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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c3dc45 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63729 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63729) diff --git a/old/63729-0.txt b/old/63729-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d54342b..0000000 --- a/old/63729-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5785 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's In the Garden of Delight, by Lily Hardy Hammond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: In the Garden of Delight - -Author: Lily Hardy Hammond - -Release Date: November 12, 2020 [EBook #63729] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - IN THE GARDEN OF - DELIGHT - - - BY - - L. H. HAMMOND - - AUTHOR OF “THE MASTER-WORD,” “IN BLACK AND - WHITE,” ETC. - - - NEW YORK - THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1916, - BY THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY - - - - - To - - LUCY AND CALDWELL - - IN MEMORY OF THE WHEELED-CHAIR SUMMER - AT PEN-Y-BRYN - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. A COUNTRY CHILD 1 - II. BIRD CORNERS 16 - III. IN MAKE-BELIEVE 37 - IV. THE DARK O’ THE YEAR 57 - V. PREMONITIONS 81 - VI. BEFORE THE DAWN 115 - VII. SPRING MAGIC 126 - VIII. BLACKBIRD DIPLOMACY 150 - IX. THE PROOF OF COURAGE 169 - X. THE ROUTING OF UNCLE JASON 186 - XI. WHERE THE BATTLE WAS FOUGHT 204 - XII. IN THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT 229 - XIII. WHILE THE NEST WAS BUILDING 241 - - - - - I - A COUNTRY CHILD - - -THERE is one thing, at least, in this puzzling world which, though -everything changes it, nothing can spoil: and that is out-of-doors. Long -ago, when this place was stately old Cedarhurst instead of home-y Bird -Corners, and I a wilful small girl climbing trees and tearing my frocks -whenever Great-aunt Virginia and Great-aunt Letitia were both looking -the other way at the same time—a coincidence as blissful as it was -infrequent—I thought being outdoors was heaven enough for anybody. - -In the long winter afternoons I sat by the big wood fire in the back -parlor and hemmed towels and napkins—when I wasn’t pulling out -yesterday’s work because Great-aunt Virginia found the stitches too big: -and I looked out at the cold, bare hills, blue and beautiful against the -pale sky, and longed to play over them like the winds, and to be whirled -up into the air like the brown leaves which scurried about them all -winter long. And in the spring, when the budding branches draped the -trees with jewelled mists, all silver and green and gold and ruby-red, I -wished the great-aunts had learned to play on the grass with their whole -selves, instead of just with their fingers on the big old rosewood -piano, which stood stiff and square in the front parlor, an instrument -of torture to rebellious hands that longed to be pulling wild-flowers, -and to ears tuned to catch the songs of birds. And in summer time, when -the rain blotted out the hills, and every leaf of every tree sang the -Song of the Rushing Winds; when the lightning ran zig-zag all over the -sky and the thunder jarred the house—oh, why should great-aunts call -one indoors, and shut the free winds out, and put cotton in their ears, -and make little girls come away from the windows, and the chimneys, and -every place where they wanted to be, instead of leaving them out in the -rain to be drenched like the flowers and shake themselves dry like the -birds? - -And in autumn—but those memories are too painful! On frosty days the -house was shut tight, the log fires kindled, and my small person swathed -in insufferable flannels—flannels!—in a Tennessee October! And when I -rebelled, there were fearsome tales of children who had died of -pneumonia, or gone into consumption, because their misguided relatives -had allowed them to play outdoors in the cold. - -And yet outdoors was never more beautiful. Some of the hills were far -and blue, and some were near and green, or brown with stubble, or yellow -with stalks of corn. The grass in the pasture was greenest green; and -when I slipped out on the back porch the sycamores down by the brook -rustled their drying leaves and called me as loud as they dared. And the -doves flew by in flocks, and the killdeers whirred up from the valley -with wild, free cries, and the field-larks sang on the fence-posts, or -lighted on the short, sweet grass, the white of their outer tail -feathers shining in the sun. But Great-aunt Letitia would call me back -to the parlor, where she made tea, which she and Great-aunt Virginia -drank, sitting in rosewood arm-chairs, dressed in soft shimmering silks, -with cobwebby lace about their throats. - -I myself balanced unhappily upon one of the big square ottomans, too -small to get far enough back on it to have any purchase against the -slippery horsehair, and painfully conscious of Great-aunt Virginia’s -eyes on my awkwardly swinging feet. I kept my place as best I could, -holding a bit of egg-shell china, and sipping my odious cambric tea. - -This was the chosen time to instill proper principles of conduct into my -callous little soul. The gentle old aunts made a duet of it, and I -always thought they practiced it together beforehand, like a “piece” on -the piano. It was really very easy not to hear! - -I always sat on the ottoman nearest the center table. The other was -nearer the east window, and showed the long front drive bordered by the -stiff lines of cedars, which gave Cedarhurst its name before the -great-aunts were born. But the one by the table had the double advantage -of giving me a dutiful appearance, being equally distant from both of -the arm-chairs, and of allowing me, by an almost imperceptible sliding -to one corner, to look out of the silver-maple window to the jug of -water I kept in the center of the seven trunks, a drinking fountain for -all the birds of the place. I sat very still during the duet, my head -raised a little to see the lowest branches, where the birds always -alighted; and I often quite forgot my cambric tea until Great-aunt -Letitia gently reminded me of it. My docility touched them very much. I -heard Great-aunt Letitia tell Great-aunt Virginia one day that she was -afraid I would never live to grow up, my expression was so rapt when -they urged my duty upon me; and she felt as though there were an -invisible halo above my little brown head. I was running in through the -hall when I heard this, and stopped in breathless amazement. I had no -thought of eavesdropping, but I saw Great-aunt Virginia wipe her eyes; -and Great-aunt Letitia almost sniffed. I sat stiller than ever after -that, and rolled my eyes a little; and Great-aunt Letitia sent for the -doctor, who said I needed calico dresses and mud pies. The great-aunts -were shocked at first, but the doctor was firm. And after that I played -outdoors unless the thermometer was very unkind and the wind in an -especially dangerous quarter. - -There are really two of the-most-beautiful-place-in-the-world. One of -them is the real outdoors; and the other is outdoors in the Land of -Make-Believe. The advantage of the real outdoors is that its loveliness -is ready-made. One invents nothing; one merely opens eyes and ears and -soul to drink in beauty and joy, and learns, almost without knowing it, -the most curious and interesting things. The advantage of Make-Believe -is that when things are as they shouldn’t be, one can instantly step -over into that blessed country and make them be exactly what they -should. No one ever sees you do it, either, or guesses that you can make -a world in a twinkling, out of dreams. It has all the charm and mystery -of a fairy ring, or fern seed, or Aladdin’s lamp. One’s body can perch -on a horsehair piano stool, twisting one’s two little meat legs about -its one fat leg of rosewood, and great-aunts may be sure you are -practising scales most faithfully; and all the time you are really -running races in the wind with charming, dirty children who tear their -dresses all day long, and never had their hair in curl-papers in their -lives. - -And that is only the beginning. For one can learn so well the road to -that dear land that one never forgets it, even in grown-up days. There -is never any sickness in Make-Believe. One can walk and run there -always, though one’s body lies weak and helpless, or drags slowly about, -year after year, in a world that is full of pain. One can slip away from -the long, black, sleepless nights into a lovely world where imagination -is the motive power, and all one needs and all one longs for lie ready -to one’s hand. - - * * * * * - -It was the January after I was sixteen that Cedarhurst burned down. It -was a bitter cold time; and the heaviest snow I had ever seen turned my -familiar world into fairyland under the winter moon. - -It was Great-aunt Letitia who found the fire. She had been looking for -it all her life. One of the most familiar memories of my childhood is -the waking at night to hear a soft rustle past my open door—the doors -were always left open that we might smell the fire when we really had -one—and to see Great-aunt Letitia, her white hair tucked away under a -dainty nightcap and the light of her candle bringing out soft gleams in -her flowered silk dressing gown, as she followed her highbred nose to -the spot where it assured her a fire had broken out. It used to frighten -me at first; but I grew too accustomed to it even to wake. So it taxed -my credulity to the utmost when, on that bitter night, she roused me to -tell me with tense white lips that Cedarhurst was in flames. - -How the fire started, we never knew. It burst through the floor of the -empty guest room first, and the ceiling of the dining-room below it. But -however it started, it was there; and there was no one to fight it but -two fragile old ladies, a half-grown girl, and the terrified Negroes. It -was before the days of rural telephones, and the house was in ruins -before any one in the village knew our need. We carried the news -ourselves when we drove into Chatterton in the gray dawn, shivering with -cold. We were all fully dressed, of course; the great-aunts would have -perished in the flames before they would have shocked the stars of -heaven by appearing outdoors in the mildest disarray. And we saved the -family silver, a portrait or two, great-grandmother’s sewing table, a -few books, and the clothes upon our backs. - -On the way to the village Great-aunt Virginia said we had much to be -thankful for in that our lives were spared; but hers, had we known it, -was already lost. She had stood in the snow after the flames barred all -access to the house, until the roof fell in and her birthplace was a -mass of ruins; and before we had been a week at the home of her nephew, -Cousin William Wrenn, she had died of pneumonia, leaving Great-aunt -Letitia and me, as she told us in the parting, alone and unprotected -save for the Father of all, to whom she trusted us. - -But Great-aunt Letitia, whom every one expected to wither and droop -without her sister’s sheltering care, developed an amazing power of -decision. She seemed crushed at first. But on the fourth day after -Great-aunt Virginia had been laid to rest in the hillside burial ground -at home, she came into the family sitting room, looking, in her deep -mourning, very tall and white and frail, and announced that she had -decided not to rebuild Cedarhurst, but to go to the city to live. - -I could scarcely believe my ears. The city’s outmost edge was only -fifteen miles away, but even the village of Chatterton, peopled largely -by our own relatives, seemed crowded and bustling after the wide quiet -of the fields at home. That this frail, retiring old lady should -contemplate a plunge into the vortex of a city whose inhabitants were -numbered by tens of thousands—really several tens—seemed madness. But -her determination was fixed. - -“This dear child needs the advantages of city life,” she declared. “I -always found the country exceedingly quiet myself, and-er not -altogether—progressive. But I deferred to Sister Virginia’s judgment. -Now, however—” her voice trembled a moment, and then went on quite -steadily—“the responsibility is mine, and I cannot shirk it. I think -Lydia should have city advantages. I shall go there and devote myself to -her education, and prepare for her entrance into society at the proper -time.” - -Argument was of no avail. When I avouched my preference for the country -she said quietly that I knew nothing of the city yet, and that every one -should try more than one side of life before making a final choice. She -was very gentle, but Great-aunt Virginia herself could not have been -more inflexible. We went, to the envy of my cousin, Billy Wrenn, and to -my own silent and passionate grief. - -As I grew older, Aunt Letitia grew younger—younger, that is, in her -ideas and in her desires for me. She cared far more than I about my -clothes, and took a livelier interest in possible lovers. I understood, -beneath this late blossoming of pleasure in what she called gay life, -the starved aspirations of her own youth, shut away in the seclusion of -her beautiful home during the many years of her widowed mother’s -invalidism and morbid grieving for her husband. There were times when -her dead-and-gone girlhood rose to life in her eyes, and a soft color -tinged her delicate cheeks, as she imagined for me some small social -triumph or admired me in some new dress. I divined that she was -immensely interested in my men friends, though her shyness in discussing -them was even greater than her interest. I wondered often if she had a -love-story of her own; but I never knew. My own love-story, when it -came, gave her great happiness; and for three years after my marriage -she lived with us in great content, and passed out at last in utter -peace. - -My husband is known in our family circle as the Peon, since he entered -into a contract to work for me without wages for life. He brought into -our home at our marriage his brother’s orphaned child, David Bird, a -little fellow four years of age, who flatly refused to call me auntie -and dubbed me Mammy Lil. That was many years ago; and as the time has -passed the Peon and I have realized with deepening gratitude our debt to -the little child who has given our home its crowning joy. But for David -we would have been childless, growing old alone; for we owe Caro to -David, too. I have never flattered myself that we could have captured -and held the heart of that tricksey birdling if David had not added to -our attractions childhood’s lure to a child. - -For our years in the city, however, we found David sufficient in -himself. He has grown up like the Peon’s own son, sturdy, steady, large -of body and of heart. He has stood well in his classes without much -effort; but more because it is his disposition to do thoroughly whatever -he does at all than because of any great love for books. He is -deliberate in manner, and somewhat slow of speech; and his steady gray -eyes seem made to look facts in the face. He has always moved in -straight lines, mentally and physically, cutting through obstacles which -Caro would flutter around in a twinkling; yet somehow he arrived at the -goal in time to secure whatever he set out to obtain. He was rather too -solemn as a child, and regarded me, apparently, somewhat as the Peon did -at times, with an air of amused and affectionate tolerance. I used to -hunt through his small personality for the spark of fun I was sure lay -hidden there, and as the years passed I caught the glint of it more and -more frequently; but it was really Caro who brought it out into the -open, and set it, a perpetual signal, in his eyes. - -I found it easy to awaken in him my own love of outdoors, and together -we made friends with such birds as could be enticed to our shady yard in -the city’s outer circle. We were sworn comrades in our enmity to the -English sparrows, and the bond of a common foe was one of the many -things that drew us into a fellowship unusually close. The Peon used to -say that no boy came to genuine manhood without something in the way of -an evil to hate and to fight; and for my part I joyfully set up the -English sparrows as the embodiment of all wickedness, to be destroyed -beak and tail. My own objections to them were the result of long -watching; but David’s hatred sprang to life full-fledged the morning we -found four of the wretched bullies fighting one small chickadee, which -hung head downward from a twig of privet, his eyes shut tight, his claws -clenched, and his throat and breast exposed to his enemies’ vicious -bills. I think some deep thirst for justice seized the child’s soul at -sight of the helpless victim, and ever since he has been mindful of weak -things in a way surprising in a boy so ruggedly strong. - -He has been wonderfully mindful of me, always. Long before we left the -city I had learned to enjoy outdoors from a cot under the trees in the -back yard. The pain which was to be by turns my companion, my jailer, -and my emancipator had already laid upon me an iron hand. I was up and -about when the Peon was at home; but when he came in unexpectedly he -learned to look for me under the drooping silver maples in the yard; and -my old-time love of birds was an easy explanation of the many-cushioned -cot and the long hours I daily spent upon it. - -David filled the birds’ drinking fountain for me when he came home to -leave his books and get his bat or his football; and I would lie there, -watching my visitors, wondering at the variety of birds to be seen in a -city yard, and wishing the sparrows’ duels were less on the harmless -French order. They never fought because they needed to do it; it was -always for something perfectly futile and foolish. They would leave all -the food I could scatter to tear one crumb from a neighbor. For it is -English sparrow nature never to be satisfied with what they have, to -want only what some one else is enjoying, and to get it for themselves -if they can. David and I were fully agreed that if anything more hateful -was ever created we wished to be spared acquaintance with it. - - - - - II - BIRD CORNERS - - -IT is to Uncle Milton that I owe our return to the country, and all the -delights of Bird Corners. - -Uncle Milton is an inheritance from my great-aunts and Cedarhurst, where -he had the finest flowers and the most flourishing vegetable garden in -the country. He is a lean old Negro, tall, and straight as a pine. His -features are finely cut; and with his gray hair, long gray moustache, -regular features, and skin like polished bronze, he makes a -distinguished appearance, even in his old blue jeans. He is a real lover -of the outdoor world, and the earth and the plants know it. He bends -over the flower-beds lovingly, with eyes that see, not dirt, but all -dirt’s possibilities of beauty and life. There is never a plant set -carelessly nor a seed that falls by chance. No wonder all he touches -grows! - -That he went to town with Great-aunt Letitia, and stayed there afterward -with me, spoke eloquently of the strength of affection between us. But -after my great-aunt’s death he did not accept the situation without -constant protests, and the advice which my youth and ignorance demanded. - -“You ain’t got no mo’ business in de city dan I is, Miss Lil,” he said -spring after spring, as I sat on the grass by the flower-beds and -watched his fork go in and out like clock-work, leaving behind it long -rows of fresh-turned earth. “You done los’ all dem roses you had in yo’ -face at home. Ef Miss Ferginny done lived she wouldn’ put up wid dis -foolishness not er minute.” - -“But the city is more convenient for Mr. Bird,” I would explain. “Some -day when he is rich enough he expects to give up business, and then we -will go back.” - -“He’ll be givin’ up his wife fus’ news you know,” growled the old man, -stopping to thin the thick border of violets. “An’ he’ll be goin’ to -bury you dar by Miss Ferginny and Miss ’Titia befo’ he goes retirin’ -from business ef he don’ look out. We-all got er plenty ter live on -now—you got er plenty widout his’n; en ef you ain’t, I kin make er -plenty outen dat groun’. Hit’s de riches’ lan’ in Davis’son county. I -made hit pay befo’, en I kin do hit agin, stidder was’in’ it on po’ -white-trash renters like you all do. But I ’clare to gracious, Miss Lil, -ef you-all don’ go, I will. I been mixin’ up wid town niggers till I’m -plumb wo’ out wid ’em. Dis is de las’ spring Milton’ll fix yo’ flowers -in dis mizzable little cramped-up lot.” - -He had said this so often that I regarded it as one of Nature’s regular -spring processes; and beyond a sudden deeper stirring of my constant -homesickness, his threats passed unnoticed. But one February morning he -came out and stood by my cot under the trees with a face at once elated -and downcast. - -“Are you going to begin the spring work today?” I asked in delight. - -He looked embarrassed. - -“Hit’s sorter early to rake dem leaves offen de beds yit,” he said. Then -he hesitated. “I ’spec I ain’t gwinter be able ter do de wuk no mo’.” - -“Are you sick?” I asked anxiously. Then I saw the new look in his face, -and gasped. “You’re going to the country!” I cried. - -“Yassum, I is. I can’t stan’ it yere no longer, Miss Lil: I’m er gittin’ -too ole fer town; I des bleeged ter go out whar God made de worl’ en -breathe free en be er man ergin, befo’ I die.” - -The years had slipped from him like a cloak. I looked at him -enviously—just as an English sparrow might look at some bird of -stronger flight, I reflected suddenly, and scowled at one of my greedy -kinsman in the walk, trying to gobble all the best crumbs at once. - -“I’m glad for you,” I said honestly. “When do you go?” - -“When my mont’s out. But I hates ter go, Miss Lil.” - -“What am I to do here?” I demanded, the sparrow in me refusing to be -quenched altogether. - -“I’ll do de bes’ I kin,” he said. “I been lookin’ roun’ fer you all -winter. But dese town niggers is a onery set, fer sho’. When you-all -comes home Milton’s comin’ back.” - -“Never mind,” I said; “we’ll manage somehow.” - -I closed my eyes because they were getting full of tears. He moved away, -and I let the tears come. I wanted the country, too; and more and more -as my illness grew, and it became increasingly difficult to take my part -in the busy city life. The more one’s bodily freedom is restricted by -weakness and pain, the more one longs for the unconfined spaces of earth -and air, for wide horizons and sweeping winds, and wings that flash far -up into the sunshine, above the shadows where one must lie, conning the -hard lesson of patient idleness. And I wanted Uncle Milton—the visible -link between me and that dear world of hill and sky for which I longed. -Return to it seemed so bright a possibility while another heart, even -this old Negro’s, held it as dear as I. If he went from me he would -leave my hope bereft. I lay with closed eyes, absorbed in longing for -that dear receding vision of delight. - -“Don’ you see how bad she wanter go, Marse John?” said Uncle Milton -again, close beside me. I sprang up in amazement, to find him and the -Peon by my cot. “She ain’t gwine ter say a word ef she think hit’ll -discommerdate you; but de chile’s e’en erbout breakin’ her heart fer de -country, same as I is.” - -“Uncle Milton,” I began indignantly; but the old man brushed my words -aside. - -“You en Marse John fight hit out, honey,” he said. “Mek ’er tell de -trufe, Marse John. Hit’s you en her fer it now; Milton’s done his bes’.” - -He turned deliberately and walked out of the yard. - -It did not take the Peon long to get the facts, to answer all my -objections as to the inconvenience to himself, and to settle finally our -immediate return. We would rebuild Cedarhurst at once. - -“Oh, no,” I cried, “not Cedarhurst! Let us build our own home, all -sunshine and out-of-doors! It isn’t the old house that I love; it was -too cold and stately and dark—such an indoors kind of house. It’s the -hills I’m homesick for, and the sky, and the biggest maple, and the -pasture, and the sycamores down by the brook.” - -“But we can’t sleep in the maple,” objected the Peon, “nor eat in the -pasture when it rains. There must be a house.” - -“Oh, of course. But let it be our house—not Great-aunt Virginia’s. You -may really build it any way you please if only you will have porches -enough, and so many windows that wherever you sit you can lift your eyes -and look right out, miles and miles and miles. And I’d like all the -rooms to have a southern exposure, of course, on account of the breeze -and the sun, and east windows for winter mornings, and west windows for -the sunsets. I don’t care about the rest.” - -“I insist upon bath-rooms and a kitchen,” said the Peon; “mere scenery -is not a sufficient sanitary basis for life. But what shall we call -it—Cedarhurst?” - -“Oh, no! Just a plain, every day, home-y name—something that belongs to -us and the birds. Why, we’re Birds ourselves, Peon, dear. Let’s be -sociable and call it Bird Corners.” - -“But there aren’t any corners,” said the practical Peon; “the place lies -straight along the pike.” - -That is a man’s way. He thinks he must face facts and shape his course -accordingly, poor slave to the visible that he is. But a woman conquers -facts by turning her back upon them, and playing they are something -else. - -“The birds will make the corners,” I explained patiently. “Before I’ve -been putting out crumbs a month there’ll be bird pikes cutting through -the place at every conceivable angle, and crossing each other under that -seven-trunked maple where my cot will be. And if that won’t be bird -corners, what will?” - -So we prepared for our homing flight. Uncle Milton went out at once to -trim the trees and prune the shrubbery and vines; and the occasional -days he bestowed on us in town were full of delight for me, filled as -they were with reports of progress at home. For it was home, before dirt -had been broken for the house; the city dwelling was a mere temporary -shelter. - -“De jonquils out home is showin’ up fine,” he announced one morning in -mid-February; “hit’s time to sorter stir up dese yere lazy town flowers. -En I’ll trim de trees, too, seein’ I’m ’bout done wid ’em out home. I -’spec de city folks what’ll live yere atter we-all gone’ll want what -little dab er trees dey got in dis yard.” - -He looked scornfully at the back yard, generous in size, after the -fashion of our Southern cities, and shaded with fine old trees. But a -little later, high in the hackberry, his love of all earth-rooted things -swept contempt from his heart, and his dark old face shone with -happiness as he wielded the hatchet with rhythmic strokes. - -That is always the beginning of the spring work—the severance of death -from life, that life may rise again, even out of death. Where would life -draw this dead matter next? To darkness first, to growth most surely, -and perchance, some day, to wings. And the dark old man with the happy -face was servitor of life—life for the dead as for the living; for -death is but the underside of life. - - * * * * * - -We went home early in May. The house would not be finished until -October; but outdoors was all ready for us, and we could not waste the -summer for lack of a house. - -“You know,” I argued to the Peon, “we had a beautiful time in the -mountains last summer; and we slept in a two-roomed cottage with only -weather-boarding between us and the trees outside. Why can’t we have a -shed with a gasoline stove, and a couple of tents to live in?” - -So we had them. The Peon and David drove in to Chatterton daily and took -the train for business and school; and I fed the birds and followed -Uncle Milton, and drank in the changing beauties of earth and sky. And -all summer we watched our home grow, from cellar to roof-tree, till it -became a thing complete, and fitted into the landscape for which it was -designed. - -We set it on the old home’s hill, which overlooked the countryside, and -faced it toward the sunrising. The dark lines of cedars which had -bordered the approach to the old house were left at one side, and the -road, curving from their upper end, swept into full sunshine and passed -under a great beech, which spread its tiers of leaves above the doorway. -It is an unpretentious house, rambling about pretty much as it pleases -in its efforts to give southern and eastern and western exposures to all -the rooms. Porches are everywhere, and the windows either open on them, -like doors, or stop a little above the floor at low, cushioned seats, -which tempt one to sink down and wonder once again at the beauty of this -fair country of middle Tennessee. There are no curtains at the windows, -nor mats of vines outside. But up the widely-separated columns of the -porches run clematis and jasmines which cross the great openings in -narrow bands, above and below. So all summer the fretwork of green -leaves frames the landscape, a perfect, yet everchanging picture in each -of the wide spaces. The east end of the living-room is of glass, and my -flowers flourish there in winter time. In my own room the bed stands in -a deep recess formed all of windows on the three sides. A low seat runs -under them within reach of the bed. All through the dark, sleepless -night I can lie there and watch for the first paling of the eastern sky, -and follow the level light as it moves softly along the southern hills, -creating the shadows which make the light so clear. - -It must be confessed that some of the kin at Chatterton thought my wits -astray that first summer, and the Peon but a soft-headed, poor-spirited -creature for giving way to my whimsies. Camping out was not as popular -then as it is now; and the older members of the family did not hesitate -to commiserate the Peon and David. That they professed to enjoy our long -picnic only added to the heinousness of my folly. - -Cousin Chadwell Grackle and his wife were among my first callers. Cousin -Chad is always to the front when anything new crops up in the family. He -has cried the sins and shortcomings of the whole usual order so long -that even he is half bored with them, and the prospect of something new -to criticise whets his social appetite to the keenest possible edge. -Cousin Jane is his reflection and echo. If she were not, even her stolid -nerves could scarcely have endured his painful type of piety without -disaster. - -They drove up one sunshiny morning, after they had seen the Peon and -David pass on their way to town. I was on the cot under the biggest -maple. Its seven trunks fall apart like long-stemmed flowers in a vase, -spreading into a great green tent whose leafy curtains droop in a circle -full seventy feet across. - -The blackbirds were my principal guests that morning, a sanctimonious -crew in sleek black coats, solemn, censorious, and self-satisfied to the -last degree. All birds which walk instead of hopping are -awkward-looking; but none are as preposterous as the blackbirds, because -none of them put on such sanctified airs. As they moved about this -morning, their heads thrust meekly forward, ducking modestly as they -stepped, they appeared to be meditating on their neighbors’ sins. But -they had their tribe’s keen eye for the main chance, and it was a swift -bird and a wary one which secured a big crumb with these feathered -Chadbands in the yard. - -I looked up at the sound of wheels and nearly choked with swallowing my -laughter. Cousin Chad and Cousin Jane did look so sleek and proper, that -as I rose to meet them I could not refrain from throwing some extra -crumbs on the grass for possible additions to my breakfasting guests. - -They descended ponderously and looked at me with the apprehensive -scrutiny one might bestow on a lunatic who is liable to break out -immediately in a fresh place. - -“How are you, Lyddy?” inquired Cousin Jane, with sepulchral anxiety. -Cousin Chad, busy with the hitching-post, listened with his back as well -as with his ears. They both know perfectly that I have always been Lil -to everyone except the great-aunts, and that Lyddy has been an -abomination to the entire family connection, and especially to me, since -they first invented it in my childhood. That is why they stick to it. -They believe in chastenings, do my cousins, the Grackles—particularly -when they are the chasteners. - -“I’m perfectly well,” I answered, with added emphasis to my usual -formula. “Come and sit down. There’s no need to ask how you and Cousin -Chad are; you look the picture of health.” - -“Appearances don’t do to go by, Lyddy,” she answered solemnly, sinking -ponderously on a creaking campstool. “Chadwell’s been havin’ sciatica, -and I’ve stayed awake nights with him till I’m just about worn out. But -I’ve never made my afflictions an excuse for shirkin’ my duty. We came -over to say that as you seem to be without a roof over your heads we’d -take you to board till your house is finished—if it ever is.” - -She glanced contemptuously at the amorphous piles of building material -just beyond us. - -“You can have the second spare bed-room upstairs,” put in Cousin Chad. -“It’s more to my interest to put you in the front one; but livin’ comes -high any way you take it, and I want to consider you. I reckon John -ain’t able to spend much, with all this building on hand. The back -room’s small, but you three can make out in it. If you want the other, -of course it will cost more. You can come over this evening after John -gets home, and he and I can settle the terms after supper.” - -I kept my face quite straight, and made a handsome contribution to -current fiction. - -“It’s so kind of you. John will appreciate it as much as I. But we -really enjoy camping, and would not give it up even for those lovely -rooms of yours, Cousin Chad. Thank you so much.” - -Cousin Jane’s rubicund complexion assumed a purplish hue. - -“Do you intend to kill that delicate child of Henry Bird’s, making him -sleep out in the weather all summer?” she demanded. - -“No,” I said, considering; “I don’t intend to kill him, exactly. And he -isn’t at all delicate.” - -“Well, he will be by the time you get through with him—if he ain’t -dead,” broke in Cousin Chad. “Lyddy, it’s my duty to speak plainly, and -I’ll not shirk it. Letitia spoiled you from the time you were born, and -John Bird seems bent on keeping it up. David will pay the penalty for -it. We do a very different part by the orphan the Lord made it our duty -to take charge of, I can assure you. Caroline Wrenn’s health is taken -care of, with a view to her future usefulness as a Christian. But of -course you’ll stick to your own ways.