word, + well, upon my word, of all the vixens that ever lived, and you looking + like a yellow pansy and too sweet for daily use! Such thoughts in your + head! Who’d have believed that you—!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty made a mocking face at her mother. “I’m more than a girl, I’m a + woman, mother, who sees life all around me, from the insect to the + mountain, and I know things without being told. I always did. Just life + and living tell me things, and maybe, too, the Irish in me that father + was.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s so odd. You’re such a mixture of fun and fancy, at least you always + have been; but there’s something new in you these days. Kitty, you make me + afraid—yes, you make your mother afraid. After what you said the + other day about Mr. Crozier I’ve had bad nights, and I get nervous + thinking.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty suddenly got up, put her arm round her mother and kissed her. “You + needn’t be afraid of me, mother. If there’d been any real danger, I + wouldn’t have told you. Mr. Crozier’s away, and when he comes back he’ll + find his wife here, and there’s the end of everything. If there’d been + danger, it would have been settled the night before he went away. I kissed + him that night as he was sleeping out there under the trees.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan sat down weakly and fanned herself with her apron. “Oh, oh, oh, + dear Lord!” she said. “I’m not afraid to tell you anything I ever did, + mother,” declared Kitty firmly; “though I’m not prepared to tell you + everything I’ve felt. I kissed him as he slept. He didn’t wake, he just + lay there sleeping—sleeping.” A strange, distant, dreaming look came + into her eyes. She smiled like one who saw a happy vision, and an eerie + expression stole into her face. “I didn’t want him to wake,” she + continued. “I asked God not to let him wake. If he’d waked—oh, I’d + have been ashamed enough till the day I died in one way! Still he’d have + understood, and he’d have thought no harm. But it wouldn’t have been fair + to him—and there’s his wife in there,” she added, breaking off into + a different tone. “They’re a long way above us—up among the peaks, + and we’re at the foot of the foothills, mother; but he never made us feel + that, did he? The difference between him and most of the men I’ve ever + seen! The difference!” + </p> + <p> + “There’s the Young Doctor,” said her mother reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “He-him! He’s by himself, with something of every sort in him from the top + to the bottom. There’s been a ditcher in his family, and there may have + been a duke. But Shiel Crozier—Shiel”—she flushed as she said + the name like that, but a little touch of defiance came into her face too—“he + is all of one kind. He’s not a blend. And he’s married to her in there!” + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t speak in that tone about her. She’s as fine as can be.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s as fine as a bee,” retorted Kitty. Again she laughed that almost + mirthless laugh for which her mother had called her to account a moment + before. “You asked me a while ago what I was laughing at, mother,” she + continued. “Why, can’t you guess? Mr. Crozier talked of her always as + though she was—well, like the pictures you’ve seen of Britannia, all + swelling and spreading, with her hand on a shield and her face saying, + ‘Look at me and be good,’ and her eyes saying, ‘Son of man, get upon thy + knees!’ Why, I expected to see a sort of great—goodness—gracious + goddess, that kept him frightened to death of her. Bless you, he never + opened her letter, he was so afraid of her; and he used to breathe once or + twice hard—like that, when he mentioned her!” She breathed in such + mock awe that her mother laughed with a little kindly malice too. + </p> + <p> + “Even her letter,” Kitty continued remorselessly, “it was as though she—that + little sprite—wrote it with a rod of chastisement, as the Bible + says. It—” + </p> + <p> + “What do you know of the inside of that letter?” asked her mother, + staring. + </p> + <p> + “What the steam of the tea-kettle could let me see,” responded Kitty + defiantly; and then, to her shocked mother, she told what she had done, + and what the nature of the letter was. + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to help him if I could, and I think I’ll be able to do it—I’ve + worked it all out,” Kitty added eagerly, with a glint of steel in the gold + of her eyes and a fantastic kind of wisdom in her look. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty,” said her mother severely and anxiously, “it’s madness interfering + with other people’s affairs—of that kind. It never was any use.” + </p> + <p> + “This will be the exception to the rule,” returned Kitty. “There she is”—again + she flicked a hand towards the other room—“after they’ve been parted + five years. Well, she came after she read my letter to her, and after I’d + read that unopened letter to him, which made me know how to put it all to + her. I’ve got intuition—that’s Celtic and mad,” she added, with her + chin thrusting out at her mother, to whom the Irish that her husband had + been, which was so deep in her daughter, was ever a mystery to her, and of + which she was more or less afraid. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got a plan, and I believe—I know—it will work,” Kitty + continued. “I’ve been thinking and thinking, and if there’s trouble + between them; if he says he isn’t going on with her till he’s made his + fortune; if he throws that unopened letter in her face, I’ll bring in my + invention to deal with the problem, and then you’ll see! But all this fuss + for a little tiny button of a thing like that in there—pshaw! Mr. + Crozier is worth a real queen with the beauty of one of the Rhine maidens. + How he used to tell that story of the Rhinegold—do you remember? + Wasn’t it grand? Well, I am glad now that he’s going—yes, whatever + trouble there may be, still he is going. I feel it in my heart.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and her eyes took on a sombre tone. Presently, with a slight, + husky pain in her voice, like the faint echo of a wail, she went on: “Now + that he’s going, I’m glad we’ve had the things he gave us, things that + can’t be taken away from us. What you have enjoyed is yours for ever and + ever. It’s memory; and for one moment or for one day or one year of those + things you loved, there’s fifty years, perhaps, for memory. Don’t you + remember the verses I cut out of the magazine: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “‘Time, the ruthless idol-breaker, + Smileless, cold iconoclast, + Though he rob us of our altars, + Cannot rob us of the past.’” + </pre> + <p> + “That’s the way your father used to talk,” replied her mother. “There’s a + lot of poetry in you, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “More than there is in her?” asked Kitty, again indicating the region + where Mrs. Crozier was. + </p> + <p> + “There’s as much poetry in her as there is in—in me. But she can do + things; that little bit of a babywoman can do things, Kitty. I know women, + and I tell you that if that woman hadn’t a penny, she’d set to and earn + it; and if her husband hadn’t a penny, she’d make his home comfortable + just the same somehow, for she’s as capable as can be. She had her things + unpacked, her room in order herself—she didn’t want your help or + mine—and herself with a fresh dress on before you could turn round.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty’s eyes softened still more. “Well, if she’d been poor he would never + have left her, and then they wouldn’t have lost five years—think of + it, five years of life with the man you love lost to you!—and there + wouldn’t be this tough old knot to untie now.” + </p> + <p> + “She has suffered—that little sparrow has suffered, I tell you, + Kitty. She has a grip on herself like—like—” + </p> + <p> + “Like Mr. Crozier with a broncho under his hand,” interjected Kitty. + “She’s too neat, too eternally spick and span for me, mother. It’s as + though the Being that made her said, ‘Now I’ll try and see if I can + produce a model of a grown-up, full-sized piece of my work.’ Mrs. Crozier + is an exhibition model, and Shiel Crozier’s over six feet three, and loose + and free, and like a wapiti in his gait. If he was a wapiti he’d carry the + finest pair of antlers ever was.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty, you make me laugh,” responded the puzzled woman. “I declare, + you’re the most whimsical creature, and—” + </p> + <p> + At that moment there came a tapping at the door behind them, and a small, + silvery voice said, “May I come in?” as the door opened and Mrs. Crozier, + very precisely yet prettily dressed, entered. + </p> + <p> + “Please make yourself at home—no need to rap,” answered Mrs. Tynan. + “Out in the West here we live in the open like. There’s no room closed to + you, if you can put up with what there is, though it’s not what you’re + used to.” + </p> + <p> + “For five months in the year during the past five years I’ve lived in a + house about half as large as this,” was Mrs. Crozier’s reply. “With my + husband away there wasn’t the need of much room.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he only has one room here,” responded Mrs. Tynan. “He never seemed + too crowded in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is it? Might I see it?” asked the small, dark-eyed, dark-haired + wife, with the little touch of nectarine bloom and a little powder also; + and though she spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, there was a look of + wistfulness in her eyes, a gleam of which Kitty caught ere it passed. + </p> + <p> + “You’ve been separated, Mrs. Crozier,” answered the elder woman, “and I’ve + no right to let you into his room without his consent. You’ve had no + correspondence at all for five years—isn’t that so?” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you that?” the regal little lady asked composedly, but with + an underglow of anger in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He told the court that at the Logan Trial,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “At the murder trial—he told that?” Mrs. Crozier asked almost + mechanically, her face gone pale and a little haggard. + </p> + <p> + “He was obliged to answer when that wolf, Gus Burlingame, was after him,” + interposed Kitty with kindness in her tone, for, suddenly, she saw through + the outer walls of the little wife’s being into the inner courts. She saw + that Mrs. Crozier loved her husband now, whatever she had done in the + past. The sight of love does not beget compassion in a loveless heart, but + there was love in Kitty’s heart; and it was even greater than she would + have wished any human being to see; and by it she saw with radium + clearness through the veil of the other woman’s being. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he could have avoided answering that,” urged Mona Crozier + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Only by telling a lie,” Kitty quickly answered, “and I don’t believe he + ever told a lie in his life. Come,” she added, “I will show you his room. + My mother needn’t do it, and so she won’t be responsible. You have your + rights as a wife until they’re denied you. You mustn’t come, mother,” she + said to Mrs. Tynan, and she put a tender hand on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” she added to the little person in the pale blue, which suited + well her very dark hair, blue eyes, and rose-touched cheeks. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. KITTY SPEAKS HER MIND AGAIN + </h2> + <p> + A moment later they stood inside Shiel Crozier’s room. The first glance + his wife gave took in the walls, the table, the bureau, and the desk which + contained her own unopened letter. She was looking for a photograph of + herself. + </p> + <p> + There was none in the room, and an arid look came into her face. The + glance and its sequel did not escape Kitty’s notice. She knew well—as + who would not?—what Mona Crozier was hoping to see, and she was + human enough to feel a kind of satisfaction in the wife’s chagrin and + disappointment; for the unopened letter in the baize-covered desk which + she had read was sufficient warrant for a punishment and penalty due the + little lady, and not the less because it was so long delayed. Had not + Shiel Crozier had his draught of bitter herbs to drink over the past five + years? + </p> + <p> + Moreover, Kitty was sure beyond any doubt at all that Shiel Crozier’s + wife, when she wrote the letter, did not love her husband, or at least did + not love him in the right or true way. She loved him only so far as her + then selfish nature permitted her to do; only in so far as the pride of + money which she had, and her husband had not, did not prevent; only in so + far as the nature of a tyrant could love—though the tyranny was pink + and white and sweetly perfumed and had the lure of youth. In her primitive + way Kitty had intuitively apprehended the main truth, and that was enough + to justify her in contributing to Mona Crozier’s punishment. + </p> + <p> + Kitty’s perceptions were true. At the start, Mona was in nature + proportionate to her size; and when she married she had not loved Crozier + as he had loved her. Maybe that was why—though he may not have + admitted it to himself—he could not bear to be beholden to her when + his ruin came. Love makes all things possible, and there is no humiliation + in taking from one who loves and is loved, that uncapitalised and communal + partnership which is not of the earth earthy. Perhaps that was why, though + Shiel loved her, he had had a bitterness which galled his soul; why he had + a determination to win sufficient wealth to make himself independent of + her. Down at the bottom of his chivalrous Irish heart he had learned the + truth, that to be dependent on her would beget in her contempt for him, + and he would be only her paid paramour and not her husband in the true + sense. Quixotic he had been, but under his quixotism there was at least + the shadow of a great tragical fact, and it had made him a matrimonial + deserter. Whether tragedy or comedy would emerge was all on the knees of + the gods. + </p> + <p> + “It’s a nice room, isn’t it?” asked Kitty when there had passed from Mona + Crozier’s eyes the glaze or mist—not of tears, but stupefaction—which + had followed her inspection of the walls, the bureau, the table, and the + desk. + </p> + <p> + “Most comfortable, and so very clean—quite spotless,” the wife + answered admiringly, and yet drearily. It made her feel humiliated that + her man could live this narrow life of one room without despair, with + sufficient resistance to the lure of her hundred and fifty thousand pounds + and her own delicate and charming person. Here, it would seem, he was + content. One easy-chair, made out of a barrel, a couch, a bed—a very + narrow bed, like a soldier’s, a bed for himself alone—a small table, + a shelf on the wall with a dozen books, a little table, a bureau, and an + old-fashioned, sloping-topped, shallow desk covered with green baize, on + high legs, so that like a soldier too he could stand as he wrote (Crozier + had made that high stand for the desk himself). That was what the room + conveyed to her—the spirit of the soldier, bare, clean, strong, + sparse: a workshop and a chamber of sleep in one, like the tent of an + officer on the march. After the feeling had come to her, to heighten the + sensation she espied a little card hung under the small mirror on the + wall. There was writing on it, and going nearer, she saw in red pencil the + words, “Courage, soldier!” + </p> + <p> + These were the words which Kitty was so fond of using, and the girl had a + thrill of triumph now as she saw the woman from whom Crozier had fled + looking at the card. She herself had come and looked at it many times + since Crozier had gone, for he had only put it there just before he left + on his last expedition to Aspen Vale to carry through his deal. It had + brought a great joy to Kitty’s heart. It had made her feel that she had + some share in his life; that, in a way, she had helped him on the march, + the vivandiere who carried the water-bag which would give him drink when + parched, battle-worn, or wounded. + </p> + <p> + Mona Crozier turned away from the card, sadly reflecting that nothing in + the room recalled herself; that she was not here in the very core of his + life in even the smallest way. Yet this girl, this sunny creature with the + call of youth and passion in her eyes, this Ruth of the wheat-fields, came + and went here as though she was a part of it. She did this and that for + him, and she was no doubt on such terms of intimacy with him that they + were really part of each other’s life in a scheme of domesticity unlike + any boarding-house organization she had ever known. Here in everything + there was the air, the decorum, and the unartificial comfort of home. + </p> + <p> + This was why he could live without his wedded wife and her gold and her + brocade, and the silk and the Persian rugs, and the grand piano and the + carriages and the high silk hat from Piccadilly. Her husband had had the + luxuries of wealth, and here he was living like a Spartan on his hill—and + alone; though he had a wife whom men had beseiged both before and after + marriage. A feeling of impotent indignation suddenly took possession of + her. Here he was with two women, unattached,—one interesting and + good and agreeable and good-looking, and the other almost a beauty,—who + were part of the whole rustic scheme in which he lived. They made him + comfortable, they did the hundred things that a valet or a fond wife would + do; they no doubt hung on every word he uttered—and he could be + interesting beyond most men. She had realised terribly how interesting he + was after he had fled; when men came about her and talked to her in many + ways, with many variations, but always with the one tune behind all they + said; always making for the one goal, whatever the point from which they + started or however circuitous their route. + </p> + <p> + As time went on she had hungrily longed to see her husband again, and + other men had no power to interest her; but still she had not sought to + find him. At first it had been offended pride, injured self-esteem, in + which the value of her own desirable self and of her very desirable + fortune was not lost; then it became the pride of a wife in whom the + spirit of the eternal woman was working; and she would have died rather + than have sought to find him. Five years—and not a word from him. + </p> + <p> + Five years—and not a letter from him! Her eyes involuntarily fell on + the high desk with the greenbaize top. Of all the letters he had written + at that desk not one had been addressed to her. Slowly, and with an + unintentional solemnity, she went up to it and laid a hand upon it. Her + chin only cleared the edge of it-he was a tall man, her husband. + </p> + <p> + “This is the place of secrets, I suppose?” she said, with a bright smile + and an attempt at gaiety to Kitty, who had watched her with burning eyes; + for she had felt the thrill of the moment. She was as sensitive to + atmosphere of this sad play of life as nearly and as vitally as the + deserted wife. + </p> + <p> + “I shouldn’t think it a place of secrets,” Kitty answered after a moment. + “He seldom locks it, and when he does I know where the key is.