—Well, I’ve warned you: my -conscience is clear. Come, Jane: we’d better be going.” - -“I’m glad your conscience is clear, Cousin Chad. I know that’s a comfort -to you, if I’m not. But we can be good friends, can’t we, even though -our ideas are different?” - -“I shall not turn my back upon you if you’re in trouble, Lyddy, if -that’s what you mean,” he answered. “I hope I know my duty better than -that. But when you want help again you must ask for it. I don’t intend -to offer it.” - -“That’s a bargain, then,” I said; “and we must both remember it.” - -Cousin Jane looked at me sharply, but Cousin Chad was already heaving -her into the buggy, and she turned to get a good grip on the side. The -vehicle creaked as she settled in it, and groaned when Cousin Chad sank -beside her. - -“Good-bye, Lyddy,” she said. “We’ve done our best. I hope you won’t -regret it.” - -This quite upset me, and after the cedars hid them I lay laughing until -the thought of poor little Caro suddenly sobered me. What were they -doing to Billy’s child? I must make friends with Cousin Jane, somehow, -and entice the little thing over to Bird Corners as much as possible. - -There was no one else whom our erratic manner of life really -scandalized, except Cousin Jason Blue; and he, as he took occasion to -tell me when he met me out driving one day with Caro, never made a fool -of himself like Chad Grackle by meddling. If a woman wanted to follow -her nature and behave like a lunatic, and her husband chose to allow it, -it was none of his business; so he shrugged his shoulders and passed on. - -Cousin Jason and the Grackles are the only kin I have in all Chatterton -whose kinship I would discount if I could; but there is no denying they -belong in the family. Cousin Chad’s father was my grandmother’s third -half-cousin on my father’s side; and Cousin Jason’s mother was Cousin -Lysander Hilliard’s step-daughter by his second marriage: there could -scarcely be anything plainer than that. - -And if Cousin Jason had his drawbacks, there are none about his -half-sister, Grace, fifteen years his junior, and, except Ella, the -dearest friend I have. She married George Wood soon after I married the -Peon, and they have a daughter, Milly, about the age of Caro Wrenn. - -David took kindly to country life, and to his numerous -cousins-by-marriage. There were plenty of boys among them; and though at -first they resented David’s city ways, their respect for him grew -immensely when they found how far he could bat a ball; and after he had -whipped Bob White in single combat he was admitted to Chatterton boydom -as a comrade in full fellowship. There was no particular reason for his -fighting Bob, so far as we dull grown-ups could discover, except that -Bob was the leader of his set, and a fight was considered the necessary -initiation to membership. As soon as this was made clear to him, David -had painstakingly trodden on Bob’s toes, and the preliminaries were -arranged at once. The boys were excellent friends, before and afterward; -and the Peon would not allow me to discuss the matter with David. They -talked it out in private, and reached some amicable male conclusion of -their own. - -Of the girl cousins David was loftily tolerant, excepting Caro Wrenn. -She was five years old the spring we came back to the country, when -David was half-past nine. Her mother had died when she was born, and her -father, Billy Wrenn, had gone to Colorado three years afterward, to die -there of consumption. He made Cousin Chad Caro’s guardian before he -died, knowing, as we all did, Cousin Chad’s remarkable ability in -reaping financial harvests from even the smallest investments; but he -left the child herself with her mother’s sister, Sally Martin, never -dreaming that death would again bereave the little creature of a -mother’s love. Sally died, quite suddenly, less than a year after Billy; -and Cousin Chad and Cousin Jane, intent, as usual, on doing their -impeccable duty, assumed sole care of the little heiress, and installed -her in their own childless and virtuous home. - -A more incongruous setting for her could scarcely have been found. She -was a tiny creature, with rose-leaf skin, great hazel eyes, a mop of -red-brown curls, and a mouth where laughter bubbled all day long. Quick -and bird-like in all her movements, she flitted in and out of the most -unexpected recesses in the twinkling of an eye, with endless flutterings -of hands and skirts and sweet gurglings of suppressed laughter. Almost -from her cradle she sang—queer little soft croonings which slipped into -tunes before she could speak their words. Cousin Jane scarcely knew what -to make of her, and was torn between a sincere desire to do her -Spartanly-Christian duty by her, and her solemn puzzlement over what she -considered the child’s combination of depravity and charm. Even Cousin -Jane could not be very severe with her; but she had an uneasy sense of -spoiling her every time she forebore the rod, so that I found her more -than willing to turn the child over to me for the greater part of the -time. - -This arrangement gave my revered relative ample warrant for looking -closely into my household affairs and reproving me for everything she -did and didn’t discover; it was her duty to know all about a place where -dear Caroline spent so much of her time. And when Caro departed from -Cousin Jane’s ideals, as she did with every movement of body and mind, -it was a great relief to my pious cousin to be able publicly to disavow -all responsibility for the child’s shortcomings. What, as she constantly -inquired, could one expect of Caroline when that scatter-brained Lyddy -would persist in encouraging the child in her flightiness? She published -abroad her own powerlessness to control either Caro or the situation, -and openly washed her hands of the consequences. - -Caro and I bore up as best we could, and the Peon and David stood by us -nobly. David, indeed, was ready to fight his idol’s battles with Cousin -Jane herself. In fact, he grew up with a lack of respect for that -excellent lady which tempted her to assume the role of a prophet, in -which capacity she dwelt at large on the penitentiary as David’s -ultimate place of residence. Caro always responded to these -prognostications that, if Davy went to the penimtentium, she would go, -too, as soon as she was big enough, and keep house for him, and make the -cook give them ice-cream every day that came. And so the matter rested. - - - - - III - IN MAKE-BELIEVE - - -IT is four years since I wrote those last words. Not long after, Caro -went away to school. David went North to college that year, and was only -coming home for the regular holidays. He still held to his boyhood -preference, and was determined to be a scientific farmer: and since the -Peon and I were to have him with us always, we wanted him to have a few -years quite away from us in which to make his own adjustments to life. -So they left us the same week, David with all a boy’s love to hold him -back, and a young man’s eagerness to urge him away; and Caro in as -nearly easterly weather as her sunny nature ever experienced. - -It was Cousin Jane who first decided on Caro’s banishment. For the sake -of her own peace of mind she had of late years resigned the child almost -entirely to me; but every now and then she had what Caro called a “qualm -spell.” During these painful periods Caro resided with the Grackles, -strictly, not even coming over to take lunch with me. She arose at five -and extinguished her light at nine; and pinned on the wall beside her -bureau, in Cousin Jane’s firm handwriting, was a schedule of useful -occupations for each of the intervening sixteen hours. - -She had so much time for devotions, so much for meals, so much for -school, for study, for “domestic occupations,” for “improving and useful -reading,” and for “practical sewing.” Cousin Jane never allowed precious -time wasted on fancy work; and if she thought it was all like the awful -things she had in her parlor I don’t in the least blame her for thinking -it wicked. - -However, Caro’s time was laid out for her as exactly as the squares on a -checker-board. She fed the chickens, argued with the old biddies who -wanted to “set” in the wrong place, and wheedled the arrogant old Buff -Orpington, who ruled the hens and Cousin Jane with ease and contempt, -into doing whatever she wanted of him. She made butter that drew -near-smiles to Cousin Jane’s stiff lips, and evolved cakes that called -forth lectures to Cousin Chad on the sin of gluttony. She sewed, without -a murmur, or a particle of trimming, undergarments of good, reliable, -ever-wearing domestic. She was always foresighted enough to make ample -allowance for their shrinking when washed; whereby she both pleased -Cousin Jane and insured an excellent fit for little black Josie when she -returned to us with a halo of virtue above her red-brown curls. She read -history till she could put me to the blush. She washed the best tea-cups -and the Persian cat. She dusted the parlor daily. And from her early -childhood she made irreproachable jam. - -It really was excellent training for her; thorough good discipline, as -Cousin Jane would say; especially as it was interspersed with “spells of -Bird-Cornering,” during which she sojourned with the Peon and me. For -the period of discipline always followed an accustomed round. It began -with a Cousin Jane all severity, lynx-eyed to drag poor Caro’s -delinquencies to light and overcome them by unsparing criticism. But -Caro has always made play of everything, finding by the talisman of her -own happy heart the hidden beauty, or laughter, of the ugliest and -solemnest things. She did all Cousin Jane found for her to do—which is -saying a good deal—not only cheerfully, but with whole-souled delight, -as if it were her very meat and drink. Doing it that way, she did it -beyond criticism; and Cousin Jane would begin to relax, unwillingly, -unable to find a flaw, yet with an uneasy feeling that something must be -wrong, or Caro couldn’t possibly be enjoying herself so much. When she -set herself to mortify Caro’s girlish vanity the child met her more than -half-way. She did her best to “slick” her curls, and donned shapeless -gingham aprons as joyously as though they were made of jewels and lace. -Cousin Jane would find herself being mollified to the point of -indulgence in spite of herself; and about that time Caro would come -flying into the yard at Bird Corners and drop fluttering beside me, her -eyes shining with the pure joy of living and the love of living things. - -“I’m back again, Mammy Lil,” she would laugh, whirling about on one toe. -“Cousin Jane hasn’t scolded me for four days, and yesterday she almost -patted my head; so I knew she thought I’d had training enough for the -present, and I’d be coming back home in a jiffy. They’re so good to me -in their funny way I’m most ashamed to be glad to come home to you—but -I am, all the same. Where’s Josie? I’ve made three new petticoats and a -night gown for her, out of muslin strong enough to climb trees.” - -The truth was that when Caro came back to me it was because Cousin Jane -had detected in her own soul symptoms of the child’s being made an idol: -she had to get rid of her to recover her own moral poise. But she still -intended to do her full duty by her: so when Caro was fifteen she was -sent to boarding school, to remain at least five years. By that time -Cousin Jane hoped to have re-established her own imperturbability -without unduly exposing her charge to the dangerous influences of Bird -Corners. - -We had a battle royal concerning the school she should go to, and to -this day Cousin Jane thinks she won. She really has no more idea about -schools than a chinquapin worm, living fat and contented in its own -sufficient little world; and I knew she’d be for sending the child to -some fifth-rate country “college” where she’d be taught poor music and -worse French, and be worked to death learning things the way they -aren’t. So I wrote, ostentatiously, for the catalogue of one of the most -exclusive, nonsensical, and extravagant “finishing schools”; and -privately ordered sent to Cousin Jane one from the school I wished Caro -to attend. It was a sensible place where she’d be taken care of, and -given a chance to grow up to the best of herself in body and mind. I -plead for the finishing school, and sniffed diligently at the other, -even advocating the dreaded “college” as preferable; whereby I had the -comfort of having Caro sent where I wanted her, with Cousin Jane’s mind -so definitely set on keeping her there that I knew her education was -provided for. - -Caro rebelled against going. For the first time in her life she did not -want to please us. - -“You’re not well enough to do without me and David, too, Mammy Lil,” she -insisted; “it’s just a pretense that you don’t need me; and I don’t care -whether I’m educated or not.” - -She yielded to the inevitable between tears and laughter. - -“Anyway,” she reflected, “there’s Make-Believe left: you’ll never get -rid of me there, will you? I’ll come there every day of the world, and -David, too: and ten times a day if you want me.” - -It was a genuine relief to have her go; it was becoming most difficult -to blind her bright eyes to my illness. It was much simpler to keep up -appearances with the Peon, who left home early and returned late, and -who was often called away for days together. If I sat up as usual when -he was in the house it was becoming necessary to lie quite still all -day. - -For weeks after the children left I enjoyed being alone, and the freedom -from effort which it brought. But as the winter wore on, the loneliness -proved a lure to introspection and self-pity—those quicksands of -despair which encircle the country of enforced idleness; and as I lay -under my windows or beneath the trees I began, for pleasure and -companionship, to write the story of our happy life and of the -children’s growing up. But the note-book proved desperately heavy, and -the few pages I filled took weeks instead of days; until at last I -ceased the effort until I should be stronger, as I had ceased so many -other things in this journeying into the Land of Idleness. - -I made a new acquaintance that winter—a wretched little blue devil to -whom I gave the name of Grumpy, and with whom I battled from morning -till night, and especially from night till morning. It is not pain that -blue devils thrive on—I had proved that all these many years; it is -idleness that gives them their chance for mischief—the helpless -idleness of utter exhaustion, when one’s thoughts hang vacant, and body -nor mind can longer force its way past the wall of pain to move, however -slowly, in the beautiful outside world of human effort and achievement. - -So Grumpy came to Bird Corners. Satan himself knows no self-respecting -devil would have stayed on the premises after the way I treated the -creature; but blue devils respect neither themselves nor anybody else. -An hour after I had flung him out by the heels he would bob up by the -sofa in the finest fettle imaginable, grinning at my exhaustion from our -late encounter. The most I ever could be sure of doing was keeping him -invisible to every one else; but he made up for that in the nights. -Still, one adjusts one’s self to the inevitable in time; and blue devils -are all in the day’s work, I suppose, like the dentist or a cold in -one’s head. One gets through with the visitation somehow, and laughs -afterward because, for the time, at least, it is over. - -When the children came home in the summer there was trouble, of course. -Doctors came and went, though I had privately done my full duty by them -long before; and I swallowed a deal of nasty stuff which did absolutely -no good, except that it soothed the feelings of the family. - -By the end of the summer David was insisting on something radical; and -when he went back to college he took me with him, and deposited me in a -northern sanitarium, where I was to lie flat on my back three months, -and be made over as good as new. - -This was not only radical, but revolutionary. Chatterton had never -before furnished an inmate for a sanitarium. The word, indeed, was -commonly understood as a polite euphemism for a lunatic asylum. The -sentiments of the kin ranged all the way from Grace Wood’s anxious -hopefulness to Cousin Jane’s frank curiosity concerning what new kind of -craziness Lyddy had been up to now, to make John Bird feel like she had -to be shut up in a private mad-house. She took my part, however, so far -as to say, both to my face and behind my back, that I wasn’t a mite -crazier than I’d been all my life; and if folks could get along with me -this long it did look like a pity they couldn’t put up with me a while -longer, and save disgracing the family. There was nothing the matter -with me, Cousin Jane opined, beyond being spoiled to death, and lazy; -and, anyway, it was flying in the face of Providence to go on living if -your time had come to die. - -As to going North, she never did believe in wasting money on conceited -Yankee doctors when there were so many struggling physicians at home, to -say nothing of the heathen in foreign lands who were dropping into -hell-fire so many a minute for lack of any kind of doctors, good or bad, -to keep them alive until the missionaries could get to them. - -“But it’s no use preachin’ to selfish ears,” she concluded, drawing her -heavy silk wrap about her ample shoulders and settling her bonnet -strings. “I’ve been wastin’ my breath, of course.” - -It seemed a pity that she should, whether from my point of view or her -own; so I smiled as sympathetically as I could, and offered my cheek for -her farewell salute. She bestowed it impressively. - -“Well, good-bye, Lyddy. I suppose I won’t see you again in this life; -an’ in the other one failin’ wits won’t trouble us, I trust. I want you -to know I don’t hold any of your foolishness against you, child: I -reckon you never did have sense like the rest of us.” - -She went out with her ponderous, firm tread, and Caro flitted to my -side, her head thrown up, ruffling like an angry wren. - -“Mammy Lil, its a shame you made me promise to be good! Do let me run -after her and——” She caught my eye and broke into bubbling laughter, -dropping her head on my pillows and snuggling her little nose under my -chin. - -“Of course it’s funny,” she admitted presently; “and if you will laugh, -I have to. But I can’t see how she can be so wooden-headed and yet be -alive.” - -“She isn’t alive very much, poor soul!” I answered, soberly enough. “I -don’t think anybody really lives except so far as they understand -life—and people. When you think of it in that way, Cousin Jane has -lived in a closer confinement all her life than I’ll be when I get to -the asylum.” - - * * * * * - -That was three years ago, and more, and I am here at the sanitarium yet, -though the Peon is coming to take me home next month. It was I who set -the limit of my stay at three months, when I came; I was determined to -be well by that time. I even had Caro put my note-book in my trunk, -because I expected to fill it before I came back. That is why I am -writing this chapter, a few lines at a time, on good days: I am -determined to do something that I planned doing, before I go back. - -It would take more note-books than my trunk could hold to tell the story -of the kindness shown me here; of the patience, skill, and -resourcefulness which have fought for me when I could no longer fight -for myself. And it is good to be in a place like this for awhile, to -learn what human nature is capable of under racking, tearing strain. The -courage one finds, the high-hearted endurance of plain, ordinary people, -the brave good cheer of men and women whose pain-lined faces choke one’s -throat with tears! I have seen these things so often these last eighteen -months—or at least in so much of them as I could be carried, lying flat -in a wheeled-chair, out on one of the balconies, where I could catch -glimpses of the struggles that were going on around me. - -It is not all loss, this suffering. Sickness does bring out hidden -ugliness and weakness, for it searches soul and body to the inmost core. -But there is more good hidden than there is evil; and in the stress of -suffering the most ordinary people blossom into a loveliness of soul -which reveals them as of the company of the saints. Life is so narrow -and commonplace to the average experience that it can only make a narrow -and commonplace appeal. “The trivial round, the common task” has, for so -many, no large connections; and the depths of their natures are never -stirred until their every-day world lies in ruins about them, and to -live at all they must discover new resources in - - “—_that true world within the world we see_,” - -and gain a true perspective and a new horizon. - -And the funny folk in a place like this—they would fill volumes, too! -Of course they are pitiful; but I never could see the harm of laughter -over pitifulness, if only one doesn’t laugh unkindly. For some of them -never find new resources. Disaster leads them, not to discovery, but to -an _impasse_; and they revenge themselves on the inexplicable by endless -incongruities of thought and action. - -The patient who really helped me most was a dear old lady who, though -forbidden, like the rest, to talk to me, felt it her heaven-sent mission -to cheer me up. Whenever she saw me deposited on the porch she flew out, -wringing her hands in sympathy, and exclaiming, “Oh, _what_ is life -without health!” It really is a good deal when you come to think of it; -and the old lady’s reiterations elicited a string of mental replies as -long as from western New York to Bird Corners, and kept me in ammunition -for Grumpy. - -For Grumpy has been at this sanitarium for three years and seven weeks. -But the Peon has been here, too, and David—and Cousin Jane! Caro I have -not seen in all these years: Cousin Jane doesn’t consider it decent for -a young girl to be allowed in a place where women may be seen in the -halls in kimonos, and men are allowed to sit in wheeled-chairs on the -balconies, shamelessly clad in their bath robes, with heaven knows what -garments, or lack of garments, underneath. Caro should not set foot in -the place; and no entreaties could move her. But Caro has written, every -week of the world; and, to make up for my not having her, Cousin Jane -paid me a visit herself. She felt it her duty, she said, to find out -what kind of a place it was that John Bird had shut Lyddy up in; and if -the rest of the family wouldn’t look after me, she would. So she came, -suspicious and inquisitorial, and melted visibly under the tactful -suavity of the physician in charge,—“the Head,” as we called him. She -even began to help him, ministering to the patients after a fashion all -her own. She had it out with one of them, a metaphysical lady, a very -unorthodox person, and left her in a state of collapse. In no uncertain -tones she expressed her views on hen-pecking to another, an elderly lady -with a liver and a youthful husband. I don’t know what would have -happened further if I had not been inspired to beguile her into going -down into the treatment rooms for a Turkish bath. She came up purple -with wrath, and began to pack her trunk, declaring that she washed her -hands of the place forever; and if I wanted to stay there and have my -morals corrupted, I could; but for her part she was going back to her -own bathtub, and the religion she was brought up in. And go she did, -that night. - -For myself, these three years must remain in the silence in which they -have been spent. The pain I wish to forget; today’s pain is enough. And -the helplessness and idleness, so much worse than the pain—that too, I -would shut from my memory. But the kindness which has filled these -years—that is an eternal possession. And the loveliness of this little -valley is mine always, cut off as it is in my thoughts as a place apart -from all my real world and life, shut in and hidden by its beautiful -circling hills. I have called it the Enchanted Valley, because it seemed -sometimes as if some spell had caught and bound me to it forever. But -now that I am to go free at last I can forget all that, and remember -only the enchantment of its beauty, and the kindness of those who dwell -in it. The Land of Make-Believe, too, is as near me as under the trees -at home. I have had beautiful times in Make-Believe, day and night, and -especially at night. I have seen Caro there, you may be sure! I made a -jingle about it not long ago which tells the real story of these long -years better than anything else I could write. - - _IN MAKE-BELIEVE_ - - _Oh, beautiful country of Make-Believe,_ - _Where in childhood I learned to play!_ - _I’m not bound fast to a bed—not I!_ - _Nor racked with pain till I want to cry:_ - _I’m over the hills and away!_ - - _Poor body that lies here and cannot sleep,_ - _I’m sorry to leave you so;_ - _But the children are calling from far away;_ - _In Make-Believe, where it’s time to play,_ - _And you can’t walk, you know._ - - _I fly on the wings of thought, myself,_ - _While the wind shrieks behind me “Wait!”_ - _For he never can fly as fast as thought,_ - _And, he howls because he thinks he ought;—_ - _But here I am at the gate._ - - _No narrow, smothering walls for me,_ - _Nor life shut in from the sky,_ - _When Make-Believe is all outdoors,_ - _With beautiful grass instead of floors,_ - _And to reach it one needs but try._ - - _There is ice back there; but in Make-Believe_ - _There’s just what you happen to choose:_ - _Soft spring-time colors with silver sheen,_ - _Or cool wood-reaches of summer green,_ - _Or the sparkle of autumn dews._ - - _Oh, the woodland rambles in Make-Believe!_ - _The fields where daisies grow!_ - _The level light on the evening hills,_ - _The wild bird-song that leaps and thrills,_ - _And the rose of the sunset’s glow!_ - - _How the children chatter in Make-Believe,_ - _Just as at home they do!_ - _How close they cuddle, with laugh and kiss,_ - _To tell their secrets, nor ever miss_ - _Aught else if they have but you!_ - - _All the people you love are in Make-Believe,_ - _The living, and those called dead;_ - _And all the people you’d like to know—_ - _The wise of the earth, both high and low,_ - _And the heroes of days long fled._ - - _And they know what’s worth while in Make-Believe_ - _That to give is the blessed way;_ - _That courage, and laughter, and love, are wise;_ - _That the sun shines back of the cloudiest skies;_ - _That there’s end to the longest day._ - - _They talk of high things in Make-Believe,_ - _And they love e’en the tiniest joke_ - _And they take you sailing o’er land and sea;_ - _And they’d know all the places you’d like to be_ - _If never a word you spoke._ - - _But the sun is up in that wintry world;_ - _And the nurse will put in her head_ - _And ask, “Is the pain any better, my dear?_ - _Did you sleep a little? The doctor’s here.”—_ - _Well, so am I here——in bed!_ - -And now it is mid-November, for the weeks have passed by as I lay here, -writing a bit as I could; and I am to be home Thanksgiving morning; not -home in Make-Believe, but home in real Bird Corners, down in Tennessee! -David is there, for good, now, running the farm as he planned, but -helping the Peon in his office, too; and Caro is coming home for -Christmas, and to stay “forever,” she says, in June; and I am to get -well—some day—at home. I can walk quite a little already—twenty yards -sometimes; and the bad days are better than they used to be, and farther -apart. Even Grumpy must admit that good bad days are encouraging! - - * * * * * - -_All_ the people you love in Make-Believe? Not quite all—not Ella. -Somehow I can’t look for her there any more; not since the day the -letter came back unopened. We were together in Make-Believe always -before that. But when I see her again it will be when Make-Believe will -have disappeared, with the world we see, and the real world will be -plain to sight. But everybody else was there—even pious, pompous Cousin -Chad, and foolish, kind-hearted, exasperating Cousin Jane. - -And now it’s day after tomorrow, and the Peon is coming in four days! - - - - - IV - THE DARK O’ THE YEAR - - -_November 30th._ The deepest joys can never be put into words; but lying -here in my own dear room, close under the long windows which form its -eastern side, and looking out across the valley to the familiar hills -beyond, I know there is one spot on the map more beautiful than anything -Make-Believe can show. The Peon and David left me only an hour ago—the -real ones, I mean; and out on the lawn Uncle Milton is pretending to -rake invisible leaves, looking towards my windows every few minutes to -assure himself that I am really here. - -Near the wall of honeysuckle along the pasture fence the cardinal and -his wife are flitting about, just as I left them three years ago; and in -the lilac outside my window, where all the spring-time beauty sleeps -safe in the sheltering buds, a Carolina wren proclaims the triumph of -days to come. His spring song is a bubbling rhapsody of present love and -delight; but his winter song is vibrant with the joy of things unseen. -He sings as one who carries spring in his heart always, as vivid a -reality in December as when all the woods are green. To doubts, -questions and hopes he has one answer, and he gives it joyously under -the darkest skies. Will earth awake again? Will sunshine come? Will life -reign in evident triumph, and winter and darkness pass? _Sur-e-ly, -sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sure!_ The rich notes thrill with the joy of -assurance, and shake him bodily as he stands with up-thrown head and -pulsing throat, wagging from beak to tail. - -But like many another of the sons of the prophets, his gift of open -vision lies close to his love of fun. His tail jerks with a wildness -suggestive of broken gearings in his little insides, as he dashes into -his score again _accelerando_, singing it _da capo_ with a comical -exaggeration of his former style. _Sure-ly, sure-ly, sure-ly, sure!_ He -cocks his head, flirts his tail, gives me a sharp look from his sharper -eye, and whisks around the house in a twinkling. - -And Grace Wood is coming to see me tomorrow! I have been good and waited -until I am quite rested, and now I am to have my reward. But I did not -know until I came home that George died two years ago. There were never -two people happier together than they; and yet she has gone on writing -to me all this time, the same sunshiny, hopeful, heartening letters she -sent me when I first left home. That was always Grace’s way; everything -that came to her, hurt or pleasure, went out from her again only as help -to somebody who needed it. - -I haven’t seen Cousin Jane yet, and David says she’s been simmering for -days and is liable to boil over any minute. She came an hour after I -reached home, though requested to stay away until I sent for her; but -the Peon caught her at my door and turned her back. She insisted she had -something of the greatest importance to explain to me; but the Peon is -an awesome person when he does lay down the law, and she hasn’t been -back since. I can’t help wondering if it is something about Caro—though -it can’t be, for I’ve been Caro’s “mother-confessor” too long to be -learning anything about her from Cousin Jane. Besides, Caro will be here -herself in three more weeks—after all these years and years! - - * * * * * - -_December 9th._ Grace came, her old dear self, unchanged except that the -look of detachment from herself was deepened in her clear, sweet eyes, -and about her smiling, tender mouth. - -We spoke of George as if he were still with her—as indeed I think he -is—and of Milly, now quite grown, and sharing with Caro the honors of -Chatterton belledom. - -We had a beautiful time together, and chatted and giggled as we have -done these forty years whenever occasion offered; and she went away -promising to come soon again if I would keep on getting better. And so I -would have done but for Cousin Jane. She was driving down the pike and -saw Grace, with her own eyes, coming through the gate. She drove on down -the road a bit till Grace was out of sight, and then swooped down on me -like a blackbird on a worm. Josie tried to stop her at the front door; -but she had known Josie from her pickaninny days; and if she hadn’t, it -wouldn’t have mattered, for Cousin Jane is not a person to be frustrated -by darkies. - -She knocked once, sepulchrally, on my door, and opened it on the -instant. She wore her best Sunday air, and eyed me like a familiar of -the Holy Office about to put a heretic through a course of sprouts. - - * * * * * - -“Well, Lyddy,” she began, settling weightily into Grace’s chair, “so you -lived to get back home, after all. I hope you’re as grateful to -Providence as you ought to be.” - -Her tone made it evident that, though she might hope it, she certainly -didn’t expect it. - -“You’ve gone off mightily in your looks,” she continued; “not that you -weren’t always sorter peaked an’ skinny-lookin’—‘slender,’ Letitia used -to call it! Do you think your mind’s gettin’ straight any?” - -“It’s straight, what there is of it,” I said; “but I’m tired just now, -Cousin Jane; I can’t talk very well. You see Grace has been here——” - -“Didn’t I see her?” she demanded indignantly. “That’s why I came. If you -can see a chatterer like her, I reckon you can see me. I told John Bird -I wanted to see you about Caroline.” - -My tired eyes opened at once. - -“What is it?” I asked. - -“Caroline is gettin’ grown-up; she was nineteen last June. I’ve tried my -best to keep beaux and foolishness away from her, but everything in -town, looks like, was after her last summer; and the worst of it was, -Caroline liked it.” - -The corners of my mouth took an upward curve. - -“You wait till I get through, missy, an’ you’ll be laughin’ the other -side of your mouth. Caroline is hail-fellow-well-met with every boy in -this town except David Bird; and she knows perfectly well, for I told -her, that Chadwell and I and you and John Bird intend her to marry -David.” - -The room swam round, and I closed my eyes. Speech was impossible. - -“Good land, Lyddy! Don’t go to faintin’—I didn’t know you were such a -baby. You needn’t get so scared, child. Jane Grackle is pretty safe to -get her own way, and long as your way’s my way you’ll get yours, too. -She’ll marry him yet; young folks haven’t any sense; they need managin’, -and I——” - -“For heaven’s sake don’t try to manage Caro,” I gasped. “And as for -telling her I intended her to marry David—go, before you say something -else that will make forgiveness impossible!” - -Cousin Jane turned purple. I saw that as my eyes closed again. She rose -stiffly, with rustling skirts. - -“If I didn’t know you’d lost what little sense the Lord gave you, Lyddy -Bird, I’d box your ears for your impudence. I’ll go when I get ready, -miss. I didn’t tell Caroline you _said_ you intended her to marry -David—I know you’ve never said a word about it: I just took it as a -matter of course. Chadwell and I feel it our duty to provide for -her—not in money, of course; she has quite a tidy little fortune of her -own, and of course you and John Bird expect to leave David all you’ve -got; they won’t need anything from us. But we want to see her settled: -an’ David’s steady an’ reliable an’ a real good business boy, for all -you’ve raised him so harum-scarum; an’ it stands to reason, with your -keepin’ Caroline all the time like you did, an’ throwin’ away the good -stout clothes I provided for her to waste your own money in fol-de-rols, -an’ good as adoptin’ her, you might say, that you’d picked her out for -David an’ meant to leave them your money. Don’t you?” - -I swept together my floating wits, steadied them with a supreme effort, -and considered for an instant, while I felt Cousin Jane’s angry stare -battering at my closed lids. I must tell her something, and nothing. - -“Caro and David are like our own children,” I said weakly; “we want -their happiness, and nothing else. If they love one another as brother -and sister, it’s quite to be expected, don’t you think? Whatever made -you think we wanted a marriage, brought up as they have been?” - -“Do you mean you won’t leave them the money?” - -“I mean money has nothing to do with it. We expect to do all we can for -them, and to let them be happy in their own ways, not in ours.” - -“Well, any way suits Caroline that’s not my way an’ that makes -mischief—I can see that plain enough, an’ I told her so. I scolded her -good. An’ it’s my opinion David’s in love with her. I caught him lookin’ -at her one day when they were fishin’ down by the mill, an’ I just -happened to go by in the buggy. I couldn’t get a word out of him when I -asked him about it; an’ when I told him I’d given Caroline a talkin’-to, -an’ I’d set my head on his havin’ her, he glared at me as if I was -tryin’ to murder him, an’ told me to let Caroline alone, an’ let her -marry whoever she wanted to. He ain’t been near me since, an’ won’t -hardly speak to me; an’ Caroline behaved like a spitfire when I went to -her about it. But I believe David’s willin’ if she’d be—but she ain’t, -yet. You may as well know there’s goin’ to be trouble when she comes -home. It ain’t like it used to be; an’ you’d better get up out of that -bed an’ be gettin’ ready to help straighten things out.” - -How much longer she would have stayed there I don’t know. Her voice, -near and strident as it was, was drifting off into a world that seemed -far away, when the door opened with soft quickness and David was in the -room. - -Before he could speak Cousin Jane was lumbering away, his eyes driving -her like bayonets. He poured out something and held it to my lips, and -then sat stroking my hand as gently as Caro could have done. And for -days and nights I lay here in the clutch of the old weakness and the old -pain, and scarcely heeding either in the blackness of this new fear. I -have been trying for days to write it all down, thinking maybe I could -face it better so, and find some way of deliverance from Cousin Jane’s -cataclysmic diplomacy. - -That Caro should marry David! Has there ever been a time when I didn’t -hope for it? And I have never said it, even to the Peon himself, for -fear the very walls should carry the secret and make the hope -impossible: and now! If Jane Grackle—but there’s no use railing; when -one’s hopes are in ruins it takes all one’s strength to face the -disaster; if I waste mine in reproaches I shall turn coward, and then -Grumpy will rule my world. - - * * * * * - -_December 17th._ Gray days, with sullen skies which will neither shine -nor storm. The mocking-birds have entered their winter silence, and eye -me indifferently as they hop about under my windows picking up the -crumbs which Josie scatters daily for my feathered guests. They never -come together at this time of the year. Each goes his own path in -solitude as well as in silence. But the flickers are more sociable, and -the wrens are always in pairs. The cardinal and his wife come together -every morning, she gently indifferent as usual, and he the devoted lover -of all the year around. - -Over in the pasture the meadow-larks sing half-heartedly, and a titmouse -protests sturdily against their sentimental pathos. He is pecking at a -magnolia seed tucked under his toes as he sits in the beech at -breakfast. “_Here! Here! Here! Here!_” he exclaims. He believes in -making the best of things, does the titmouse, and holds his crest as -high these dark, raw days as when he goes courting in a world that is in -gala attire for the occasion. - -And if the pain isn’t better yet, the weakness is; and that is always -the worst part of it. I shall be out in my wheeled-chair yet, by the -time Caro comes. And as to Cousin Jane’s nonsense, she may make -mischief—has made it, evidently; but if they’re really made for each -other, as I have hoped for so long, surely an old woman’s foolish tongue -can never ruin their lives. _Sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sure!_ Oh, -bless the little red-brown seer! He tilts on the lilac bush a second, -winks at me distinctly, and is off with a whisk of his tail which says -plainly, “Don’t be more of a fool than you must be, old pal!” and I -won’t. - - * * * * * - -_December 24th._ How full of happiness one’s world can be! Caro is not -much bigger than her feathered namesake out of doors, but the place -overflows with her presence. - -I was afraid Cousin Jane wouldn’t let her stay here after the late -unpleasantness, and was lying on the south porch the other day, trying -to devise some way to make my peace with her, when she drove around the -house and over the grass, and stopped her buggy close to my chair. - -“Oh, Cousin Jane, I’m so glad to see you!” I exclaimed. “I’ve been -wanting to ask you to let Caro come straight to me and stay with us -while she’s at home. I haven’t had her for three years, Cousin Jane; and -I can make it all right with her about David, I’m sure.” - -“I knew you could do something if you were a mind to try,” she said, -with her severest kiss-of-peace manner, which always aroused an -unreasonable combativeness in my unregenerate soul. “I am perfectly -willing, Lyddy, to let by-gones be by-gones. I never bear malice, even -against ill-tempered folks. I came over to say if you’d do what you -could with Caroline, I’d let her stay here. She always was keen to -please you—why, I never could see; but she is; and I’ll not let my -personal feelin’s stand in the way when it comes to dischargin’ my duty -to that poor motherless girl. She can come.” - -“Thank you, Cousin Jane,” I said heartily. - -“You’re welcome, Lyddy, you’re welcome: I don’t hold anything against -you. I want to set you a Christian example: maybe it’ll have some effect -on you, now you’re all broken down with havin’ too much of your own way. -Looks like, with all the afflictions the Lord’s sent on you, an’ old as -you are, you might be learnin’ better.” - -I suppose I am a sinner; but somehow, all my life, whenever Cousin Jane -takes her religion in both hands and tries to ram it into me in her best -pile-driver manner, my own scuttles off and dives into the first -rat-hole it can find; and I have a dreadful time dragging it out again -and making it help me behave. So I took a long look at the blackbirds -under the maple, piously jabbing the English sparrows to discourage -their greediness about crumbs, before I said soberly: - -“I don’t believe the Lord sent me any afflictions. I think He just tries -to teach me how to get the good out of what comes, and to rise by it. I -think that’s one of His special jobs in this world—trying to turn our -afflictions into wings.” - -“Well, we all know you’re sorter half-cracked, Lyddy,” said Cousin Jane, -with a manner intended to be genial. She was evidently bent on not -quarreling. “Just do your best for Caroline.” She gathered up the reins. - -“Cousin Jane,” I said quickly, “don’t say a word more to Caro -about—those things. Please.” - -“I’ll do as I see fit, Lyddy,” she answered stiffly. “Bein’ willin’ to -let you help don’t mean I can trust you to manage things. Well, -good-bye. Do try to get up an’ take some exercise; it’ll do you good. -I’m a worker, myself, an’ always was; an’ you see how strong I am—not -but what I could complain if I wanted to, like some.” She disappeared -around the house, tucking her buggy-robe closely around her with one -hand as she drove. - -So yesterday morning I was out on the front porch, watching the road -with my glasses; and there they came, whirling in from the pike in the -open car, the top being down that I might see her afar off. Caro was -driving, and David beamed beside her, while the Peon beamed on the back -seat. - -The whole place feels her presence, and overflows with her music, her -laughter, her sweet and tricksy ways. She is off with the young folks in -Chatterton now, helping with the Christmas tree at the church; but -before she left she wheeled me out to my cot under the maple tree—or -superintended Uncle Milton’s doing it, while she fluttered about with -the pillows, and scolded us for letting her do all the work. She -scattered crumbs for the birds, just as she used to, and then cuddled -down on the same little stool where she used to sit, her curly brown -head on my pillows. Not Make-Believe any more, thank heaven, but Caro, -and the real Bird Corners! - -We were silent awhile, and then she began to talk—all the loving -nonsense and little intimate confidences that had always come when we -were alone. But not a word of David, nor of Cousin Jane. I could not let -our first talk begin a silence between us, so I told her what had -happened. She had flushed a little at first, but her laughter bubbled as -she kissed me. - -“Sweet Mammy, don’t you think I know Cousin Jane? I knew you never said -it, nor meant it. And I’m sure you’d let me marry the man in the moon, -if I wanted to. I did get mad with her for talking to David—that rather -passed bounds. But David’s a darling, and as sensible as can be. We -thrashed it all out afterwards, and we aren’t going to make ourselves -unhappy because Cousin Jane’s a born donkey and can’t help it. Don’t you -bother about it a minute. We’ll both of us get married some of these -days, and you’ll have four children to love you instead of two.” - -“And there isn’t anybody else yet?” I asked, my face turning to hers as -I lay, and her clear eyes looking into mine. - -“I don’t think there is with David,” she said, considering; “but as for -me—Mammy Lil, would you rather be a young man’s darling, or marry a -very old and rich and apoplectic gentleman, worry him to death fast, and -be happy and independent forever after?” - -“Who is the young man?” - -“Oh, anybody; I haven’t decided; but I suppose I could get one. You know -I wrote you about the boys last summer, and how wild Cousin Jane was. -She was more fun than the boys. You don’t really want me to marry, do -you? I’m having such a good time.” She sat up and waved her hand. -“There’s Milly, and I must go. Now, lie here and be good till I get -back, and I’ll never marry anybody you don’t want me to.” And she ran -down to the gate, pinning her hat on as she went. - - * * * * * - -_December 30th._ Note-books are superfluous when I can have Caro. It is -so good to see one so pretty, so eager, so joyous, so young in body and -soul. She is the very spirit of youth, with her swift, outgoing life, -her quick response to it on all sides, her gay resourcefulness in the -little emergencies of her small world. I forget my body, and all its -pain-worn helplessness, while she dances through the house. It doesn’t -matter so much that I must watch in idleness while the life I love -sweeps by, if somebody else has my own vivid joy in it—a joy unhampered -by weariness or pain. No wonder the girls can’t stir without her, nor -resent it that she draws the boys as honey draws flies. - -I can’t see that she cares to draw any one of them yet, though she -dearly loves to draw them all. She is in that kitten stage which comes -to every girl alive. She wants to play, and she finds the new game -fascinating. What the boys find it doesn’t concern her yet; she is -exploring the possibilities of the game. - -How David feels toward her is more than I can tell. He is as frankly -fond of her as when he used to carry her across the muddy places down by -the brook, and tell her fairy tales while they popped corn by the winter -fire. But as to that look in his eyes whereof Cousin Jane prated—well, -I’ve never seen it; and I rather doubt if she did either. - -Yet somehow I can’t help the uneasy feeling that she has hoodooed my -secret hopes. She never had influence enough to counteract anything -other members of the family might elect to do; but whomever she sided -with was a subject for condolence. She could never be suppressed when -she espoused a cause, and her well-meant activities were invariably -fatal to the best-laid plans. What have I done that, in addition to all -my other afflictions, Cousin Jane should thrust herself upon me as an -ally? I had counted so comfortingly upon her opposition. David was never -fond of her, and it is only of late years that she has ceased to predict -for him a future of State support. It isn’t that she’s fond of the boy -now; it’s because Cousin Chad found out how he managed that affair for -the Peon last winter, and because the farm here at Bird Corners is -becoming one of the show places, agriculturally, of this part of the -State. And if a richer suitor appears she’ll discard David like an old -shoe. - -I confess I am taking great comfort in the very apparent devotion of -David’s old antagonist, Robert White. He is older than David, and is -advancing rapidly in one of the largest banks in the city, of which his -father is an important director. Bob is a nice fellow, little spoiled by -prosperity, and his prospective fortune quite overshadows David’s—in -fact, he is one of the “catches” of this part of the State. He has been -staying out here at his father’s ever since Caro came home, and makes no -secret of the reason. If Cousin Jane becomes aware of him she will -espouse his cause, _con amore_, and my own hopes will have a rosier -appearance. Poor Bob! I don’t bear him a bit of malice; but I must shunt -Cousin Jane off on somebody! - - * * * * * - -_January 5th._ Caro left us last night, protesting as she went, and -insisting that she would come home in defiance of everybody if I had any -more backsets. But we all want her to finish the year under her new -singing-master: her voice is really wonderful, and she ought not to stop -yet. The six months will be gone before we know it; and then she will -come to stay. - -For myself, I have stored up delight enough in these ten days to -brighten this dark January weather for weeks to come. And the days are -already lengthening. Spring is on the way, in fact—and summer won’t be -far behind. - - * * * * * - -_January 10th._ What winter colors could bedeck the world I never knew -until today! - -First came the rain—a soft, misty down-dropping which fell noiselessly -on the half-frozen earth, softening the icy ridges in the road beyond -the porch, till they crunched under Uncle Milton’s heavy feet and -splashed into the water collecting in their ruts. Long before sunset -they wheeled me back to my room, where the thickening clouds shut us -into a twilight gloom, through which the north wind’s voice cut icily. - -By morning the clouds were gone, and with them had vanished the -work-a-day earth. In its place is a world of faery, of glitter, of fire, -of pallid white. Over all the fields the snow lies thick, down to the -very edge of the brook. But above the snow, from the smallest weed whose -skeleton shakes in the bitter wind to the topmost twig of the tallest -tree, is silver and fire and ice. The stubble is all one elfin glitter; -and beyond the gate, along the pike, where dried golden-rod, poke-berry, -mustard, and all earth’s wild outcast beauty blossomed months before, -are billows of frost-wrought loveliness as pure as pearls and as -delicate as the fronds of ferns. - -Overhead the sky is deepest blue, rich foil and background for the -trees, all silver here, all glitter there, and everywhere starred with -flashing points of red and blue and orange, as some jagged point of ice -catches the sunlight and tears it into dazzling shreds of color. - -Deep blue, overhead; but everywhere along the horizon a soft, colorless, -distant sky, across which the half-congealed moisture of the air draw -its dimming yet invisible veil. The hills are pale, aloof; but here and -there the low sun strikes them and smites the glory of their tree-tops -into a halo of pearl and fire about their brows. And what may be the -beauty of life more abundant when the beauty of life withdrawn clutches -the heart like this? - - * * * * * - -_January 13th._ There is nobody to fellowship with today but the -blackbirds and the English sparrows. David is off lecturing at some -farmers’ institutes, and the Peon left this morning for a week’s trip. -Grumpy is here, as usual, and the pain in my spine; but I am not of a -mind to fellowship with them; they can sulk together in the corner if -they want to. - -Eh, but when the dark shuts out even the scandal-mongering sparrows, the -room is a bit empty and lonesome-looking! Grumpy and the back don’t -count; they are both in the skeleton-closet. But the key seems lost, and -they have an unpleasant way of peeping through the crack of the door. -There’s no sense in staying here this night, so it’s ho, for -Make-Believe for me! - - * * * * * - -_January 15th._ When one can’t have the big things one wants, one can at -least play with the little things one has; and in doing so may learn -with growing thankfulness how great a resource a little thing may -become. - -There are so many playthings in the world—no need is left unsupplied. -When one is too ill to think and too weak to look, there are fleeting -glimpses, through half-shut lids, of blue sky beyond one’s windows, of a -drifting cloud, a flash of wings, or the waving of boughs in the wind; -beautiful pictures which return uncalled-for to float above that sea of -pain wherein one rocks, and to steady one with a half-consciousness of -an upper world of beauty and peace, real, though beyond one’s reach. - -And when one can think a little—oh, so many things! One cannot possibly -be cut off from life if one’s heart be in it. It isn’t the moving of -one’s body that counts, but the clasping of life with the heart. We -really live to the exact extent we _care_, and so find the interest with -which every atom and phase of life is stored. - - “_He brought an eye for all he saw._” - -Was ever anything more beautiful said of any one than that? And that is -what I pray for—the seeing eye; that, whether my body be well or ill, I -may enter in at the open doors which swing wide on every hand, and see, -and love, and rejoice; understanding where I may, and happy where I may -not to watch, to learn, to wonder like a child. - - * * * * * - -_January 15th._ The real freedom of life is measured not by one’s -liberty to do as one likes, but by the things one can afford to do -without. And there is no poverty in such freedom: it is through the -enrichment of the inner life that one’s resources grow great enough to -enable one to dispense with the outward things once so necessary. - - - - - V - PREMONITIONS - - -_January 21st._ This is one of those beautiful, balmy days which -sometimes come, late in January, to convince the veriest blind pessimist -that spring is on the way. The chickadees are half mad, flying headlong -from tree to tree, and singing their gay little winter score with an -_abandon_ unknown before. The titmice are whistling cheerily; and the -jays, though not a hint of spring sweetness softens their harsh tones, -are dancing a little in the hackberry as they squawk. The wren is -singing rapturously, as he has done all these sunless weeks, not because -of spring-time and April air, but because love and life are always -present with him, and nothing else matters. - -The mocking-bird is still solitary, wrapped in contemplation, like some -prophet of old. Nor is the cardinal singing yet. But his not singing is -no sign of faint-heartedness. Yesterday he perched in the tulip-tree and -_said_ “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” soberly, decidedly, as if the sweet -reasonableness of good cheer had grown upon him through the dark January -weather. He will be singing it soon. - -There! I’ve been out on the porch, and written in my note-book on a bad -day—the best bad day I’ve had yet; and when bad days are best bad days -Grumpy may as well take a back seat. - - * * * * * - -_January 28th._ Best bad days are all very well; but a combination of -best bad days and Cousin Jane is more grandeur than my feeble frame can -live up to. It has taken me a week to catch up. - -She drove up just as I closed my note-book—quite in time to catch me in -the act. - -“Tsck!” she said in disgust, as she whirled my chair about with a strong -hand and wheeled me unceremoniously into the house. “I suppose you want -to put your eyes out next, and have everybody pityin’ your afflictions -when you’ve made yourself blind layin’ flat on your back an’ scribblin’ -nonsense—poetry, like enough!” Contempt could no further go. - -“I’m sure you never heard of my writing poetry in your life, Cousin -Jane,” I protested meekly. - -“No, an’ I don’t want to. I know just the kind of stuff it ’ud be. But I -don’t see what else you get to write layin’ out there all by yourself, -with nothin’ to see, an’ no sensible occupation to keep you busy. I -never could abide an idler.” - -“When did you hear from Caro?” I inquired. In the interest of peace, a -change of subject seemed advisable. - -“Why, Caroline’s careless about writin’—which of course I might have -expected, seein’ the way you brought her up. But Bob White’s been up -there lately, an’ I saw him when I went to town yesterday. I met him on -the street, while I was goin’ to get my new glasses, an’ he took me up -to the new hotel to lunch.” - -She bridled with pleasure, and I coughed to strangle my laugh of -delight. Bob White paying court to Cousin Jane, without my meddling the -least little bit! - -“We had four courses,” she went on in happy retrospection. “I didn’t -know there was such a nice place in town. I don’t eat much lunch usually -when I go—looks like it ain’t right to waste the Lord’s money just -pamperin’ the flesh, as you might say; an’ besides, I’d rather save it. -I never did hold by spendin’ money for foolishness like you an’ John -Bird.” - -I’m sure the Peon and I haven’t been on the simplest kind of a lark for -years; and when we went it was usually a picnic in the woods with the -children, and the plainest of home-made lunches; but I received this -snub in silence. Cousin Jane plunged on with her news. - -“Bob’s heels over head in love with Caroline—that’s easy to see. It ’ud -be a good match for her, too.” - -“But you said you wanted David for her,” I objected in as dolorous a -voice as I could muster. - -“I ain’t so favorable to David as I was,” she answered frankly. “He’s -got a mighty ugly temper. He flared up at me downright impudent that -time I spoke to him about Caroline; an’ he good as turned me out of your -room one day, without opening his mouth. He’d lead Caroline a hard life. -Of course I didn’t say a word to Bob, but I saw by the way he went on -how it was. A keen business man like him don’t go a hundred miles out of -his way to visit a girl for nothin’. I know.” - -“But you thought David cared,” I pleaded. - -“If he does, let him do somethin’ to prove it, ’stead o’ settin’ like a -bump on a log. I ain’t goin’ to help him another mite.” - -Cousin Jane’s visits certainly add to one’s list of mercies. I’ve been -telling Grumpy all the week that nothing can be very bad as long as she -no longer smiles on David, but afflicts Bob White with her disastrous -friendship. My clouds are silver-lined indeed! - - * * * * * - -_January 29._ The first spring signs the birds give us: we must look -skyward for them, past earth altogether. The next spring signs are -hidden deep, in those dark places where sunlight never comes. For the -violets which empurple the long borders, like the song of the Carolina -wren, are not a sign of spring, but a constant witness to ever-present -life. They bloom every month of the winter, just as the bird sings. The -spring-time message is brought by something of a frailer courage than -theirs—something which must needs retrace steps the violets have never -taken. - -So today, as the Peon wheeled me out to the maple, he stopped at one of -the jonquil beds while I climbed down to brush aside the leaves which -protect the bulbs from frost, and to stir the earth with loving fingers. -Not yet. Life is at work, I know, but too deep down to be seen as yet. I -drew the leaves back again, my hands shaking a little with the joy of -grubbing in the dirt again—real outdoor dirt, that runs clear through -to blue sky on the other side, instead of stopping at a saucer six -inches from the top of a pot. How many years! Would I ever make up for -the lost years, I wondered, and then caught my breath and the Peon’s -hand with a laugh. For the cardinal was singing again—_Cheer! Cheer! -Cheer! A-wet-year! A-wet-year! Cheer! Cheer!_ - -It was a dull, cloudy day; but vision had come to him, and what he saw -he would live up to. He sat on the grape arbor, back of the jonquil bed, -and sang, deliberately at first, stout-heartedly, but with a rising tide -of joy—_A-wet-year! Cheer! Cheer!_ A wet year seems to be his idea of -heaven and spring-time rolled into one. Rain—and swelling life! The -lost years will be made good yet. And shall one grudge the time for -rain? - - * * * * * - -_January 30th._ I ventured on the subject of Caro with David last night, -and find myself wondering many things. The fact that I have always -admitted the children’s full right to reserve from me any secret they -wished to keep largely accounts, I believe, for the closeness of their -confidence. And I didn’t intend to pry now—only to open a way in case -he chose to take it, as I used sometimes to make confidences easy for -him as a child. - -“Bob White is laying siege to Cousin Jane’s favor, Davy, dear,” I said, -using the baby name he still loves in our private talks. “She has sold -him her good-will for a four-course lunch.” - -David laughed a little. - -“Worst affliction could happen to him, I should think. What on earth -does he want with it?” - -“She thinks he’s in love with Caro.” - -“Probably is. Most of the fellows are; and Bob’s nobody’s fool.” - -He had cuddled his brown head under my hand as he sat on a stool by my -bed, and I couldn’t see his face. His voice was so very natural that it -suggested an effort to make it so. - -“Well, I doubt if he displayed any special wisdom when he tried to win -Cousin Jane over—if he tried,” I said. “When you go courting, I don’t -think you’ll spend much time on the girl’s guardians.” - -“Not much time on anybody, you mean, till I get things settled.” - -“And you’d rather I waited with the rest, dear, wouldn’t you?” - -He lifted his head and sat facing me, stroking my hand. - -“I couldn’t talk about it, little Mammy, even to you. But I wouldn’t -mind your knowing about it if you could understand without words. You -have always done that when I couldn’t talk.” - -His eyes met mine fully, his heart unveiled behind them. That is one of -the beautiful things about David’s reserve—the secret door he opens -into it for one whom he truly loves. - -“I do understand,” I said slowly. “But, remember, dear, a woman loves to -be loved. You musn’t have any reserves with her when the time comes. Let -her understand your love is great enough to justify the demands it makes -upon her. If she hurts you at first, don’t try to shield her by letting -her think it’s a light matter. Be as honest with her as you are with -yourself. And you’ll win her, dear; I know you will. And you’ll do it -all by yourself, with no meddling nor helping from anybody.” - -He straightened his broad shoulders. - -“I’ll do it that way or not at all, little Mammy. Suppose somebody -else—even you—helped me to win her; it would be up to me to hold her, -wouldn’t it? And how could I ever be sure of doing it if I hadn’t been -enough for her at the start, by myself? If I’m not enough—if I can’t -make myself enough—I couldn’t afford to have her at all.” - -He rose to his full six feet of height and stretched his clenched hands -above his head. - -“That stool cramps my legs these days,” he said. “I remember how proud I -was when I found I could sit on it squarely and get my toes to the -floor. Legs change, don’t they? But the only way I change is to love -more the folks I love at all. Goodnight, you sweetest mother a boy ever -had.” - -He bent down, rubbing his cheek against mine in the dear caress of his -baby days, and went out. He never was a boy to kiss one; but he always -loved to stroke my hand, and to touch my cheek with his. He always -loved, too, for me to receive his caresses passively; it is only when he -tucks his close-cropped head under my hand that petting from me is in -order. - -So he loves Caro. Half of my hope has come true. And here I lie, -trembling with fear. Is there any greater mockery than a hope wrecked by -a half fulfilment? If Caro—Now isn’t Grumpy a clever imp? I’ve faced -him down and out about the pain for nearly three weeks, and shut him up -in the skeleton-closet with all the gruesome things I’m determined not -to be nagged about; and so he sneaks out on an entirely new tack, and -flaunts David and Caro at me instead of my own spinal column, which is -his customary trade-mark! But if I don’t want him associating with my -own anatomy, which heaven knows is too depraved to be further -contaminated, why should he aspire to the children’s company? And if -David loves Caro, isn’t that proof I was right in thinking they were -made for each other, and that Caro’s love will answer his? _Sur-e-ly, -sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sure!_ Just hear her bird-double out of doors: -Grumpy as a prophet isn’t in it with the little red-brown wren! - - * * * * * - -_February 7th._ Milly came to see me today. Grace has been for more than -a month with George’s mother, who has been very ill. I was lying here -thinking of her as I watched the jays outside, and of what Caro said -when she was at home. - -Caro never could stand Cousin Jason, and has called him Cousin Jay ever -since the first summer we came to Bird Corners. I took her to spend the -day at Grace’s, and she went with Milly and her nurse down to the brook -to wade. The brook divides Cousin Jason’s land from theirs; and the -children, finding some of his hogs in Grace’s pasture, drove them before -them with much laughter and little clods of earth. Cousin Jason, hearing -his squealing beasts, came charging down the hill in a fury and jabbed -his petty wrath straight to poor little Milly’s heart. She was always a -timid creature, like her mother, and, like her mother, unkindness made -her physically ill; so she wept miserably, poor baby, while her -half-uncle stormed. But Caro flamed into wrath as fierce as his own. She -had been feeding the birds that morning, and had jumped from the stool -by my cot afterward a dozen times to scatter the jay-birds, who were out -in unusual force, and bent on pecking off the head of any other bird who -ventured to take a crumb. She sprang in front of Milly now, ruffling -like an angry wren. - -“Go home, you horrid—jay-bird!” she shrieked; “you peck, an’ peck, an’ -peck, _all_ the time! I hate you! Cousin Jay, Cousin Jay!” - -He stared at the mite, speechless, with purpling face. Milly gasped with -fright, and old Aunt Susan, as she afterwards declared, “done choke -herse’f ’mos’ ter death swallerin’ her laff.” - -Caro took Milly by the hand. - -“Let’s go home an’ play party,” she proposed calmly; “we don’t like pigs -and jay-birds.” And back they went. - -Cousin Jason was immensely impressed. He told me about it afterwards, -himself, and declared that he wished Milly had a little of Caro’s -“spunk.” - -He even tried, in his not very happy fashion, to be friends with the -child, and has always treated her with more consideration than any one -else he knows. But Caro will have none of him, and to this day calls him -Cousin Jay to his face. He is a man of large bulk, with a face at once -sharp and heavy, as unlike Grace in body as he is in soul. And I’m -afraid he makes life pretty hard for her. - -When her husband died, Grace was left sole mistress of his estate—which -included, according to our beautiful state law, the plantation she -inherited from her father. But her brother calmly assumed the management -of everything. Cousin Jason is really a Mohammedan born out of due -place. He cannot conceive of a woman’s having mind or soul of her own, -much less rights; and he proposes, in all honesty, to do his next-of-kin -duty by the widowed family fool. Grace, I suppose, was too broken by -grief to realize what she was doing; but in any event she would probably -have given way to him; she spent her girlhood, as she now spends her -widowhood, trying to keep her half-brother in a good humor. She yielded -to him absolutely, even to giving him power of attorney over all her -belongings, and to vacating her own pretty rose-colored bed-room, with -its private bath, on the first floor of her home. Cousin Jay never liked -to sleep upstairs; it was too far from his work, he said. - -He has certainly, the Peon says, made everything pay well; he has Cousin -Chad’s own genius for money-making. But he does not believe in spending -money, nor, of course, in giving it; nor in being bothered with “idle -gossiping women who ought to be at home minding their husbands’ -affairs.” (He is never conscious of a woman except as the appendage of -some man.) So Grace controls neither her own money nor her own home. All -her gracious hospitality, her wise open-handedness to those in need, is -a thing of the past. It is difficult for Milly even to have ordinary -visitors, except in the afternoons; and if it were not for the child’s -other-worldly beauty, before which the judgments applied to most girls -are abashed, one would almost call her dresses shabby. But it is not -easy to think of her dress, the girl herself so charms one. - -She has been telling me a little of her troubles, poor child; they have -been hard to manage in her mother’s absence. Chief among them, as I -infer, mainly from what she did not say, is the difficulty of being -properly courteous to Robert Lincoln, without calling down Cousin -Jason’s boorish wrath on the young man’s head, as well as her own. - -“You see it isn’t as if he were one of us, Cousin Lil,” she said, her -soft cheeks flushed, her eyes large with unshed tears: “he’s a -Northerner, you know, a New Englander. He’s interested in the interurban -lines they’re building and projecting here in Tennessee, and he really -lives in the city—I mean his headquarters are there. And when he comes -down here to see us, why, it isn’t real Southern hospitality not to ask -him to a single meal. But I daren’t. And once Uncle Jason came right -into the parlor and banged the fire-irons around and glared and kept -looking at his watch. And it was only half-past nine, Cousin Lil. That -was just after Caro went back; and he really hasn’t been here since. I -do hate for _Northern_ people to think——” a tear slid down one cheek; -but the slight shrinking of her pretty hand showed me she could not bear -to be petted just now; she did not want sympathy, but help. She -swallowed hard and went on. - -“And you know next morning at breakfast I spoke to him—not to -criticise, you know, nor anger him, of course. I told him not to be -afraid that I would forget his wishes; that I told every one it kept him -awake to have anyone stirring after ten o’clock at night, and that -Mother and I always closed the house then; and I said it was only -half-past nine last night.” - -“What did he say?” - -“Why, he just stormed, like he always does, you know. He said he wanted -to go to bed early. And he got up without eating his breakfast, and -slammed the door and went out. I had to run clear to the barn after him -and beg and beg, before he would come back.” - -“What on earth did you want him back for?” I inquired. - -“Why, to eat his breakfast. He hadn’t had his coffee, and he’d have had -a headache without it.” - -“Milly Wood!” I gasped. - -“Mother always coaxes him back,” said Milly, with gentle finality; “at -least, she always tries. Sometimes he won’t come, and then she takes it -to him herself. You know he has terrible headaches sometimes.” - -“But, dear, if you would only face him down just once.” - -“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Milly, shrinking. “And Mother would never get -over it. You don’t know how she feels about Uncle Jason. She says he’s -never had the best of life, because he never has known the love that can -give its all. She’s sorry for him, and she wants us to make up to him -for what he has missed.” - -“Well, you’ll never do it,” I said. “Nobody but Jason Blue can ever make -good that loss to him.” - -“Sometimes I think Mother ought to require some things of him,” she -said; “but she won’t; and I know I’ll never make it harder for her by -doing what she doesn’t want. But I wish he didn’t live at home.” - -She kissed me, smiling rather forlornly, and went away, while I lay here -wondering about Mr. Lincoln, whom I have never seen. But David and Caro -liked him, which is sufficient passport to my favor. - - * * * * * - -_February 12th._ The mocking-birds have a constant fascination for -me—the charm of a complex nature which touches life on many sides. One -can know a robin by heart in a single season, and predict with one’s -eyes shut the doings of any one of the tribe; but a mocking-bird is a -different proposition. - -His song throbs with the pure joy of living. It is the song of one in -the world and of it, and rejoicing so to be; yet there is in it a -haunting suggestion of aloofness, of mystery, of something beyond one’s -ken. It is as if his joy had deeper foundations than sunshine and -plenty; as if he had lived through pain, clear to the other side of it, -and learned that it, too, is good. - -His powers of mimicry, I think, are greatly exaggerated. He does not -really sing other birds’ songs, as his cousin, the catbird, does; he -merely experiments with their notes—a stave from a thrasher here, a -light-flung oriole measure there, a thrush note, piercing sweet, a bit -of the wren’s summer trill. It is as if he would try life on all sides -and look at it from every point of view; his ear is keen for the music -from every throat. But always, through all this imaginative performance, -he clings to the integrity of his own message. One may hear a catbird -for an hour, and, unless one sees the blithe gray mime among the leaves, -never suspect his real identity. But all a mocking-bird’s borrowed notes -are woven into the texture of his own song, which wholly claims him as -the melody rises, sweeping him with it bodily up to heaven, and carrying -the listener’s heart with him. His is the rapture of open vision, -feathered mystic that he is. - -Now, a bird like that one would expect to be a recluse, dwelling apart -in cloistered green, afar from his fellows and from mankind; but the -mocking-bird flatly declines that rôle. He is a bird of affairs, -friendly and neighborly withal, a haunter of men’s doorways and -house-vines, and a public-spirited citizen who rejoices to succor the -oppressed. For he has a fine, full-fledged temper of his own, and any -amount of fighting blood. He rarely seeks a quarrel; but if one be -thrust upon him, either by aggressions attempted upon his own rights or -by the call of another bird in distress, he accepts the combat with -alacrity, and carries it joyously to a triumphant conclusion. And three -minutes after the enemy is routed his voice floats down from the highest -perch in the vicinity as if he were singing at heaven’s gate. He has -fought for all he is worth, yet not a feather of his spirit is ruffled. - - * * * * * - -_February 15th._ When I can catch Grumpy and call him to his face by his -right name, he always disappears; but blue devils are so very clever at -disguising themselves, and at concentrating one’s attention on their -instruments of torture! - -This morning, for instance, he hid under the foot of my bed, and kept -poking up all sorts of things where I couldn’t help seeing them; the -things the Peon and David need me to get well for; the things I long to -do; the idleness I so desperately hate—for he can make even an -abstraction visible, being a very clever devil indeed. Then he held up -the pain, turning it round and round, and counting off the time like a -clock—minutes, hours, days, months, years, and never an end in sight. I -had to look out of the window in self-defense; and there I saw a -kinglet. - -Except the winter wren and the humming-bird, the kinglets are the -smallest birds we have. But they make up in energy what they lack in -size; and this one dashed about as if his very life depended on his -getting his breakfast in ten seconds and catching the seven-thirty -breeze to Somewhere. Grayish-olive, of course; but was his crown of -ruby-red, or of orange, crimson and black? And why should a mite of the -tree-tops be so inconsiderate as to carry his trade-mark on the top of -his head? - -I was almost in despair about him—for when you meet a bird, it is of -consuming importance to know whose acquaintance you have the pleasure of -making—when he took pity on me of his own sweet will. Perhaps the -breeze was a thought late, and he had a moment to spare: but he perched -on a twig just outside the window, bowed his tiny head toward me, thrust -one claw up between his wing and his body, and scratched the back of his -neck for the whole of one second and a half! - -Golden-crowned! The cunningest striped pate, red in the middle, with a -yellow band on each side, a black band next the yellow, and a white line -over his eye. Then he flung up his head as boldly as though it were -mountain-high, jerked his wee tail-feathers frantically, and squeaked in -the finest and most wiry of voices, the astonishing information that it -was only Grumpy under the bed, at his old tricks—a creature for nobody -to pay attention to. And as soon as he found himself discovered, my blue -devil took himself off. - - * * * * * - -_February 20th._ If I can’t go outdoors, outdoors can come to me! The -windows are all open this morning, and my bed so close under them that I -can lie here and stretch my hand into the outside world, where the lilac -is rapidly leafing and the elms and maples are all abloom. A moment ago -Uncle Milton stepped into view, one hand holding his hat and the other -filled with jonquils. - -“Is you gittin’ er little better, honey?” he inquired. “Hit’s gittin’ -spring-time now, en Milton wants ter see you ridin’ roun’ in dat ar -cheer you got. Ef we-all puts er mattress in it, don’ you reckon we kin -git you down ter de holler by de gate? Des see what come f’um down dat -er way dis mawnin’—dem holler jonquils allus did beat dese yere up on -de hill.” - -He reached the flowers through the window and laid them upon the -bed—the first flowers of the awakening year; for the violets are -ageless, belonging neither to the new year nor to the old. I caught up -the golden beauty with a gasp of joy. - -“Oh, thank you, Uncle Milton! I knew spring was coming true before long! -And I’ll be walking down there when they bloom again: don’t think I’m -going to live in beds and wheeled-chairs forever.” - -His brown old face beamed. - -“Dat’s de talk!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Ef dat ain’t de Forest sperrit -my name ain’t Milton, sho’! You look like yo’ pa endurin’ er de war. You -keep talkin’ dat erway, honey, en feelin’ dat erway, too. Hit’s sperrit -en spunk what cyores folks a sight mo’ dan doctors en physicin, I lay my -little Missy gwinter be runnin’ roun’ yere yet, makin’ ole Milton hop.” -He walked off, chuckling to himself. - -Josie brought me a vase, and I set the flowers in it as flowers should -be set, lovingly, and one by one. It has been years since I have been -down in that hollow, just this side of where the road turns out into the -pike; but I can see it as if I were there this minute—the maples -blooming overhead, the meadow-larks flashing the white of their -tail-feathers as they fly, singing, on the hill beyond; the twigs in the -strip of woodland down the road, shining yellow, tan, and red with the -rising sap. The blue-grass is under foot, soft and thick, and all -through it rise the spears of the jonquil leaves, and the swinging, -golden bells. Along the fence runs the broad band of iris, matted close, -the pointed leaves already taller than the jonquils. Cardinals and -mocking-birds are calling all up the hillside; and down under the -willows and sycamores at the water’s edge the myrtle warblers are -swarming, and thinking of donning their gay spring suits. Oh, I can see -it all, all! A little wind is dancing along the hillside, and the -branches touch one another softly, the dry, scraping, winter sound all -gone. The wren’s spring song is in full blast, the bluebirds are -twittering, and even the jays’ voices are turning sweet. The breath of -life is everywhere, and the joy of it. I can feel the wind in my hair, -and the grass under my flying feet—_My flying feet_! For a moment I had -forgotten. But here are the four close walls, the narrow bed, the -endless, wrenching pain. And I could not walk even to my sofa today, -though the Peon’s life were my reward.