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed?” Mona Crozier stiffened. A look of reproach came into her eyes. + It was as though she was looking down from a great height upon a poor + creature who did not know the first rudiments of personal honour, the fine + elemental customs of life. + </p> + <p> + Kitty saw and understood, but she did not hasten to reply, or to set + things right. She met the lofty look unflinchingly, and she had pride and + some little malice too—it would do Mrs. Crozier good, she thought—in + saying, as she looked down on the humming-bird trying to be an eagle: + </p> + <p> + “I’ve had to get things for him-papers and so on, and send them on when he + was away, and even when he was at home I’ve had to act for him; and so + even when it was locked I had to know where the key was. He asked me to + help him that way.” + </p> + <p> + Mona noted the stress laid upon the word home, and for the first time she + had a suspicion that this girl knew more than even the Logan Trial had + disclosed, and that she was being satirical and suggestive. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course,” she returned cheerfully in response to Kitty—“you + acted as a kind of clerk for him!” There was a note in her voice which she + might better not have used. If she but knew it, she needed this girl’s + friendship very badly. She ought to have remembered that she would not + have been here in her husband’s room had it not been for the letter Kitty + had written—a letter which had made her heart beat so fast when she + received it, that she had sunk helpless to the floor on one of those soft + rugs, representing the soft comfort which wealth can bring. + </p> + <p> + The reply was like a slap in the face. + </p> + <p> + “I acted for him in any way at all that he wished me to,” Kitty answered, + with quiet boldness and shining, defiant face. + </p> + <p> + Mona’s hand fell away from the green baize desk, and her eyes again lost + their sight for a moment. Kitty was not savage by nature. She had been + goaded as much by the thought of the letter Crozier’s wife had written to + him in the hour of his ruin as by the presence of the woman in this house, + where things would never be as they had been before. She had struck hard, + and now she was immediately sorry for it: for this woman was here in + response to her own appeal; and, after all, she might well be jealous of + the fact that Crozier had had close to him for so long and in such + conditions a girl like herself, younger than his own wife, and prettier—yes, + certainly prettier, she admitted to herself. + </p> + <p> + “He is that kind of a man. What he asked for, any good woman could give + and not be sorry,” Kitty convincingly added when the knife had gone deep + enough. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was that kind of a man,” responded the other gently now, and with + a great sigh of relief. Suddenly she came nearer and touched Kitty’s arm. + “And thank you for saying so,” she added. “He and I have been so long + parted, and you have seen so much more of him than I have of late years! + You know him better—as he is. If I said something sharp just now, + please forgive me. I am—indeed, I am grateful to you and your + mother.” + </p> + <p> + She paused. It was hard for her to say what she felt she must say, for she + did not know how her husband would receive her—he had done without + her for so long; and she might need this girl and her mother sorely. The + girl was a friend in the best sense, or she would not have sent for her. + She must remind herself of this continually lest she should take wrong + views. + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded, but for a moment she did not reply. Her hand was on the + baize-covered desk. All at once, with determination in her eyes, she said: + “You didn’t use him right or you’d not have been parted for five years. + You were rich and he was poor, he is poor now, though he may be rich any + day, and he wouldn’t stay with you because he wouldn’t take your money to + live on. If you had been a real wife to him he wouldn’t have seen that + he’d be using your money; he’d have taken it as though it was his own, out + of the purse always open and belonging to both, just as though you were + partners. You must feel—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, for pity’s sake, hush!” interrupted the other. + </p> + <p> + “You are going to see him again,” Kitty persisted. “Now, don’t you think + it just as well to know what the real truth is?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know what is the truth?” asked the trembling little stranger + with a last attempt to hold her position, to conceal from herself the + actual facts. + </p> + <p> + “The Young Doctor and my mother and I were with him all the time he was + ill after he was shot, and the Trial had only told half the truth. He + wanted us, his best friends here, to know the whole truth, so he told us + that he left you because he couldn’t bear to live on your money. It was + you made him feel that, though he didn’t say so. All the time he told his + story he spoke of you as though you were some goddess, some great queen—” + </p> + <p> + A look of hope, of wonder, of relief came into the tiny creature’s eyes. + “He spoke like that of me; he said—?” + </p> + <p> + “He said what no one else would have said, probably; but that’s the way + with people in love—they see what no one else sees, they think what + no one else thinks. He talked with a sort of hush in his voice about you + till we thought you must be some stately, tall, splendid Helen of Troy + with a soul like an ocean, instead of”—she was going to say + something that would have seemed unkind, and she stopped herself in time—“instead + of a sort of fairy, one of the little folk that never grow up; the same as + my father used to tell me about.” + </p> + <p> + “You think very badly of me, then?” returned the other with a sigh. Her + courage, her pride, her attempt to control the situation had vanished + suddenly, and she became for the moment almost the child she looked. + </p> + <p> + “We’ve only just begun. We’re all his friends here, and we’ll judge you + and think of you according to what happens between you and him. You wrote + him that letter!” + </p> + <p> + She suddenly placed her hand on the desk as the inspiration came to her to + have this matter of the letter out now, and to have Mrs. Crozier know + exactly what the position was, no matter what might be thought of herself. + She was only thinking of Shiel Crozier and his future now. + </p> + <p> + “What letter did I write?” There was real surprise and wonder in her tone. + </p> + <p> + “That last letter you wrote to him—the letter in which you gave him + fits for breaking his promise, and talked like a proud, angry angel from + the top of the stairs.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know of that letter? He, my husband, told you what was in that + letter; he showed it to you?” The voice was indignant, low, and almost + rough with anger. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, your husband showed me the letter—unopened.” + </p> + <p> + “Unopened—I do not understand.” Mona steadied herself against the + foot of the bed and looked in a helpless way at Kitty. Her composure was + gone, though she was very quiet, and she had that look of a vital + absorption which possesses human beings in crises of their lives. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Kitty took from behind a book on the shelf a key, opened the + desk, and drew out the letter which Crozier had kept sealed and unopened + all the years, which he had never read. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know that?” Kitty asked, and held it out for Mrs. Crozier to see. + </p> + <p> + Two dark blue eyes stared confusedly at the letter—at her own + handwriting. Kitty turned it over. “You see it is closed as it was when + you sent it to him. He has never opened it. He does not know what is in + it.” + </p> + <p> + “He has-kept it—five years—unopened,” Mona said in broken + phrases scarce above a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “He has never opened it, as you see.” + </p> + <p> + “Give—give it to me,” the wife said, stepping forward to stay + Kitty’s hand as she opened the lid of the desk to replace the letter. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not your letter—no, you shall not,” said Kitty firmly as she + jerked aside the hand laid upon her wrist, and threw one arm on the lid, + holding it down as Mrs. Crozier tried to keep it open. Then with a swift + action of the free hand she locked the desk and put the key in her pocket. + </p> + <p> + “If you destroyed this letter he would never believe but that it was worse + than it is; and it is bad enough, Heaven knows, for any woman to have + written to her husband—or to any one else’s husband. You thought you + were the centre of the world when you wrote that letter. Without a penny, + he would be a great man, with a great future; but you are only a pretty + little woman with a fortune, who has thought a great lot of herself, and + far too much of herself only, when she wrote that letter.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know what is in it?” There was agony and challenge at once in + the other’s voice. “Because I read it—oh, don’t look so shocked! I’d + do it again. I knew just how to act when I’d read it. I steamed it open + and closed it up again. Then I wrote to you. I’m not sorry I did it. My + motive was a good one. I wanted to help him. I wanted to understand + everything, so that I’d know best what to do. Though he’s so far above us + in birth and position, he seemed in one way like our own. That’s the way + it is in new countries like this. We don’t think of lots of things that + you finer people in the old countries do, and we don’t think evil till it + trips us up. In a new country all are strangers among the pioneers, and + they have to come together. This town is only twenty years old, and + scarcely anybody knew each other at the start. We had to take each other + on trust, and we think the best as long as we can. Mr. Crozier came to + live with us, and soon he was just part of our life—not a boarder; + not some one staying the night who paid you what he owed you in the + morning. He was a friend you could say your prayers with, or eat your + meals with, or ride a hundred miles with, and just take it as a matter of + course; for he was part of what you were part of, all this out here—don’t + you understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I am trying hard to do so,” was the reply in a hushed voice. Here was a + world, here were people of whom Mona Crozier had never dreamed. They were + so much of an antique time—far behind the time that her old land + represented; not a new world, but the oldest world of all. She began to + understand the girl also, and her face took on a comprehending look, as + with eyes like bronze suns Kitty continued: + </p> + <p> + “So, though it was wrong—wicked—in one way, I read the letter, + to do some good by it, if it could be done. If I hadn’t read it you + wouldn’t be here. Was it worth while?” + </p> + <p> + At that moment there was a knock at the outer door of the other room, or, + rather, on the lintel of it. Mona started. Suppose it was her husband—that + was her thought. + </p> + <p> + Kitty read the look. “No, it isn’t Mr. Crozier. It’s the Young Doctor. I + know his knock. Will you come and see him?” + </p> + <p> + The wife was trembling, she was very pale, her eyes were rather staring, + but she fought to control herself. It was evident that Kitty expected her + to do so. It was also quite certain that Kitty meant to settle things now, + in so far as it could be done. + </p> + <p> + “He knows as much as you do?” asked Mrs. Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “No, the Young Doctor hasn’t read the letter and I haven’t told him what’s + in it; but he knows that I read it, and what he doesn’t know he guesses. + He is Mr. Crozier’s honest, clever friend. I’ve got an idea—an + invention to put this thing right. It’s a good one. You’ll see. But I want + the Young Doctor to know about it. He never has to think twice. He knows + what to do the very first time.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later they were in the other room, with the Young Doctor smiling + down at “the little spot of a woman,” as he called Crozier’s wife. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. AWAITING THE VERDICT + </h2> + <p> + “You look quite settled and at home,” the Young Doctor remarked, as he + offered Mrs. Crozier a chair. She took it, for never in her life had she + felt so small physically since coming to the great, new land. The islands + where she was born were in themselves so miniature that the minds of their + people, however small, were not made to feel insignificant. But her mind, + which was, after all, vastly larger in proportion than the body enshrining + it, felt suddenly that both were lost in a universe. Her impulse was to + let go and sink into the helplessness of tears, to be overwhelmed by an + unconquerable loneliness; but the Celtic courage in her, added to that + ancient native pride which prevents one woman from giving way before + another woman towards whom she bears jealousy, prevented her from showing + the weakness she felt. Instead, it roused her vanity and made her choose + to sit down, so disguising perceptibly the disparity of height which gave + Kitty an advantage over her and made the Young Doctor like some menacing + Polynesian god. + </p> + <p> + Both these people had an influence and authority in Mona Crozier’s life + which now outweighed the advantage wealth gave her. Her wealth had not + kept her husband beside her when delicate and perfumed tyranny began to + flutter its banners of control over him. Her fortune had driven him forth + when her beauty and her love ought to have kept him close to her, whatever + fate might bring to their door, or whatever his misfortune or the + catastrophe falling on him. It was all deeply humiliating, and the inward + dejection made her now feel that her body was the last effort of a failing + creative power. So she sat down instead of standing up in a vain effort at + retrieval. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor sat down also, but Kitty did not, and in her buoyant + youth and command of the situation she seemed Amazonian to Mona’s eyes. It + must be said for Kitty that she remained standing only because a + restlessness had seized her which was not present when she was with Mona + in Crozier’s room. It was now as though something was going to happen + which she must face standing; as though something was coming out of the + unknown and forbidding future and was making itself felt before its time. + Her eyes were almost painfully bright as she moved about the room doing + little things. Presently she began to lay a cloth and place dishes + silently on the table—long before the proper time, as her mother + reminded her when she entered for a moment and then quickly passed on into + the kitchen, at a warning glance from Kitty, which said that the Young + Doctor and Mona were not to be disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Askatoon is a place where one feels at home quickly,” added the + Young Doctor, as Mona did not at once respond to his first remark. “Every + one who comes here always feels as though he—or she—owns the + place. It’s the way the place is made. The trouble with most of us is that + we want to put the feeling into practice and take possession of ‘all and + sundry.’ Isn’t that true, Miss Tynan?” + </p> + <p> + “As true as most things you say,” retorted Kitty, as she flicked the white + tablecloth. “If mother and I hadn’t such wonderful good health I suppose + you’d come often enough here to give you real possession. Do you know, + Mrs. Crozier,” she added, with her wistful eyes vainly trying to be merely + mischievous, “he once charged me five dollars for torturing me like a Red + Indian. I had put my elbow out of joint, and he put it in again with his + knee and both hands, as though it was the wheel of a wagon and he was + trying to put on the tire.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you were running round soon after,” answered the Young Doctor. “But + as for the five dollars, I only took it to keep you quiet. So long as you + had a grievance you would talk and talk and talk, and you never were so + astonished in your life as when I took that five dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve taken care never to dislocate my elbow since.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not your elbow,” remarked the Young Doctor meaningly, and turned to + Mona, who had now regained her composure. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I shan’t call you in to reduce the dislocation—that’s the + medical term, isn’t it?” persisted Kitty, with fire in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What is the dislocation?” asked Mona, with a subtle, inquiring look but a + manner which conveyed interest. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor smiled. “It’s only her way of saying that my mind is + unhinged and that I ought to be sent to a private hospital for two.” + </p> + <p> + “No—only one,” returned Kitty. + </p> + <p> + “Marriage means common catastrophe, doesn’t it?” he asked quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “Generally it means that one only is permanently injured,” replied Kitty, + lifting a tumbler and looking through it at him as though to see if the + glass was properly polished. + </p> + <p> + Mona was mystified. At first she thought there had been oblique references + to her husband, but these remarks about marriage would certainly exclude + him. Yet, would they exclude him? During the time in which Shiel’s history + was not known might there not have been—but no, it could not have + been so, for it was Kitty who had sent the letter which had brought her to + Askatoon. + </p> + <p> + “Are you to be married—soon?” she asked of Kitty, with a friendly + yet trembling smile, for her agitation was, despite appearances, troubling + every nerve. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve thought of it quite lately,” responded Kitty calmly, seating herself + now and looking straight into the eyes of the woman, who was suggesting + more truth than she knew. + </p> + <p> + “May I congratulate you? Am I justified on such slight acquaintance? I am + sure you have chosen wisely,” was the smooth rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + Kitty did not shrink from looking Mona in the eyes. “It isn’t quite time + for congratulations yet, and I’m not sure I’ve chosen wisely. My family + very strongly disapproves. I can’t help that, of course, and I may have to + elope and take the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “It takes two to elope,” interposed the Young Doctor, who thought that + Kitty, in her humorous extravagance, was treading very dangerous ground + indeed. He was thinking of Crozier and Kitty; but Kitty was thinking of + Crozier, and meaning John Sibley. Somehow she could not help playing with + this torturing thing in the presence of the wife of the man who was the + real “man in possession” so far as her life was concerned. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he is waiting on the doorstep,” replied Kitty boldly and referring + only to John Sibley. + </p> + <p> + At that minute there was the crunch of gravel on the pathway and the sound + of a quick footstep. Kitty and Mona were on their feet at once. Both + recognised the step of Shiel Crozier. Presently the Young Doctor + recognised it also, but he rose with more deliberation. + </p> + <p> + At that instant a voice calling from the road arrested Crozier’s advance + to the open door of the room where they were. It was Jesse Bulrush asking + a question. Crozier paused in his progress, and in the moment’s time it + gave, Kitty, with a swift look of inquiry and with a burst of the real + soul in her, caught the hand of Crozier’s wife and pressed it warmly. + Then, with a face flushed and eyes that looked straight ahead of her, she + left the room as the Young Doctor went to the doorway and stepped outside. + Within ten feet of the door he met Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “How goes it, patient?” he said, standing in Crozier’s way. Being a man + who thought much and wisely for other people, he wanted to give the wife + time to get herself in control. + </p> + <p> + “Right enough in your sphere of operations,” answered Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “And not so right in other fields, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ve come back after a fruitless hunt. They’ve got me, the thieves!” said + Crozier, with a look which gave his long face an almost tragic austerity. + Then suddenly the look changed, the mediaeval remoteness passed, and a + thought flashed up into his eyes which made his expression alive with + humour. + </p> + <p> + “Isn’t it wonderful, that just when a man feels he wants a rope to hang + himself with, the rope isn’t to be had?” he exclaimed. “Before he can lay + his hands on it he wants to hang somebody else, and then he has to pause + whether he will or no. Did I ever tell you the story of the old Irishwoman + who lived down at Kenmare, in Kerry? Well, she used to sit at her doorway + and lament the sorrows of the world with a depth of passion that you’d + think never could be assuaged. ‘Oh, I fale so bad, I am so wake—oh, + I do fale so bad,’ she used to say. ‘I wish some wan would take me by the + ear and lade me round to the ould shebeen, and set me down, and fill a + noggen of whusky and make me dhrink it—whether I would or no!’ + Whether I would or no I have to drink the cup of self-denial,” Crozier + continued, “though Bradley and his gang have closed every door against me + here, and I’ve come back without what I went for at Aspen Vale, for my men + were away. I’ve come back without what I went for, but I must just grin + and bear it.” He shrugged his shoulders and gave a great sigh. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you’ll find what you went for here,” returned the Young Doctor + meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “There’s a lot here—enough to make a man think life worth while”—inside + the room the wife shrank at the words, for she could hear all—“but + just the same I’m not thinking the thing I went to look for is + hereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “You never know your luck,” was the reply. “‘Ask and you shall find, knock + and it shall be opened unto you.’” + </p> + <p> + The long face blazed up with humour again. “Do you mean that I haven’t + asked you yet?” Crozier remarked, with a quizzical look, which had still + that faint hope against hope which is a painful thing for a good man’s + eyes to see. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor laid a hand on Crozier’s arm. “No, I didn’t mean that, + patient. I’m in that state when every penny I have is out to keep me from + getting a fall. I’m in that Starwhon coal-mine down at Bethbridge, and + it’s like a suction-pump. I couldn’t borrow a thousand dollars myself now. + I can’t do it, or I’d stand in with you, Crozier. No, I can’t help you a + bit; but step inside. There’s a room in this house where you got back your + life by the help of a knife. There’s another room in there where you may + get back your fortune by the help of a wife.” + </p> + <p> + Stepping aside he gave the wondering Crozier a slight push forward into + the doorway, then left him and hurried round to the back of the house, + where he hoped he might see Kitty. + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor found Kitty pumping water on a pail of potatoes and + stirring them with a broom-handle. + </p> + <p> + “A most unscientific way of cleaning potatoes,” he said, as Kitty did not + look at him. “If you put them in a trough where the water could run off, + the dirt would go with the water, and you would’nt waste time and + intelligence, and your fingers would be cleaner in the end.” + </p> + <p> + The only reply Kitty made was to flick the broomhead at him. It had been + dipped in water, and the spray from it slightly spattered his face. + </p> + <p> + “Will you never grow up?” he exclaimed as he applied a handkerchief to his + ruddy face. + </p> + <p> + “I’d like you so much better if you were younger—will you never be + young?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It makes a man old before his time to have to meet you day by day and + live near you.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you try living with me?” she retorted. “Ah, then, you meant me + when you said to Mrs. Crozier that you were going to be married? Wasn’t + that a bit ‘momentary’? as my mother’s cook used to remark. I think we + haven’t ‘kept company’—you and I.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s true you haven’t been a beau of mine, but I’d rather marry you than + be obliged to live with you,” was the paradoxical retort. + </p> + <p> + “You have me this time,” he said, trying in vain to solve her reply. + </p> + <p> + Kitty tossed her head. “No, I haven’t got you this time, thank Heaven, and + I don’t want you; but I’d rather marry you than live with you, as I said. + Isn’t it the custom for really nice-minded people to marry to get rid of + each other—for five years, or for ever and ever and ever?” + </p> + <p> + “What a girl you are, Kitty Tynan!” he said reprovingly. He saw that she + meant Crozier and his wife. + </p> + <p> + Kitty ceased her work for an instant and, looking away from him into the + distance, said: “Three people said those same words to me all in one day a + thousand years ago. It was Mr. Crozier, Jesse Bulrush, and my mother; and + now you’ve said it a thousand years after; as with your inexpensive + education and slow mind you’d be sure to do.” + </p> + <p> + “I have an idea that Mrs. Crozier said the same to you also this very day. + Did she—come, did she?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn’t say, ‘What a girl you are!’ but in her mind she probably did + say, ‘What a vixen!”’ + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor nodded satirically. “If you continued as you began when + coming from the station, I’m sure she did; and also I’m sure it wasn’t + wrong of her to say it.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted her to say it. That’s why I uttered the too, too utter-things, + as the comic opera says. What else was there to do? I had to help cure + her.” + </p> + <p> + “To cure her of what, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “Of herself, doctor-man.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor’s look became graver. He wondered greatly at this young + girl’s sage instinct and penetration. “Of herself? Ah, yes, to think more + of some one else than herself! That is—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is love,” Kitty answered, her head bent over the pail and + stirring the potatoes hard. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “I know it is,” she returned. + </p> + <p> + “Is that why you are going to be married?” he asked quizzically. + </p> + <p> + “It will probably cure the man I marry of himself,” she retorted. “Oh, + neither of us know what we are talking about—let’s change the + subject!” she added impatiently now, with a change of mood, as she poured + the water off the potatoes. + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence in which they were both thinking of the same + thing. “I wonder how it’s all going inside there?” he remarked. “I hope + all right, but I have my doubts.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t any doubt at all. It isn’t going right,” she answered ruefully; + “but it has to be made go right.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom do you think can do that?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty looked him frankly and decisively in the face. Her eyes had the look + of a dreaming pietist for the moment. The deep-sea soul of her was awake. + “I can do it if they don’t break away altogether at once. I helped her + more than you think. I told her I had opened that letter.” + </p> + <p> + He gasped. “My dear girl—that letter—you told her you had done + such a thing, such—!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t dear girl me, if you please. I know what I am doing. I told her + that and a great deal more. She won’t leave this house the woman she was + yesterday. She is having a quick cure—a cure while you wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he is cured of her,” remarked the Young Doctor very gravely. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, the disease might have got headway, but it didn’t,” Kitty + returned, her face turned away. “He became a little better; but he was + never cured. That’s the way with a man. He can never forget a woman he has + once cared for, and he can go back to her half loving her; but it isn’t + the case with a woman. There’s nothing so dead to a woman as a man when + she’s cured of him. The woman is never dead to the man, no matter what + happens.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor regarded her with a strange, new interest and a puzzled + surprise. “Sappho—Sappho, how did you come to know these things!” he + exclaimed. “You are only a girl at best, or something of a boy-girl at + worst, and yet you have, or think you have, got into those places which + are reserved for the old-timers in life’s scramble. You talk like an + ancient dame.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty smiled, but her eyes had a slumbering look as if she was half + dreaming. “That’s the mistake most of you make—men and women. + There’s such a thing as instinct, and there’s such a thing as keeping your + eyes open.” + </p> + <p> + “What did Mrs. Crozier say when you told her about opening that + five-year-old letter? Did she hate you?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded with wistful whimsicality. “For a minute she was like an + industrious hornet. Then I made her see she wouldn’t have been here at all + if I hadn’t opened it. That made, her come down from the top of her nest + on the church-spire, and she said that, considering my opportunities, I + was not such an aboriginal after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look you, Saphira, prospective wife of Ananias, she didn’t say that, + of course. Still, it doesn’t matter, does it? The point is, suppose he + opens that letter now.” + </p> + <p> + “If he does, he’ll probably not go with her. It was a letter that would + send a man out with a scalping-knife. Still, if Mr. Crozier had his + land-deal through he might not read the letter as it really is. His brain + wouldn’t then be grasping what his eyes saw.” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn’t got his land-deal through. He told me so just now before he saw + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it’s ora pro nobis—it’s pray for us hard,” rejoined Kitty + sorrowfully. “Poor man from Kerry!” At that moment Mrs. Tynan came from + the house, her face flushed, her manner slightly agitated. “John Sibley is + here, Kitty—with two saddle-horses.... He says you promised to ride + with him to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “I probably did,” responded Kitty calmly. “It’s a good day for riding too. + But John will have to wait. Please tell him to come back at six o’clock. + There’ll be plenty of time for an hour’s ride before sundown.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you lame, dear child?” asked her mother ironically. “Because if + you’re not, perhaps you’ll be your own messenger. It’s no way to treat a + friend—or whatever you like to call him.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty smiled tenderly at her mother. “Then would you mind telling him to + come here, mother darling? I’m giving this doctor-man a prescription. Ah, + please do what I ask you, mother! It is true about the prescription. It’s + not for himself; it’s for the foreign people quarantined inside.” She + nodded towards the room where Shiel Crozier and his wife were shaping + their fate. + </p> + <p> + As her mother disappeared with a gesture of impatience and the remark that + she washed her hands of the whole Sibley business, the Young Doctor said + to Kitty, “What is your prescription, Ma’m’selle Saphira? Suppose they + come out of quarantine with a clean bill of health?” + </p> + <p> + “If they do that you needn’t make up the prescription. But if Aspen Vale + hasn’t given him what he wanted, then Mr. Shiel Crozier will still be an + exile from home and the angel in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the prescription? Out with your Sibylline leaves!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s in that unopened letter. When the letter is opened you’ll see it + effervesce like a seidlitz powder.” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose I am not here when the letter is opened?” + </p> + <p> + “You must be here-you must. You’ll stay now, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I can’t. I have patients waiting.” Kitty made an impetuous + gesture of command. “There are two patients here who are at the crisis of + their disease. You may be wanted to save a life any minute now.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought that with your prescription you were to be the AEsculapius.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I’m only going to save the reputation of AEsculapius by giving him a + prescription got from a quack to give to a goose.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come, no names. You are incorrigible. I believe you’d have your + joke on your death-bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I should if you were there. I should die laughing,” Kitty retorted. + </p> + <p> + “There will be no death-bed for you, miss. You’ll be translated—no, + that’s not right; no one could translate you.” + </p> + <p> + “God might—or a man I loved well enough not to marry him.” + </p> + <p> + There was a note of emotion in her laugh as she uttered the words. It did + not escape the ear of the Young Doctor, who regarded her fixedly for a + moment before he said: “I’m not sure that even He would be able to + translate you. You speak your own language, and it’s surely original. I am + only just learning its alphabet. No one else speaks it. I have a fear that + you’ll be terribly lonely as you travel along the trail, Kitty Tynan.” + </p> + <p> + A light of pleasure came into Kitty’s eyes, though her face was a little + drawn. “You really do think I’m original—that I’m myself and not + like anybody else?” she asked him with a childlike eagerness. + </p> + <p> + “Almost more than any one I ever met,” answered the Young Doctor gently; + for he saw that she had her own great troubles, and he also felt now fully + what this comedy or tragedy inside the house meant to her. “But you’re + terribly lonely—and that’s why: because you are the only one of your + kind.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that’s why I’m not going to be lonely,” she said, nodding towards the + corner of the house where John Sibley appeared. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, with a gesture of confidence and almost of affection, she laid a + hand on the Young Doctor’s breast. “I’ve left the trail, doctor-man. I’m + cutting across the prairie. Perhaps I shall reach camp and perhaps I + shan’t; but anyhow I’ll know that I met one good man on the way. And I + also saw a resthouse that I’d like to have stayed at, but the blinds were + drawn and the door was locked.” + </p> + <p> + There was a strange, eerie look in her face again as her eyes of soft + umber dwelt on his for a moment; then she turned with a gay smile to John + Sibley, who had seen her hand on the Young Doctor’s chest without dismay; + for the joy of Kitty was that she hid nothing; and, anyhow, the Young + Doctor had a place of his own; and also, anyhow, Kitty did what she + pleased. Once when she had visited the Coast the Governor had talked to + her with great gusto and friendliness; and she had even gone so far as to + touch his arm while, chuckling at her whimsically, he listened to a story + she told him of life at the rail-head. And the Governor had patted her + fingers in quite a fatherly way—or not, as the mind of the observer + saw it; while subsequently his secretary had written verses to her. + </p> + <p> + “So you’ve been gambling again—you’ve broken your promise to me,” + she said reprovingly to Sibley, but with that wonderful, wistful laughter + in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Sibley looked at her in astonishment. “Who told you?” he asked. It had + only happened the night before, and it didn’t seem possible she could + know. + </p> + <p> + He was quite right. It wasn’t possible she could know, and she didn’t + know. She only divined. + </p> + <p> + “I knew when you made the promise you couldn’t keep it; that’s why I + forgive you now,” she added. “Knowing what I did about you, I oughtn’t to + have let you make it.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor saw in her words a meaning that John Sibley could never + have understood, for it was a part of the story of Crozier’s life + reproduced—and with what a different ending! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. “MALE AND FEMALE CREATED HE THEM” + </h2> + <p> + When Crozier stepped out of the bright sunlight into the shady living-room + of the Tynan home, his eyes were clouded by the memory of his conference + with Studd Bradley and his financial associates, and by the desolate + feeling that the five years since he had left England had brought him + nothing—nothing at all except a new manhood. But that he did not + count an asset, because he had not himself taken account of this new + capital. He had never been an introspective man in the philosophic sense, + and he never had thought that he was of much account. He had lived long on + his luck, and nothing had come of it—“nothing at all, at all,” as he + said to himself when he stepped inside the room where, unknown to him, his + wife awaited him. So abstracted was he, so disturbed was his gaze (fixed + on the inner thing), that he did not see the figure in blue and white over + against the wall, her hand on the big arm-chair once belonging to Tyndall + Tynan, and now used always by Shiel Crozier, “the white-haired boy of the + Tynan sanatorium,” as Jesse Bulrush had called him. + </p> + <p> + There was a strange timidity, and a fear not so strange, in Mona’s eyes as + she saw her husband enter with that quick step which she had so longingly + remembered after he had fled from her; but of which she had taken less + account when he was with her at Lammis long ago-When Crozier of Lammis was + with her long ago. How tall and shapely he was! How large he loomed with + the light behind him! How shadowed his face and how distant the look in + his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Somehow the room seemed too small for him, and yet he had lived in this + very house for four years and more; he had slept in the next room all that + time; had eaten at this table and sat in this very chair—Mrs. Tynan + had told her that—for this long time, like the master of a + household. With that far-away, brooding look in his face, he seemed in one + sense as distant from her as when she was in London in those dreary, + desolate years with no knowledge of his whereabouts, a widow in every + sense save one; but in her acts—that had to be said for her—a + wife always and not a widow. She had not turned elsewhere, though there + had been temptation enough to do so. + </p> + <p> + Crozier advanced to the centre of the room, even to the table laid for + dinner, before he was conscious of some one in the room, of a figure by + the chair. For a moment he stood still, startled as if he had seen a + vision, and his sight became blurred. When it cleared, Mona had come a + step nearer to him, and then he saw her clearly. He caught his breath as + though Life had burst upon him with some staggering revelation. If she had + been a woman of genius, as in her way Kitty Tynan was, she would have + spoken before he had a chance to do so. Instead, she wished to see how he + would greet her, to hear what he would say. She was afraid of him now. It + was not her gift to do the right thing by perfect instinct; she had to + think things out; and so she did now. Still it has to be said for her that + she also had a strange, deep sense of apprehension in the presence of the + man whose arms had held her fast, and then let her go for so bitter a + length of time, in which her pride was lacerated and her heart brought + low. She did not know how she was going to be met now, and a womanly + shyness held her back. If she had said one word—his name only—it + might have made a world of difference to them both at that moment; for he + was tortured by failure, and now when hope was gone, here was the woman + whom he had left in order to force gifts from fate to bring himself back + to her. + </p> + <p> + “You—you here!” he exclaimed hoarsely. He did not open his arms to + her or go a step nearer to her. His look was that of blank amazement, of + mingled remembrance and stark realisation. This was a turn of affairs for + which he had made no calculation. There had ever been the question of his + return to her, but never of her coming to him. Yet here she was, + debonnaire and fresh and perfectly appointed—and ah, so terribly + neat and spectacularly finessed! Here she was with all that expert + formality which, in the old days, had been a reproach to his loosely-swung + life and person, to his careless, almost slovenly but well-brushed, + cleanly, and polished ease—not like his wife, as though he had been + poured out of a mould and set up to dry. He was not tailor-made, and she + had ever been so exact that it was as though she had been crystallised, + clothes and all—a perfect crystal, yet a crystal. It was this very + perfection, so charming to see, but in a sense so inhuman, which had ever + dismayed him. “What should I be doing in the home of an angel!” he had + exclaimed to himself in the old home at Lammis. + </p> + <p> + Truth is, he ought never to have had such a feeling, and he would not have + had it, if she had diffused the radiance of love, which would have made + her outer perfectness mere slovenliness beside her inner charm and + magnetism. Very little of all this passed through Crozier’s mind, as with + confused vision he looked at her. He had borne the ordeal of the + witness-box in the Logan Trial with superb coolness; he had been in + physical danger over and over again, and had kept his head; he had never + been faced by a human being who embarrassed him—except his own wife. + “There is no fear like that of one’s own wife,” was the saying of an + ancient philosopher, and Crozier had proved it true; not because of errors + committed, but because he was as sensitive as a girl of sensibility; + because he felt that his wife did not understand him, and he was ever in + fear of doing the wrong thing, while eager beyond telling to please her. + After all, during the past five years, parted from her while loving her, + there had still been a feeling of relief unexplainable to himself in not + having to think whether he was pleasing her or not, or to reproach himself + constantly that he was failing to conform to her standard. + </p> + <p> + “How did you come—why? How did you know?” he asked helplessly, as + she made no motion to come nearer; as she kept looking at him with an + expression in her eyes wholly unfamiliar to him. Yet it was not wholly + unfamiliar, for it belonged to the days when he courted her, when she + seemed to have got nearer to him than in the more intimate relations of + married life. + </p> + <p> + “Is—is that all you have to say to me, Shiel?” she asked, with a + swelling note of feeling in her voice; while there was also emerging in + her look an elusive pride which might quickly become sharp indignation. + That her deserter should greet her so after five years of such offence to + a woman’s self-respect, as might entitle her to become a rebel against + matrimony, was too cruel to be borne. This feeling suddenly became alive + in her, in spite of a joy in her heart different from that which she had + ever known; in defiance of the fact that now that they were together once + more, what would she not do to prevent their being driven apart again! + </p> + <p> + “After abandoning me for five years, is that all you have to say to me, + Shiel? After I have suffered before the world—” + </p> + <p> + He threw up his arms with a passionate gesture. “The world!” he exclaimed—“the + devil take the world! I’ve been out of it for five years, and well out of + it. What do I care for the world!” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up in a spirit of defence. “It isn’t what you care for + the world, but I had to live in it—alone, and because I was alone, + eyebrows were lifted. It has been easy enough for you. You were where no + one knew you. You had your freedom”—she advanced to the table, and, + as though unconsciously, he did the same, and they gazed at each other + over the white linen and its furnishings—“and no one was saying that + your wife had left you for this or that, because of her bad conduct or of + yours. Either way it was not what was fair and just; yet I had to bear and + suffer, not you. There is no pain like it. There I was in misery and—” + </p> + <p> + A bitter smile came to his lips. “A woman can endure a good deal when she + has all life’s luxuries in her grasp. Did you ever think, Mona, that a man + must suffer when he goes out into a world where he knows no one, + penniless, with no trade, no profession, nothing except his own helpless + self? He might have stayed behind among the luxuries that belonged to + another, and eaten from the hand of his wife’s charity, but”—(all + the pride and pain of the old situation rose up in him, impelled by the + brooding of the years of separation, heightened by the fact that he was no + nearer to his goal of financial independence of her than he was when he + left London five years before)—“but do you think, no matter what + I’ve done, broken a pledge or not, been in the wrong a thousand times as + much as I was, that I’d be fed by the hand of one to whom I had given a + pledge and broken it? Do you think that I’d give her the chance to say, or + not to say, but only think, ‘I forgive you; I will give you your food and + clothes and board and bed, but if you are not good in the future, I will + be very, very angry with you’? Do you think—?” + </p> + <p> + His face was flaming now. The pent-up flood of remorse and resentment and + pride and love—the love that tore itself in pieces because it had + not the pride and self-respect which independence as to money gives—broke + forth in him, fresh as he was from a brutal interview with the financial + clique whom he had given the chance to make much money, and who were now, + for a few thousand dollars, trying to cudgel him out of his one + opportunity to regain his place in his lost world. + </p> + <p> + “I live—I live like this,” he continued, with a gesture that + embraced the room where they were, “and I have one room to myself where I + have lived over four years”—he pointed towards it. “Do you think I + would choose this and all it means—its poverty and its crudeness, + its distance from all I ever had and all my people had, if I could have + stood the other thing—a pauper taking pennies from his own wife? I + had had taste enough of it while I had a little something left; but when I + lost everything on Flamingo, and I was a beggar, I knew I could not stand + the whole thing. I could not, would not, go under the poor-law and accept + you, with the lash of a broken pledge in your hand, as my guardian. So + that’s why I left, and that’s why I stay here, and that’s why I’m going to + stay here, Mona.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her firmly, though his face had that illumination which the + spirit in his eyes—the Celtic fire drawn through the veins of his + ancestors—gave to all he did and felt; and now as in a dream he saw + little things in her he had never seen before. He saw that a little strand + of her beautiful dark hair had broken away from its ordered place and hung + prettily against the rosy, fevered skin of her cheek just beside her ear. + He saw that there were no rings on her fingers save one, and that was her + wedding-ring—and she had always been fond of wearing rings. He + noted, involuntarily, that in her agitation the white tulle at her bosom + had been disturbed into pretty disarray, and that there was neither brooch + nor necklace at her breast or throat. + </p> + <p> + “If you stay, I am going to stay too,” she declared in an almost + passionate voice, and she spoke with deliberation and a look which left no + way open to doubt. She was now a valiant little figure making a fight for + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t prevent that,” he responded stubbornly. + </p> + <p> + She made a quick, appealing motion of her hands. “Would you prevent it? + Aren’t you glad to see me? Don’t you love me any more? You used to love + me. In spite of all, you used to love me. Even though you hated my money, + and I hated your gambling—your betting on horses. You used to love + me—I was sure you did then. Don’t you love me now, Shiel?” + </p> + <p> + A gloomy look passed over his face. Memory of other days was admonishing + him. “What is the good of one loving when the other doesn’t? And, anyhow, + I made up my mind five years ago that I would not live on my wife. I + haven’t done so, and I don’t mean to ‘do so. I don’t mean to take a penny + of your money. I should curse it to damnation if I was living on it. I’m + not, and I don’t mean to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I’ll stay here and work too, without it,” she urged, with a light in + her eyes which they had never known. + </p> + <p> + He laughed mirthlessly. “What could you do—you never did a day’s + work in your life!” + </p> + <p> + “You could teach me how, Shiel.” + </p> + <p> + His jaw jerked in a way it had when he was incredulous. “You used to say I + was only—mark you, only a dreamer and a sportsman. Well, I’m no + longer a dreamer and a sportsman; I’m a practical man. I’ve done with + dreaming and sportsmanship. I can look at a situation as it is, and—” + </p> + <p> + “You are dreaming—but yes, you are dreaming still,” she interjected. + “And you are a sportsman still, but it is the sport of a dreamer, and a + mad dreamer too. Shiel, in spite of all my faults in the past, I come to + you, to stay with you, to live on what you earn if you like, if it’s only + a loaf of bread a day. I—I don’t care about my money. I don’t care + about the luxuries which money can buy; I can do without them if I have + you. Am I not to stay, and won’t you—won’t you kiss me, Shiel?” + </p> + <p> + She came close to him-came round the table till she stood within a few + feet of him. + </p> + <p> + There was one trembling instant when he would have taken her hungrily into + his arms, but as if some evil spirit interposed with malign purpose, there + came the sound of feet on the gravel outside, and the figure of a man + darkened the doorway. It was Augustus Burlingame, whose face as he saw + Mona Crozier took on an ironical smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—what do you want?” inquired Crozier quietly. “A few words with + Mr. Crozier on business, if he is not too much occupied?” + </p> + <p> + “What business?” + </p> + <p> + “I am acting for Messrs. Bradley, Willingden, Baxter, & Simmons.” + </p> + <p> + The cloud darkened on Crozier’s face. His lips tightened, his face + hardened. “I will see you in a moment—wait outside, please,” he + added, as Burlingame made as though to step inside. “Wait at the gate,” he + added quietly, but with undisguised contempt. + </p> + <p> + The moment of moments for Mona and himself had passed. All the bitterness + of defeat was on him again. All the humiliation of undeserved failure to + accomplish what had been the dear desire of five years bore down his + spirit now. Suddenly he had a suspicion that his wife had received + information of his whereabouts from this very man, Burlingame. Had not the + Young Doctor said that Burlingame had written to lawyers in the old land + to get information concerning him? Was it not more than likely that he had + given his wife the knowledge which had brought her here? + </p> + <p> + When Burlingame had disappeared he turned to Mona. “Who told you I was + here? Who wrote to you?” he asked darkly. The light had died away from his + face. It was ascetic in its lonely gravity now. + </p> + <p> + “Your doctor cabled to Castlegarry and Miss Tynan wrote to me.” + </p> + <p> + A faint flush spread over Crozier’s face. “How did Miss Tynan know where + to write?” + </p> + <p> + Mona had told the truth at once because she felt it was the only way. Now, + however, she was in a position where she must either tell him that Kitty + had opened that still sealed letter from herself to him which he had + carried all these years, or else tell him an untruth. She had no right to + tell him what Kitty had confided to her. There was no other way save to + lie. + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? It was enough for me to get her letter,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “At Castlegarry?” + </p> + <p> + What was there to do? She must keep faith with Kitty, who had given her + this sight of her husband again. + </p> + <p> + “Forwarded from Lammis,” she said. “It reached me before the doctor’s + cable.” + </p> + <p> + So it was Kitty—Kitty Tynan-who had brought his wife to this new + home from which he had been trying so hard to get back to the old home. + Kitty, the angel of the house. + </p> + <p> + “You wrote me a letter which drove me from home,” he said heavily. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—no,” she protested. “It was not that. I know it was not + that. It was my money—it was that which drove you away. You have + just said so.” + </p> + <p> + “You wrote me a hateful letter,” he persisted. “You didn’t want to see me. + You sent it to me by your sweet, young brother.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes flashed. “My letter did not drive you away. It couldn’t have. You + went because you did not love me. It was that and my money, not the + letter, not the letter.” + </p> + <p> + Somehow she had a curious feeling that the very letter which contained her + bitter and hateful reproaches might save her yet. The fact that he had not + opened it—well, she must see Kitty again. Her husband was in a dark + mood. She must wait. She knew that her fortunate moment had passed when + the rogue Burlingame appeared. She must wait for another. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go now? You want to see that man outside. Shall I go, Shiel?” She + was very pale, very quiet, steady and gentle. + </p> + <p> + “I must hear what that fellow has to say. It is business—important,” + he replied. “It may mean anything—everything, or nothing.” + </p> + <p> + As she left the room he had an impulse to call her back, but he conquered + it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. “‘TWAS FOR YOUR PLEASURE YOU CAME HERE, YOU SHALL GO BACK FOR + MINE” + </h2> + <p> + For a moment Crozier stood looking at the closed doorway through which + Mona had gone, with a look of repentant affection in his eyes; but as the + thought of his own helpless insolvency and broken hopes flashed across his + mind, a look of dark and harassed reflection shadowed his face. He turned + to the front doorway with a savage gesture. The mutilated dignity of his + manhood, the broken pride of a lifetime, the bitterness in his heart need + not be held in check in dealing with the man who waited to give him a last + thrust of enmity. + </p> + <p> + He left the house. Burlingame was seated on the stump of a tree which had + been made into a seat. “Come to my room if you have business with me,” + Crozier said sharply. + </p> + <p> + As they went, Crozier swung aside from the front door towards the corner + of the house. + </p> + <p> + “The back way?” asked Burlingame with a sneer. + </p> + <p> + “The old familiar way to you,” was the smarting reply. “In any case, you + are not welcome in Mrs. Tynan’s part of the house. My room is my own, + however, and I should prefer you within four walls while doing business + with you.” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame’s face changed colour slightly, for the tone of Crozier’s + voice, the grimness of his manner, suggested an abnormal condition. + Burlingame was not a brave man physically. He had never lived the outdoor + life, though he had lived so much among outdoor people. He was that rare + thing in a new land, a decadent, a connoisseur in vice, a lover of opiates + and of liquor. He was young enough yet not to be incapacitated by it. His + face and hands were white and a little flabby, and he wore his hair rather + long, which, it is said, accounts for the weakness of some men, on the + assumption that long hair wastes the strength. But Burlingame quickly + remembered the attitude of the lady—Crozier’s wife, he was certain—and + of Crozier in the dining-room a few moments before, and to his suspicious + eyes it was not characteristic of a happy family party. No doubt this + grimness of Crozier was due to domestic trouble and not wholly to his own + presence. Still, he felt softly for the tiny pistol he always carried in + his big waistcoat pocket, and it comforted him. + </p> + <p> + Beyond the corner of the house Crozier paused and took a key from his + pocket. It opened a side door to his own room, seldom used, since it was + always so pleasant in this happy home to go through the main living-room, + which every one liked so much that, though it was not the dining-room, it + was generally used as such, and though it was not the parlour, it was its + frequent substitute. Opening the door, Crozier stepped aside to let + Burlingame pass. It was two years since Burlingame had been in this room, + and then he had entered it without invitation. His inquisitiveness had led + him to explore it with no good intent when he lived in the house. + </p> + <p> + Entering now, he gave it quick scrutiny. It was clear he was looking for + something in particular. He was, in fact, searching for signs of its + occupancy by another than Shiel Crozier—tokens of a woman’s + presence. There was, however, no sign at all of that, though there were + signs of a woman’s care and attention in a number of little things—homelike, + solicitous, perhaps affectionate care and attention. Certainly the + spotless pillows, the pretty curtains, the pincushion, and charmingly + valanced bed and shelves, cheap though the material was, showed a woman’s + very friendly care. When he lived in that house there were no such little + attentions paid to him! It was his experience that where such attentions + went something else went with them. A sensualist himself, it was not + conceivable to him that men and women could be under the same roof without + “passages of sympathetic friendship and tokens of affinity.” That was a + phrase he had frequently used when pursuing his own sort of happiness. + </p> + <p> + His swift scrutiny showed that Crozier’s wife had no habitation here, and + that gave him his cue for what the French call “the reconstruction of the + crime.” It certainly was clear that, as he had suggested at the Logan + Trial, there was serious trouble in the Crozier family of two, and the + offender must naturally be the man who had flown, not the woman who had + stayed. Here was circumstantial evidence. + </p> + <p> + His suggestive glance, the look in his eyes, did not escape Crozier, who + read it all aright; and a primitive expression of natural antipathy passed + across his mediaeval face, making it almost inquisitorial. + </p> + <p> + “Will you care to sit?” he said, however, with the courtesy he could never + avoid; and he pointed to a chair beside the little table in the centre of + the room. As Burlingame sat down he noticed on the table a crumpled + handkerchief. It had lettering in the corner. He spread it out slightly + with his fingers, as though abstractedly thinking of what he was about to + say. The initial in the corner was K. Kitty had left it on the table while + she was talking to Mrs. Crozier a halfhour before. Whatever Burlingame + actually thought or believed, he could not now resist picking up the + handkerchief and looking at it with a mocking smile. It was too good a + chance to waste. He still hugged to his evil heart the humiliating + remembrance of his expulsion from this house, the share Crozier had had in + it, and the things which Crozier had said to him then. He had his enemy + now between the upper and the nether mill-stones, and he meant to grind + him to the flour of utter abasement. It was clear that the arrival of Mrs. + Crozier had brought him no relief, for Crozier’s face was not that of a + man who had found and opened a casket of good fortune. + </p> + <p> + “Rather dangerous that, in the bedroom of a family man,” he said, picking + up the handkerchief and looking suggestively from the lettering in the + corner to Crozier. He laid it down again, smiling detestably. + </p> + <p> + Crozier calmly picked up the handkerchief, saw the lettering, then went + quietly to the door of the room and called Mrs. Tynan’s name. Presently + she appeared. Crozier beckoned her into the room. When she entered, he + closed the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Tynan,” he said, “this fellow found your daughter’s handkerchief on + my table, and he has said regarding it, ‘Rather dangerous that, in the + bedroom of a family man.’ What would you like me to do with him?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Tynan walked up to Burlingame with the look of a woman of the Commune + and said: “If I had a son I would disown him if he didn’t mangle you till + your wife would never know you again, you loathesome thing. There isn’t a + man or woman in Askatoon who’d believe your sickening slanders, for every + one knows what you are. How dare you enter this house? If the men of + Askatoon had any manhood in them they would tar-and-feather you. My girl + is as good as any girl that ever lived, and you know it. Now go out of + here—now!” + </p> + <p> + Crozier intervened quietly. “Mrs. Tynan, I asked him in here because it is + my room. I have some business with him. When it is over, then he shall go, + and we will fumigate the place. As for the tar-and-feathers, you might + leave that to me. I think I can arrange it. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll turn the hose on him as he goes out, if you don’t mind,” the irate + mother exclaimed as she left the room. + </p> + <p> + Crozier nodded. “Well, that would be appropriate, Mrs. Tynan, but it + wouldn’t cleanse him. He is the original leopard whose spots are there for + ever.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Burlingame was on his feet, and a look of craft and fear and + ugly meaning was in his face. Morally he was a coward, physically he was a + coward, but he had in his pocket a weapon which gave him a feeling of + superiority in the situation; and after a night of extreme self-indulgence + he was in a state of irritation of the nerves which gave him what the + searchers after excuses for ungoverned instincts and acts call + “brain-storms.” He had had sense enough to know that his amorous escapades + would get him into trouble one day, and he had always carried the little + pistol which was now so convenient to his hand. It gave him a fictitious + courage which he would not have had unarmed against almost any man—or + woman—in Askatoon. + </p> + <p> + “You get a woman to do your fighting for you,” he said hatefully. “You + have to drag her in. It was you I meant to challenge, not the poor girl + young enough to be your daughter.” His hand went to his waistcoat pocket. + Crozier saw and understood. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Crozier’s eyes blazed. The abnormal in him—the Celtic + strain always at variance with the normal, an almost ultra-natural + attendant of it awoke like a tempest in the tropics. His face became + transformed, alive with a passion uncanny in its recklessness and purpose. + It was a brain-storm indeed, but it had behind it a normal power, a moral + force which was not to be resisted. + </p> + <p> + “None of your sickly melodrama here. Take out of your pocket the pistol + you carry and give it to me,” Crozier growled. “You are not to be trusted. + The habit of thinking you would shoot somebody some time—somebody + you had injured—might become too much for you to-day, and then I + should have to kill you, and for your wife’s sake I don’t want to do that. + I always feel sorry for a woman with a husband like you. You could never + shoot me. You couldn’t be quick enough, but you might try. Then I should + end you, and there’d be another trial; but the lawyer who defended me + would not have to cross-examine any witness about your character. It is + too well-known, Burlingame. Out with it—the pistol!” he added, + standing menacingly over the other. + </p> + <p> + In a kind of stupor, under the storm that was breaking above him, + Burlingame slowly drew out of a capacious waistcoat pocket a tiny but + powerful pistol of the most modern make. + </p> + <p> + “Put it in my hand,” insisted Crozier, his eyes on the other’s. + </p> + <p> + The flabby hand laid the weapon in Crozier’s lean and strenuous fingers. + Crozier calmly withdrew the cartridges and then tossed the weapon back on + the table. + </p> + <p> + “Now we have equality of opportunity,” he remarked quietly. “If you think + you would like to repeat any slander that’s slid off your foul tongue, do + it now; and in a moment or two Mrs. Tynan can turn the hose on the floor + of this room.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get to business,” said Burlingame sullenly, as he took from his + pocket a paper. + </p> + <p> + Crozier nodded. “I can imagine your haste,” he remarked. “You need all the + fees you can get to pay Belle Bingley’s bills.” + </p> + <p> + Burlingame did not wince. He made no reply to the challenge that he was + the chief supporter of a certain wanton thereabouts. + </p> + <p> + “The time for your option to take ten thousand dollars’ worth of shares in + the syndicate is up,” he said; “and I am instructed to inform you that + Messrs. Bradley, Willingden, Baxter, & Simmons propose to take over + your unpaid shares and to complete the transaction without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Who informed Messrs. Bradley, Willingden, Baxter, & Simmons that I am + not prepared to pay for my shares?” asked Crozier sharply. + </p> + <p> + “The time is up,” surlily replied Burlingame. “It is assumed you can’t + take up your shares, and that you don’t want to do so. The time us up,” he + added emphatically, and he tapped the paper spread before him on the + table. + </p> + <p> + Crozier’s eyes half closed in an access of stubbornness and hatred. “You + are not to assume anything whatever,” he declared. “You are to accommodate + yourself to actual facts. The time is not up. It is not up till midnight, + and any action taken before then on any other assumption will give grounds + for damages.” + </p> + <p> + Crozier spoke without passion and with a coldblooded insistence not lost + on Burlingame. Taking down a calendar from the wall, he laid it beside the + paper on the table before the too eager lawyer. “Examine the dates,” he + said. “At twelve o’clock tonight Messrs. Bradley, Willingden, Baxter, + & Simmons are free to act, if the money is not at the disposal of the + syndicate by then; but till then my option is indefeasible. Does that meet + the case or not?” + </p> + <p> + “It meets the case,” said Burlingame in a morose voice, rising. “If you + can produce the money before the stroke of midnight, why can’t you produce + it now? What’s the use of bluffing! It can’t do any good in the end. Your + credit—” + </p> + <p> + “My credit has been stopped by your friends,” interrupted Crozier, “but my + resources are current.” + </p> + <p> + “Midnight is not far off,” viciously remarked Burlingame as he made for + the door. + </p> + <p> + Crozier intercepted him. “One word with you on another business before you + go,” he said. “The tar-and-feathers for which Mrs. Tynan asks will be + yours at any moment I raise my hand in Askatoon. There are enough women + alone who would do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Talk of that after midnight,” sneered Burlingame desperately as the door + was opened for him by Crozier. “Better not go out by the front gate,” + remarked Crozier scornfully. “Mrs. Tynan is a woman of her word, and the + hose is handy.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later, with contemptuous satisfaction, he saw Burlingame climb + the picket-fence at the side of the house. + </p> + <p> + Turning back into the room, he threw up his arms. “Midnight—midnight—my + God, where am I to get the money! I must—I must have it... It’s the + only way back.” + </p> + <p> + Sitting down at the table, he dropped his head into his hands and shut his + eyes in utter dejection. “Mona—by Heaven, no, I’ll never take it + from her!” he said once, and clenched his hands at his temples and sat on + and on unmoving. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT IT? + </h2> + <p> + For a full half-hour Crozier sat buried in dark reflection, then he slowly + raised his head, and for a minute looked round dazedly. His absorption had + been so great that for a moment he was like one who had awakened upon + unfamiliar things. As when in a dream of the night the history of years + will flash past like a ray of light, so for the bad half-hour in which + Crozier had given himself up to despair, his mind had travelled through an + incongruous series of incidents of his past life, and had also revealed + pictures of solution after solution of his present troubles. + </p> + <p> + He had that-gift of visualization which makes life an endless procession + of pictures which allure, or which wear the nature into premature old age. + The last picture flashing before his eyes, as he sat there alone, was of + himself and his elder brother, Garnett, now master of Castlegarry, racing + ponies to reach the lodge-gates before they closed for the night, after a + day of disobedience and truancy. He remembered how Garnett had given him + the better pony of the two, so that the younger brother, who would be more + heavily punished if they were locked out, should have the better chance. + Garnett, if odd in manner and character, had always been a true sportsman + though not a lover of sport. + </p> + <p> + If—if—why had he never thought of Garnett? Garnett could help + him, and he would do so. He would let Garnett stand in with him—take + one-third of his profits from the syndicate. Yes, he must ask Garnett to + see him through. Then it was that he lifted his head from his hands, and + his mind awakened out of a dream as real as though he had actually been + asleep. Garnett—alas! Garnett was thousands of miles away, and he + had not heard from him for five years. Still, he knew the master of + Castlegarry was alive, for he had seen him mentioned in a chance number of + The Morning Post lately come to his hands. What avail! Garnett was at + Castlegarry, and at midnight his chance of fortune and a new life would be + gone. Then, penniless, he would have to face Mona again; and what would + come of that he could not see, would not try to see. There was an + alternative he would not attempt to face until after midnight, when this + crisis in his life would be over. Beyond midnight was a darkness which he + would not now try to pierce. As his eyes again became used to his + surroundings, a look of determination, the determination of the true + gambler, came into his face. The real gambler never throws up the sponge + till all is gone; never gives up till after the last toss of the last + penny of cash or credit; for he has seen such innumerable times the thing + come right and good fortune extend a friendly hand with the last hazard of + all. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he remembered—saw—a scene in the gambling rooms at + Monte Carlo on the only visit he had ever paid to the place. He had played + constantly, and had won more or less each day. Then his fortune turned and + he lost and lost each day. At last, one evening, he walked up to a table + and said to the croupier, “When was zero up last?” The croupier answered, + “Not for an hour.” Forthwith he began to stake on zero and on nothing + else. For two hours he put his louis at each turn of the wheel on the + Lonely Nought. For two hours he lost. Increasing his stake, which had + begun at five francs and had risen at length to five louis, he still + coaxed the sardonic deity. Finally midnight came, and he was the only + person playing at the table. All others had gone or had ceased to play. + These stayed to watch the “mad Inglesi,” as a foreigner called him, + knocking his head against the foot stool of an unresponsive god of chance. + The croupiers watched also with somewhat disdainful, somewhat pitying + interest, this last representative of a class who have an insane notion + that the law of chances is in their favour if they can but stay the + course. And how often had they seen the stubborn challenger of a black + demon, who would not appear according to the law of chances, leave the + table ruined for ever! + </p> + <p> + Smiling, Crozier had played on till he had but ten louis left. Counting + them over with cheerful exactness, he rose up, lit a cigarette, placed the + ten louis on the fatal spot with cynical precision, and with a gay smile + kissed his hand to the refractory Nothing and said, “You’ve got it all, + Zero-good-night! Goodnight, Zero!” Then he had buttoned his coat and + turned away to seek the cool air of the Mediterranean. He had gone but a + step or two, his head half gaily turned to the table where the dwindling + onlookers stood watching the wheel spin round, when suddenly the + croupier’s cry of “Zero!” fell upon his ears. + </p> + <p> + With cheerful nonchalance he had come back to the table and picked up the + many louis he had won—won by his last throw and with his last + available coin. + </p> + <p> + As the scene passed before him now he got to his feet and, with that look + of the visionary in his eyes, which those only know who have watched the + born gamester, said, “I’ll back my hand till the last throw.” Then it was, + as his eyes gazed in front of him dreamily, he saw the card on his mirror + bearing the words, “Courage, soldier!” + </p> + <p> + With a deepening flame in his eyes he went over and gazed at it. At length + he reached out and touched the writing with a caressing finger. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty—Kitty, how great you are!” he said. Then as he turned to the + outer door a softness came into his face, stole up into his brilliant eyes + and dimmed them with a tear. “What a hand to hold in the dark—the + dark of life!” he said aloud. “Courage, soldier!” he added, as he opened + the door by which he had entered, through which Burlingame had gone, and + strode away towards the town of Askatoon, feeling somehow in his heart + that before midnight his luck would turn. + </p> + <p> + From the dining-room Kitty had watched him go. “Courage, soldier!” she + whispered after him, and she laughed; but almost immediately she threw her + head up with a gasping sigh, and when it was lowered again two tears were + stealing down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + With an effort she conquered herself, wiped away the tears, and said + aloud, with a whimsical but none the less pitiful self-reproach, + “Kitty-Kitty Tynan, what a fool you are!” + </p> + <p> + Entering the room Crozier had left, she went to the desk with the + green-baize top, opened it, and took out the fateful letter which Mona + Crozier had written to her husband five years ago. Putting it into her + pocket she returned to the dining-room. She stood there for a moment with + her chin in her hands and deep reflection in her eyes, and then, going to + the door of her mother’s sitting-room, she opened it and beckoned. A + moment later Mrs. Crozier and the Young Doctor entered the dining-room and + sat down at a motion from her. Presently she said: + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Crozier, I have here the letter your husband received from you five + years ago in London.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Crozier flushed. She had been masterful by nature and she had had her + way very much in life. To be dominated in the most intimate things of her + life by this girl was not easy to be borne; but she realised that Kitty + had been a friend indeed, even if not conventional. In response to Kitty’s + remark now she inclined her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have told us that you and your husband haven’t made it up. That + is so, isn’t it?” Kitty continued. + </p> + <p> + “If you wish to put it that way,” answered Mona, stiffening a little in + spite of herself. + </p> + <p> + “P’r’aps I don’t put it very well, but it is the stony fact, isn’t it, + Mrs. Crozier?” + </p> + <p> + Mona hesitated a moment, then answered: “He is very upset concerning the + land syndicate, and he has a quixotic idea that he cannot take money from + me to help him carry it through.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t quite know what quixotic means,” rejoined Kitty dryly. “If it + wasn’t understood while you lived together that what was one’s was the + other’s, that it was all in one purse, and that you shut your eyes to the + name on the purse and took as you wanted, I don’t see how you could expect + him, after your five years’ desertion, to take money from you now.” + </p> + <p> + “My five years’ desertion!” exclaimed Mona. Surely this girl was more than + reckless in her talk. Kitty was not to be put down. “If you don’t mind + plain speaking, he was always with you, but you weren’t always with him in + those days. This letter showed that.” She tapped it on her thumb-nail. “It + was only when he had gone and you saw what you had lost, that you came + back to him—in heart, I mean. Well, if you didn’t go away with him + when he went, and you wouldn’t have gone unless he had ordered you to go—and + he wouldn’t do that—it’s clear you deserted him, since you did that + which drove him from home, and you stayed there instead of going with him. + I’ve worked it out, and it is certain you deserted him five years ago. + Desertion doesn’t mean a sea of water between, it means an ocean of + self-will and love-me-first between. If you hadn’t deserted him, as this + letter shows, he wouldn’t have been here. I expect he told you so; and if + he did, what did you say to him?” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor’s eyes were full of decorous mirth and apprehension, for + such logic and such impudence as Kitty’s was like none he had ever heard. + Yet it was commanding too. + </p> + <p> + Kitty caught the look in his eyes and blazed up. “Isn’t what I said + correct? Isn’t it all true and logical? And if it is, why do you sit there + looking so superior?” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor made a gesture of deprecating apology. “It’s all true, + and it’s logical, too, if you stand on your head when you think it. But + whether it is logical or not, it is your conclusion, and as you’ve taken + the thing in hand to set it right, it is up to you now. We can only hold + hard and wait.” + </p> + <p> + With a shrug of her graceful shoulders Kitty turned again to Mrs. Crozier, + who intervened hastily, saying, “I did not have a chance of saying to him + all I wished. Of course he could not take my money, but there was his own + money! I was going to tell him about that, but just then the lawyer, Mr. + Burlingame—” + </p> + <p> + “They all call him ‘Gus’ Burlingame. He doesn’t get the civility of Mr. + here in Askatoon,” interposed Kitty. + </p> + <p> + Mona made an impatient gesture. “If you will listen, I want to tell you + about Mr. Crozier’s money. He thinks he has no money, but he has. He has a + good deal.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and the Young Doctor and Kitty leaned forward eagerly. “Well, + but go on,” said Kitty. “If he has money he must have it to-day, and now. + Certainly he doesn’t know of it. He thinks he is broke,—dead broke,—and + there’d be a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for him if he could put up + ten thousand dollars to-night. If I were you I wouldn’t hide it from him + any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Mona got to her feet in anger. “If you would give me a chance to explain, + I would do so,” she said, her lips trembling. “Unfortunately, I am in your + hands, but please give me credit for some intelligence—and some + heart. In any case I shall not be bullied.” + </p> + <p> + The Young Doctor almost laughed outright, despite the danger of the + situation. He was not prepared for Kitty’s reply and the impulsive act + that marched with it. In an instant Kitty had caught Mona Crozier’s hand + and pressed it warmly. “I was only doing what I’ve seen lawyers do,” she + said eagerly. “I’ve got something that I want you to do, and I’ve been + trying to work up to it. That’s all. I’m not as mean and bad mannered as + you think me. I really do care what happens to him—to you both,” she + hastened to add. + </p> + <p> + Struggling to keep back her tears, and in a low voice, Mona rejoined: “I + meant to have told him what I’m going to tell you now. I couldn’t say + anything about the money belonging to him till I had told him how it came + to be his.” + </p> + <p> + After a moment’ pause she continued: “He told you all about the race which + Flamingo lost, and about that letter.” She pointed to the letter which + Kitty still carried in her hand. “Well, that letter was written under the + sting of bitter disappointment. I was vain. I was young. I did not + understand as I do now. If you were not such good friends—of his—I + could not tell you this. It seemed to me that by breaking his pledge he + showed he did not care for me; that he thought he could break a sacred + pledge to me, and it didn’t matter. I thought it was treating me lightly—to + do it so soon after the pledge was given. I was indignant. I felt we + weren’t as we might be, and I felt, too, that I must be at fault; but I + was so proud that I didn’t want to admit it, I suppose, when he did give + me a grievance. It was all so mixed. I was shocked at his breaking his + pledge, I was so vexed that our marriage hadn’t been the success it might + have been, and I think I was a little mad.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the monopoly of only one of your sex,” interposed the Young + Doctor dryly. “If I were you I wouldn’t apologise for it. You speak to a + sister in like distress.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty’s eyes flamed up, but she turned her head, as though some licensed + libertine of speech had had his say, and looked with friendly eyes at + Mona. “Yes, yes—please go on,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + “When I wrote that letter I had forgotten what I had done the day before + the race. I had gone into my husband’s room to find some things I needed + from the drawer of his dressing-table; and far at the back of a drawer I + found a crumpled-up roll of ten-pound notes. It was fifty pounds + altogether. I took the notes—” + </p> + <p> + She paused a moment, and the room became very still. Both her listeners + were sure that they were nearing a thing of deep importance. + </p> + <p> + In a lower voice Mona continued: “I don’t know what possessed me, but + perhaps it was that the things he did of which I disapproved most had got + a hold on me in spite of myself. I said to myself: ‘I am going to the + Derby. I will take the fifty pounds, and I’ll put it on a horse for + Shiel.’ He had talked so much to my brother about Flamingo, and I had seen + him go wrong so often, that I had a feeling if I put it on a horse that + Shiel particularly banned, it would probably win. He had been wrong nearly + every time for two years. It was his money, and if it won, it would make + him happy; and if it didn’t win, well, he didn’t know the money existed—I + was sure of that; and, anyhow, I could replace it. I put it on a horse he + condemned utterly, but of which one or two people spoke well. You know + what happened to Flamingo. While at Epsom I heard from friends that Shiel + was present at the race, though he had said he would not go. Later I + learned that he had lost heavily. Then I saw him in the distance paying + out money and giving bills to the bookmakers. It made me very angry. I + don’t think I was quite sane. Most women are like that at times.” + </p> + <p> + “As I said,” remarked the Young Doctor, his face mirthfully alive. Here + was a situation indeed. + </p> + <p> + “So I wrote him that letter,” Mona went on. “I had forgotten all about the + money I put on the outsider which won the race. As you know, I was called + away to my sick sister that evening, and the money I won with Shiel’s + fifty pounds was not paid to me till after Shiel had gone.” + </p> + <p> + “How much was it?” asked Kitty breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty exclaimed so loudly that she smothered her mouth with a hand. “Why, + he only needs for the syndicate two thousand pounds—ten thousand + dollars,” she said excitedly. “But what’s the good of it, if he can’t lay + his hand on it by midnight to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “He can do so,” was Mona’s quick reply. “I was going to tell him that, but + the lawyer came, and—” + </p> + <p> + Kitty sprang up and down in excitement. “I had a plan. It might have + worked without this. It was the only way then. But this makes it sure—yes, + most beautifully sure. It shows that the thing to do is to follow your + convictions. You say you actually have the money, Mrs. Crozier?” + </p> + <p> + Mona took from her pocket an envelope, and out of it she drew four Bank of + England notes. “Here it is—here are four one-thousand-pound notes. I + had it paid to me that way five years ago, and here—here it is,” she + added, with almost a touch of hysteria in her voice, for the excitement of + it all acted on her like an electric storm. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we’ll get to work at once,” declared Kitty, looking at the notes + admiringly, then taking them from Mona and smoothing them out with tender + firmness. “It’s just the luck of the wide world, as my father used to say. + It actually is. Now you see,” she continued, “it’s like this. That letter + you wrote him”—she addressed herself to Mona—“it has to be + changed. You have got to rewrite it, and you must put into it these four + bank-notes. Then when you see him again you must have that letter opened + at exactly the right moment, and—oh, I wonder if you will do it + exactly right!” she added dubiously to Mona. “You don’t play your game + very well, and it’s just possible that, even now, with all the cards in + your hands, you will throw them away as you did in the past. I wish that—” + </p> + <p> + Seeing Mona’s agitation changing to choler, the Young Doctor intervened. + He did not know Kitty was purposely stinging Crozier’s unhappy little + consort, so that she should be put upon her mettle to do the thing without + bungling. + </p> + <p> + “You can trust Mrs. Crozier to act carefully; but what exactly do you + mean? I judge that Mrs. Crozier does not see more distinctly than I do,” + he remarked inquiringly to Kitty, and with admonishment in tone and + emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “No, I do not understand quite—will you explain?” interposed Mona + with inner resentment at being managed, but feeling that she could not do + without Kitty even if she would. + </p> + <p> + “As I said,” continued Kitty, “I will open that letter, and you will put + in another letter and these bank-notes; and when he repeats what he said + about the way you felt and wrote when he broke his pledge, you can blaze + up and tell him to open the letter. Then he will be so sorry that he’ll + get down on his knees, and you will be happy ever after.” + </p> + <p> + “But it will be a fraud, and dishonest and dishonourable,” protested Mona. + </p> + <p> + Kitty almost sniffed, but she was too agitated to be scornful. “Just leave + that to me, please. It won’t make me a bit more dishonourable to open the + letter again—I’ve opened it once, and I don’t feel any the worse for + it. I have no conscience, and things don’t weigh on my mind at all. I’m a + light-minded person.” + </p> + <p> + Looking closely at her, the Young Doctor got a still further insight into + the mind and soul of this prairie girl, who used a lid of irony to cover a + well of deep feeling. Things did not weigh on her mind! He was sure that + pain to the wife of Shiel Crozier would be mortal torture to Kitty Tynan. + </p> + <p> + “But I felt exactly what I wrote that Derby Day when he broke his pledge, + and he ought to know me exactly as I was,” urged Mona. “I don’t want to + deceive him, to appear a bit better than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you’d rather lose him!” said Kitty almost savagely. “Knowing how hard + it is to keep a man under the best circumstances, you’d willingly make the + circumstances as bad as they can be—is that it? Besides, weren’t you + sorry afterwards that you wrote that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, desperately sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “And you wished often that your real self had written on Derby Day and not + the scratch-cat you were then?” + </p> + <p> + Mona flushed, but answered bravely, “Yes, a thousand times.” + </p> + <p> + “What business had you to show him your cat-self, your unreal, not your + real self on Derby Day five years ago? Wasn’t it your duty to show him + your real self?” + </p> + <p> + Mona nodded helplessly. “Yes, I know it was.” + </p> + <p> + “Then isn’t it your duty to see that your real self speaks in that letter + now?” + </p> + <p> + “I want him to know me exactly as I am, and then—” + </p> + <p> + Kitty made a passionate gesture. Was ever such an uncomprehending woman as + this diamond-button of a wife? + </p> + <p> + “And then you would be unhappy ever after instead of being happy ever + after. What is the good of prejudicing your husband against you by telling + the unnecessary truth. He is desperate, and besides, he has been away from + you for five years, and we all change somehow—particularly men, when + there are so many women in the world, and very pretty women of all ages + and kinds and colours and tastes, and dazzling, deceitful hussies too. It + isn’t wise for any woman to let her husband or any one at all see her + exactly as she is; and only the silly ones do it. They tell what they + think is the truth about their own wickedness, and it isn’t the truth at + all, because I suppose women don’t know how to tell the exact truth; and + they can be just as unfair to themselves as they are to others. Besides, + haven’t you any sense of humour, Mrs. Crozier? It’s as good as a play, + this. Just think: after five years of desertion, and trouble without end, + and it all put right by a little sleight-of-hand. Shall I open it?” + </p> + <p> + She held the letter up. Mona nodded almost eagerly now, for come of a + subtle, social world far away, she still was no match for the subtlety of + the wilds—or was it the cunning the wild things know? + </p> + <p> + Kitty left the room, but in a moment afterwards returned with the letter + open. “The kettle on the hob is the friend of the family,” she said gaily. + “Here it is all ready for what there is to do. You go and keep watch for + Mr. Crozier,” she added to the Young Doctor. “He won’t be gone long, I + should think, and we don’t want him bursting in on us before I’ve got that + letter safe back into his desk. If he comes, you keep him busy for a + moment. When we’re quite ready I’ll come to the front door, and then you + will know it is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m to go while you make up your prescription—all right!” said the + Young Doctor, and with a wave of the hand he left the room. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Kitty brought a lead pencil and paper. “Now sit down and write + to him, Mrs. Crozier,” she said briskly. “Use discretion; don’t gush; slap + his face a little for breaking his pledge, and afterwards tell him that + you did at the Derby what you had abused him for doing. Then explain to + him about this four thousand pounds—twenty thousand dollars—my, + what a lot of money, and all got in one day! Tell him that it was all won + by his own cash. It’s as easy as can be, and it will be a certainty now.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, she lit a match. “You—hold this wicked old catfish letter + into the flame, please, Mrs. Crozier, and keep praying all the time, and + please remember that ‘our little hands were never made to tear each + other’s eyes.’” + </p> + <p> + Mona’s small fingers were trembling as she held the fateful letter into + the flame, and then in silence both watched it burn to a cinder. A faint, + hopeful smile was on Mona’s face now. + </p> + <p> + “What isn’t never was to those that never knew,” said Kitty briskly, and + pushed a chair up to the table. “Now sit down and write, please.” + </p> + <p> + Mona sat down. Taking up a sheet of notepaper she looked at it dubiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a fool I am!” said Kitty, understanding the look. “And that’s + what every criminal does—he forgets something. I forgot the + notepaper. Of course you can’t use that notepaper. Of course not. He’d + know it in a minute. Besides, the sheet we burned had an engraved address + on it. I never thought of that—good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait—wait,” said Mona, her face lighting. “I may have some sheets + in my writing-case. It’s only a chance, but there were some loose sheets + in it when I left home. I’ll go and see.” + </p> + <p> + While she was gone to her bedroom Kitty stood still in the middle of the + room lost in reflection, as completely absorbed as though she was seeing + things thousands of miles away. In truth, she was seeing things millions + of miles away; she was seeing a Promised Land. It was a gift of hers, or a + penalty of her life, perhaps, that she could lose herself in reverie at a + moment’s notice—a reverie as complete as though she was subtracted + from life’s realities. Now, as she looked out of the door, far over the + prairie to a tiny group of pine-trees in the vanishing distance, lines she + once read floated through her mind: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Away and beyond the point of pines, + In a pleasant land where the glad grapes be, + Purple and pendent on verdant vines, + I know that my fate is awaiting me.” + </pre> + <p> + What fate was to be hers? There was no joy in her eyes as she gazed. Mrs. + Crozier was beside the table again before she roused herself from her + trance. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got it—just two sheets, two solitary sheets,” said Mona in + triumph. “How long they have been in my case I don’t know. It is almost + uncanny they should be there just when they’re most needed.” + </p> + <p> + “Providential, we should say out here,” was Kitty’s response. “Begin, + please. Be sure you have the right date. It was—” + </p> + <p> + Mona had already written the date, and she interrupted Kitty with the + words, “As though I could forget it!” All at once Kitty put a restraining + hand on her arm. + </p> + <p> + “Wait—wait, you mustn’t write on that paper yet. Suppose you didn’t + write the real wise thing—and only two sheets of paper and so much + to say?” + </p> + <p> + “How right you always are!” said Mona, and took up one of the blank sheets + which Kitty had just brought her. + </p> + <p> + Then she began to write. For a minute she wrote swiftly, nervously, and + had nearly finished a page when Kitty said to her, “I think I had better + see what you have written. I don’t think you are the best judge. You see, + I have known him better than you for the last five years, and I am the + best judge please, I mean it in the rightest, kindest way,” she added, as + she saw Mona shrink. It was like hurting a child, and she loved children—so + much. She had always a vision of children at her knee. + </p> + <p> + Silently Mrs. Crozier pushed the sheets towards her. Kitty read the page + with a strange, eager look in her eyes. “Yes, that’s right as far as it + goes,” she said. “It doesn’t gush. It’s natural. It’s you as you are now, + not as you were then, of course.” + </p> + <p> + Again Mona bent over the paper and wrote till she had completed a page. + Then Kitty looked over her shoulder and read what had been written. “No, + no, no, that won’t do,” she exclaimed. “That won’t do at all. It isn’t in + the way that will accomplish what we want. You’ve gone quite, quite wrong. + I’ll do it. I’ll dictate it to you. I know exactly what to say, and we + mustn’t make any mistake. Write, please—you must.” + </p> + <p> + Mona scratched out what had been written without a word. “I am waiting,” + she said submissively. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Now we go on. Write. I’ll dictate.” “‘And look here, + dearest,’” she began, but Mona stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “We do not say ‘look here’ in England. I would have said ‘and see.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘And see-dearest,’” corrected Kitty, with an accent on the last word, + “‘while I was mad at you for the moment for breaking your promise—‘” + </p> + <p> + “In England we don’t say ‘mad’ in that connection,” Mona again + interrupted. “We say ‘angry’ or ‘annoyed’ or ‘vexed.’” There was real + distress in her tone. + </p> + <p> + “Now I’ll tell you what to do,” said Kitty cheerfully. “I’ll speak it, and + you write it my way of thinking, and then when we’ve finished you will + take out of the letter any words that are not pure, noble, classic + English. I know what you mean, and you are quite right. Mr. Crozier never + says ‘look here’ or ‘mad,’ and he speaks better than any one I ever heard. + Now, we certainly must get on.” + </p> + <p> + After an instant she began again. + </p> + <p> + “—While I was angry at you a moment for breaking your promise, I + cannot reproach you for it, because I, too, bet on the Derby, but I bet on + a horse that you had said as much against as you could. I did it because + you had very bad luck all this year and lost, and also last year, and I + thought—” + </p> + <p> + For several minutes, with greater deliberation than was usual with her, + Kitty dictated, and at the end of the letter she said, “I am, dearest, + your—” + </p> + <p> + Here Mona sharply interrupted her. “If you don’t mind I will say that + myself in my own way,” she said, flushing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot for the moment that I was speaking for you!” responded + Kitty, with a lurking, undermeaning in her voice. “I threw myself into it + so. Do you think I’ve done the thing right?” she added. + </p> + <p> + With a direct, honest friendliness Mona looked into Kitty eyes. “You have + said the exact right thing as to meaning, I am sure, and I can change an + occasional word here and there to make it all conventional English.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty nodded. “Don’t lose a minute in copying it. We must get the letter + back in his desk as soon as possible.” + </p> + <p> + As Mona wrote, Kitty sat with the envelope in her hand, alternately + looking at it and into the distance beyond the point of pines. She was + certain that she had found the solution of the troubles of Shiel and Mona + Crozier, for Crozier would now have his fortune, and the return to his + wife was a matter of course. Was she altogether sure? But yes, she was + altogether sure. She remembered, with a sudden, swift plunge of blood in + her veins, that early dawn when she bent over him as he lay beneath the + tree, and as she kissed him in his sleep he had murmured, “My darling!” + That had not been for her, though it had been her kiss which had stirred + his dreaming soul to say the words. If they had only been meant for her, + then—oh, then life would be so much easier in the future! If—if + she could only kiss him again and he would wake and say— + </p> + <p> + She got to her feet with an involuntary exclamation. For an instant she + had been lost in a world of her own, a world of the impossible. + </p> + <p> + “I almost thought I heard a step in the other room,” she said in + explanation to Mona. Going to the door of Crozier’s room, she appeared to + listen for a moment, and then she opened it. + </p> + <p> + “No, it is all right,” she said. + </p> + <p> + In another few minutes Mona had finished the letter. “Do you wish to read + it again?” she asked Kitty, but not handing it to her. + </p> + <p> + “No, I leave the words to you. It was the right meaning I wanted in it,” + she replied. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Mona came to her and laid a hand on her arm. “You are wonderful—a + wonderful, wise, beloved girl,” she said, and there were tears in her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + Kitty gave the tiny fingers a spasmodic clasp, and said: “Quick, we must + get them in!” She put the banknotes inside the sheets of paper, then + hastily placed both in the envelope and sealed the envelope again. + </p> + <p> + “It’s just a tiny bit damp with the steam yet, but it will be all right in + five minutes. How soiled the envelope is!” Kitty added. “Five years in and + out of the desk, in and out of his pocket—but all so nice and + unsoiled and sweet and bonny inside,” she added. “To say nothing of the + bawbees, as Mr. Crozier calls money. Well, we are ready. It all depends on + you now, Mrs. Crozier.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not all.” + </p> + <p> + “He used to be afraid of you; now you are afraid of him,” said Kitty, as + though stating a commonplace. + </p> + <p> + There was no more shrewishness left in the little woman to meet this + chastisement. The forces against her were too many. Loneliness and the + long struggle to face the world without her man; the determination of this + masterful young woman who had been so long a part of her husband’s life; + and, more than all, a new feeling altogether—love, and the + dependence a woman feels, the longing to find rest in strong arms, which + comes with the first revelation of love, had conquered what Kitty had + called her “bossiness.” She was now tremulous before the crisis which she + must presently face. Pride in her fortune, in her independence, had died + down in her. She no longer thought of herself as a woman especially + endowed and privileged. She took her fortune now like a man; for she had + been taught that a man could set her aside just because she had money, + could desert her to be independent of it. It had been a revelation to her, + and she was chastened of all the termagancy visible and invisible in her. + She stood now before Kitty of “a humble and a contrite heart,” and made no + reply at all to the implied challenge. Kitty, instantly sorry for what she + had said, let it go at that. She was only now aware of how deeply her + arrows had gone home. + </p> + <p> + As they stood silent there was a click at the gate. Kitty ran into + Crozier’s room, thrust the letter into its pigeonhole in the desk, and in + a moment was back again. In the garden the Young Doctor was holding + Crozier in conversation, but watching the front door. So soon, however, as + Kitty had shown herself, as she had promised, at the front door and then + vanished, he turned Crozier towards the house again by an adroit word, and + left him at the door-step. + </p> + <p> + Seeing who was inside the room Crozier hesitated, and his long face, with + paleness added to its asceticism, took on a look which could have given no + hope of happiness to Mona. It went to her heart as no look of his had ever + gone. Suddenly she had a revelation of how little she had known of what he + was, or what any man was or could be, or of those springs of nature lying + far below the outer lives which move in orbits of sheltering convention. + It is because some men and women are so sheltered from the storms of life + by wealth and comfort that these piercing agonies which strike down to the + uttermost depths so seldom reach them. + </p> + <p> + Shiel half turned away, not sullen, not morose, but with a strange apathy + settled on him. He had once heard a man say, “I feel as though I wanted to + crawl into a hole and die.” That was the way he felt now, for to be beaten + in the game which you have played like a man yourself and have been fouled + into an unchallenged defeat, without the voice of the umpire, is a fate + which has smothered the soul of better men than Crozier. + </p> + <p> + Mona’s voice stopped him. “Do not go, Shiel,” she urged gently. “No, you + must not go—I want fair-play from you, if nothing else. You must + play the game with me. I want justice. I have to say some things I had no + chance to say before, and I want to hear some things I have a right to + hear. Indeed, you must play the game.” + </p> + <p> + He drew himself up. Not to be a sportsman, not to play the game—to + accuse him of this would have brought him back from the edge of the grave. + </p> + <p> + “I’m not fit to-day. Let it be to-morrow, Mona,” was his hesitating reply; + but he did not leave the doorway. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head and made a swift little childlike gesture towards him. + “We are sure of to-day; we are not sure of to-morrow. One or the other of + us might not be here to-morrow. Let us do to-day the thing that belongs to + to-day.” + </p> + <p> + That note struck home, for indeed the black spirit which whispers to men + in their most despairing hours to end it all had whispered to him. + </p> + <p> + “Let us do to-day the thing that belongs to to-day,” she had just said, + and, strange to say, there shot into his mind words that belonged to the + days when he went to church at Castlegarry and thought of a thousand + things other than prayer or praise, but yet heard with the acute ears of + the young, and remembered with the persistent memory of youth. “For the + night cometh when no man can work,” were the words which came to him. He + shuddered slightly. Suppose that this indeed was the beginning of the + night! As she said, he must play the game—play it as Crozier of + Lammis would have played it. + </p> + <p> + He stepped inside the room. “Let it be to-day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We may be interrupted here,” she replied. Courage came to her. “Let us + talk in your own room,” she added, and going over she opened the door of + it and walked in. The matured modesty of a lost five years did not cloak + her actions now. She was a woman fighting for happiness, and she had been + so beaten by the rods of scorn, so smothered by the dust of humiliation, + that there had come to her the courage of those who would rather die + fighting than in the lethargy of despair. + </p> + <p> + It was like her old self to take the initiative, but she did it now in so + different a way—without masterfulness or assumption. It was rather + like saying, “I will do what I know you wish me to do; I will lay all + reserve aside for your sake; I will be bold because I love you.” + </p> + <p> + He shut the door behind them and motioned her to a chair. + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not sit,” she said. “That is too formal. You ask any stranger + to sit. I am at home here, Shiel, and I will stand.” + </p> + <p> + “What was it you wanted to say, Mona?” he asked, scarcely looking at her. + </p> + <p> + “I should like to think that there was something you wished to hear,” she + replied. “Don’t you want to know all that has happened since you left us—about + me, about your brother, about your friends, about Lammis? I bought Lammis + at the sale you ordered; it is still ours.” She gave emphasis to “ours.” + “You may not want to hear all that has happened to me since you left, + still I must tell you some things that you ought to know, if we are going + to part again. You treated me badly. There was no reason why you should + have left and placed me in the position you did.” + </p> + <p> + His head came up sharply and his voice became a little hard. “I told you I + was penniless, and I would not live on you, and I could do nothing in + England; I had no trade or profession. If I had said good-bye to you, you + would probably have offered me a ticket to Canada. As I was a pauper I + preferred to go with what I had out of the wreck—just enough to + bring me here. But I’ve earned my own living since.” + </p> + <p> + “Penniless—just enough to bring you out here!” Her voice had a sound + of honest amazement. “How can you say such a thing! You had my letter—you + said you had my letter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had your letter,” he answered. “Your thoughtful brother brought it + to me. You had told him all the dear womanly things you had said or were + going to say to your husband, and he passed them on to me with the + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind what he said to you, Shiel. It was what I said that mattered.” + She was getting bolder every minute. The comedy was playing into her + hands. + </p> + <p> + “You wrote in your letter the things he said to me,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + Her protest sounded indignantly real. “I said nothing in the letter I + wrote you that any man would not wish to hear. Is it so unpleasant for a + man who thinks he is penniless to be told that he has made the year’s + income of a cabinet minister?