—Eh, well, and what of that? Did -I not run in Make-Believe? And shall I shut my eyes to joy and beauty -because my locomotive apparatus is laid up for a few repairs? I may be -walking clear out to the hall again before the week is out, and be out -in my chair on the porch tomorrow. Love and sunshine really are enough, -no matter what Grumpy says—even love without the sunshine: and here are -both, and flowers besides, and the spring-time everywhere out of doors. - - * * * * * - -_February 25th._ Grace was here yesterday. She has a way of dropping in -when she is most wanted and leaving a trail of sunshine behind her. She -is a quiet little body, never hurried or fretted, and she has a genius -for discovering, in the most unlikely places, virtues invisible to the -naked eye. She sees the wrong and mean things, too—she’s not at all a -goody-goody person; but she keeps the wrong and the wrong-doers so -entirely distinct and separate that you wonder how you were ever so -stupid as to confuse them. She’s really devoted to that cranky old -half-brother of hers. She is always commiserating him because he did not -have her mother, and his own died when he was born. She’ll explain and -expound him till you think he really is noble, only he never had a -chance to learn how to do noble things. - -It is certainly a pity, however, that his education is in such a -backward stage. Robert Lincoln and Milly are becoming much more than -friends; and Cousin Jason’s infantile ignorance of other people’s rights -is anything but conductive to comfort under the circumstances. But -Grace’s one idea, as usual, is that dear brother Jason must not be -crossed. He takes it so hard, poor fellow, when things don’t go as he -wishes. And if Mr. Lincoln is as seriously fond of Milly as he professes -to be, he may as well make up his mind to be satisfied with winning her, -if he can succeed in doing it, and not be too exacting with her -relatives. - -Poor Grace! As if I don’t know the kind of young-ladyhood she believes -in Milly’s having, and is simply aching to give her! But evidently -Cousin Jason’s will is to be law. - -The truth is, as I told Grace, Cousin Jason is just like Cousin -Chad—though they’d both foam at the mouth to hear me say it. But -they’ve neither of them any sense of proportion. That’s why they have no -sense of humor, nor power to get their own personalities in proper -perspective with other people and their rights. But why, asks Grace -calmly, shouldn’t we be as sorry for a person born with no sense of -proportion as for a person born with only one eye? Of course the lack of -a sense of humor is harder on the kin than the lack of an eye would -be—Grace admitted that handsomely; but in neither case was the -afflicted party to blame. And didn’t one really deserve more sympathy -when his affliction necessitated his also being a bore? - -We fell to giggling as we discussed this knotty point; and I was so far -converted to Grace’s charitable views that I had Uncle Milton get a -basket of double jonquils for her to take to Cousin Jane. Cousin Jane -always did admire my double jonquils, and somehow her own never succeed. -I like the single ones much better myself; the others, like my revered -relative, are too clumsy and fat. I told Grace to say I sent them to her -on the principle of sweets to the sweet. And now I’ll be having another -visitation, for my sins! - - * * * * * - -_February 27th._ Pitch dark when I woke this morning; and pain to make -one clench one’s teeth. Grumpy is not hilarious company at such times, -but occasionally he helps by overdoing things. - -This morning, for instance, he began about the unendingness of -things—sickness, and the long night, and all that—till it struck me -all at once it really was morning that second, and only looked like -night. Besides, the pain is like this, often, when I don’t feel blue a -bit: so it isn’t the pain that makes me miserable—it’s my own mood -about the pain; and if a seasoned old party like me can’t manage her own -moods, what’s the world coming to? - -Only, sometimes I can’t manage them, and I don’t know why. They sweep -over me like the waves of the sea, and trample me like wild horses. It -isn’t often like that; but when it is, I know I’m in for it—and also -that I’m dead sure to get out of it after a while. I’m lying here—this -racketty old body, with a piece of me, myself, inside it, just about as -miserable as such a combination can get to be. And the rest of me is -hanging around outside, looking on, and saying, “Just lie low and keep -quiet, old lady. It’s tough, but it won’t last. Lay your nose to the -wind and let it howl. If it blows you even on both sides, you’ll get out -of it without being crank-sided, and that’s the best you can do.” So I -lie here; and after awhile the comfort of knowing it’s just a mood soaks -in till I can feel it and get the good of it—and then the storm is -past. I come out of it, too, with my self-respect unimpaired; because, -no matter how it raged inside, I did keep quiet on the outside till it -blew over. - -So it blew over this time also. And after awhile even Grumpy was forced -to admit that it was morning, for all the world was drenched with light. -The long, level beams slipped across the hills as the sun rose, and -touched the tree-tops, one by one; and behold, life had risen—in the -night. Every twig of the tulip-tree was tipped with green where the -great terminal buds had burst their sheaths; and down by the brook a -fairy mist of color clung tenuously about the willows. The mocking-bird -was in a rapture of prophecy in the maple; and the English sparrows were -actually housebuilding in a beautiful hole in the scarlet oak. - -Nobody else thinks of nest building yet; but among the birds, as among -humans, the increase of population is most rapid where one would fain -find it least. These sparrows will be rearing half a dozen families -before the year is out—good, large families, too; and it behooves them -to select their apartment early in the season. That hole belongs to the -wrens, but that’s of no consequence to the sparrows, who have the -pleasant habit of taking whatever they want. - -It must be owned they are a hardworking tribe, even though their works -be evil. If the fathers left their wives to do all the work, after the -bluebirds’ fashion, some of the broods would surely starve; the mothers -would succumb to nervous prostration before all the mouths could be -filled. But the head of the family rolls up his feathers and pitches -right in, from nest building days until frost. Nuisances though they be, -there isn’t a shirker among them; and they will drop their petty -personal squabbles instantly, to make common cause against any bird, big -or little, not of sparrow feather. But they shall not have the wren’s -hole for all that—not while Uncle Milton can climb a tree for me. - - * * * * * - -_March 6th._ The blackbirds are falling in love. Even sensible, lovely -creatures are a bit comical when hard hit by the tender passion. In its -first inflammatory stages it so utterly destroys the patient’s sense of -proportion that one smiles even when one’s heart is aglow with sympathy. -But a blackbird lover, a sleek, slick gentleman, oppressed with more -dignity than an archbishop could carry gracefully, trying to unlimber -enough to convince his _inamorata_ that he desires her favor when he -merely wishes to air his perfections for her dazzlement! - -One flies to a branch in plain sight of the greedy black gang, gobbling -crumbs below, and meditates. Shall he condescend, or shall he not? Well, -maybe she is worth it; and it will display his feathers to an admiring -world. He ducks a little, spreads wings and tail, rises a-tiptoe, and -says something through his nose to call attention to his noble self, -though a compliment may be tacked on in the last note. I know that’s -just the way Cousin Chad did it when he courted Cousin Jane. And think -of the laughterless depths of Cousin Jane’s soul that she found it a -performance to take seriously! Things are pretty much evened up in this -life, after all. It is true Cousin Jane has no back; but think of a -blackbird husband—and of me with the Peon! - - * * * * * - -_March 10th._ Rain, rain, rain. I’ve been examining my mercies this -morning to see which of them can stand the strain of a three-days’ cold -down-pour, a week of almost utter sleeplessness, and a spine that is -conducive to profanity. The mercies look badly frazzled; but they were -all right the other day, and couldn’t possibly wear out as fast as this. -I suppose it’s the same old trouble—my eyes are moth-eaten, and need to -be done up in camphor at once. - -Anyway, it’s a piece of a mercy that if I had to get so much worse I did -it in weather when I couldn’t go outdoors if I were able. It is awfully -cold. Grumpy says it will frost when it clears off, and all the peaches -will be killed. Cheerful, isn’t it, when David’s pet peach-orchard -experiment is in full bloom for the first time? But the peach trees are -like us humans: they never can tell what is ahead of them. They have to -go on in the dark with such capital of good-will and ignorance as they -possess, and take the consequences without kicking. - -I think the titmice might be counted as mercies today. The other birds -have disappeared, but the titmice are as jaunty as possible in their -trim gray rain coats, whistling like boys calling dogs. - -And pray, if a titmouse can keep his crest starched in this down-pour, -why should the spirit of mortal be limp? - - * * * * * - -_March 12th._ If one be born a coward, one cannot help that; and what -one cannot help is no disgrace, but a burden to be carried in patience -to the end of life. - -But in my childhood it came to me that though one be born a coward -beyond escape, it is never necessary to behave like one. That has been -my comfort a thousand times, and it is my comfort tonight—a comfort -great enough to hold me steady in the iron grip of pain. - -Coward I am, and will be, to the end of life. But I have not behaved -like a coward this day! And now the day is ended—lived through forever. -And I can remember it unashamed. - - - - - VI - BEFORE THE DAWN - - -_March 18th._ If the outward pressure of necessity for self-control be -great enough to balance the inward pressure of pain, one can keep fairly -steady. But a week after the Peon left on one of those long western -trips something came up that made it necessary for David to drop -everything and go to Atlanta. He was detained there beyond his -expectations, and then wrote me he must go to New York before returning -home. He begged me again, as when he first left, to send for Grace; but -I did not want her. At first it was a relief to be alone, with no need -for effort or concealment. Afterwards, I did not want her because her -sympathy would have been more than I could bear. - -It wasn’t just the day’s pain, or the night’s—one can usually manage -that somehow. What Grumpy did was to set today’s pain by that of -yesterday, and the day before that; to add last week’s to last year’s, -to the pain of ten years, twenty years, back. He applied his -recollections like a mustard plaster, and rubbed them in like a -liniment. Then he took tomorrow, and next year, and the year after that, -and built them all into one long _via dolorosa_—a life-time path of -pain. I might have stood that; I have before. But beside the pain he set -the idleness—this horrible, useless idleness. That is the killing part! -He set it all before me, as plain in the black and sleepless nights as -in the day: and while I cowered, he gibed and threatened till I feared -to look ahead and dared not hope. And when I tried to run away to -Make-Believe, for the first time in all my life I could not find the -way! That finished everything. - -So I lay still and silent one age-long night, shut fast in my body at -last, the slow tears dripping on my pillow on either side. Suddenly, in -the dawning, a purpose leaped within me; Ella should come to me—here, -in this very room, from which I could no longer escape. If Make-Believe -were closed to me, I would command her here. I would tell her -everything: I could not bear it in silence any more. - -Since we first went to the city I had loved her. And after Great-aunt -Letitia died, until she went North to live, she had been constantly in -my home. And after that—oh, we knew the way to Make-Believe, we two! -Never a day but we met there, for many a year. She knew all about the -pain, though we never spoke of it. It wasn’t merely that words were -unnecessary, but that pain, in her presence, seemed so small a part of -life. Nothing really mattered but love and kindness and happy human -laughter. - -Yet she had never had a real home, nor even a care-free childhood. Her -life had been one long sacrifice for those who took her bounty as their -right. But the laughing blue eyes, the heart of kindness, the sturdy, -sensible, joyous spirit of her, blended of love and humor and common -sense! The children in the streets ran after her, and tired faces -brightened as she passed. - -For three years and a half now I had not seen her, even in Make-Believe, -where I met every one else I love, both living and dead. Somehow I could -not pretend about her any more, after that strange day when my letter -came back unopened—the happy letter I had written to tell her I was -going to a sanitarium to be made over new, so that I could come and pay -her a “really truly” visit on my way home. She never saw the letter. -They sent it back unopened; and I could not play about her any more. - -But now, if I must stay shut in my body, she must come. She should never -leave me. I would tell her every day just how hard life was. And she -would be sorry for me; she would understand. I reached out with all the -life left in me to draw her out of Make-Believe, now shut against me, -and bring her to share my prison, and to hear my complaints. - - * * * * * - -I turned my head upon the pillow and lifted my heavy lids. She was -coming toward the bed. I raised my arms feebly, and her own were round -me. My head fell on her breast, and I lay there, drawing long, sobbing -breaths, while she stroked my hair with firm and gentle fingers. There -was no need for speech: her touch was always plainer than other people’s -words. - -But presently I was aware of a difference in her touch, a something new -and strange. I whispered weakly, without opening my eyes. - -“What is it dear? What troubles you? Why don’t you speak to me?” - -Silence. Only that tender, pitying touch. - -“I knew you’d be sorry for me,” I whispered on; “and oh, I want you to -be! I wouldn’t have called you if it were real, you know—I wouldn’t -hurt you for the world. But nothing can hurt you now. Isn’t Love so -plain to you, and the end of things, and the reasons why they must -be—isn’t all that so shining clear to you that even my being like this -can’t hurt? Tell me about it. I want to know it is clear to -somebody—I’m so far gone in the dark.” - -Still no answer. - -“Then be sorry for me,” I went on, dashing my desperate pleading against -that strange, disquieting silence. “I’ve borne so much. I must tell -somebody, and it isn’t fair to talk about it to them here at home. I’ve -never talked to anybody before, even to you. I’ve never even cried, -never once, except all by myself in the dark. And I’m such a coward -about everything, and specially about pain; I’ve been so afraid of it -all my life. And it never stops. It’s been years, Ella, years and years. -And oh, I can’t bear it any more! You don’t know what it’s like just to -be still and suffer when you can’t _do_ anything. It wasn’t so bad when -I could keep going; I could fight. But now I can’t fight any more. I -want to die. I think God ought to let me die.—I’ve tried; I’ve tried my -best so long. And I can’t try any more.” - -The words were scarcely breathed, and I stopped in exhaustion, the slow -tears dropping on her breast. - -Still she did not speak. Deeper and deeper sank her silence, pressed in -by that strange, tender touch. - -Suddenly I shivered, and my eyes flew wide. Her own were full of love -and sorrow—a sorrow that looked past all my complaints to something -deeper and more vital. I shrank away from her. - -“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t any more; I can’t.” - -Behind the sorrow in her eyes a light was kindled; but it only -frightened me the more. - -“I have tried,” I protested. “I’ve done nothing else the most of my -life. Is there no pity, even in you?” - -Still she gazed; and something in her look called to something dead in -me. I shook my head feebly and closed my eyes; but through the shut lids -her gaze commanded. - -“I have come to the end,” I persisted; “and if you do not understand, -there is nothing left. I can’t try any more, and I won’t. Go away.” - -I gasped as I said it, and opened my eyes again. Her look pierced and -held me like the point of a sword. I turned my head from side to side, -shivering, but there was no escape. The dead thing in me stirred to life -and dragged itself up to look truth in the face once more. - -“Yes,” I said, “It is true. I can’t because I won’t. I thought I -wouldn’t because I couldn’t, but that is a lie. I can endure if I -will—and if I can, I must. But will it never end?” - -She lifted her head a little. Her eyes shone, and a smile curved the -sweet corners of her mouth. It was not the old, brave, happy laughter, -but something wiser and more compelling—the overflow of an exhaustless -joy. - -“You _know_,” I whispered. “You learned it even in your life down here. -And to keep on trying is to conquer, isn’t it?—even though one fails -with every breath. And the only irreparable calamity is to turn coward -and quit.” - -Her face was heavenly sweet. - -“I must never send for you again?” I asked, like a child. “Not to say -things are hard, or to cry?—But if I play, in the real Make-Believe, -will you talk to me there as you used? If I see you there I won’t need -you this way again. Good-bye.” - -Her fingers brushed my hair once more as I lay back on the pillow; and -then I knew she was gone.—O bravest friend! Not even in my own coward -thoughts could your courage be bent to the service of fear; to think of -you was to find strength, even against my will! - -For a long time I lay there, while the slow day passed and twilight -deepened again into night. All her life passed before me—its -selflessness, its courage, its joy. No creature that knew her went -unblessed of her. What gifts pain brought, what power of helpfulness, -what fullness of life and love! - -Suddenly, there in the deep stillness, it was as if the night were drawn -away like a veil; and I saw out to the very edges of the world, and back -into far-off ages, and on into days that are yet to be; and everywhere -was light. And the light came from countless faces; and I knew that to -each one pain had come—pain of body or pain of soul—and because of the -pain they had found the light. And down, under the light, looking up to -it, drawn by it, stumbling forward by it, were those to whom the vision -had not come. And I—was I offered such a fellowship only to run away in -fear? - -The veil of night fell dark again, but a song was in my heart. When -daylight came I wrote it down—the song my friend had given me. It is -called - - _THE INITIATES_ - - _Wide as the world their company,_ - _Many the paths they tread;_ - _Here may a toil-worn peasant be,_ - _Yonder a crownèd head._ - _Famed or unknown, each one must fare_ - _Forth on a bidden way;_ - _That which awaits no man may share,_ - _Lonely ’mid throngs are they._ - _Yet comrades all they come to be:_ - _Far-sundered, yet one line,_ - _They march in this great company,_ - _Deep in their souls its sign._ - - _How shall ye know them? Some there be_ - _So wasted and worn and weak,_ - _So anguished in body, ye all may see_ - _They bear the sign ye seek._ - _But some in this brotherhood there be_ - _Who in such secret wise_ - _Meet suffering, no man may see_ - _Wherein their sorrow lies._ - _Their laughter rings out true and free,_ - _Ye look for the sign in vain,_ - _Nor guess they are of this company,_ - _Marked with the mark of pain._ - - _Thus shall ye know them: On their eyes_ - _Falls the light of things unseen;_ - _Their pain-cleared vision sweeps the skies_ - _And the hearts of men, I ween;_ - _The things that pass, and the things that remain,_ - _Lie open to their sight,_ - _And that which they learn as they dwell with pain_ - _Gives strength to the world, and light._ - _Patient, and wise, and glad they be,_ - _Rich with love’s own increase—_ - _They of this world-wide company_ - _Who suffer, and find peace._ - - _Freed as by fire? Yet the fire shall pass,_ - _And the freedom shall stand for aye;_ - _And what would be the hope for the mass_ - _If these should shrink in dismay?_ - _So may I cast aside all fear;_ - _So may my soul aspire;_ - _So may I climb pain’s pathway drear_ - _To heights of my soul’s desire._ - _And there, with heart grown wise to see,_ - _Counting nor loss nor gain._ - _May I serve with this brave company_ - _Who bear the mark of pain!_ - - - - - VII - SPRING MAGIC - - -_April 2nd._ The Peon came home ten days ago, and David a day later. -They looked as solemn as owls, and developed a tendency to neglect their -business and sit in my room which was fast getting on my nerves. So I -rose up and put a stop to it. You simply can’t lie still in peace when -your eyes won’t stay open, if you have any consciousness that somebody -is watching you while he’s pretending to read a book. And I don’t need a -doctor. I’ve been like this, and worse, a thousand times, and the Head -said when I came home I was bound to get well crab-fashion—going -backward lots of the time. So I laid down the law that if my eyes were -shut and I didn’t speak when they opened the door, my family was to be -sensible and go away. - -That was why I didn’t look when the door opened one day last week. I was -thinking of all the Head had said about backsets, and how, when they -ended, I would come out of them more and more quickly, and they’d be -farther and farther apart; and I was wondering how fast I’d go, once I -had finished with this one. When the door opened I hadn’t the energy to -spare for talking—I needed it for my cheerful speculations. But, -instead of going away, my visitor came quietly in. Then I heard a little -gasp, a soft rustle beside me, and little warm hands caught mine—Caro’s -hands! She was there on her knees, her face hidden in the bedclothes, -and crying as if her heart would break! Caro crying was a sight to -galvanize a graven image: I sat up straight in the bed and drew her to -me. - -“Dear, what is it?” I implored. “Tell me quick: I’ll fix it!” - -She bubbled with laughter as she caught me in her arms and eased me back -on the pillow, dropping a tear and a kiss on my nose. - -“You darling! If you were at your own funeral and heard one of us -crying, you’d hop right up and straighten things out for us, wouldn’t -you? There’s not a thing the matter with me except I’ve been so homesick -for you all winter I couldn’t stand it any longer: and now I’m crying -because I’m so glad I’m home.” - -“But Caro——” - -“Don’t ‘Caro’ me and don’t ‘but’ me, for I’ve come to stay. Mammy Lil, -you’re an accomplished liar; but when your writing kept looking like -chicken-tracks, I knew better than to believe a word of your sprawly, -rickety tales that trailed all over the sheet. And I _hate_ music. And -besides, I can drive the family to drink with what I know already.” - -“But Daddy Jack, dear, and Cousin Jane.” - -Caro laughed again. - -“Daddy Jack says he wrote for me yesterday—after I’d started, all by my -smart self. And I’ll tell Cousin Jane after a while. She’ll have -something brand-new to lecture us about for the next twenty-five years. -I feel like Carnegie and Rockefeller rolled into one: it isn’t often she -gets the benefaction of an enormity like this, is it?” - -It had been a cloudy morning, dark, and wet with the night’s rain; but -now the sunlight swept across the hills and up from the branch, and -struck through the soft colors shimmering about the trees like rainbows -in a mist. The Peon and David tiptoed in, beaming. - -“You’d better let us go by and break the news to them at Cousin Chad’s,” -said David; “you’ll get a shock over the ’phone if they aren’t -prepared.” - -“I’m going over there this afternoon,” said Caro calmly. “I’m going all -by myself and engineer Cousin Jane through the boiling-over process; -she’ll be all right when she settles down to a simmer. Now get out, both -of you: Mammy Lil and I want to rest.” - -She slipped into her kimono and stretched herself beside me, holding my -arm across her breast and stroking it with a light touch which expressed -everything without words. Once in awhile she talked a little in her own -sweet, whimsical way, and then lapsed again into the silence of utter -content. - -I turned my head to speak to her presently, and found her gone. The -shadows, which had been dancing up toward the house when the sun came -out, had lengthened all down the lawn to the valley, and across it to -the hills on the other side. I lay watching them with that long-lost -sense of refreshment which follows unbroken sleep. Down by the gate -David was letting in Caro’s pony-cart and climbing to a seat beside her. -Presently their laughter floated through the windows, and then she was -in the room again, perched on the window-seat by the bed. - -“I’m trying not to be proud, Mammy Lil,” she observed in a chastened -voice; “but Cousin Jane is done to a turn, and almost cool enough to set -away in the cellar. She’s pleased with me, too; she said if she just -could have kept Lyddy from meddlin’ she believed she could have raised -me up to be a real comfort to her. Why didn’t you let her? She gave me -some outing cloth to make into petticoats for a missionary box that’s to -go west. Who but Aunt Jane would bestow fuzzy petticoats on missionaries -in the spring? But she bought the stuff at a bargain sale for four cents -a yard, and feels that it’s providential; and we can put in plenty -ourselves to make up for it.” - -“And she won’t fuss about your staying here?” I asked anxiously. - -“Why, of course she’ll fuss; how could she get any fun out of it if she -didn’t? But she’s fussed all she’s going to right now; and next time -I’ll make some more petticoats, or cut down her fifth-best winter coat -for one of the little missionaries to wear on the Fourth of July. -——Don’t look so horrified, Mammy Lil; you know I’ll never let it get -in the box! Now lie still like a good child till I fix your supper. I’m -going to feed you myself,” and she fluttered away, singing under her -breath. - - * * * * * - -_April 5th._ Caro is in the window-seat, feather-stitching the -missionary petticoats, with one eye on the birds in the yard. The jays -have always roused her special ire; and yesterday one flew to the -hackberry, in plain sight, with a little naked nestling dead in his -wicked bill, tucked it coolly under his toes against the bark, and -devoured it before our eyes. This morning, in the intervals of -courtship, they have diverted themselves with crumb-snatching. They sit -on a limb above the scattered morsels where a dozen or more birds are -feasting. There is bread in abundance for all, but the jays love -hectoring even better than eating. One will watch till some bird picks -up a crumb, and then drop like lead upon his astonished victim. The -unfortunate drops the crumb, of course; and before he collects his -scattered wits the jay is back aloft with the morsel safe under his -toes, picking leisurely. Caro sat laughing and scolding till a little -red-brown wren flew down and was pounced upon in a twinkling. The wren -dropped his crumb, but turned upon the bully with lightning quickness -and a volcanic explosion of wrath utterly out of proportion to his size. -The big bird, amazed at the onset, flew up to his perch in a panic, and -Caro clapped her hands. - -“Oh, grand! grand!” she cried; “don’t I wish Milly Wood were here to -see! I told her yesterday if she’d lay Cousin Jason out she could manage -him: and just look at that blessed wren.” - -“Milly isn’t a wren, though,” I said: “she hasn’t a glimmering of the -wren’s gift of speaking his mind. Look at the wood-thrush, dear; you see -the difference? When the wood-thrush turns on a jay, I’ll have hopes of -Grace and Milly—and not before.” - -The two wood-thrushes have been in the yard for days, the shyest, -gentlest of creatures, ready to fly off at the flutter of a leaf. They -have not touched the crumbs yet, but hop nearer every day. The jay -watched one of them extract a worm from the soil, however, and lit upon -him plummet-fashion. The wood-thrush dropped his half-swallowed morsel -and fled in a panic to the black ash, where my glasses revealed him, his -breast feathers bristling with terror, a mere puff-ball of fear. - -“That’s Milly,” I said. - -“But, Mammy Lil, anything can run a jay if it will only stand up to -him,” persisted Caro; “I don’t see why Milly submits to it. She can’t -ask Mr. Lincoln to a single meal. When he comes out in the afternoon he -has to motor all the way to Chatterton for his supper and then go back; -and Cousin Jay goes in the parlor when he does come, and glares at him -and looks at his watch, and yawns—he’s simply insufferable. I’ve asked -them both over here; Milly can stay all night, you know. But she says -she won’t dare to come often, or Uncle Jason won’t like it. Not like it, -indeed! I wish he belonged to me—I’d ‘uncle’ him!—There, that -petticoat’s all ready to proclaim Cousin Jane’s thriftiness in clothing -our dear missionaries on the frontier. I’ll make them for the sake of -family peace: but I’m blessed if I’ll take them to church to be packed: -she can escort her offering herself.” - - * * * * * - -_April 8th._ - - _COMPANIONSHIP_ - - _Afar in heaven is Love? Ah, no!_ - _Follow the path where wild-flowers blow;_ - _Store in thy heart the songs which swell_ - _From wayside hedgerow, wood and fell;_ - _Mark where the young year’s opening leaf_ - _Answers the wail of doubt and grief,_ - _And where, fresh burgeoning after rain,_ - _Life learns the inner heart of pain._ - _Let care and passion sink to rest,_ - _Calmed ’neath wide skies on earth’s green breast;_ - _And hearken while the steadfast hills_ - _Breathe strength to fainting human wills._ - _And through this changing, fair disguise_ - _Know thou Love’s voice, and meet Love’s eyes!_ - - * * * * * - -_April 10th._ Out on the porch again, in the warm, sweet air, with all -birddom for company. Caro has gone driving with Bob White, after -wheeling me here for my own pleasure and for the Peon’s astonishment -when he comes home. - -The robins have a secret in the seven-trunked maple. The leaves are so -thick no one could guess it except by their vigilance in guarding the -tree. They have made a law that no jay, of any age, sex, or size, shall -alight in it, nor poke his bill among its branches, nor brush it with -his wings in flight; and the law they have promulgated they are ready to -enforce. Dark and bloody tales are told of jays—tales of cast-out eggs, -of murdered babies, and stolen nests; wherefore no jay shall frequent -that maple, “then, since nor henceforward.” Hence, wild curiosity among -the jays, agitated caucuses in the pasture oak, and unanimous decision -to visit that maple at all hazards, singly, and in groups. They watch -till the robins are at some distance, and fly up to the tree on the far -side, three or four strong, while the robins, their backs to their -threatened castle, drag forth reluctant worms by the middle. They seem -absorbed in their hunt, but they know! In the twinkling of an eye they -are at the maple, and no jay may abide their coming. - -Nor will the robins, after these aggressions, tolerate the jays -elsewhere. They may be pecking at the foot of a tree when a jay alights -noiselessly in its topmost branch. They see, apparently, through the top -of their skulls; and one jay or six, it is all the same to them. They -dash up with the _élan_ of a picked regiment, and again the jays shriek -and fly. Not a jay has pecked on this lawn this whole afternoon, nor -roosted while the robins pecked. Time and again they have sallied in -from the pasture, and as often they have dashed squawking back. It is a -strenuous life for the blue-coats: but it certainly keeps things -peaceful for the rest. The wood-thrushes have ventured near today, and a -pair of chippies have come up on the porch, almost to my chair. - -Yesterday evening a dozen mocking-birds were here on the lawn, singing -singly, answering one another, and joining again and again in choruses -that whelmed the grove in melody. - -I lay in the growing twilight listening to them and thinking once more -of all that passes, and of all that can never pass, when suddenly -through the closing dark came the wild, sweet song of the wood-thrush, -the first I had heard this year: _U-o-lee! U-o-lee!_ The three notes -form a perfect minor chord; and at their end a sudden spray of rapid -tinkling notes, and the song again repeated, and again. - -They say the thrushes have two sets of vocal chords, long and short, and -the double vibration accounts for the splendid richness of their tones. -But when those wild, appealing notes call through the gathering darkness -one thinks, not of anatomy, but of the _Sursum Corda_ in a church, and -of all the souls who shrink before some cup of suffering and yet accept -it, not merely with courage, but with clear vision of the joy beyond. - -Up from the brook the song came, and far out on the road it was -answered: _U-o-lee! U-o-lee!_ What magic fills the haunting notes with -subtle suggestions of human weakness, of trembling courage, of faith no -suffering can slay? And when they ceased, the mocking-birds took up the -theme and carried it, far into the moonlit night, to its inevitable and -triumphant conclusion—the song of the victor on the heights who has -conquered in the lowest depths. - - * * * * * - -_April 19th._ Cousin Jane insisted on Caro’s going to town with her -yesterday, ostensibly to do some shopping, but really, I think, to give -Bob White a chance to take them both to lunch. Bob comes out pretty -often, and is as assiduous in his attentions as Caro will permit. I -cannot see that she especially favors either him or David. She goes more -with David, but her attitude toward him is so frankly affectionate that -it is not as encouraging as it might be. He meets her quite on her own -ground, and appears entirely satisfied. Everybody, in fact, seems -contented except Bob White and Cousin Jane, to whom Bob pays strenuous -court. Caro went with her to town with her usual light-hearted -acquiescence in any plan proposed. She takes life as it comes, and makes -a joyful occasion of the most commonplace happenings. But before she -would agree to go she made Milly promise to come and spend the day with -me: and this morning the two of them, with the Peon’s and David’s -assistance, escorted me out to the maple tree in a triumphal procession, -and established me on a cot in the real outdoors. - -Milly scattered the crumbs for me, and sat by my cot with her -embroidery. I thought the others were off for the station when Caro came -flying back, pinning her hat on as she ran. - -“Mammy Lil, Milly needs some lessons in ornithology. Prod some of the -birds till they chase the jay: and be sure you tell her what turncoats -the rice-birds are.” Her eyes danced. - -“The rice-birds?” I inquired stupidly. “Why should I tell her about -them? They’re not here anyway.” - -“One of them’s here,” she said gravely; “I’ve seen him. - - ‘_Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed_’— - -“Beware of bobolinks, Milly: they’re worse than jabberwoks;” and she -dabbed a little kiss on the end of my nose and was off. - -Milly flushed to the roots of her hair, looking at me shyly. - -“He and Caro are great friends,” she said; “you know she’d never joke -about him if she didn’t like him. She calls him Reedbird, Rice-bird, and -Bobolink, and says that so many _aliases_ are sure proof of villainy. -Sometimes when she begins to discourse on birds before Uncle Jason she -scares me out of my wits. But luckily he doesn’t know one bird from -another, except the ones that bother his crops. To think how he has -lived in the country, all his life, and never seen anything in earth or -sky except crops and money! I do feel sorry for him, Cousin Lil; but I -can’t feel as sorry as mother does, because I get so angry with him. -He’s—he’s insufferable sometimes.” - -“Why don’t you make him behave?” I asked. - -Her face paled. - -“Make him?” she repeated wonderingly. “How on earth could anybody make -Uncle Jason do anything? Caro calls him jay-bird, and that’s just what -he is.—Look there!” - -The thrushes were actually breaking bread with me this morning; and as -Milly spoke a jay dropped from his hiding-place overhead, and managed to -light on both of them at once as they pecked peacefully side by side. -They dashed madly away and dropped under the beech, panting, their -breast-feathers bristling with fear. - -Milly was quite white. - -“That is what he is like, even when you’re trying so hard to please -him,” she said. “I can’t imagine what would happen if you opposed him.” -Her underlip quivered a little, and her eyes filled with tears. - -“I’ll show you what would happen if that jay will just hang around here -till a catbird comes,” I said. “There are plenty of them about, and a -catbird stands no nonsense from anybody.” - -The jay elected to remain. He chased the cardinal, and tormented the -thrushes till they flew away to the brook. Then he perched overhead, -preened his feathers, and surveyed the world with an air of impeccable -virtue,—tyrant and Pharisee in one. Presently, after the fashion of his -kind, he began to peer and pry, leaning forward and thrusting his bill -out with an evident intention to stick it into the business of the first -neighbor who happened in reach. - -It was just then that the catbird came for his lunch. The jay perked his -head eagerly, thrust out his meddlesome beak, dropped to the innocent’s -back, and lit there with vicious pecks. The catbird, panic-stricken, -scrambled out and dashed to the hackberry, while the jay gobbled in true -jay fashion, and I lay feeling that Providence had slapped me in the -face—an overhasty conclusion, as our criticisms of Providence -frequently are. The catbird, after due meditation, came back to the -maple, and delivered his opinion of the jay in vitriolic language. The -jay, scornfully unheeding, flew to a neighboring limb, tucked a big -crumb under his toes, and proceeded to eat it. The catbird returned to -his lunch; and when the jay dropped again, he hopped sideways, turned, -and faced his tormentor. He spread out his wings and tail and began -dancing furiously up and down, as if he were set on springs, not moving -an inch from his place, and uttering discordant cries. The jay gave back -amazedly. The catbird hopped a hop nearer, resumed his dance, and -repeated his former remarks. The jay backed; the catbird hopped nearer, -and danced. The jay dashed up against the maple trunk, where he clung to -the bark like a woodpecker, looking down apprehensively, while the -catbird continued his dance and his deliverance on jay manners. It was -more than the bully’s nerves could stand. In another moment he was off -to the pasture, and the catbird’s ruffled plumage lay sleek again as he -turned back to the crumbs. - -Milly was pale with excitement, her eyes wide. - -“Do you think—” she breathed, and paused, afraid of her own question. - -“I know it,” I said confidently. “Just try it awhile.” - -“But mother,” objected Milly; “you know he’d take it out on her.” - -“Isn’t your mother going to stay with your grandmother some time next -month, while your uncle and aunt take that trip North they’re planning? -Do it then.” - -The child was absolutely white. - -“I—oh, I couldn’t, Cousin Lil! If I began, I’d be afraid to go on. He’d -make me give in.” - -“Your mother won’t go for several weeks,” I said easily; “don’t look so -frightened. There’s nothing to be done today.—What a pretty pattern -that is you’re working; let me see.” - -We sheered away from Cousin Jason, and took up the subject of Robert -Lincoln’s perfections, which proved numerous. Then we had lunch under -the maple; and when the Peon came home Milly went back. - - * * * * * - -_April 21st._ Caro telephoned me she would stay all night at Cousin -Jane’s, and did not come home till yesterday noon. I was out under the -maple again, and watched her through my glasses, as she drove in from -the pike in Cousin Jane’s buggy, with a small darkey beside her to take -the horse back. The buggy was loaded with bundles, which she toppled out -on the grass beside me before jumping after them herself. She sat on the -edge of the cot, and plunged into her tale and her packages together. - -“Do you know what took Cousin Jane up to town, Mammy Lil? She’d seen an -advertisement of one of those cheap stores down on Union Street about a -sale of all-linen handkerchiefs for three-and-a-half cents, only twelve -to a customer. And she traipsed all the way to town to invest forty-two -cents in handkerchiefs for the missionary box—two for the mama -missionary and two each for the five kids. Wouldn’t you just love, if -you were a little kid missionary, to have two whole -three-and-a-half-cent handkerchiefs of your very own—a fresh one every -week of the world? Mammy Lil, sometimes I’m real fond of Cousin Jane, -cranky as she is, and sometimes I want to slap her. But I didn’t: I just -bought some decent handkerchiefs, so they can use Cousin Jane’s for -window screens—they’re coarse enough. Then Bob White turned up and we -went to lunch. They both pretended it was an accident, but I don’t -believe it; and Cousin Jane frisked like a rhinocerous, and was so -pleased ‘over our little tête-a-tête,’ as she was pleased to call our -triangular lunch, that I nearly died. And Bob was—no, it wasn’t Bob; it -was I. I was just cross. So I wasn’t a bit nice—you know I really can -be horrid, Mammy Lil, when I put my mind to it. I’m sorry; I’ll make it -up to Bob next time I see him; but Cousin Jane is such a donkey! -Goodness knows, though, I paid for that in full!” - -She broke into rippling laughter. - -“What did you do?” - -“Why, she was just huffy—awfully. She’d hardly speak to me; and I was -in such a good humor again! We’d gone back to the stores, and I’d bought -some lovely lawns—one for you, and one for me, and one for Mrs. -Missionary. Let me show you.” - -She jerked a bundle out of the pile and displayed her purchases, her -head cocked meditatively on one side. - -“Yours is lavender and mine pale green. They’ll have lots of lace on -them, and we’ll both look ravishing. I got Mrs. Missionary a blue. My -instinct is that she’s sallow and red-headed; so I resisted the -blandishments of a pink one that was two cents a yard cheaper, and -bought this. Cousin Jane says it will fade. But that was after I -pacified her: she wouldn’t speak before.” - -“How did you manage it?” - -“Why, I told her I was sorry I was cross—I really was—and I said I’d -go home with her and make Cousin Chad one of those frozen puddings. I -didn’t dare offer to make it for her, but she eats as much of it as he -does, which is saying a good deal. She softened visibly; so we hurried -for the first train, and I worked like a black slave to get it done in -time. They ate like anything, and I let them both give me good advice -till bedtime; and this morning I made the butter for her, and we parted -like twins.” - -I laughed and patted her hand. She raised one eyebrow and looked -thoughtful. - -“Cousin Jane and Cousin Chad think it’s time I was married,” she -observed. - -“To whom?” - -“That’s a secondary consideration, though important. But Cousin Jane was -married at sixteen. I’m already an old maid of twenty—or will be next -month; and if I go off in my looks, I won’t find it so easy to go off -matrimonially. Besides, I’m flighty and bad tempered, and a husband will -be good discipline. And Bob White is a very nice young man who would -probably put up with my temper more than most. And he’s rich. And Cousin -Jane thinks if I try hard enough maybe I can get him. What do you think -of it, Mammy Lil?” She pursed her mouth and frowned judicially. - -“I think Jane Grackle’s a goose—and you’re another,” I said, laughing. -“There comes David. Call him to wheel me back to the porch.” - - * * * * * - -_April 29th._ Summer is coming everywhere. The pasture fence is a long -wall of bloom, and the odor of honeysuckle fills the air. A wonderful -place for bird-babies that will be soon! For ten days the roses have -been blossoming, and Uncle Milton’s flower-beds are beautiful to see. -And I—the earth isn’t the only dead thing that rises into life! There’s -another miracle coming to pass: for I am getting well! - -All this month I’ve held my breath like a coward, and turned my head, -afraid to look joy in the face. It has come near so often before; and -each time the pain has snatched me back and bound me hand and foot. So I -said I would never inflict on myself the agony of disappointment again. -But I just can’t live up to that foolishness, and I’m so glad I can’t. -If this isn’t the ending, but just a blossoming oasis in a desert way, -shall I miss the joy of that? It’s nearer the end than the last one was, -anyway, and better and brighter and bigger. If it isn’t fulfillment, it -is prophecy, and that’s the next best thing. Some day it will come—the -Head said so. I am to be part of life again—I! I! Some day I shall go -in and out again among my kind, with power enough of living in me to -make hours atone for days, and months for years. Nothing shall pass me -that is mine! It is human life I want, not birds and trees and flowers: -they’re beautiful, but they aren’t enough—I can afford to let myself -say it now, because the other is so near, so near! I used to be part of -life here, long, long after I was sick: there was nothing I couldn’t -help about, nobody who didn’t smile at me as I passed: in every face I -saw a memory of kindness given and received. And I’m going back to it, -to my real life.—Ah, soon or late, what matter? _I’m going back!_ -Though a thousand downfalls be in the way, I’ll make it yet: and be this -fulfilment, or only prophecy, I open my heart to joy! - - - - - VIII - BLACKBIRD DIPLOMACY - - -_May 9th._ Something is dreadfully wrong with Caro, and for once she -does not give me her confidence. She went to Milly’s night before last -quite her own bright self, and came back to lunch yesterday another -creature. A shower came up just after lunch, so I lay on my porch sofa -until it passed, with David and Caro for company. I imagine things had -gone wrong at the table. I saw, by Caro’s bright color and the high way -she carried her pretty head when she came home, that trouble was brewing -for somebody, and she probably found David’s sunny and unsuspicious good -humor the negative complement of her own surcharged spirit. There had -been at least a minor explosion; for when they came out to me they were -both making an effort to appear quite like themselves. But Caro’s eyes -were danger-signals; and, though David smiled and his voice had its -usual deep evenness, his eyes kept a furtive and brooding watch on hers. -She seemed in the gayest of spirits, yet there was some jangle in the -mirth which had always rung sweet and true before. - -The thunder was rattling overhead, and the wind-blown curtains of the -rain shut out the hills beyond. David walked to the end of the porch and -studied the clouds for a little before he came back. - -“I was afraid this storm would spoil the drive you promised me -yesterday,—” he began. - -Caro’s eyes sparkled. - -“You need not resort to the weather as an excuse,” she said, “I don’t -want to go at all.” - -David stared, and a slow color burned under his tanned skin. Then he -looked half-amused. - -“Caro must have been having some kind of an extra tilt with Cousin -Jason, Mammy Lil,” he said, “and she thinks I’m an old jay, too, and -keeps ruffling her feathers at me.—I was about to say that the sun -would be out inside of an hour, and by five o’clock the roads will be in -the pink of condition. I’ll show you what Peggy can really do in the way -of speed.” - -“I told you I don’t want to go,” said Caro, angrily. - -“I beg pardon,” said David easily; “you told me you would go. I couldn’t -possibly be mistaken.” - -I was looking at Caro in open-eyed amazement. She had never spoken to -David that way in her life—nor to any one since she had ceased to be a -child. She caught my look, and colored deeply. Then she cuddled her face -against mine so that neither David nor I could see it. - -“Dear Mammy Lil, don’t look as if you didn’t know me,” she said, with a -sudden little catch in her voice; “I’ve always told you I’m hateful, and -you won’t believe it; when I convince you, don’t quit loving me.” - -“You silly child,” I answered, patting the red-brown coil of curls; -“I’ll never quit loving you, whether I’m dead or alive. But I was afraid -you weren’t well.” - -She laughed and pecked my cheek. - -“I’m well as ever was.—Have Peggy ready, David: I’d like to go sixty -miles an hour.—Oh, dear, I’m losing all my hairpins!” - -She wasn’t at all. But she caught her hair with both hands, and vanished -through one of the long windows. David looked after her with the set -look which I had learned to know when he was little more than a baby. -Then he, too, kissed me, and walked away, after putting the stand with -my bell and a plate of biscuits on it close beside me. - -I lay there puzzled and troubled. The rain stopped presently, and I -crumbled the biscuits and flung them out on the grass, watching the -birds idly. - -Promptly at five David drove round with Peggy, his favorite mare, her -beautiful head held as high as Caro’s own, and as free from torments of -check-rein and blinders. She shone like satin, and stepped with a proud -consciousness of her own worth and her master’s confidence in her. David -sat chatting with me during the ten minutes Caro kept him waiting. She -had on the pale green lawn when she came out, and a most fetching hat -which she had herself concocted to go with it. I beheld her adornment -with dismay. The lawn was more lace than lawn, and I knew she had -planned it for what she called a “partyfied” dress. She usually went -driving with David bareheaded, and in whatever garments she happened to -have on. Her finery boded him no good; and I realized with a sinking -heart that if I had had the wit to keep my astonishment out of my face -she would have stuck to her first refusal, and the drive would have been -postponed to a more auspicious day. David was riding to disaster—and I -had opened the way. - -It was almost dark when they came home, and I had been back in bed for -some time. Caro came in looking distractingly pretty, and sweeter than a -naughty child should. I knew by the lavish bounty of her caresses that -she had treated David very badly indeed, and was torn between a desire -to take her in my arms and get the whole story out of her, and a wish to -set her in the corner till she should return to her normal state of -mind. But I remembered what I had promised David months ago, and -repressed my itch to meddle. She had always confided in me before, and -unless she did now I must be dumb. - -David, I did not see until morning. He had brought Caro home and had -returned at once to Chatterton, sending me word he had an engagement and -would not be at home until after I was asleep. It was after midnight -when I heard him come in. This morning he came to my room as usual, but -his eyes looked as if he had not slept. I pretended to see nothing, -because he wished it.—But what had happened to Caro? If she had been at -Cousin Jane’s I might have suspected some mischief-making; but she went -only to Grace’s. Whatever caused the change, it goes deep. She has been -in her own room all day, and I have not even heard her sing. - - * * * * * - -_May 12th._ Caro has left us and gone to Cousin Jane’s—gone there to -live. She went day before yesterday, and I have felt too stunned to -think. - -She stayed in her room all day, except at lunch time, and came out late -in the afternoon, looking white and tired, but with that same danger -signal in her eyes. I was under the maple, and she sat on the stool -beside my cot. - -“Mammy Lil,” she began, with a forced lightness, as though she spoke -only of trifles, “I’ve been packing my traps today. You’re so much -better now, you don’t really need me all the time, and I think I ought -to go to Cousin Jane. Cousin Chad’s my real guardian, you know; and -they’ve been awfully good about lending me to you when you were so -sick.” - -I felt blinded at first by the blow. “Lending” me Caro—when she had -never stayed a whole month together away from me since she was seven -years old, except for the years at boarding school! My head swam, and -there was such a roaring in my ears I couldn’t hear all she said. She -wasn’t looking at me, but her voice went on with the foolish words, till -I pulled myself together. - -“Has Cousin Jane been trying to make you think it’s your duty to go and -wait on her, Caro, after you’ve grown up in this, your real home? She -doesn’t need you, child; there’s no call for such a sacrifice.” - -“She hasn’t said a word about needing me,” protested Caro. “I just think -I ought to go.” - -“Are you sure—forgive me, dearie—but do you really think she wants you -there to live—for always?” - -“I telephoned her this morning. I’m sure she’s delighted. She does love -me,—only it’s in her queer way.” - -“Caro—” I said, and stopped. We had lived in her and for her so many -years. I could not suggest that she owed us anything. The tears came to -my eyes, but I held them back. - -“Dear,” I went on, “I’ve never tried to force your confidence, and I -can’t now. Something is wrong, I know—some trifle, probably, that a -little honest frankness would set right. But I know when we are young we -come to a place where we must manage our own affairs, no matter how we -bungle them or how many hearts we break; it’s the way we all learn at -times. But darling, remember that my love waits to help you, if you ever -want its service. And, whatever you do, Caro, don’t do it in anger like -a child. It is the mark of a woman to walk in love, and to serve love -only, even where she must give the deepest hurt.” - -She sat looking across the hills, only her profile toward me, but I saw -her lip quiver. She dropped her head on my shoulder and snuggled her -face under my chin. - -“You’re the sweetest mammy! You know I love you—more than ever I did in -my life. And I’m coming to see you so often you’ll think I’m living -here. But I’m sure I ought to go. There’s the buggy now; Cousin Jane -said she’d send it over. My trunk is all ready; she’ll send for that, -too. I thought I’d rather you’d tell Daddy Jack and David good-bye for -me. Won’t you let me take you back to the house first?” - -“No,” I said; “David will help me, and your Daddy Jack. It isn’t time -yet.” - -She caught her breath a little, kissed me with a sorry effort at -playfulness, and went towards the buggy. I watched it driving out the -gate to the pike. - -Neither David nor the Peon came, and after awhile Josie came out to say -that “Mr. John” had telephoned he would have to spend the night in the -city. She wheeled me to the porch, and I was back in bed before David -came in. I was thankful for once that the Peon was away. - -David went to his solitary dinner, and then sat by me in the twilight, -stroking my hand. - -“What struck Caro to go off again?” he asked, in a tone he tried hard to -make casual. “Josie says she told her she was off for a visit.” - -“She went to Cousin Jane’s—went to stay, I mean. She’ll change her mind -in a few days, I suppose. She has been upset for a day or two.” - -“To Cousin Jane’s—to stay?” he repeated in bewilderment. “And left you -here—like this?” he added in indignant unbelief. - -“Dear, something drove her. She’s unhappy about something—there’s some -mistake: and the need to keep it to herself is on her. It makes me -feel—oh, Davy, boy, I’ve always thought I was a real mother to you -children; but I’m only the best substitute for a mother you’ve known. If -I were truly Caro’s mother—if I had done all I thought I was doing—the -child would have told me. You are both suffering for nothing—because I -failed.” - -He bent his cheek to mine. - -“You’ve never failed in anything, sweetest mother in the world. And Caro -loves you just as I do—I’d swear it. Sometimes you can’t help hurting -the people you love best. I—I’m hurting you myself; and I can’t help -it. I’d give my right hand to help it; but I can’t—yet.” - -“There’s no need, Davy, dear,” I said steadily, glad that the dark had -fallen to curtain my eyes. “Don’t try to be anything with me, or to say -anything, but what is natural and right to you. The one thing I couldn’t -get over, dear, would be your playing a part with me. I understand; and -I can wait—a life-time, if you wish.” - -He kissed my hand, and sat there till the moon rose over the eastern -hills and strewed the lawn with shadows. A mocking-bird stirred in his -sleep and sang softly to himself. I could not speak. I lay straining my -eyes through the dark to see his face, but it was all in the shadow. He -rose to go at last, and, before I knew it, unbidden words had risen from -some subconscious depth and uttered themselves through my lips. - -“David,” I said, with a sudden, foolish up-lift of my heart, “I’m going -to be walking all about by Thanksgiving; and before the year is out I -will help with my own hands to decorate this house for your and Caro’s -wedding. I don’t know how I know it; but I do!” - -“Amen,” said David solemnly. “Mammy Lil, you’re a corker when it comes -to prophesying. Keep up the habit; it’s sure comforting; and you always -could see further through a stone wall than anybody else.” - -He had—or feigned—more faith in my prophecy than I had myself. I felt -like a fool who has published his folly to the world. And as I lay -there, tearless and sleepless the long night through, I had no hope for -David, and only a dull anguish at thought of the girl I had called my -daughter so long. - - * * * * * - -_May 13th._ The world is all in a mist this morning as the sky blossoms -above the eastern hills. The wren sings first, bringing the tears for -which my lids have burned all night. A cardinal calls somewhere—_Cheer! -Cheer!_—no, it is a mocking-bird, for his own notes bubble out after -his cardinal call, before he wanders into a thrasher’s song, repeating -his notes as carefully as “the wise thrush” himself. There he is, on the -topmost twig of that mist-dimmed oak. He has tuned his voice to the -oriole’s carol now, but again his own notes bubble through. Now he -scolds like an angry wren, following the tirade with harsh cries and the -blackbird’s censorious _tsck!_ Then he slips into a catbird melody—a -jumble of music, jeering, and captious squawks. Gradually the music -overflows all else. Clearer and sweeter grow the notes, slow, soft, and -wondrous pure. His head is thrown up in rapture while the flood of -melody rises and swells till it sweeps him bodily into air. He opens his -mist-gray wings and tail, spreading to the light the gleaming white of -the in-folded feathers, and rises through the vapors to clearer air, -singing as one to whom all mists are crystal clearness, all darkness as -the light. He trembles at the height an instant, poised above the -vapor-shrouded earth, while his song floats upward to the heaven of -which it speaks,—a blending of calm and rapture, of aspiration and -peace. Back to his perch he falls, still singing, content with earth as -with heaven, and rises once again, to poise an instant, to fall, to -rise, again and yet again. - -It is the Song of the Open Vision. Haunting, appealing, alluring, the -rapturous notes search the listener’s heart to draw response from every -memory of mist-drenched darkness dissolved in growing light. - - * * * * * - -_May 14th._ The Peon is the comfort of my life. I dreaded telling him -about Caro, and behold, he knew all about it! - -Cousin Chad had been in town and came out on the same train with him -yesterday afternoon. He couldn’t refrain from crowing a little about -Caro and his dear Jane—so capable and sensible, so equal to every -emergency. And it was her doing, after all: I know she never intended -for me to know it. But she met Caro in the road on her way back from -Grace’s that day, and made the child go by home with her. Then she—to -quote Cousin Chad—“was able to make her see the indelicacy of her -establishing herself in the same house with a young man whom gossips -were accusing her of trying to capture!” The Peon at this point -expressed polite dissent from Cousin Chad’s approval of his wife’s -tactful performance; and my pious relative waxed righteously indignant, -and assumed the air of a protector of the defenceless orphan. Whereupon -the Peon took refuge in his paper and Cousin Chad simmered in that -condemnatory silence of his which always seemed to me worse than any -possible swear-words. - -But the Peon doesn’t feel at all upset about Caro and David; the only -thing that troubles him is that I should be left alone again during the -day. So far as David is concerned, the Peon thinks Caro would never have -gone if she hadn’t cared for him, to some extent, at least, in the way -Cousin Jane accused her of doing—which is certainly reasonable enough. -And as to her loving David and yet treating him as I’m sure she did, the -Peon begs me to remember some rather cold-blooded performances of my own -in our courting days. - -“Do you remember the night after Jessie Martin’s wedding?” he demanded. -“After that night, and your marrying me six months later, I lost my -faith in a girl’s ‘no.’ If I had it to go over again, I’d not lose a -night’s sleep on account of it, my lady: and so I told David as he drove -me home from the station.” - -“Oh, you told him, then?” - -“I did. And I told him to give Caro plenty of rope, and your Cousin Jane -would soon hang herself with it.” - -“What did he say?” - -“Not much of anything. He seems to think Mrs. Grackle only furnished the -occasion for Caro’s real feeling toward him to come to the front. He’s -pretty sore, I imagine. But don’t you worry your dear head. Lovers would -miss half the fun of the game if they couldn’t be drowned in misery now -and then. Just let them alone and let them get all that’s coming to -them. They’ll work through it somehow, and straighten it out to their -perfect satisfaction when they get ready—and not before.” - -“You didn’t let it alone,” I said reproachfully. - -“No,” he said; “that’s why I’m so well posted about the course to -pursue. I’ve done all that’s necessary myself.” - -His eyes laughed a little, and I laughed back. Maybe I was a true -prophet after all. Anyway, I musn’t look like a graveyard just because -we’re all lonesome, and David is so quiet as he comes and goes. And if -I’m not to look like a graveyard, the best way is not to feel like one. - - * * * * * - -_May 17th._ Things are happening so fast they make my head swim. David -is gone, too; and I feel like an old hen who has raised a pair of wild -geese and seen them go flying out of sight in opposite directions. - -He fixed it all with the Peon before he said a word to me. Then he sat -by my cot, with those coaxing ways of his—I knew some kind of a wrench -was coming. He wanted to go out to Washington and take charge of the -Peon’s apple orchard there and finish planting the land. He’d been -thinking of it for some time. The only reason he hesitated about going -was the leaving me alone: but I needed Caro more than I needed him; and -if he went—. - -“But oh, my dear, I don’t!” I cried. “You are my first, my best of -children! And as for having Caro—I’ll have her when the time comes of -which I told you the other night. I don’t want her before.” - -“Then you’d rather I wouldn’t go?” he asked, trying to keep the -disappointment out of his voice. “You’ve had such an awful pull, little -mother, and been so brave about it: and I know Caro and I helped to -drain the life out of you before you went away. I’ll stay if you want me -to.” He bent his head above my hand, and I saw his mouth was set. - -“I’d not hold you a minute, boy,” I said; “distance can’t separate us. -I’ve never been separated from you yet, and never will be while you love -me. It isn’t your being near me that I want: it’s your emancipation, -through life, into freedom of life. The more living you do, the closer -we’ll come together, though the living be done on the other side of the -globe. When would you like to start?” - -“Tonight?” he said, inquiringly. - -“Tonight,” I answered. “And the farm here?” - -“Uncle Milton knows what to do. And I’ve made Uncle Jack a schedule to -follow. It will be all right.” - -“And you’re going for how long?” - -“Forever and a day. Tell Caro so.” - -“Very well,” I said, “I’ll tell Caro forever and a day. But what shall I -tell this old lady who loves you so?” - -“Tell her I’ll come at the drop of a hat or the click of a telegraph, -day or night, whenever she wants me—forever and a day. And Mammy -Lil—what’s the use of talking? You understand.” - -He pushed his head up under my hand as a signal that one of the rare -pettings was in order: and presently he picked me up in his strong arms -and carried me to his room, where I lay on the bed and watched him pack -his trunk in utter defiance of all known principles of the art. - -He found some comfort in doing it, too. His face shows care and lack of -sleep, but he whistled a bit as he dropped his shooting boots on the -bosom of a shirt, and made a soft place for the butt of his gun with a -felt hat. He isn’t entirely hopeless about the outcome, no matter how -miserable he is: it is poor little Caro who will get the heaviest end of -the mischief Cousin Jane’s meddling has produced. And that thick-headed, -thick-skinned old Pharisee will go scot free herself. Oh, dear! I’d like -to be good! But it is such a strenuous undertaking with Cousin Jane in -the family: St. John himself couldn’t manage it; and I never was cut out -for a saint. - - - - - IX - THE PROOF OF COURAGE - - -_May 20th._ Caro did not come back until yesterday, though she called -the Peon up daily to ask how I was and to send her love. She did not -allude to David, and the Peon volunteered no information. But yesterday -she dashed in at the gate, driving like a young Jehu, flung the reins to -Uncle Milton, who was at work among the roses at the other end of the -house, and came flying across the lawn to my cot. - -“Oh, Mammy Lil, are you all alone? Has David really gone—to stay, I -mean?” - -I told her his plans. - -She sat on the edge of the cot, her head held high, her eyes sparkling. - -“It’s a shame!” she exclaimed indignantly; “how could he have the heart -to leave you so?” - -I looked at her quizzically. I had been feeling rather forlorn; but -suddenly the comical side of my woes presented itself, as it so kindly -and so often does, and I wanted to laugh. - -“Who ran first?” I inquired. - -She flushed to the roots of her curly hair and slipped to the grass -beside me, her pretty head on my shoulder. - -“We’re pigs, both of us,” she averred contritely. “But, Mammy Lil, David -is the worst pig. He really could have stayed: and I—couldn’t. Anyway, -I’m glad he’s gone; it’s just about the decentest thing he’s done.” - -“You are a consistent child,” I observed, stroking her hair; “but, Caro -dear, I’m not accustomed to hearing David criticized from the standpoint -of decency, and we won’t begin now. And I wanted him to go very much.” - -“Well, anyway, I can come back. I’ll never leave you here by yourself. -I’ll go back and pack up this evening, and come home first thing in the -morning.” - -I shook my head. I had been thinking about it all these long, lonesome -days. They are both my children, but David has the first right to our -home; and with Caro installed here he will not come back to it. Besides, -it isn’t fair. And if they will fight at cross-purposes we must all take -the consequences together. I know I am rather a dishevelled shuttle-cock -to do duty between their clashing wills; but they will have to have it -out, now that they have begun it. And if that hard-hearted little sinner -came back here, she’d convince herself in no time that David is the -sinner and she is the one and only saint. It never did take long for -staying at Cousin Jane’s to pall on Caro; and she’ll probably see things -from various points of view before she concludes her experiment. - -Poor little soul, she cried dreadfully. She even tried to work on my -sympathies by telling me how Cousin Jane serves up Bob White’s -perfections morning, noon, and night. This was welcome news to me, and -helped me to disguise the very fluid condition of my supposedly hard -heart. I must confess we both cried before she went back: but Caro owned -it was fair. - -I feel like a yellow dog, of course. One always does when one stands for -a painful justice—it’s part of the job. I felt the same shame when she -was a little thing and I let her bite the red pepper she snatched in the -garden the minute I told her not to touch it. It burns my own mouth to -this day. But Caro never snatched against orders again. - -And there’s no sense in listening to Grumpy’s prophecies. Where is the -pleasure of growing old if one can’t learn to distil from one’s -experiences the essential oil of hope? When the Peon and I fell out, -hopelessly, desperately, eternally, about six months before we were -married, I was just a young thing, and quite pardonable in my belief -that my life was ruined forever by the cataclysm. But from the -vantage-ground of twenty-odd years of additional living I should be able -to detect the flimsiness of the average impenetrable barrier. I don’t -think Caro cares for any one else, at least; and if they’re not meddled -with they’ll work it out their own way, which must be the best way for -the Peon and me. And if he and I can’t enjoy ourselves very much just -now, why, we don’t want to when the children are miserable; so that’s -all right, of course. - -As to their misery, I have at least come far enough in life myself to -know that it has—or will have—its mitigations. I never yet have been -in a hole—and heaven knows life has been a procession of holes these -last years—that I didn’t get out of it with some added capacity of -living that made being in holes worth while. Why should I begrudge the -children their own hole-adventures and discoveries, their own enrichment -of life? - - * * * * * - -_May 22nd._ The Peon comes home early these days and takes me out for a -ride. I can sit in my chair or lie down at will; and he wheels me over -the soft grass to all the places I’ve been longing to see and have only -beheld in Make-Believe. We go down to the brook nearly every day about -sunset and watch the birds quenching their thirst before bedtime. There -are many song sparrows down there; and the killdeers haunt the banks at -all time, whirring up when startled with wild cries, their breasts and -lifted wings flashing snow-white beneath, and the rich salmon of the -lower back gleaming as they rise from the valley into the level sunlight -along the brow of the hill. The Peon flattens my chair to a couch, and -throws himself on the grass or sits on the roots of a sycamore, while we -talk of all the years that the children have been growing up with us, -and of what the future is to bring. We are both very strenuously -cheerful. And indeed, in our hearts, we do hope honestly to have them -both at home again some day. Only it seems rather a long way off -sometimes; and the house is so very quiet when we go back. - -Sometimes we go back to the spot we picked out years ago as the one -where we thought David might like to build his home some day; for though -we always hoped to have him with us, we never wanted to rob him of a -home of his own. We had never said to one another that we hoped for Caro -to make the home for him—to put it into words seemed to infringe on -their right to settle that great matter, each to their own heart’s wish: -but we had hoped it without words. We go there now, and hope for it -openly, bridging our separation with happy dreams, and comforting one -another with assurances it is not always easy to feel. - -David has not been long enough at his journey’s end for a letter mailed -there to reach us; but it seems as if he had been gone for months. And -poor little Caro looks so wistful when she starts back to Cousin Jane’s -that I feel as though I have been turning her out of doors for the most -of my life. It is really not to be borne very much longer. The Peon’s -sister wants us to go to her next month, at her summer home in the -mountains of Pennsylvania; and Caro will have to come home in time to -get me ready. We can spend the summer together, at least. - -But before I go I want to see plainer sailing for Milly and Bobolink, as -Caro disrespectfully styles Mr. Lincoln. Grace was here for a little -while today to tell me good-bye. She is off to stay with George’s mother -while the old lady’s daughter takes a trip. Milly was with her, and -promised to come back soon. She said she wanted to talk to me, and from -the anxious air with which she said it, I’m hoping she is seriously -thinking of turning on that jay-bird uncle of hers and teaching him a -few of the things he needs to learn. - - * * * * * - -_May 25th._ A golden day, after a night of drenching rain. The sky is -like October, and under it the winds are at play. And why, when sunshine -fills the world, should one suffer one’s eyes to be blinded to it by any -mote of pain or trouble held close enough to shut out all the light? I -will keep mine at arm’s length, if I die for it, and see around it and -over it, yes, and through it, into this beautiful, wonderful world! If -one’s feet can’t travel, aren’t one’s eyes an open road of escape? - - * * * * * - -_May 27th._ Three sleepless nights, a dead weight of weariness, -loneliness to the heart’s core, and pain that wrings the flesh—these -are among Grumpy’s stock-in-trade this morning, and he flaunts them and -a dozen other things, wherever I turn my thoughts. He has heaped up, -mountain high, the things I want and can’t have; and there he sits, -grinning at the void they leave in my idle, useless life. I must fill -that hole, or go under. What have I left? - -First, the Peon’s love, and the children’s, and that of my friends. -Love: and the Love from which love came. By the time all that is stowed -away in the void, it has rather a “gone” look about it—for a void. And -Grumpy’s grin has a tuck in it. - -Then a sense of humor—the most blessed thing, save love itself, ever -given to human kind. It keeps one sane and balanced where without it one -would go mad. A source of justice it is, a bond of sympathy, a destroyer -of egotism, a solace in suffering, a staff to courage, an open door of -escape from all that is unbearable in life. - -Next, the power to hold my tongue when things hurt, and to keep the -whine out of my voice when I’m nothing but whine inside. - -There are love, laughter, and silence; and as void-fillers they go a -long way. But there are other things for the chinks. For I can read a -little and write a little, and think a little, as against the black -idleness of those three years. And beauty—wind in the tree-tops, the -arching blue, the flicker of light and shade—beauty everywhere, in -fact; and back of beauty the Thought that designed both it and the eyes -to see it. Oh, it is a beautiful world! And though one’s body lies idle, -one’s thoughts may go everywhere, and are everywhere at home. And may -not endurance itself, however passive, yet rise to the point of -achievement, if only one endure in the right way? And if liberty be -measured by one’s capacity to do without—oh, how can any walls of -suffering shut one in when the way up is always open—up, to the -presence of God? - - * * * * * - -_May 28th._ Whenever I think I’ve overcome a temptation, and can afford -to rest, something