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t understand,” he returned helplessly. + </p> + <p> + “You talk as though you had never read my letter. + </p> + <p> + “I never have read your letter,” he replied in bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + Her face had the flush of honest anger. “You do not dare to tell me you + destroyed my letter without reading it—that you destroyed all that + letter contained simply because you no longer cared for your wife; because + you wanted to be rid of her, wanted to vanish and never see her any more, + and so go and leave no trace of yourself! You have the courage here to my + face”—the comedy of the situation gained much from the mock + indignation—she no longer had any compunctions—“to say that + you destroyed my letter and what it contained—a small fortune it + would be out here.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not destroy your letter, Mona,” was the embarrassed response. + </p> + <p> + “Then what did you do with it? Gave it to some one else to read—to + some other woman, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + He was really shocked and greatly pained. “Hush! You shall not say that + kind of thing, Mona. I’ve never had anything to do with any woman but my + wife since I married her.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what did you do with the letter?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s there,” he said, pointing to the high desk with the green baize top. + </p> + <p> + “And you say you have never read it?” + </p> + <p> + “Never.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head with dainty haughtiness. “Then if you have still the + same sense of honour that made you keep faith with the bookmakers—you + didn’t run away from them!—read it now, here in my presence. Read + it, Shiel. I demand that you read it now. It is my right. You are in + honour bound—” + </p> + <p> + It was the only way. She dare not give him time to question, to suspect; + she must sweep him along to conviction. She was by no means sure that + there wasn’t a flaw in the scheme somewhere, something that would betray + her; and she could hardly wait till it was over, till he had read the + letter. + </p> + <p> + In a moment he was again near her with the letter in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that’s it—that’s the letter,” she said, with wondering and + reproachful eyes. “I remember the little scratchy blot from the pen on the + envelope. There it is, just as I made it five years ago. But how + disgracefully soiled the envelope is! I suppose it has been tossed about + in your saddle-bag, or with your old clothes, and only kept to remind you + day by day that you had a wife you couldn’t live with—kept as a + warning never to think of her except to say, ‘I hate you, Mona, because + you are rich and heartless, and not bigger than a pinch of snuff.’ That + was the kind way you used to speak of her even when you were first married + to her—contemptuously always in your heart, no matter what you said + out loud. And the end showed it—the end showed it; you deserted + her.” + </p> + <p> + He was so fascinated by the picture she made of passion and incensed + declamation that he did not attempt to open the letter, and he wondered + why there was such a difference between the effect of her temper on him + now and the effect of it those long years ago. He had no feeling of + uneasiness in her presence now, no sense of irritation. In spite of her + tirade, he had a feeling that it didn’t matter, that she must bluster in + her tiny teacup if she wanted to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Open the letter at once,” she insisted. “If you don’t, I will.” She made + as though to take the letter from him, but with a sudden twist he tore + open the envelope. The bank-notes fell to the floor as he took out the + sheet inside. Wondering, he stooped to pick them up. + </p> + <p> + “Four thousand pounds!” he exclaimed, examining them. “What does it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Read,” she commanded. + </p> + <p> + He devoured the letter. His eyes swam; then there rushed into them the + flame which always made them illumine his mediaeval face like the light + from “the burning bush.” He did not question or doubt, because he saw what + he wished to see, which is the way of man. It all looked perfectly natural + and convincing to him. + </p> + <p> + “Mona—Mona—heaven above and all the gods of hell and Hellas, + what a fool, what a fool I’ve been!” he exclaimed. “Mona—Mona, can + you forgive your idiot husband? I didn’t read this letter because I + thought it was going to slash me on the raw—on the raw flesh of my + own lacerating. I simply couldn’t bear to read what your brother said was + in the letter. Yet I couldn’t destroy it, either. It was you. I had to + keep it. Mona, am I too big a fool to be your husband?” + </p> + <p> + He held out his arms with a passionate exclamation. “I asked you to kiss + me yesterday, and you wouldn’t,” she protested. “I tried to make you love + me yesterday, and you wouldn’t. When a woman gets a rebuff like that, when—” + </p> + <p> + She could not bear it any longer. With a cry of joy she was in his arms. + </p> + <p> + After a moment he said, “The best of all was, that you—you vixen, + you bet on that Derby and won, and—” + </p> + <p> + “With your money, remember, Shiel.” + </p> + <p> + “With my money!” he cried exultingly. “Yes, that’s the best of it—the + next best of it. It was your betting that was the best of all—the + best thing you ever did since we married, except your coming here.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s in time to help you, too—with your own money, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + He glanced at his watch. “Hours—I’m hours to the good. That crowd—that + gang of thieves—that bunch of highwaymen! I’ve got them—got + them, and got a hundred and fifty thousand dollars, too, to start again at + home, at Lammis, Mona, back on the—but no, I’m not sure that I can + live there now after this big life out here.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not so sure, either,” Mona replied, with a light of larger + understanding in her eyes. “But we’ll have to go back and stop the world + talking, and put things in shape before we come here to stay.” + </p> + <p> + “To stay here—do you mean that?” he asked eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere in this big land,” she replied softly; “anyhow, to stay here + till I’ve grown up a little. I wasn’t only small in body in the old days, + I was small in mind, Shiel.” + </p> + <p> + “Anyhow, I’ve done with betting and racing, Mona. I’ve just got time left—I’m + only thirty-nine—to start and really do something with myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, start now, dear man of Lammis. What is it you have to do before + twelve o’clock to-night?” “What is it? Why, I have to pay over two + thousand of this,”—he flourished the banknotes—“and even then + I’ll still have two thousand left. But wait—wait. There was the + original fifty pounds. Where is that fifty pounds, little girl alive? Out + with it. This is the profit. Where is the fifty you staked?” His voice was + gay with raillery. + </p> + <p> + She could look him in the face now and prevaricate without any shame or + compunction at all. “That fifty pounds—that! Why, I used it to buy + my ticket for Canada. My husband ought to pay my expenses out to him.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed greatly. All Ireland was rioting in his veins now. He had no + logic or reasoning left. “Well, that’s the way to get into your old man’s + heart, Mona. To think of that! I call it tact divine. Everything has spun + my way at last. I was right about that Derby, after all. It was in my + bones that I’d make a pot out of it, but I thought I had lost it all when + Flamingo went down.” + </p> + <p> + “You never know your luck—you used to say that, Shiel.” + </p> + <p> + “I say it again. Come, we must tell our friends—Kitty, her mother, + and the Young Doctor. You don’t know what good friends they have been to + me, mavourneen.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think I do,” said Mona, opening the door to the outer room. + </p> + <p> + Then Crozier called with a great, cheery voice—what Mona used to + call his tally-ho voice. Mrs. Tynan appeared, smiling. She knew at a + glance what had happened. It was so interesting that she could even + forgive Mona. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s Kitty?” asked Crozier, almost boisterously. + </p> + <p> + “She has gone for a ride with John Sibley,” answered Mrs. Tynan. + </p> + <p> + “Look, there she is!” said Mona, laying a hand on Crozier’s arm, and + pointing with the other out over the prairie. + </p> + <p> + Crozier looked out towards the northwestern horizon, and in the distance + was a woman riding as hard as her horse could go, with a man galloping + hard after her. It seemed as though they were riding into the sunset. + </p> + <p> + “She’s riding the horse you won that race with years ago when you first + came here, Mr. Crozier,” said Mrs. Tynan. “John Sibley bought it from Mr. + Brennan.” + </p> + <p> + Mona did not see the look which came into Crozier’s face as, with one hand + shading his eyes and the other grasping the banknotes which were to start + him in life again, independent and self-respecting, he watched the girl + riding on and on, ever ahead of the man. + </p> + <p> + It was at that moment the Young Doctor entered the room, and he distracted + Mona’s attention for a moment. Going forward to him Mona shook him warmly + by the hand. Then she went up to Mrs. Tynan and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “I would like to kiss your daughter too, Mrs. Tynan,” Mona said.... “What + are you looking at so hard, Shiel?” she presently added to her husband. + </p> + <p> + He did not turn to her. His eyes were still shaded by his hand. + </p> + <p> + “That horse goes well yet,” he said in a low voice. “As good as ever—as + good as ever.” + </p> + <p> + “He loves horses so,” remarked Mona, as though she could tell Mrs. Tynan + and the Young Doctor anything about Shiel Crozier which they did not know. + </p> + <p> + “Kitty rides well, doesn’t she?” asked Mrs. Tynan of Crozier. + </p> + <p> + “What a pair—girl and horse!” Crozier exclaimed. “Thoroughbred—absolutely + thoroughbred!” + </p> + <p> + Kitty had ridden away with her heart’s secret, her very own, as she + thought: but Shiel Crozier knew—the man that mattered knew. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EPILOGUE + </h2> + <p> + Golden, all golden, save where there was a fringe of trees at a + watercourse; save where a garden, like a spot of emerald, made a button on + the royal garment wrapped across the breast of the prairie. Above, making + for the trees of the foothills far away, a golden eagle floated, a + prairie-hen sped affrighted from some invisible thing; and in the far + distance a railway train slipped down the plain like a serpent making for + a covert in the first hills of the first world that ever was. + </p> + <p> + At a casual glance the vast plain seemed uninhabited, yet here and there + were men and horses, tiny in the vastness, but conquering. Here and there + also—for it was July—a haymaker sharpened his scythe, and the + sound came singing through the air radiant and stirring with life. + </p> + <p> + Seated in the shade of a clump of trees a girl sat with her chin in her + hands looking out over the prairie, an intense dreaming in her eyes. Her + horse was tethered near by, but it scarcely made a sound. It was a horse + which had once won a great race, with an Irish gentleman on his back. Long + time the girl sat absorbed, her golden colour, her brown-gold hair in + harmony with the universal stencil of gold. With her eyes drowned in the + distance, she presently murmured something to herself, and as she did so + the eyes deepened to a nameless umber tone, deeper than gold, warmer than + brown; such a colour as only can be found in a jewel or in a leaf the + frost has touched. + </p> + <p> + The frost had touched the soul which gave the colour to the eyes of the + girl. Yet she seemed all summer, all glow and youth and gladness. Her + voice was golden, too, and the words which fell from her lips were as + though tuned to the sound of falling water. The tone of the voice would + last when the gold of all else became faded or tarnished. It had its + origin in the soul: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Whereaway goes my lad? Tell me, has he gone alone? + Never harsh word did I speak; never hurt I gave; + Strong he was and beautiful; like a heron he has flown + Hereaway, hereaway will I make my grave.” + </pre> + <p> + The voice lingered on the words till it trailed away into nothing, like + the vanishing note of a violin which seems still to pulse faintly after + the sound has ceased. + </p> + <p> + “But he did not go alone, and I have not made my grave,” the girl said, + and raised her head at the sound of footsteps. With an effort she emerged + from the half-trance in which she had been, and smiled at a man hastening + towards her. + </p> + <p> + “Dear bully, bulbous being—how that word ‘bully’ would have, made + her cringe!” she said as the man ambled nearer. He could not go as fast as + his mind urged him. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve got news—news, news!” he exclaimed, wading through his own + perspiration to where she sat. “I can guess what it is,” the girl remarked + smilingly, as she reached out a hand to him, but remained seated. “It’s a + real, live baby born to Lydia, wife of Methuselah, the woman also being of + goodly years. It is, isn’t it.” + </p> + <p> + “The fattest, finest, most ‘scrumpshus’ son of all the ages that ever—” + </p> + <p> + Kitty laughed happily and very whimsically. “Like none since Moses was + found among the bulrushes! Where was this one found, and what do you + intend to call him—Jesse, after his ‘pa’?” + </p> + <p> + “No—nothing so common. He’s to be called Shiel—Shiel Crozier + Bulrush, that’s to be his name.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the girl became a shade pensive now. “Oh! And do you think you + can guarantee that he will be worth the name? Do you never think what his + father is?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m starting him right with that name. I can do so much, anyway,” laughed + the imperturbable one. “And Mrs. Bulrush, after her great effort—how + is she? + </p> + <p> + “Flying—simply flying. Earth not good enough for her. Simply flying. + But here—here is more news. Guess what—it’s for you. I’ve just + come from the post office, and they said there was an English letter for + you, so I brought it.” + </p> + <p> + He handed it over. She laid it in her lap and waited as though for him to + go. + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I hear how he is? He’s the best man that ever crossed my path,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “It happens to be in his wife’s, not his, handwriting—did ever such + a scrap of a woman write so sprawling a hand!” she replied, holding the + letter up. + </p> + <p> + “But she’ll let us know in the letter how Crozier is, won’t she?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty had now recovered herself, and slowly she opened the envelope and + took out the letter. As she did so something fluttered to the ground. + </p> + <p> + Jesse Bulrush picked it up. “That looks nice,” he said, and he whistled in + surprise. “It’s a money-draft on a bank.” + </p> + <p> + Kitty, whose eyes were fixed on the big, important handwriting, answered + calmly and without apparently looking, as she took the paper from his + hand: “Yes, it’s a wedding present—five hundred dollars to buy what + I like best for my home. So she says.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Crozier, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s magnificent. What will you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + Kitty rose and held out her hand. “Go back to your flying partner, happy + man, and ask her what she would do with five hundred dollars if she had + it.” + </p> + <p> + “She’d buy her lord and master a present with it, of course,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye, Mr. Rolypoly,” she responded, laughing. “You always could think + of things for other people to do; and have never done anything yourself + until now. Good-bye, father.” + </p> + <p> + When he was gone and out of sight her face changed. With sudden anger she + crushed and crumpled up the draft for five hundred in her hand. “‘A token + of affection from both!’” she exclaimed, quoting from the letter. “One + lone leaf of Irish shamrock from him would—” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. “But he will send a message of his own,” she continued. “He + will—he will. Even if he doesn’t, I’ll know that he remembers just + the same. He does—he does remember.” + </p> + <p> + She drew herself up with an effort, and, as it were, shook herself free + from the memories which dimmed her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Not far away a man was riding towards the clump of trees where she was. + She saw, and hastened to her horse. + </p> + <p> + “If I told John all I feel he’d understand. I believe he always has + understood,” she added with a far-off look. + </p> + <p> + The draft was still crushed in her hand when she mounted the beloved + horse, whose name now was Shiel. + </p> + <p> + Presently she smoothed out the crumpled paper. “Yes, I’ll take it; I’ll + put it by,” she murmured. “John will keep on betting. He’ll be broke some + day and he’ll need it, maybe.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later she was riding hard to meet the man who, before the + wheat-harvest came, would call her wife. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + And I was very lucky—worse luck! + Any man as is a man has to have one vice + God help the man that’s afraid of his own wife! + He saw what he wished to see, which is the way of man + Her moral standard had not a multitude of delicate punctilios + Law’s delays outlasted even the memory of the crime committed + Searchers after excuses for ungoverned instincts and acts + Sensitive souls, however, are not so many as to crowd each other + She looked too gay to be good + Telling the unnecessary truth + They had seen the world through the bottom of a tumbler + What isn’t never was to those that never knew +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of You Never Know Your Luck, Complete +by Gilbert Parker + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YOU NEVER KNOW YOUR LUCK, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 6288-h.htm or 6288-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/8/6288/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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