else comes pouncing and catches me napping. This time -it was Cousin Jane. I’m not a bit sorry I sent her home—it was high -time for her to go. But I needn’t have been so blazing mad when I did -it. - -She hasn’t been near me for ages, but she came at last, exactly when she -very specially should have kept away. So as I lay there on the porch -sofa—for I couldn’t get out in the yard this week—I heard the familiar -pile-driver tread, and opened my eyes to behold her at the corner of the -porch, personified virtue, somewhat overheated by the afternoon sun, and -looking rather limp about the collar. But there was nothing limp about -her stolid mouth, nor in her hard black eyes. She had come for a -purpose, and was not displeased to think I wouldn’t enjoy it. - -I’ve been afraid of Cousin Jane all my life. I used to run at the sound -of her voice when I was a child at Cedarhurst. More than once I have -been gently, but firmly, extracted from a closet by Great-aunt Letitia, -and led to her presence to perform the rites required by politeness to -even the most unpleasant kin. Somehow it all came back to me—the -childish, unreasoning fear. I was so weak, the pain so biting sharp; I -could not bear unkindness, too. I turned my head toward the long windows -with a wild thought of escape; but when my heart is like this, I can -scarcely walk, and I could never have reached my room. Besides, she -would come after me: so I made a virtue of necessity and lifted my hand. -She saved me the trouble of speaking. - -“Good land alive, Lyddy! Are you mopin’ around yet, makin’ out like -you’re half dead? I wonder John Bird doesn’t go crazy! I heard you were -rompin’ all over the place, throwin’ the birds enough biscuit to feed -all the poor folks in town, if you only had religion enough to think -about them instead of your own silly whims.” - -She came close and settled herself heavily in the Peon’s chair, waving -her fan vigorously. She reached across me to the stand on the other -side, and rang my bell sharply. Josie appeared at once. - -“Go draw me some fresh water, straight out of the well,” she commanded. -It was one of her hobbies to ignore the Peon’s water system, and to -assume that we depended on a well and a windlass, as she boasted that -she still did herself. - -“Wouldn’t you rather have a glass of lemonade?” I inquired. “And bring -some wafers, Josie.” - -Josie’s mother makes wonderful old-time wafers, as thin as paper and as -crisp as frosty air. They are beautifully rolled, and melt in one’s -mouth: no other cook in the county can achieve them. Cousin Jane ate the -entire plateful, and her manner, as she turned to me once more, was a -shade less like that of a regiment charging a redoubt. - -“What did David go off for?” she demanded. “Have you and John Bird -turned him loose? I can’t get a thing out of Caroline, and I know -something’s wrong somewhere. What is it?” - -“He went to look after some business,” I said. - -“Oh, you can tell that to the neighbors that ain’t kin,” she said -scornfully. “I want to know what’s wrong. He’s done somethin’, I know, -an’ Caroline’s ashamed of it. I can’t get a thing out of her, but she’s -a changed girl. An’ more than that, she’s standin’ in her own light. -She’s that flighty an’ cross Bob White looks like he don’t know what to -make of it. Men ain’t goin’ to stand too much foolishness, an’ first -news you know, Caroline can’t get him if she wants him. I’m talkin’ -plain, but it’s time.” - -“Why don’t you talk to Caro?” I suggested. - -“Good land, Lyddy, do you reckon I ain’t? But it’s like water on a -duck’s back—in one ear and out the other. An’ besides”—with a sudden -deep craft in her beady eyes—“you have to be careful with girls—at -least, a person with tact does. I don’t come right out with things to -Caroline, like you would. But I just thought I’d get together all the -things David’s been doin’ an’ lay ’em before her. I don’t suppose you -let her know the half of it, whatever it was. Was it somethin’ about -money, or has he been getting into fast ways, drinkin’, or playin’ -cards, or—worse? I always knew he would get into mischief sooner or -later—he pretends to be so steady: I’ve just been waitin’ for it to -come. Why, what’s the matter, Lyddy? What do you want?” - -I sat straight up and rang the bell. Josie ran out. - -“Get me my chair, Josie, quick,” I said. She whirled it to my side, and -I stepped in unaided. - -“Take me to my room,” I told her, “and leave me there while you tell -Uncle Milton to get Mrs. Grackle’s buggy and to open the gate for her. -She is going home at once. Then come back and help me to bed. Do not -come back until I send for you, Cousin Jane: I am not well.” - -She stared at me, speechless and apoplectic, and as Josie arranged my -pillows I saw her driving between the cedars. And above all my anger -about David and my consciousness that Great-aunt Letitia would be -ashamed of me, above the weakness, and above the tearing, throbbing -pain, is the exhilaration of knowing that for once in my life I wasn’t -afraid of Cousin Jane. I never will be afraid of her again! - - * * * * * - -_May 31st._ Trying all one’s life to see things from other peoples’ -point of view has this advantage in sickness: it helps one to stand -apart from the suffering and to look at it from without, even when -whelmed in it, and almost overwhelmed. One sees it as if it were someone -else’s sickness, taking the long view of it, as a doctor does. He is -sorry for the pain, of course; he knows it is bad. But he expects it. -And he expects the backsets, and the blues, and the -can-I-ever-get-wells, and all the rest of it. Those things are part of -the process of recovery, and do not affect the final outcome. Once past -a certain point, the road leads inevitably to one sure goal; the -windings in and out don’t count, nor the ups and downs; one is advancing -all the time. Now, if a doctor, who doesn’t need it, can get that -comfort out of my aches and pains, why shouldn’t I get it, who need it -so much? - - * * * * * - -_June 1st._ Out under the maple again today, and the stars in their -courses fighting for me! And why, when a miracle like this happens for -Milly and Bobolink, should I despair of David and Caro? - -Milly came to see me to have that long talk she spoke about. She had -been telephoning every day to know when she could come, so I had Josie -call her the moment I found I could go out. And just suppose I had been -well enough yesterday—what a misfortune that would have been! - -She scattered the crumbs for me, and settled beside me to pour out what -Caro calls “her uncle-ish woes;” and while she was doing it, the -wood-thrush flew down, only to be shouldered away from the feast by a -mannerless jay. Somehow it made me feel perfectly hopeless about Milly, -poor little soft, sweet thing, and my eyes filled up with tears; but -when I had winked them dry, the thrush went back. The jay pecked at him -savagely, and he dashed half-way round the hydrangeas in terror. Milly -saw him and caught her breath. - -“Uncle Jason _is_ like that,” she said, with a little catch in her -voice; “and I can’t stand against him—I can’t! Don’t you see how -helpless the thrush is, Cousin Lil?” - -But the thrush had stopped in mid-flight. His breast was puffed out like -a tiny balloon, the trembling of his legs plain to be seen; he quivered -from head to foot. But he turned slowly, his legs shaking under him, and -hopped deliberately toward his tormentor, his head high, his swollen -breast making a ruff of feathers visible on either side of his back. He -went close to the jay and pecked toward him in the air. The jay, -startled, gave back an inch. The thrush, still trembling, hopped nearer -and pecked, as steadily as if his legs were in their normal condition. -The bully backed again. The thrush hopped and pecked. - -Milly had leaned forward, her hand on mine. Her face was white and she -was breathing quickly. - -The jay continued to back. The wood-thrush followed him, inch by inch, -unyielding, yet in mortal fear. At last the big coward could stand it no -longer. He spread his wings and vanished across the brook. The thrush -stood trembling a moment, his feathers slowly flattening along his -sides, and then returned quietly to his lunch. Milly rose, a new light -in her soft eyes. - -“If he can, I can,” she said steadily. “I don’t need to talk any more, -Cousin Lil: I’m going home and _do_.” - - - - - X - THE ROUTING OF UNCLE JASON - - -_June 2nd._ I’m afraid I haven’t inherited the family grace of -hospitality; for the further I get from Cousin Jane’s visit the more -glad I am that I sent her home. And it isn’t all on David’s account -either, though I could never have done it but for what she said of him. -Yet since it is done I remember her life-time disregard of the small -courtesies of life. I wonder if it were not more cowardice in me than -kindness that for so long I meekly allowed it, and thereby encouraged -her, so far as lay in my power, to ride rough-shod over all the rules of -politeness. - -I do believe that decent manners, even to one’s junior kinfolks, are an -essential part of decent morals; one can commit as dastardly crimes with -an ill-tempered tongue as with a lying one. And what right has she to -plume herself on her frankness, as if that were a justification for such -ill manners as cut the joy and fellowship of life at the root? I think -our ideas of morals need standardizing, at least to the point where we -can no longer, by bad temper and worse behavior, inflict misery at will -on those about us, sowing on every side the seeds of anger or contempt, -and yet remain a highly respected member of society and a shining light -in the church.—Yet, after all, I’m making a deal of a pother about -trifles. It is what we do ourselves that counts, not what is done to us. -In the face of the void, at the land’s end, the hurts one has suffered -will disappear; it is the hurts one has inflicted that will be lions in -the way. And if I have really hurt Cousin Jane—well, when I’m a little -stronger I’ll try my best to get straight with her. For the present, I -am here in bed again, with the birds outside for company—and a visit -from Caro to look forward to. She telephoned a while ago that she had -been spending the night with Milly and would be over before lunch. So -Cousin Jason hasn’t annihilated the child, at least. - - * * * * * - -_June 3rd._ Milly really did go home and begin. She went by for Caro -yesterday afternoon on her way home, and they found Cousin Jason in a -thunderous mood. Milly was quietly determined. He had left the breakfast -table that morning in a temper, after his frequent fashion: and Milly, -in her brand-new fashion, had refrained from running after him and -imploring him to have pity on his poor head, and drink his coffee. He -had fumed around on the porches for some time, waiting for her to take -her cue, and had finally disappeared. He came back at eleven with a -headache, slamming all the doors, notwithstanding, and demanded hot -coffee at once. Milly, however, had forseen this contingency and -prepared for it. The cook’s daughter was ill, and she had allowed her to -go down there as soon as breakfast was over and stay until time to cook -dinner. It was the housemaid’s regular day off, and she had already -departed, not to return until the late afternoon. As Uncle Jason had -ordered cold lunches for the summer, the girl had fixed everything for -him, and left it in the refrigerator. Joe, the house man, would serve -it. Milly herself, who was just leaving the house as her uncle came in, -had an engagement in Chatterton for lunch and must hurry; but if he -wanted coffee Joe could make a fire for him, though he could not brew -any drinkable beverage. But Uncle Jason had always said he could make -better coffee than her mother’s cooks, and it would take only a few -minutes. It was too bad about the headache; he should have taken his -coffee at breakfast. And Milly drove off, a vision of gentle serenity, -and left him gasping in the hall. - -Caro went back with her in time for dinner. Milly had passed the pale -stage and was in unwonted and most becoming excitement. Caro, of course, -was enraptured with the whole situation. She is the only soul alive who -ever held Cousin Jason in check; and now she infuriated him with her -innocent remarks, and made him laugh the next moment in spite of -himself, which made him more furious still. After dinner they retired to -Milly’s room and discussed Bobolink’s perfections—and David’s, I -wonder?—until the latest of late bedtimes. - -At breakfast Cousin Jason was more than crabbed; but he drank the last -of his coffee, and made quite a hearty meal before pronouncing the very -excellent waffles unfit for human consumption and slamming the -dining-room door after him as he went out. Caro had then seen Milly off -to the city, where she was to do a little shopping and “take a bobolink -lunch,” and would go back to spend the night with her. - -Caro will stay there all the time Grace is away. She is in the highest -of spirits over the prospect, not only because a battle with Cousin -Jason has been one of her life-long desires; but because she is more -than weary of Cousin Jane, and her blunderbuss manner of forcing -conversation anent Bob White. Caro won’t say much about it—for fear, I -devoutly hope, that I may draw inferences in David’s favor; but she is -unconcealably bored with Bob, and his money, and his pedigree and -connections, clear back to Noah. I doubt if the boy ever had a chance -with her; but if he had—or would have had without Cousin Jane’s -disastrous approval of him—it is only a might-have-been henceforth. I -feel a little sorry for him, but not much. He was crazy about Olive -Wilson last year, and will be crazy about somebody else before long. -He’s one of those fellows who find a pretty girl a necessary adjunct to -life, and if one can’t be had, he will cheerfully and whole-heartedly -look for another. When he gets her, he will settle down with her -contentedly, and make a devoted and exemplary spouse. - -Of course I keep David posted. And of course he wants me to. But he -never alludes to Caro in his letters, which are long and interesting, -and determinedly cheerful. The little sinner asks for them unblushingly -every time she comes over, and is delighted that “dear David” is -enjoying himself so, and is so in love with the West. She is -ostentatiously fond of him, in a lofty, elder-sisterly manner, and makes -frequent inquiries about his health, which appears to be unromantically -robust. I cannot see the slightest change in her, except for a -wistfulness in her pretty eyes, when she has to say good-bye and go -away; and sometimes a fleeting quiver in her smile when she finds me -back in bed, as she has done so often of late. I am glad we are to leave -together soon, for I can scarcely bear this continual sending her away. -I don’t think she can mind going, busy and active as she is, as I mind -having her go. I really am a very old lady to be so upset with youthful -love affairs: I’m positively decrepit. But if one will have the fun of -having children, I suppose one must pay the piper sometimes. - - * * * * * - -_June 6th._ I think I am learning the art of living; and isn’t that -worth a bit of pain? It is to discover the best in the present moment, -though it be no larger than a needle in a haystack, and getting the good -of it while one has it. One can relax one’s mind by force of will, and -hold it open to small pleasures and tiny interests; and such little -things may become one’s salvation in desperate straits! I think that is -one of life’s greatest needs, especially as one grows older, or if one -is ill—that one should guard and cherish the capacity for enjoyment of -trifles. It is to the soul what elasticity of the arteries is to the -body; for through it the currents of our thoughts and feelings run in -swift and wholesome tides, to the upbuilding of the inner life. - -And there’s always something. Though the children have run away, I have -the birds. - - * * * * * - -_June 7th._ Milly has crossed her Rubicon, sure enough. I was propped up -in bed yesterday evening, with my tray before me, and the Peon was -eating his dinner from a flower-garnished table beside me, when there -came a sudden gust of laughter in the hall, and a moment later she and -Caro came in the room. - -“Oh, Mammy Lil, won’t you please give us something to eat?” Caro -besought. “Just a bite of your fried chicken, Daddy Jack, for two -beautiful damsels in distress; and a pinch of oats or something for a -poor little pin-feathered bird we’ve got in the hall that’s most mad -enough to chew nails—or would be if he were not a saint.” - -“Mr. Lincoln is in the parlor, Cousin John,” said Milly. “We don’t want -any dinner, of course—he’s going back to town in a few minutes; he just -drove us over from home. We want to stay all night—Caro and I.” - -The Peon was already in the hall. Milly looked wonderfully pretty, with -that light in her eyes, and a soft color in her cheeks, like fire behind -a pearl. - -“Indeed we do want dinner!” exclaimed Caro. “Come along and help me -forage. There’s no use in Bobolink’s going back. He can stay at the -hotel in Chatterton tonight, and get back in plenty of time for his -business in the morning.—Poor Mammy Lil! We’re not telling you a thing; -but I’ll come back in a minute with the whole tale, as soon as I get -dinner started.” - -She dropped a kiss on the end of my nose—her favorite spot for such -attentions—and went out, drawing Milly after her. I heard them in the -dining-room with the servants, and then Caro’s gay voice in the parlor a -moment; and then she came back to me. She picked a drumstick from the -Peon’s dish, and sat on my bed gnawing it, joyfully reminiscent of her -recent adventures. - -“Mammy Lil,” she began impressively, “jay-baiting is the grandest sport -ever invented. Milly doesn’t appreciate the fun of it as much as she -might, but she’s dead game; and I’ve been having the time of my life.” - -“It’s too bad that Mr. Lincoln couldn’t have been kept free from it, -dear. How did that happen?” - -“Why, that wasn’t our fault at all. He often comes out in the afternoon -and takes Milly out in his car. Then he goes to the hotel in Chatterton -for supper, and comes back for the evening. He hardly ever sees Cousin -Jay, and when he does, there’s never been any trouble since that time -Milly told you about; she’s made him leave at half-past nine ever since. - -“They came back early from their drive because I was to be there, and he -stopped for a little visit before dinner. He doesn’t stop usually—they -stay out till the last minute; and Cousin Jay just jumped to the -conclusion Milly had asked him to dinner. We have been teaching Cousin -Jay to eat all the breakfast he wants before he leaves the table, and -one or two other things, too. If he’s too horrid at dinner we go to our -room afterward, and leave him all the evening with nobody to quarrel at. -And I suppose he just meant to get even. He came out and told Milly and -me to go in the house and get ready for dinner, for he was tired of -waiting for us. And then he turned around to Mr. Lincoln—he hadn’t -spoken to him at all—and said, ‘It’s time for you to be going, young -man, and you needn’t come back after supper. I’m tired of your hanging -around here.’ And then he turned on his heel and walked to the house. -Oh, I was so mad I could hear my hair crackle! Just feel how crisped-up -and woolly it is.” - -She bent forward on the bed and pushed her soft curls under my hand, -burrowing her nose in the covers. - -“What did Mr. Lincoln do?” - -“Just behaved like an angel. He didn’t have a thought but for Milly. He -forgot all about me, and spoke to her as if they were alone. Mammy Lil, -that man’s sweet. He’ll do for Milly, and I told him so afterwards. But -Milly was a perfect joy. She gave Bobolink one adoring look. It went to -my very toes, so I don’t know what it did to him; and then she said, in -the quietest way: - -“Won’t you stay here for a few minutes and wait for me? I’m coming -back.” - -“And he said he’d wait till doomsday, of course! and she took my hand -without a word, and into the house we went. It wasn’t nearly dinner -time. We went by the back way, and she stopped in the kitchen long -enough to tell Jule she wouldn’t be home for several days, and what to -do for Cousin Jason. Then we went upstairs and packed a couple of -suitcases, and I called Joe to take them down stairs. We all went down -the front way, and there he was in the hall.” - -“‘What the deuce are you doing?’ he snapped. - -“‘I’m going out of this house,’ said Milly, as quietly as if she’d said -she were going out on the porch; ‘and I’m not coming back till you learn -your place in it.’ - -“‘I reckon you’ll learn some sense when your mother comes home,’ he -sneered. ‘Go play the fool if you want to.’ - -“Milly didn’t seem to hear him; and somehow that still, deep anger of -hers made me ashamed to sputter, so I never said a word. He slammed the -door behind us, and we all got in Bobolink’s car and came over. - -“Milly told him what she had said to Cousin Jay, and they fixed -everything in two minutes. Milly won’t write a word to Cousin Grace, -because she’s just obliged to stay with old Mrs. Wood till her daughter -gets back, and there’s no use in worrying her. I know you’ll let Milly -stay here; and when Cousin Grace comes back, if she’ll make Cousin Jay -behave, or go away, Milly will go home and wait to be married till her -mother wishes. But if Cousin Grace won’t stop him, Milly’s going to -marry Bobolink right off, in church, with just the clothes she has. And -I think she’s exactly right.” - -“She’s right to come here and wait for Grace to settle it,” I said; “and -Grace will settle it right, I know.” - -But I was half afraid, even as I said it. Cousin Jason has bent Grace -like a reed from her babyhood, and almost—perhaps not quite—broken -her. Could she stand against him, even if she would? - - * * * * * - -_June 9th._ Could she indeed? As if love couldn’t set the gentlest face -like a flint! - -We were all in here this morning, Milly and Caro both busy with a lace-y -frock for the bride-to-be—“just in case she has to be a bride next -week”—when I saw Grace driving up. I did not tell them she was coming, -and her arms were around Milly before the child knew she was there. - -“You darling!” said Grace; “you’ll have to forgive me dear, as Robert -has done. He’s coming out this afternoon to take dinner and spend the -night.” - -Milly gave a little gasp, and then dropped her head on her mother’s -shoulder and began to cry. Caro snatched up the filmy stuff they were -working on, threw it over Milly like a bridal veil, and pirouetted -around the two, crooning the dolefulest tune imaginable, her eyes -dancing with fun. Grace looked up. - -“Don’t stop petting Milly a minute,” Caro exhorted; “she’s a perfect -heroine, and Bobolink’s a dear. I’m just singing a requiem for my -jay-bird kin.” - -“But, Mother,” asked Milly, sitting up, “how ever did you hear about it? -And how did you happen to come home so soon? And when did you -see—Robert?” She blushed beautifully as she called his name. - -“Your uncle telephoned me night before last. I knew he had everything -wrong, of course; but I was sure that enough was the matter for me to -come home and see about it. It was all right to leave Mother, for Annie -promised to stay, and Mary is coming the last of the week. So I -telephoned Robert to meet me in town yesterday at twelve o’clock. I -stayed there last night because there were several things to do in -taking business affairs into my own hands again; and before I saw -Brother Jason I had to think out clearly what I wished to say.” - -“Have you seen him?” - -“Yes, I went there first this morning.” She hesitated, a troubled look -in her eyes. Milly drew her closer. - -“Poor mother!” she said. - -“It is your uncle who needs sympathy, dear, though he will not have it. -And I know it is partly my fault, and partly the whole family’s, as well -as his. We have all given up to him all our lives, under color of being -kind and patient and magnanimous, and all that, when at the bottom we -were just afraid to oppose him; and he—suffers.” - -“O, Mother, I’m sorry!” cried Milly. “I’ll give up!” - -“Now, Cousin Grace, I call that a shame,” broke in Caro. “No matter what -you and Milly do, you make a fault and a penance out of it to shield him -and hurt yourselves. It isn’t fair. He knows he’s outrageous, and he -doesn’t care; and I just think he ought to be hurt, to find out what -he’s been doing to other people. If he’s gone, do let Milly enjoy -herself, for once. But is he gone, really?” - -“He’s going,” said Grace. “I wanted him to stay, as my guest, and not as -the master of the house. But he—he was very angry. He is to leave this -morning, while I am here. He’s going back to his own house and live -there all alone.” - -“And a mighty good thing for him,” declared Caro. “When I used to -indulge in tantrums like his, Mammy Lil always made me go stay by myself -till I was what she called a social creature. I think I’ll go over and -see Cousin Jason and tell him about it. I could always come back the -second I was willing to be polite, and so can he. Think of Cousin -Jason’s emerging a social creature! Butterflies and caterpillars won’t -be in it. But if Milly isn’t to be married next week, when do we begin -on the trousseau?” - -The talk passed into a discussion of clothes, and drifted about that -interesting topic till time for them to go home. They found their house -empty, except for the servants. Cousin Jason had gone, as he said, -without eating again beneath his sister’s roof. - - * * * * * - -_June 16th._ I suppose the excitement of Cousin Jason’s deposition was a -little too much for me: I’ve been curled up dead-’possum-fashion for a -week. Now I’m uncurling again, and showing that, like the ’possum, I’m -not so dead as I look. Caro came back, whether or no, and took charge of -me. It is a great comfort to have her. - - * * * * * - -_June 19th._ A slow pull and a hard one. But I make it, inch by inch. - - * * * * * - -_June 21st._ Courage, patience and laughter—life would be impossible -without them. Yet the first necessity, and the last, is love. If one -only loves enough, one can fight anything, and fight always, while -breath and consciousness last. - - * * * * * - -_June 24th._ - - _WHEN WINGS GO BY_ - - _A flash of wings across my window-pane!_ - _Fallen these narrow walls; and sky-arched plain,_ - _Fern-haunted pool, white foam of summer seas,_ - _Blue, dawn-steeped mountains, dusk of forest trees—_ - _All things free wings may seek, or near or far—_ - _Sweep round this bed, where pain and stillness are._ - _A prisoned life? When any moment brings_ - _A far horizon, and the sense of wings?_ - - - - - XI - WHERE THE BATTLE WAS FOUGHT - - -_July 7th._ I have seen the woods in summer time again! It was winter -when I left home for those three years, and winter when I went back; -and, though one does not think of the country passed in a winter journey -as dead—for the winter’s story of life reserved is as vivid as the -summer one of life out-poured—yet one longs to see, far out-spread in -breeze and sunshine, the close-shut life of the winter buds. - -As soon as the doctor would allow it, the Peon and Caro brought me here. -We came through the mountains nearly all the way—one long splendor of -rhododendrons, wild phlox, azaleas, laurel, and briar rose, all in -glorious bloom; and above them the green billows of the trees, with -great masses of chestnut blooms for foam. And everywhere the mountains -themselves, green and dark near at hand, and blue and faint in the -distance; and between them the valleys, heaped with beauty and -over-flowing with life. - -The Boss and the Madam met us in Baltimore, and brought us to this -heavenly place. My room is downstairs, with windows on three sides, and -wide doors opening on a quiet end of the wide piazza, which nearly -encircles the house. I can be wheeled there, straight from the bed, to a -couch-like hammock, where a cranky back may be as comfortable as its own -bad temper will allow; and my bed is under a long row of windows, just -as it is at home. I can look out across the small plateau, occupied by -the cottage grounds, to mountains, near and far, and to the glory of the -sunset skies. And again, from the porch, on mountains, and slopes where -the summer cottagers have set their beautiful homes. - -I was ashamed to come here in this battered condition; when the Madam -wrote for us I expected to be walking all about by the time I came. But -they would have me, and the Peon and Caro were of the same mind. For -myself, I can scarcely imagine a lovelier place to get well in; the -loving-kindness indoors is as fine a tonic as the mountain air outside. - -I have not seen any of the Peon’s family in all these years of my -invalidism, but I find them in spirit just where I left them—and in -body, too, for that matter; for health and love and happiness are a -combination to defy time, and the heads of the household are still a -bridal pair. Their youthful names for one another, long since adopted by -the rest of us, suit their sunny middle-age as well as ever; so the -“Boss” and the “Madam” they remain. - -One of the daughters is married, and will make but a brief visit this -summer. The other, known as Hazel-eyes, is the light of the big house; a -quiet little body, wonderfully pretty, her mother’s shadow and her -father’s adorer. - -The Peon stayed only a couple of days, and went back to our empty nest. -He is to go West before long, and will come here on his return to tell -me all about David. - -Caro is restless and unusually silent, not doing herself justice among -strangers. The child has been severely taxed in the last few weeks, and -shows it plainly. The roses are all gone, and her eyes are tired and -sad. She seems like a new Caro whom I must learn to know. I know I was -ill for awhile, though not as ill as they thought; and she never saw me -suffer that way before. But it isn’t that which clouds her bright -eyes—it can’t be, no matter what she says, now that I am past the worst -of it. I wonder will she ever open her heart to me about David. She used -to tell me everything. I always said the test of my success in mothering -her would come with her falling in love; if she came to me with that, I -would know I had done my work aright. And now I see that I have failed. -If I had been her real mother I would have known better how to reach -her. It is a real motherhood to me, of course, but not to Caro—and -perhaps not even to David. So I must lie here and wait, like any other -outsider, till everybody knows how it turns out. - - * * * * * - -_July 9th._ Yesterday Caro wheeled me out to the line of locusts, which -cuts this plateau in half and divides the Boss’s grounds from his -neighbor’s. A song sparrow came to call at once, a dear little fellow, -all streaks and music. They sing here all day long—they and the winter -wrens. - -A flicker has a clamorous brood in the tallest locust; they cry every -moment, except when their wail is gagged by a worm. Their parents toil -incessantly, but I should think their nerves would be on edge. The -bluebird mothers, too, are hard at work, for there are dozens of -bluebird babies to feed, and bluebird fathers never turn a wing or lend -a bill to their upbringing. The babies are cunning, speckled things, -their big round eyes ringed with white, giving them an expression of -child-like wonder. - -This afternoon I am out on my end of the porch, in the hammock. Caro has -gone with Hazel-eyes and a party of young folks on an expedition to Bare -Rock—a great shelf of granite which juts out near the top of the -mountain to the north of us, and from which there is a wonderful view. -The Madam is entertaining visitors on the other side of the porch, and I -am finding the solitude I need a constant temptation to Grumpyish -thoughts. - -When one wants to bog down, there are always such unassailable reasons -for doing it! I have faced Grumpy down and out about the pain. And I’ve -done fairly well about the idleness; that isn’t a losing fight, at -least. But I’m just bowled over about the children. And it isn’t -altogether that they’re suffering, though that hurts. It’s because -they’re suffering away from me, and I can’t do anything until they -choose to take me into their confidence. - -I’ve been lying here thinking how Grumpy must be enjoying my -back-sliding till I’ve made up my mind to fight him to a finish on this -also. They have a right to their secrets and to their own lives; it’s -the right and natural way. I never repaid Great-aunt Letitia’s love to -her, any more than she repaid her mother’s. You don’t pay love back; you -pay it forward. The great-aunts paid their love-debt, not to their -mother, but to me; and I’ve paid what I owed them to David and Caro; and -Caro and David won’t pay to me—they can’t; they’ll pay it to children -yet unborn. Why can’t I accept the law, and be glad? It’s trying to grab -what isn’t one’s share that makes all the trouble in life, anyway. I’ve -always said the most secure possession was the one carried in an open -handle and free to fly at a breath: I’ll carry the children that way -now. And for amusement, there are still the birds. - - * * * * * - -_July 10th._ As I lay on the porch this afternoon, facing the great -mountain to the north, the long fingers of the westering light touched -the foamy white tops of the chestnut trees, still crowned with their -mist of bloom. The light slid across the hollows of the mountain-side, -filling the long curves with dark green shadows, a soft, deep background -for the maples of the nearer lawns, all golden green in the full -sunlight, and for the silver of the wind-ruffled poplars. Locust trees -are on every side, a survival of the native forests. Where the light is -reflected from their leaves, they are a dark bluish green; but where the -sun strikes through them, each leaflet is shining gold, and the long -leaves sway at the end of every branch like giant fronds gleaming under -some Midas touch. - -But even the locusts are far away, across the many-acred lawn. The trees -near the house are too young and small to shelter birds; and if I go out -to the locusts their foliage is too light and too high to shade my eyes -from the glare: so I have been missing the birds. If I could stay with -the others it wouldn’t matter; but I must lie alone, and in silence, -resting between lines when I write; and Grumpy is boring company. So -I’ve been casting envious looks at a place across the road. A long hedge -of blossoming privet hides everything but the tree-tops, but there are -dozens of them; and wings flash in and out. It is a large place, larger -than this; I know there’s a corner in it there I wouldn’t be in the way. -The sense of something near and unknown, yet knowable, draws me daily. -The Garden of Delight I call it, and listen for the songs which float -from it, and long for its shade and sunshine. - -When the Madam came to sit with me I confessed my daft condition to her, -and she went across the road to the Garden’s owners—two ladies who are -friends of hers—and returned presently with the freedom of the Garden -for me and my chair. I am to go tomorrow. - -I wonder sometimes if people dream of the pleasure they can give through -little things. To these ladies I suppose their bit of hospitality is a -trifle soon forgotten; but to me it is pure delight. It will hearten me -for my fight a thousand times, and lift me clear above the pain a -thousand more. It is hard to keep steady when one is so happy. The long, -filmy curves of wind-swept silver in the evening sky grow suddenly dim; -and when they wheel me back to bed I am “fair lifted,” as the Scotch -say, and wait joyfully in the darkness for such sleep as night may -bring. - - * * * * * - -_July 11th._ The Garden of Delight! A close-shaven sward from which the -tiniest bird stands up distinctly; and trees, and trees, and trees! -Shrubs and vines, rose-beds, azaleas, tall altheas, clumps of iris, -masses of old-fashioned lilies, tangles of honeysuckles on the fences, -beds of early phlox, ragged robins, larkspur, and ferns—all things cool -and quiet and sweet. In the dense shade of tall shrubs they have left -me, the feathery locusts waving overhead, and before me a hitherto -unsuspected vista of beauty—the long, long valley which leads to -Gettysburg, with the mountains guarding it on either side. - -Beyond the greensward lies a beautiful bit of wilderness—ferns and wild -flowers under thick-set trees; beyond that, close-shaven grass again, -then a bit of clover, and a tangle out of the very heart of the woods. -And everywhere are birds. And I, who have longed for the woods for -years, and who have never dreamed of finding them outside of the land of -Make-Believe, I am here, far off, a thousand miles from everywhere, -alone with the sky and the winds and the wild mountains, in a silence of -upper air! One can bear one’s body in a place like this: it doesn’t -matter that it cannot run, nor walk. One’s mind can run, and fly, and -rise so high that the pain lies far below, lost, vanished, like a pebble -in the valley when one looks from a free mountain peak against the sky. -For one glorious hour I have run away from it—this pain that wrenches -and grips; I have been free, free! And so my hope grows bold, and I -reach out to touch that happy future when I shall be free in body as -well as in mind: it will come—some day! - -And oh, foolish one, remember, and learn! For the Garden of Delight was -close at hand all the time, only I hadn’t the wit to reach it till my -body was carried thither. But there is always a Garden, if one can find -it—a Garden of Delight, hidden behind the hedge! - - * * * * * - -_July 15th._ The birds are not kind today, even here in the Garden. It -is a grey evening, for one thing, and the light is bad for spying out -secrets among the leaves. The weather is misty and damp, promising the -rain we need; but everything is dry from recent heat, and the insects -may be less juicy than usual, and not very tempting eating. Anyway, the -birds are not here. - -The mist, with the dim light of the evening sun upon it, spreads a film -of silver over the blues and greens of the mountains. Down in the valley -it deepens till all the colors are faint and soft, from the pale stubble -of the nearer wheatfields all up the long valley between the mountains, -to where the dim blue of the great battlefield melts into the dim blue -of the sky above it. - -It was down this Valley, over the road at my feet, that the men of the -Southern army tramped after the battle was lost. My own kinsmen were -there, following their great leader with the rest, as he passed through -the Valley of Defeat. How much seemed lost to them, who can say? But to -us of a later generation how plain it is that nothing was lost at -Gettysburg which it were well to keep. The really priceless thing they -brought away unharmed—the courage which could accept defeat, and turn, -without a murmur, in the wreck of the old order, to the upbuilding of a -new world. That was a struggle which the world even now knows little of, -though it was as wide as the South and as long as a generation’s -life-time. It was fought singly, and in silence, in each individual -life. Each soul bled inwardly, and only God saw the wounds. But I have -sprung from men who fought that fight. Let me look at the Valley, and -learn. - - * * * * * - -_July 18th._ The wind is at play in the mountains today, and sweeps up -the Valley with a sound as of rushing waters, bending the trees before -it. The long shadows under the swaying branches know not a moment’s -rest; and the racing clouds shift the shafts of sunlight so rapidly from -place to place that the very earth seems moving, like the lightest leaf. -Few birds are abroad, save the robins, which battle against the unseen -powers of the air, only to be blown like autumn leaves. A thrasher, -dashed suddenly in front of me, began at once a philosophic hunt for -worms—one place was as good as another, no doubt; but a young robin, -the black of his crown still separated from the dark ear-coverts by -bands of gray, crouches frightened where he falls. His half-drooped -wings show a power which explains his venturing abroad; he is full -grown, though not yet in full robin dress. He is learning the old lesson -of the young: that there are things in life which not even grown-ups can -do; and that his liberty is merely a liberty to adjust himself to forces -which he cannot hope to control. No wonder he looks a bit dazed! - -The Mistress of the Garden comes out presently to look after her -flowers. Her face is good to see, and her voice to listen to. Her eyes -have the look of one who dwells in that place of peace where happiness -and sorrow are fused into one, and are known as equal essentials of the -highest joy. She is a lover of Nature, too. One inevitably comes to be, -I think, as one travels the long road to serenity of soul. One may -observe Nature in youth, no doubt, and love it, too, somewhat; but the -real sense of kinship with it is a matter of living, and of growth. - - * * * * * - -_July 25th._ Blessed be trees and sunshine, the open sky, and the free -winds which fill it! And blessed be the freshness and promise of the new -day, coming alike to the light-hearted and to those pain-weary and -discouraged. - -And the promise never fails. For, whether the new day brings escape or -courage, relief or a growing power of patience, whether it means joy or -peace, it brings good, and only good; and so through all the soul its -_sursum corda_ rings with sweetness and command. - - * * * * * - -_July 28th._ After wheeling me over to the Garden yesterday afternoon, -Caro left me, to join in an expedition to Bare Rock. When she had gone, -I discovered to my horror that I had been deposited beneath the branch -of a poplar tree on which some hundreds of caterpillars had just been -hatched out. They were so thick that heads, tails and sides touched -everywhere, as they lay on leaves and stems; not one could move a hair’s -breadth without knocking off the others or climbing over them. What they -thought of my proximity I had no means of finding out; but for me it was -not a joyful occasion. I could move neither my chair nor myself; so I -lay there, gazing up at the wretched things till I began turning into a -caterpillar myself, and felt fuzz and wriggles sprouting all over me. -But before the transformation was too far advanced to be checked, I -heard Caro’s voice behind me. - -“Mammy Lil, I don’t want to go walking. May I stay and talk to you?” - -I had been feeling specially lonesome of late. I kept telling myself I -was getting morbid from long illness and solitude; but it seemed to me -that Caro almost avoided me. She waited on me most thoughtfully; but her -errands done, she disappeared. There was no more of that dear -companionship, when she used to sit near me, reading, or embroidering, -while she sang dreamily to herself, or cuddled her head against mine on -the pillows in a fellowship which needed no words. Children can’t -possibly understand how bereft one feels, shut out. I knew she loved me -too well to hurt me; yet I had missed her, under the same roof with her, -more than I had missed David far away: the boy had never shut me out -like that. - -But her voice was different as she asked her question now. I remembered -how, years ago, she used to come out of her periods of seclusion in the -parlor “nice and social,” as she would sweetly announce, and confess her -little soul inside out, clear to her very toes. Before I saw her face I -knew the barrier was gone, and I was to have her confidence at last. - -But, first of all, I craved deliverance from the caterpillars. Some of -them had hunched themselves up ominously, as if they were about to jump -down and float across my nose on silken threads. I was very unhappy -indeed. - -Caro squealed in horror when she saw my plight, and snatched me back -from my impending doom. She wheeled me across the shaven grass to the -edge of the wood-tangle, and sat on a rock beside me, facing the long -Valley once filled with marching men—men who marched from the disaster -of outward defeat to the victory of inner conquest. - -“Mammy Lil,” she inquired presently, “do you love me any more at all?” - -I turned my face to her without speaking. Her eyes filled with sudden -tears, and she laid her cheek against my hand. - -“You’re the darlingest mother! If you weren’t, I’d be ashamed to tell -you. Mammy Lil, I’ve wished sometimes I could murder myself, this last -year; I’ve been so cross. It began last summer while I was home on -vacation. Everybody in Chatterton made love to Milly or me last summer, -except David. He was just as he always was—sweet to both of us, but -specially careful of me because he was my brother. And I didn’t feel the -same to him at all. I—Mammy Lil, I was as foolish about David as those -boys were about us two girls: I was in love with him, over head and -ears.” She paused while I stroked her hair. - -“You can’t think how ashamed I was. And of course I treated him like a -yellow dog. And he behaved _perfectly_. I was sure, though, that he -didn’t suspect—he, nor any one else. And then, at the end of the -summer, Cousin Jane told me that David and I were to marry. I didn’t -believe you’d ever talked to her about it, of course; but I saw in a -flash what it would mean to you—and that David might do it to please -you. And I was afraid Cousin Jane suspected what a fool I was. And she -went to David, too, and told me that, and told him she’d told me. I did -want to wring Cousin Jane’s neck; and I think yet she deserved it! - -“David and I had a talk. She just butted our heads together till we had -to. He said he’d always cared; but he had made up his mind to wait till -I was through school and you were at home again: it wasn’t fair not to. -He was lovely. But he was so quiet—and so confident, it seemed to me. I -tried to lay him out; I was mad. And he wouldn’t blame me a bit for -being mad; but he said he hadn’t asked for any answer yet, and wouldn’t -take one till he did ask for it; and that we mustn’t worry you with -Cousin Jane’s nonsense, and all that. - -“Things rocked along at Christmas, except that I cared more than ever. -But when I came back last spring to stay, as soon as you were really -better, David began to show me that he—you know, Mammy Lil, how much -little things can be made to mean. And I began to see he did care just -as I did. We were so happy in April! Only, I kept staving the end of it -off. I didn’t want to be pinned down too soon. But David—he understood. - -“Then Cousin Jane had to take a hand again. She’d found out Bob White -wanted to marry me—or thought he did; and Bob is what she calls a -‘catch.’ She nabbed me that day, as I was coming home from Milly’s, and -said the hatefullest things you ever heard in your life—that everybody -said I was ‘setting my cap’ for David and pretending to be taking care -of you when I was just running after him; and that David had given her -to understand he felt very badly about it, because he knew you and I -wanted it so much! - -“I knew as well as I knew my name that was a lie out of whole cloth; but -I was just as angry as if it were true. I never had been reconciled to -caring about him before he spoke, anyway. So I went to Cousin Jane’s, as -she told me to, and listened to Bob White’s praises till I was sick of -everything under the sun. And when David and I went out that -afternoon—Mammy Lil, can’t you understand?” - -“Dear, I did it myself, once; I ought to understand. But I paid for it -afterwards, as you have done. When you’re an old lady like me you’ll -know better.” - -“I know better now,” she said, with a sudden quiver in her voice. “I—I -killed David’s respect for me that afternoon.” - -“Nonsense, child,” I exclaimed, “he knows you—and loves you—too well -for that.” - -“He doesn’t love me at all; he can’t. I let him think—I pretended—I’d -just been flirting with him; to lead Bob on.” Her voice died in a shamed -silence. - -This was serious news, considering David’s nature. If he believed she -really cared for some one else, I knew it would take a long time for the -notion to work out of his head; and while it was in there he wouldn’t -stir. And I had promised not to interfere. I stroked her soft hair in -silence for a minute. - -“David will never change in his love for you, dear,” I said; “it’s too -truly a part of him for that. And when people really love one another, -they come together, somehow, soon or late; your Daddy Jack and I were -hopelessly separated for weeks.” - -“We’ve been separated nearly three months,” said Caro, dolefully; -“eleven weeks and four days today. But I’m not going to talk about David -any more. What hurts me most of all is the way I’ve treated you. You -ought to hate me if you don’t. I—” - -I laid my hand over her mouth. - -“What’s the use of being older than you if I can’t understand, child? -And I’ve travelled every step of the way before. Everything that isn’t -right will come right between you and David; but with you and me -everything is right already. Just drop your troubles under the trees, -dearie, as I do, and open your heart to the hills and the sky. Isn’t -today worth yesterday’s storm?” - -She sat up and looked across the Valley. The mountains stood out in the -afternoon sunlight all the clearer for the long shadows already -gathering in the hollows; each leaf and grass blade was shining fresh -after the rain, and everywhere was a flutter and stir of wings. A -nuthatch crept down a locust trunk before us, a yellow-billed cuckoo -slipped by overhead; and all down the hillside the swallows swept in -long, beautiful curves, their bright breasts shining against the sun. - -“Dear,” I said presently, “don’t you see, out of doors here, how wise it -is to take the long look at life? The mountains make me ashamed of my -fretting. And life is working toward this beauty all the time; the -winters in the way don’t matter; they pass. And yet before they pass -they teach us to love life better when it re-appears. When your -happiness is safe in your hands once more, you won’t hurt it again for a -child’s anger or a fool’s speech. I know; for I learned it, too.” - -She laid her cheek against my hand in silence, and we watched together -while the sun went down. The blue shadows overflowed the hollows of the -mountains and met across the green ridges on their sides. Against that -shadowed background the poplars of the Garden, smitten by the last rays -of sunlight, shone like silver, and the locusts like fronds of gold. - -Far below, in the Valley, lay the peace of the coming twilight, and all -about us were the soft murmuring of birdlings settling down to rest, and -of mothers crooning over them as they slept. And at last the gardener -came over from the Madam’s, and wheeled me back, with Caro by my side. - - * * * * * - -_August 2nd._ The Peon is with David now, and I shall soon be having -news. He did not start as early as he hoped, and was detained on the -way; but being there at last, he will soon be able to tell me something -definite about David’s coming home. I haven’t meddled a meddle: not that -I’ve earned any frill to my halo thereby; it’s just that I know by my -own past Caro would catch up with me if I tried it, even if I hadn’t -promised David. So I’m pinning my hopes to the Peon: he has been so very -non-committal that he must have something on his mind. But I can’t share -these hopes with Caro, and they wouldn’t help her if I could: she is in -that stage of penitence where it is against her principles for her to -accept consolation, so far as David is concerned. Her misery, poor -little soul, is the only comfort she can allow herself; and if her -happiness is to have a thorough recovery, the process cannot be hurried. - - * * * * * - -_August 5th._ I woke at half-past four this morning to find a fat white -cloud sitting on the lawn outside, as if he owned the premises. Not a -mountain visible; and beneath the locusts’ misty arches the trees on the -neighboring lawn gleam pale and uncertain, mere grey-green ghosts of -living things. - -The cloud isn’t altogether outside. My books on the stand beside me are -arching their covers with the dampness, and my field-glasses are moist -to the touch; the room feels dank and uncanny, and the heavy air is hard -to breathe. One needs a mental rain-coat on a day like this—especially -when no letters come from a sky-larking Peon! - - * * * * * - -_August 8th._ Days of rain on the parched earth. Gray days, with soft -mists heaped against the mountains, blending earth and sky in one. Days -when one’s horizon is lost—not gone, but withdrawn from sight; days -when the mountains have vanished and the valleys melted away, and -nothing is very clear to consciousness but this small bed and the pain -which lies upon it. If mists crept as close about one’s inner vision, -doubt would seem normal on days like this, and despair the quintessence -of common sense. Yet under the veiling vapors the brown grass is growing -green again, the hard earth soft, instinct with power, and prodigal of -gifts once more. - -Now comes a distant roll of thunder, a wind that sweeps the vapors from -the grass as tears are wiped from sodden eyes, a flash of blinding -light, a bending and tossing of leaf-laden boughs; and over the mountain -the storm-cloud rises, black against the pale gray of the sky. Then up -the valley comes the wall of water; and behind it the world is new. - - * * * * * - -A special delivery letter from the Peon! Caro stood by while I opened -it, asking nothing, but her color coming and going. It was only a few -lines; but it said he would be here on the tenth. He has written not a -word since he has been out there about the things nearest to all our -hearts; but at least we shall know something in two days more. - - - - - XII - IN THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT - - -_August 10th._ They are having a picnic supper on Bare Rock this -evening, from which nobody in the house is excused but myself. I am glad -they are all gone, for I need a little solitude, in this sudden -whirlwind of happiness, to catch my breath and take a twist on my -emotions. - -For the Peon, who is so literally truthful that nobody dares to suspect -him of juggling with words, deliberately stole a march on us and walked -in twenty-four hours ahead of time—with David! Caro and I were over in -the Garden. I was just where I am now, between the altheas and the -locusts; but Caro, who had been wandering restlessly about, had gone -down the hillside, out of sight, following an unknown bird-note. I was -looking at the poplar branch where the caterpillars had clustered. They -had left it stripped of everything but the leaf-stalks, which stood out -now from the bare twigs at every angle, like drunken pins in a cushion. -But the birds had days ago avenged both the branch and me, for not a -crawler was visible on the tree. I was looking at it idly when the Peon -and David suddenly stood under it, coming round the big bed of -hydrangeas between it and the gate! - -I scarcely saw the Peon for looking at David; but David was looking for -somebody else. - -“Where’s Caro?” he demanded, as he kissed me. “They said at the house -she was over here with you.” - -“She’s beyond that little corner of woods,” I said; “go around there and -you’ll see her.” - -As he went I fell upon the Peon, and extracted the hitherto suppressed -information that Bob White’s engagement to some visitor from Kentucky -had been announced last month. The Peon had forgotten her name; but he -carried the news to David, who decided it was time for him to see Caro -at once. And the mischief of a time he was taking about it, too, the -Peon observed impatiently; didn’t they intend to take us into the secret -before midnight? - -As it was still half an hour to sunset, I reproved him properly; but I -was myself beginning to fear something had gone wrong when they appeared -at last. The dusk had fallen, and I could not see their faces clearly; -but I heard a soft, happy laugh from Caro before they came around the -corner of the woods, and I knew everything was all right. - -David had certainly not wasted his time. They were already considering -the house that must be built on the knoll the Peon and I had selected -years ago. It seems he had picked it out himself, and Caro had agreed to -it, in her mud-pie days. Now, having waited so long, and finding Caro in -a mood of undreamed-of submissiveness, he had taken matters into his own -hands, and decided that he would go home as soon as they could settle on -the plans, and begin the house at once. - -“We’ll need it, even so, before we can possibly get into it,” he -observed to me. “Do you remember what you said to me that night about -our wedding? I told Caro about it this afternoon, and she couldn’t deny -that we ought not to start out in life by disgracing you as a prophet. -So it’s to be before Christmas—in September, I think.” - -“I think you’ve lost your wits,” replied Caro. “It won’t be Christmas if -Mammy Lil isn’t walking about everywhere by Thanksgiving. She needn’t -expect us to live up to her prophecies if she won’t do it herself.” - -“But I will,” I replied cheerfully; “I feel it in my bones.” - -“It’s surely time,” said David, turning my chair to the gate. The Peon -and Caro walked on ahead, and the boy bent down and rubbed my cheek with -his. - -“Sweet Mammy, I know I’ve been hard on you these months; but we’ll both -make it up to you now. Forgive us this time, and let us help to make you -well at last.” - - * * * * * - -_August 22nd._ What beautiful, happy days we have had! I showed the Peon -all the wonders of the Garden; and David and Caro strayed in and out, -sometimes with the Madam and her other guests, and sometimes in that -dual solitude lovers crave. - -I told the Peon about Grumpy one day. I never had mentioned him before, -because I never had been quite sure, if I did, that it wouldn’t break -the spell I had woven, and allow him to appear to others as well as to -me. But I’m not afraid of him any more. - -The Peon is so satisfactory! He never thought of laughing at me, but -took in the situation at once. He said the best way to make sure of -getting rid of the wretch was for him to carry Grumpy away when he went. -He could put him in his suit-case—for Grumpy really is the tiniest -creature imaginable to make all the trouble he does; and he could throw -him out of the car window as they were crossing some deep gorge in the -mountains where no human habitation had ever been. A blue devil can’t -possibly live where there are no people; so there’d be an end of his -mischief forever. - -Wasn’t that the cleverest scheme? We caught him together yesterday -afternoon, and rammed him into the suit-case, good and tight. And I told -the Peon, before he went, that if he did many more stunts like that, -he’d be a very satisfactory playmate for me when the children are grown -up and in their own house. - -And that is the end of Grumpy. - - * * * * * - -_August 23rd._ They have gone back, taking the plans for the house with -them. Caro and David sketched them together, and he will have them -worked out at home. - -I think Caro half envies him the pleasure of beginning the nest -building, and wants to be there to see; but nobody is willing for me to -go back before the first of October; and the child has a deal of -shopping to do. I will wait here; and Caro will go to New York and visit -Edith Mason, while she selects her bridal plumage. - -I find the birds most joyful company these days, and am planning to -cultivate their acquaintance in a less formal manner; for I intend to -get out of this chair. - -A wheeled-chair is really an exasperating place to study birds from: I -wonder I never realized it before. This very day the trees are full of -them—new birds, many of them, gathering for the fall migration. They -have been playing hide-and-seek with me all the afternoon—a charming -game if one can do one’s own part of it, and go seeking when the other -hides; but if you can’t, it’s not so hilarious. They poke unknown heads -through the leaves, and survey me coolly. They whisk tails I can’t even -guess at from behind a limb, and are gone. They sing high overhead, with -only a bit of their under feathers visible, or flirt a half-seen wing -behind an opening in the leaves. Sorting heads, tails, and middles is a -hopeless job when you haven’t an idea which belongs to which. If it were -only a Chinese puzzle, you’d know when it was solved; but a tail with -any other head would look as sweet! I’ve thought all summer that if a -hyper-developed sense of touch can serve the blind for eyes, surely time -and patience could do the work of feet for me; but I’m thinking patience -may cease to be a virtue soon! - - * * * * * - -_August 26th._ We have had two days of storm. They mark both a beginning -and an end; for a subtle change has passed over the mountains and -lingers, though wind and rain be gone. A tinge of brown, merely -suspected before, has deepened and spread until it challenges and -commands the eye. Some of the nearer trees look seared, and the poplars, -especially, look withered and old. But there is a beauty of soul deeper -than that of the flesh and of youth: and the depth and power of Nature’s -charm, like the freedom of our own souls, can be best measured by the -number and splendor of the things which can be laid aside. All the -glamour of the young spring, the splendid lavishness of summer days, the -riot of color and sunshine—these things, which yearly draw us with new -fascination and delight, are but the broidered outer curtain of the -temple. They lure us past them, into the inner court, to a strength -which knows no defeat, to an abundance which can afford to be stripped; -to Law which cannot be thwarted nor checked; and beyond Law to a Power -which reason can neither explain nor explain away. - -For myself, I have my message; the hills have spoken it. And the pain -which wrenches is back where it belongs, in the second place—or the -twentieth. Moreover, it will pass—tomorrow, or next year, or in a -life-time: it is not of the things which remain. - -And now the clouds are breaking for a sunset glory, and the porch where -I lie, and the lawn beyond it, even the shadowed mountains—all, all, -are flooded with splendid light. - - * * * * * - -_August 29th._ A letter from Cousin Jane at last! Caro and I both wrote -to her while David was here, but she had not vouchsafed a reply. David -had a satisfactory interview with Cousin Chad, after his return, but -reported Cousin Jane’s reception of him as one befitting an unrepentant -prodigal who had brought his swine home with him. So we have been -looking forward to the reception of a letter from her as a very solemn -occasion indeed. She seems inclined, however, to temper her disapproval -to Caro. She doesn’t expect her to be happy long, she says; and she -handsomely offers not to disturb her present dreams, but to wait until -Caro is disillusioned, when she hopes her “I told you so” will do some -good. She does not intend, however, to cause any breach in the family, -her principles forbidding her to quarrel even with me; and she is -perfectly willing to continue her efforts to set me a proper example. - -I suppose, on the whole, that’s doing pretty well for Cousin Jane. I -don’t intend to have any breach in the family, myself, especially over -the children’s wedding; and Caro and I will find some way to appease her -when we go home. - - * * * * * - -_August 30th._ What bird is that? He is in the locust yonder, only his -breast visible. It is a vivid yellow, with four irregular scarlet -spots—three on one side and one on the other—and across his breast a -long zig-zag line of scarlet like a jagged wound. There isn’t any bird -like that: I know it; and if he doesn’t, he ought to. Yet there he sits, -as calm as if he were in all the books and had as much right in the -Garden as I. I have watched him, and recorded him, yet he doesn’t move. - -Well, I’ll just make him: I’m not tied to this chair! - -A scarlet tanager, moulting! No wonder I never saw that before. He is -always scarlet-and-black when he goes through Tennessee in the spring, -and yellow and olive when he goes back in the fall. He looks like the -clown in a circus now, and I don’t wonder that he seeks the seclusion of -the mountains to change his clothes. He is gone, of course, before I can -apologize for my intrusion; and I suppose his opinion of me is scarcely -fit to print. - - * * * * * - -_September 18th._ Caro is back from New York, and we leave a week from -today. We have decided to shave a few days off the limit set by the -Peon: if we don’t hurry, David will have that house half finished before -we get there, and we want to see it go up from the beginning ourselves. -Besides, Caro wants a little time with Milly. Her wedding is set for the -last of October, and Caro’s is to be six weeks later. I’m afraid it will -take strenuous work to get Cousin Jane where we want her by that time; -but if we go home and start on her at once, the thing may be done. - - * * * * * - -_September 24th._ The last day in the Garden! The Mistress has been out, -and I have been trying, in rather a bungling way, to make her understand -what she has done for me. Neither she nor the Madam can know the whole -of it, and I hope they never will; for they would have to live in the -same prison-house to understand what a door of escape means. - -Eh, but the summer is over, and I count my stay by hours!—Yes; but the -summer will never end. Even when the prison is lost sight of, the door -of escape will remain a delight. The things that hurt pass, and are -forgotten; things not understood change and grow clear: but joy does not -change, not kindness, nor anything that makes life worth while. And so, -good-bye to the Garden. - - - - - XIII - WHILE THE NEST WAS BUILDING - - -_September 30th._ We reached home three days ago, having forestalled the -possibility of orders not to come by concealing our plans until we were -on the way. - -The house is no house at all yet, of course. Caro calls it the Perchery -at present, and says she will give it a name when we can all sit in it, -instead of roosting on stones outside and staring at the place where it -is going to be. But the cellar is finished, anyway, and is of ample -proportions, as a country cellar should be; and until we get something -else to admire, we find it an absorbing subject of contemplation. Even -Cousin Jane was delighted with it, and still more with Caro’s promise to -go home with her and stay until after the wedding. - -Caro went over there as soon as I was settled in bed for a rest, and -came back glowing with triumph. Cousin Jane was coming in the morning to -spend the day, and to take the child back home with her in the evening. - -“And oh, Mammy Lil, she’s perfectly charmed with David, and quite -certain she picked him out for me! The shock of it nearly bowled me over -for a minute. You know that big New York bank that failed a week or two -ago? Everybody thought Bob’s father’s bank was mixed up in it, and there -was a regular run on it. David and Daddy Jack were too full of the -Perchery to mention it; but it converted Cousin Jane straight through. -The bank’s all right—I asked David about it, driving home—but you -can’t make Cousin Jane believe it. She thinks a bank should be above -suspicion by anybody, and if it isn’t, it’s a whited sepulchre -forevermore. So she’s delighted that she had the good sense to pass over -a fellow like Bob, who comes from a family of speculators, and choose -for me a good, steady, kind, reliable business man like David Bird, -instead. I wish you could hear her, Mammy Lil; she’s downright edifying. -And she fairly beamed on David, though he hadn’t been near her for -weeks. Everything’s all right, if only the hot weather doesn’t make you -sick. If they’d told us how hot it was, I wouldn’t have brought you -home.” - -The heat was extraordinary for the time of the year, and still continues -so; but it didn’t keep Cousin Jane at home, though usually she won’t -budge unless it’s cool. - -She was in high good humor, and evidenced it by a peck on my cheek and -the remark that I must be getting better, for I really didn’t look so -very many years older than I was. She approved of the plans for the -house, especially when she found it was to be our wedding gift to Caro; -and she went out “to perch,” at Caro’s invitation, and admired every -stone in the foundations. Then she came in and settled seriously down to -the subject of clothes. - -It seems that Grace is lavishing on Milly’s outfit all the pretty things -Cousin Jason prevented her from giving the child in her girlhood; and -Cousin Jane’s family pride has risen in a most desirable and unexpected -manner to demand that Caro shall be as well provided for as her cousin; -so Caro can prepare in peace. Cousin Jane even proposes to help her, -tooth and nail. Caro and I are a little daunted by this excess of zeal, -Cousin Jane’s taste—or lack of it—being a byword in the family. But -Caro will find a way to manage her; and we have already settled the -question of the dress she is to wear at the wedding. I had Caro buy it -for me in New York—a soft, rich, silken fabric—and it is to be made by -the best dressmaker in the city. If we left it to Cousin Jane, she would -get old black Sally to make it, at seventy-five cents a day; she says -it’s sinful to waste money on town dress-makers. - -But she doesn’t mind my wasting it for her. If there was a corner of her -heart still congealed it melted when she took the silk between her -finger and thumb, and fully tested its quality. - -“It’s an elegant present, Lyddy,” she declared graciously, “an’ I don’t -mind taking it from you one mite. I’ve always said you meant well; an’ -it ain’t your fault if you’re foolish.” - -Could I ask for a handsomer coat of white-wash than that? - - * * * * * - -_October 2nd._ Last night was sticky, hot, and still, with the stars -flaming overhead, as though they were trying to burn the heavens. I fell -asleep at last, to be wakened suddenly by a sound as if the wind were -ripping the sky off the earth, and ten million tons of water were -sluicing through the hole. The world was all one glare of light, with -sudden, momentary breaks of darkness, while a roar as of a thousand -batteries surged up from every quarter of the heavens, and filled to -bursting the black void above our heads. I sprang up to close the -windows, my ankles brushed by quick, ghostly touches, as loose papers -skittered over the floor. - -The Peon and David came in, in hastily donned attire, for the storm was -altogether out of the ordinary. The house trembled like a living thing, -and in the air about us we could feel the crackle of the blinding light. -Then came a crash that split the earth. A moment later, through the -surging billows of water hurled through the wind-rent air, we saw a -sudden, leaping light, red in the white electric glare. A huddled -company of straw-stacks had been struck by the descending bolt, and not -even that flood of water could quench the flames. The heavy clouds, -weighted almost to earth, caught the sullen glow beneath them, and as -they were flung onward and upward by the screaming wind, carried the -lurid colors of destruction far into the blackness overhead. One moment -a world of blinding white, as the lightning blotted out everything but -its own wild glare. The next, a red and lowering world, sullen, -portentous, with the evil color spreading, climbing, licking out on all -sides in an orgy of ruin and waste whose greed defied the cataracts of -water, and made the wild wind its minister and slave. - -The air rocked with the thunderous down-pour under the crashing clouds. -One of the maples fell prone in the lightning’s glare; and from every -side came the sound of rending wood as branches were wrenched and split -and hurled across the lawn. The house shook, while around us and above -us the Titans fought. In the presence of that unveiled power one’s own -small life dwindled to nothingness. One marveled that human feebleness -yet held a place in a world so charged with forces, the least of which -could wipe out all human effort and leave the earth as bare as a -new-sponged slate. - -Yet the fury passed. The Titans screamed and fought, but their power -waned. The wind wavered and sank, sobbing like a beaten child; the rain -splashed dully, dripping from porches and eaves; the thunder died on -distant hills, and the lightnings grew fitful and weak. Even the -storm-born flames were spent, until only a hot coal of light glowed -under the breaking clouds. A star shone here and there, mirrored in the -rain-pools of the drenched fields. - -David opened the windows, and we drank in the freshness of the -storm-cleansed air. The new-washed leaves, still green with summer time, -whispered in the quietness, and here and there a cricket chirped, or a -night-bird called to its mate. Power was veiled again, withdrawn; and -life that had trembled in the balance resumed its wonted course. - - * * * * * - -_October 9th._ I asked Grace today about Cousin Jason. I knew she was -worrying over something. Milly might be happy, but she wasn’t. So I -asked her how he did. - -“He won’t speak to me, Lil, at all. I have been there two or three -times; but he wouldn’t see me.” - -“Isn’t he coming to the wedding?” I asked. - -“I wrote to ask him that—to show him we really wanted him; but he sent -the letter back.” - -Her eyes filled with unwonted tears, and I had a sudden desire to jerk -my jay-bird cousin’s feathers out by the roots. - -“You’ll just have to train your thoughts to keep away from him, Grace,” -I said. “I know you can, for I’ve steered my own clear of a lot of -things I simply don’t dare to fool with. Don’t shake your head at me, -madam! Do you think Milly doesn’t see that look in your eyes when you -sit and think about Cousin Jason? Are you going to let him hurt her?” - -“No, I’m not,” she said firmly. “I’ll make my eyes behave.” - -“Then you’ll have to make your thoughts behave behind your eyes. You let -Cousin Jason alone. If you’ll quit paying attention to him long enough, -he’ll come round; but as long as you give him a chance to rebuff you, -he’ll amuse himself doing it.” - -Grace laughed. - -“Shall I follow your advice or your example—you door-mat for Cousin -Jane?” - -I laughed myself. - -“Never mind. We can find out how to do a thing perfectly, many a time, -just by doing it the way it shouldn’t be done. And I did send Cousin -Jane home once. I know the recording angel put that down to my credit.” - -We fell to talking of her plans. Milly and her husband are to live with -her, he going in to his business daily, like the Peon. But Grace wants -them to have this first winter alone together. So as soon as they get -back from their wedding trip, and Caro is married, she expects to go -away with George’s niece, and spend the winter travelling. - -The Peon and I will stay at Bird Corners. The children will be gone for -five or six weeks, and by the time they come home the Perchery will -almost be ready for them to begin feathering their nest—And to think -it’s the real Bird Corners, and not Make-Believe at all! - - * * * * * - -_October 16th._ The young mocking-birds are learning to sing, and their -efforts are altogether charming. They sit apart, crooning, each to -himself, trying their score over and over, thoughtfully, with pauses in -which they seem to search their memories for forgotten notes. It is as -if melody had come with them from the land of dreams, and they were -trying to catch and hold the elusive sweetness, and teach it to come at -their command. The soft, dreamy music floats through the October -sunshine, at once a memory and a hope. It is a song of the garnered -years, an inheritance from old days of love and aspiration, and it -presages days of love and aspiration yet to be. But more than both of -these, it voices the peace of autumn days, when the earth has finished -the long year’s toil, and turns to its hard-won rest in the quiet of the -misty sunshine. - - * * * * * - -_October 20th._ I don’t need my note-book these days. When one can do so -much living with people the birds are no longer a necessity. I hear -their songs and calls, and know them for the voices of my friends—real -friends for life. But Caro comes over nearly every day, and always there -is so much to talk about. And often Cousin Jane comes too; and it’s -positively exhilarating to see the way Caro and I are corrupting her -morals. That old lady is getting as worldly-minded as if there were not -a blackbird saint in existence. - -The dressmaker made her get a modern corset to be fitted in, and she’s -so pleased with herself in it that she wears it all the time. She really -looks like another person, for Caro has coaxed her into curl-papers o’ -nights, and the soft gray fluff around her face is amazingly different -from the wide part with the flat straight bands plastered over her -temples and ears. The old Buff Orpington doesn’t know her any more, and -Caro says he shrieks and runs at the sight of her. - -Everybody in Chatterton notices the change, and tells her she looks -years younger—as she does; and the other evening Cousin Chad took up -the tale, and grew positively sentimental, right before Caro. Cousin -Jane blushed and bridled as she must have done over forty years ago, and -next day she bought the prettiest stuff for a house dress, and carried -it to the wedding-gown dressmaker to make! She says it’s every woman’s -Christian duty to be attractive in her own home, and that if Chadwell -will be a boy and like frippery, she’ll have to give in to him; the Lord -didn’t give men much sense anyway, and you just have to humor them -along, like children. - -I feel rather ashamed of myself, I must confess. I’ve been laughing at -her all these years, like all the rest of the family, and been cross -with her inside, often. And what she needed most was for somebody to see -the simple human need for praise and petting under all her strident -aggressiveness; for as soon as she got it she blossomed out like this! I -said as much to Caro today, and she cocked her head suddenly to one side -as if she heard someone calling her. Then she jumped up, laughing, spun -around on one toe, and caught me in her arms. She said I’d given her -such a big idea I’d taken her breath away. She wouldn’t tell me what it -was, but ran off to the buggy and drove singing down to the gate. - - * * * * * - -_October 24th._ Caro has given me the shock of my life. I’ve seen she -had some kind of bee in her bonnet for three or four days, but she was -bent on being mysterious, so I didn’t tease. - -Yesterday, as I sat on the side porch, whipping lace, I saw her buggy -coming out from between the cedars, and Cousin Jason was in it! Caro was -beaming, as usual, and Cousin Jason looked as if he were having a good -time, and embarrassed to know what to do with it. I went to meet them as -they drove toward the Perchery. - -He greeted me awkwardly, and explained that Caro wanted him to see her -house, and that he’d had no more sense than to give in to her and come. -Caro dashed at him at once. - -“You mean you had sense enough to come,” she corrected. “Cousin Jason -really has lots of sense, Mammy Lil, only he thought it was nonsense and -tried his best to hide it. We’re going up to town together tomorrow on a -lark—just we two.” - -“I haven’t promised yet,” he growled. - -“You needn’t promise,” said Caro sweetly. “I told you it wasn’t -necessary. All you need to do is to go.” - -She made him admire the house and the plans; and when he objected to her -numerous closets she assured him that his ideas were all wrong, and that -the lack of closets in his own house was the root of most of his -troubles; he needed them to pack his skeletons in, instead of -entertaining them in public. They went off together presently; but Caro -promised to come back this evening and spend the night. I knew I should -have the tale then. - -She came, and the three of us had dinner together, the Peon being in -town. And now that she and David are at the piano in the next room, I -must finish the story. - -She went straight from here the other day to Cousin Jason’s, and told -him she wanted him to come to Milly’s wedding and give the bride away. -He was too amazed to be angry at first; and when he did get angry, Caro -stood her ground, kept her temper, and gave him what she called a -preachment—a mixture of fun, coaxing, and straight-from-the-shoulder -talking. She made no impression, apparently, so when she was ready to go -she left, assuring him cheerfully that she would be back in the morning -and take the matter up with him again. - -He had always liked Caro, and her sheer audacity pleased him. She took -her work the next morning and spent the day. When Cousin Jason grew -weary of argument, he went out on the farm; but Caro was there when he -came back. She had carried over various good things to eat, and gave him -a lunch such as he hadn’t enjoyed since he left Grace’s. She argued, -coaxed, ridiculed, and scolded. And by the time David, who was sworn to -secrecy, came by to take her driving, Cousin Jason had promised to think -the matter over. - -I don’t believe it was what the child said that impressed his stubborn -nature; he simply found Caro herself irresistible. - -When she left him that day, his anger with Grace, she said, was really a -crumbling ruin; but he didn’t realize it; so she went back next morning -to topple it to its fall. By the middle of the afternoon he had said -that if he could be convinced Grace really wanted him, he would go. Caro -immediately challenged him to go there with her to dinner that night, -take Grace by surprise, and see for himself. When he refused she taunted -him with backing out of his own test, and dared him to the scratch. She -telephoned Grace finally that she wanted to bring a friend to dinner, -and they drove over together. - -“Milly and Bobolink were out in his car,” she said; “and Cousin Grace -didn’t see us coming. We walked right in on her in the living-room -before she knew he was there.” Caro paused to wipe her eyes. “I’ll cry -for six months whenever I think about it. I don’t see how Cousin Grace -can care so much—he’s been so hateful to her. I thought she was going -to faint at first. Then she stood there speechless, her hands stretched -out, and her face the most beautiful thing I ever saw. He called her -name and went toward her, and she just slipped into his arms with one -long sob, as if her heart were breaking. And I went out and shut the -door.” - -When Milly came in she was plainly overjoyed, for her mother’s sake, if -not for his; and Bobolink, Caro declared, behaved like an archangel. She -inconsistently elucidated this remark by explaining that he had been -brought up on a farm and was as crazy about the country as I am myself; -and he has always kept up his knowledge of agriculture and his interest -in it. Cousin Jason, who had taken him for what he politely terms a city -fool, thawed visibly toward him during the evening. And before he left -he had promised to give the bride away. - -Caro, who believes in striking while the iron is hot, offered to go to -town with him the next day to order his dress-suit for the occasion. As -the wedding is to be on the twenty-ninth, there is certainly no time to -lose. But Cousin Jason, who has scorned conventionality all his life, -balked instantly, and declared that if he had to make a fool of himself -to do it he wouldn’t come to the wedding at all. - -Grace agreed at once to his wearing anything he chose; but Caro was -resolved to carry her point. - -“You see, Mammy Lil, he was just in retreat, and I had to rout him. If I -had let him make a stand about the clothes he’d wear I’d have been -throwing away my victory. So I told him he had to have a dress-suit. -He’d need it for my wedding as well as Milly’s. I didn’t tell him before -Cousin Grace; I waited till he drove me back to Cousin Jane’s. And next -day I went over again to sit up with him about it.” - -“He ought to have admired your persistence.” - -“That’s just what I told him. He began to weaken a little, so I brought -him over and showed him the Perchery as a reward. And he went this very -day. The tailor said he couldn’t make it in time, and Cousin Jason -crowed and said he’d told me so. But I explained to the tailor that he -could make it, and that he had it to do. So he agreed. We bought gloves, -and a tie, and everything; and I made him get his hair cut, and he’s -going to look scrumptious. You really haven’t an idea what can be done -with an old relation till you begin to furbish him up.” - - * * * * * - -_October 30th._ Milly was married in church, and she and Cousin Jason -and Grace stopped by here on their way to the wedding for me to see -them. Milly was beautiful, and no bride but Caro could be sweeter; and -Grace, all in silvery gray, with that deep light in her eyes, was like -nothing but the Moonlight Sonata. As to Cousin Jason, he was furbished -almost past recognition; and my admiration pleased him like a boy. - -Caro fluttered about them, radiant in her bridesmaid’s dress, and -followed by David’s adoring eyes. The Peon escorted Grace; and after -awhile I watched the carriages coming back. Before they left for the -station Caro telephoned me, and Uncle Milton wheeled me down to the -gate, where I waved my handkerchief and cast my handful of rice as they -drove by, Milly’s exquisite face alight with a look her husband may well -carry in his heart always. - - * * * * * - -_November 29th._ How fast the days slip by! Milly came home early in the -week, and yesterday was the Thanksgiving I prophesied about to David -last spring. - -Certainly I am going all about the house; and to emphasize my success as -a seer we had a family gathering at Thanksgiving dinner. The bride and -groom were here, of course, and Grace, who leaves as soon as Caro is -married, and Cousin Jason—resplendent, by the way, in his dress-suit, -which he considered a capital joke on Caro. Cousin Jane looked not a day -over fifty, and Cousin Chad had done some furbishing himself to keep her -company. - -To think of a dinner party at Bird Corners again, after all these years! -The Peon and I beamed at one another from the ends of the table; and in -the centre, the bride and groom faced the bride-and-groom-to-be, with -the older people tucked in at the corners. And it was all so good to see -and hear—such a fairy tale come true—that, as I lie here today -resting, I am just too happy for words. - -David and Caro are to be married next Wednesday—married here, at Bird -Corners. I dare not risk going to the church yet, and Cousin Jane’s is -quite as far away. Besides, both the children want it here, and it is -and always has been Caro’s home as well as David’s. Cousin Jane has -really been sweet about it; and it is all settled that she and Caro are -to come over in time for me to help dress the bride. Grace is coming -tomorrow, and will stay with me until it is all over and she goes away -herself. - - * * * * * - -_December 9th._ The wedding day was perfect—cloudless blue, and the -little red wren singing his matins in the lilac almost before it was -light. I am glad the child is a winter bride. She can afford to ignore -the seasons, for she carries spring-time in her heart, like her namesake -out of doors. - -It was all beautiful, and I with my own hands helped to make it so. But -nothing about it is very clear to me except the look in the children’s -eyes—_our_ children, both of them, at last. Caro’s joy had sobered her, -so that she walked the earth in radiance, instead of fluttering, -light-winged, above it; but David’s joy had set him on the heights. Oh, -my son, my son, child of my soul always! I could not have borne the look -upon his face if I had not known Caro through and through. But now I am -not afraid. - -Grace went the day after the wedding, and left me in a world where real -and Make-Believe are blended into one. The Peon comes home early, and -together we walk across the grass to the Perchery, and talk of how he -wheeled me there in those sorrowful days last spring, when it seemed the -knoll would never know the nest we longed to see there. And in the -evening we sit in the firelight together, and hear the childish voices -of long ago in the room, and childish feet in the hall. And we laugh -over the good old days, and smile over the new days, which are better. -And before I go to bed we go to the window and look at the children’s -house, standing clear against the stars. And they come and stand beside -us there, their tiny hands in ours—the dear, long-ago little children, -who will be with us always, though the big children, dearer still, come -and go across the grass between their home and ours. - - THE END - - * * * * * - -Transcriber’s Notes: - -Punctuation and obvious typesetting errors have been corrected without -note. 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border-bottom:1px solid silver; width:100%; margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:2em } - .figcenter { - text-align:center; - margin:1em auto; - page-break-inside: avoid; - } - - div.blockquote { margin:1em 2em; text-align:justify; } - p.line { text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; } - div.lgp p.line0 { text-indent:-3em; margin:0 auto 0 3em; } - table { page-break-inside: avoid; } - table.center { margin:0.5em auto; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.flushleft { margin:0.5em 0em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - table.left { margin:0.5em 1.2em; border-collapse: collapse; padding:3px; } - .tab1c1 { } - .tab1c2 { } - .tab1c3 { } - .tab1c4 { } - .tdStyle0 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:right; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle1 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:center; vertical-align:top; - } - .tdStyle2 { - padding: 2px 5px; text-align:left; vertical-align:top;padding-left:29px; text-indent:-24px; - } - .pindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:1.5em; } - .noindent { margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; text-indent:0; } - .hang { padding-left:1.5em; text-indent:-1.5em; } - </style> - <style type="text/css"> - h1 { font-size: 1.5em; font-weight: bold;} - .sub-head { font-size: 0.9em;font-weight: normal; } - .poetry-container { margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em } - .pindent {margin-top: 0.25em; margin-bottom: 0em;} - </style> - </head> - <body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's In the Garden of Delight, by Lily Hardy Hammond - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: In the Garden of Delight - -Author: Lily Hardy Hammond - -Release Date: November 12, 2020 [EBook #63729] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT *** - - - - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0000' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter'> -<img src='images/titlepage.jpg' alt='' id='iid-0001' style='width:70%;height:auto;'/> -</div> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style='page-break-before: always;'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>IN THE GARDEN OF</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:2em;font-weight:bold;'>DELIGHT</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>BY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.3em;font-weight:bold;'>L. H. HAMMOND</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>AUTHOR OF “THE MASTER-WORD,” “IN BLACK AND</p> -<p class='line0'>WHITE,” ETC.</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>NEW YORK</p> -<p class='line0' style='font-size:1.3em;'>THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY</p> -<p class='line0'>PUBLISHERS</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style=''> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>Copyright</span>, 1916,</p> -<p class='line0'><span class='sc'>By</span> THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div class='lgc' style='page-break-before: always;'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>To</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>LUCY AND CALDWELL</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line0'>IN MEMORY OF THE WHEELED-CHAIR SUMMER</p> -<p class='line0'>AT PEN-Y-BRYN</p> -<p class='line'> </p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> <!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1>CONTENTS</h1></div> - -<table id='tab1' summary='' class='center'> -<colgroup> -<col span='1' style='width: 3.5em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 15em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 3em;'/> -<col span='1' style='width: 0.5em;'/> -</colgroup> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'></td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle1'>CHAPTER</td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</span></td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>I.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#acc'><span class='sc'>A Country Child</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>1</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>II.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#birdc'><span class='sc'>Bird Corners</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>16</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>III.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#inmake'><span class='sc'>In Make-Believe</span> </a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>37</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>IV.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#dark'><span class='sc'>The Dark O’ the Year</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>57</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>V.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#prem'><span class='sc'>Premonitions</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>81</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#before'><span class='sc'>Before the Dawn</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>115</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#spring'><span class='sc'>Spring Magic</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>126</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>VIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#bbird'><span class='sc'>Blackbird Diplomacy</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>150</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>IX.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#proof'><span class='sc'>The Proof of Courage</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>169</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>X.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#rout'><span class='sc'>The Routing of Uncle Jason</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>186</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>XI.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#where'><span class='sc'>Where the Battle Was Fought</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>204</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>XII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#gard'><span class='sc'>In the Garden of Delight</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>229</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -<tr><td class='tab1c1 tdStyle0'>XIII.</td><td class='tab1c2 tdStyle2'><a href='#nest'><span class='sc'>While the Nest Was Building</span></a></td><td class='tab1c3 tdStyle0'>241</td><td class='tab1c4 tdStyle0'></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class='pbk'/> - -<div><h1><a id='acc'></a>I<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>A Country Child</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>There</span> is one thing, at least, in this puzzling -world which, though everything changes it, -nothing can spoil: and that is out-of-doors. -Long ago, when this place was stately old -Cedarhurst instead of home-y Bird Corners, -and I a wilful small girl climbing trees and -tearing my frocks whenever Great-aunt Virginia -and Great-aunt Letitia were both looking -the other way at the same time—a coincidence -as blissful as it was infrequent—I -thought being outdoors was heaven enough for -anybody.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>In the long winter afternoons I sat by the -big wood fire in the back parlor and hemmed -towels and napkins—when I wasn’t pulling -out yesterday’s work because Great-aunt Virginia -found the stitches too big: and I looked -out at the cold, bare hills, blue and beautiful -against the pale sky, and longed to play over -them like the winds, and to be whirled up into -the air like the brown leaves which scurried -about them all winter long. And in the spring, -when the budding branches draped the trees -with jewelled mists, all silver and green and -gold and ruby-red, I wished the great-aunts -had learned to play on the grass with their -whole selves, instead of just with their fingers -on the big old rosewood piano, which stood -stiff and square in the front parlor, an instrument -of torture to rebellious hands that longed -to be pulling wild-flowers, and to ears tuned to -catch the songs of birds. And in summer time, -when the rain blotted out the hills, and every -leaf of every tree sang the Song of the Rushing -Winds; when the lightning ran zig-zag all -over the sky and the thunder jarred the house—oh, -why should great-aunts call one indoors, -and shut the free winds out, and put cotton -in their ears, and make little girls come away -from the windows, and the chimneys, and -every place where they wanted to be, instead -of leaving them out in the rain to be drenched -like the flowers and shake themselves dry like -the birds?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And in autumn—but those memories are -too painful! On frosty days the house was -shut tight, the log fires kindled, and my small -person swathed in insufferable flannels—flannels!—in -a Tennessee October! And when I -rebelled, there were fearsome tales of children -who had died of pneumonia, or gone into consumption, -because their misguided relatives had -allowed them to play outdoors in the cold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And yet outdoors was never more beautiful. -Some of the hills were far and blue, and some -were near and green, or brown with stubble, -or yellow with stalks of corn. The grass in -the pasture was greenest green; and when I -slipped out on the back porch the sycamores -down by the brook rustled their drying leaves -and called me as loud as they dared. And -the doves flew by in flocks, and the killdeers -whirred up from the valley with wild, free -cries, and the field-larks sang on the fence-posts, -or lighted on the short, sweet grass, the -white of their outer tail feathers shining in -the sun. But Great-aunt Letitia would call -me back to the parlor, where she made tea, -which she and Great-aunt Virginia drank, -sitting in rosewood arm-chairs, dressed in soft -shimmering silks, with cobwebby lace about -their throats.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I myself balanced unhappily upon one of -the big square ottomans, too small to get far -enough back on it to have any purchase against -the slippery horsehair, and painfully conscious -of Great-aunt Virginia’s eyes on my awkwardly -swinging feet. I kept my place as best I -could, holding a bit of egg-shell china, and -sipping my odious cambric tea.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was the chosen time to instill proper -principles of conduct into my callous little -soul. The gentle old aunts made a duet of it, -and I always thought they practiced it together -beforehand, like a “piece” on the piano. -It was really very easy not to hear!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I always sat on the ottoman nearest the -center table. The other was nearer the east -window, and showed the long front drive bordered -by the stiff lines of cedars, which gave -Cedarhurst its name before the great-aunts -were born. But the one by the table had the -double advantage of giving me a dutiful appearance, -being equally distant from both of -the arm-chairs, and of allowing me, by an -almost imperceptible sliding to one corner, to -look out of the silver-maple window to the jug -of water I kept in the center of the seven -trunks, a drinking fountain for all the birds of -the place. I sat very still during the duet, my -head raised a little to see the lowest branches, -where the birds always alighted; and I often -quite forgot my cambric tea until Great-aunt -Letitia gently reminded me of it. My docility -touched them very much. I heard Great-aunt -Letitia tell Great-aunt Virginia one day that -she was afraid I would never live to grow up, -my expression was so rapt when they urged my -duty upon me; and she felt as though there -were an invisible halo above my little brown -head. I was running in through the hall when I -heard this, and stopped in breathless amazement. -I had no thought of eavesdropping, -but I saw Great-aunt Virginia wipe her eyes; -and Great-aunt Letitia almost sniffed. I sat -stiller than ever after that, and rolled my eyes -a little; and Great-aunt Letitia sent for the -doctor, who said I needed calico dresses and -mud pies. The great-aunts were shocked at -first, but the doctor was firm. And after that -I played outdoors unless the thermometer was -very unkind and the wind in an especially -dangerous quarter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are really two of the-most-beautiful-place-in-the-world. -One of them is the real -outdoors; and the other is outdoors in the Land -of Make-Believe. The advantage of the real -outdoors is that its loveliness is ready-made. -One invents nothing; one merely opens eyes -and ears and soul to drink in beauty and joy, -and learns, almost without knowing it, the -most curious and interesting things. The advantage -of Make-Believe is that when things -are as they shouldn’t be, one can instantly -step over into that blessed country and make -them be exactly what they should. No one -ever sees you do it, either, or guesses that you -can make a world in a twinkling, out of dreams. -It has all the charm and mystery of a fairy -ring, or fern seed, or Aladdin’s lamp. One’s -body can perch on a horsehair piano stool, -twisting one’s two little meat legs about its -one fat leg of rosewood, and great-aunts may -be sure you are practising scales most faithfully; -and all the time you are really running -races in the wind with charming, dirty children -who tear their dresses all day long, and never -had their hair in curl-papers in their lives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And that is only the beginning. For one -can learn so well the road to that dear land -that one never forgets it, even in grown-up -days. There is never any sickness in Make-Believe. -One can walk and run there always, -though one’s body lies weak and helpless, or -drags slowly about, year after year, in a world -that is full of pain. One can slip away from -the long, black, sleepless nights into a lovely -world where imagination is the motive power, -and all one needs and all one longs for lie -ready to one’s hand.</p> - -<hr class='tbk100'/> - -<p class='pindent'>It was the January after I was sixteen that -Cedarhurst burned down. It was a bitter -cold time; and the heaviest snow I had ever -seen turned my familiar world into fairyland -under the winter moon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Great-aunt Letitia who found the -fire. She had been looking for it all her life. -One of the most familiar memories of my childhood -is the waking at night to hear a soft -rustle past my open door—the doors were always -left open that we might smell the fire -when we really had one—and to see Great-aunt -Letitia, her white hair tucked away under -a dainty nightcap and the light of her candle -bringing out soft gleams in her flowered silk -dressing gown, as she followed her highbred -nose to the spot where it assured her a fire had -broken out. It used to frighten me at first; -but I grew too accustomed to it even to wake. -So it taxed my credulity to the utmost when, -on that bitter night, she roused me to tell me -with tense white lips that Cedarhurst was in -flames.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How the fire started, we never knew. It -burst through the floor of the empty guest -room first, and the ceiling of the dining-room -below it. But however it started, it was there; -and there was no one to fight it but two fragile -old ladies, a half-grown girl, and the terrified -Negroes. It was before the days of rural telephones, -and the house was in ruins before any -one in the village knew our need. We carried -the news ourselves when we drove into Chatterton -in the gray dawn, shivering with cold. -We were all fully dressed, of course; the -great-aunts would have perished in the flames -before they would have shocked the stars of -heaven by appearing outdoors in the mildest -disarray. And we saved the family silver, a -portrait or two, great-grandmother’s sewing -table, a few books, and the clothes upon our -backs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>On the way to the village Great-aunt Virginia -said we had much to be thankful for -in that our lives were spared; but hers, had we -known it, was already lost. She had stood -in the snow after the flames barred all access -to the house, until the roof fell in and her birthplace -was a mass of ruins; and before we had -been a week at the home of her nephew, Cousin -William Wrenn, she had died of pneumonia, -leaving Great-aunt Letitia and me, as she told -us in the parting, alone and unprotected save -for the Father of all, to whom she trusted us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But Great-aunt Letitia, whom every one expected -to wither and droop without her sister’s -sheltering care, developed an amazing power -of decision. She seemed crushed at first. But on -the fourth day after Great-aunt Virginia had -been laid to rest in the hillside burial ground -at home, she came into the family sitting room, -looking, in her deep mourning, very tall and -white and frail, and announced that she had -decided not to rebuild Cedarhurst, but to go to -the city to live.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I could scarcely believe my ears. The city’s -outmost edge was only fifteen miles away, but -even the village of Chatterton, peopled largely -by our own relatives, seemed crowded and -bustling after the wide quiet of the fields at -home. That this frail, retiring old lady should -contemplate a plunge into the vortex of a city -whose inhabitants were numbered by tens of -thousands—really several tens—seemed madness. -But her determination was fixed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“This dear child needs the advantages of -city life,” she declared. “I always found the -country exceedingly quiet myself, and-er not -altogether—progressive. But I deferred to Sister -Virginia’s judgment. Now, however—” her -voice trembled a moment, and then went on -quite steadily—“the responsibility is mine, and -I cannot shirk it. I think Lydia should -have city advantages. I shall go there and -devote myself to her education, and prepare -for her entrance into society at the proper -time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Argument was of no avail. When I avouched -my preference for the country she said -quietly that I knew nothing of the city yet, -and that every one should try more than one -side of life before making a final choice. She -was very gentle, but Great-aunt Virginia herself -could not have been more inflexible. We -went, to the envy of my cousin, Billy Wrenn, -and to my own silent and passionate grief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As I grew older, Aunt Letitia grew younger—younger, -that is, in her ideas and in her -desires for me. She cared far more than I -about my clothes, and took a livelier interest -in possible lovers. I understood, beneath this -late blossoming of pleasure in what she called -gay life, the starved aspirations of her own -youth, shut away in the seclusion of her beautiful -home during the many years of her widowed -mother’s invalidism and morbid grieving -for her husband. There were times when her -dead-and-gone girlhood rose to life in her eyes, -and a soft color tinged her delicate cheeks, as -she imagined for me some small social triumph -or admired me in some new dress. I divined -that she was immensely interested in my men -friends, though her shyness in discussing them -was even greater than her interest. I wondered -often if she had a love-story of her own; -but I never knew. My own love-story, when -it came, gave her great happiness; and for -three years after my marriage she lived with -us in great content, and passed out at last in -utter peace.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My husband is known in our family circle -as the Peon, since he entered into a contract to -work for me without wages for life. He -brought into our home at our marriage his -brother’s orphaned child, David Bird, a little -fellow four years of age, who flatly refused to -call me auntie and dubbed me Mammy Lil. -That was many years ago; and as the time has -passed the Peon and I have realized with deepening -gratitude our debt to the little child who -has given our home its crowning joy. But -for David we would have been childless, growing -old alone; for we owe Caro to David, too. -I have never flattered myself that we could -have captured and held the heart of that tricksey -birdling if David had not added to our -attractions childhood’s lure to a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For our years in the city, however, we found -David sufficient in himself. He has grown up -like the Peon’s own son, sturdy, steady, large -of body and of heart. He has stood well in his -classes without much effort; but more because -it is his disposition to do thoroughly whatever -he does at all than because of any great love -for books. He is deliberate in manner, and -somewhat slow of speech; and his steady gray -eyes seem made to look facts in the face. He -has always moved in straight lines, mentally -and physically, cutting through obstacles which -Caro would flutter around in a twinkling; yet -somehow he arrived at the goal in time to -secure whatever he set out to obtain. He was -rather too solemn as a child, and regarded me, -apparently, somewhat as the Peon did at times, -with an air of amused and affectionate tolerance. -I used to hunt through his small personality -for the spark of fun I was sure lay -hidden there, and as the years passed I caught -the glint of it more and more frequently; but -it was really Caro who brought it out into the -open, and set it, a perpetual signal, in his eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I found it easy to awaken in him my own -love of outdoors, and together we made friends -with such birds as could be enticed to our -shady yard in the city’s outer circle. We were -sworn comrades in our enmity to the English -sparrows, and the bond of a common foe was -one of the many things that drew us into a -fellowship unusually close. The Peon used -to say that no boy came to genuine manhood -without something in the way of an evil to -hate and to fight; and for my part I joyfully -set up the English sparrows as the embodiment -of all wickedness, to be destroyed beak and -tail. My own objections to them were the -result of long watching; but David’s hatred -sprang to life full-fledged the morning we -found four of the wretched bullies fighting one -small chickadee, which hung head downward -from a twig of privet, his eyes shut tight, his -claws clenched, and his throat and breast exposed -to his enemies’ vicious bills. I think some -deep thirst for justice seized the child’s soul -at sight of the helpless victim, and ever since -he has been mindful of weak things in a way -surprising in a boy so ruggedly strong.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He has been wonderfully mindful of me, -always. Long before we left the city I had -learned to enjoy outdoors from a cot under -the trees in the back yard. The pain which -was to be by turns my companion, my jailer, -and my emancipator had already laid upon -me an iron hand. I was up and about when -the Peon was at home; but when he came in -unexpectedly he learned to look for me under -the drooping silver maples in the yard; and my -old-time love of birds was an easy explanation -of the many-cushioned cot and the long hours -I daily spent upon it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David filled the birds’ drinking fountain -for me when he came home to leave his books -and get his bat or his football; and I would lie -there, watching my visitors, wondering at the -variety of birds to be seen in a city yard, and -wishing the sparrows’ duels were less on the -harmless French order. They never fought -because they needed to do it; it was always for -something perfectly futile and foolish. They -would leave all the food I could scatter to tear -one crumb from a neighbor. For it is English sparrow -nature never to be satisfied with what -they have, to want only what some one else is -enjoying, and to get it for themselves if they -can. David and I were fully agreed that if anything -more hateful was ever created we wished -to be spared acquaintance with it.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='birdc'></a>II<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Bird Corners</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>It</span> is to Uncle Milton that I owe our return -to the country, and all the delights of Bird -Corners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Uncle Milton is an inheritance from my -great-aunts and Cedarhurst, where he had the -finest flowers and the most flourishing vegetable -garden in the country. He is a lean old -Negro, tall, and straight as a pine. His features -are finely cut; and with his gray hair, -long gray moustache, regular features, and -skin like polished bronze, he makes a distinguished -appearance, even in his old blue jeans. -He is a real lover of the outdoor world, and -the earth and the plants know it. He bends -over the flower-beds lovingly, with eyes that -see, not dirt, but all dirt’s possibilities of beauty -and life. There is never a plant set carelessly -nor a seed that falls by chance. No wonder -all he touches grows!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That he went to town with Great-aunt Letitia, -and stayed there afterward with me, spoke -eloquently of the strength of affection between -us. But after my great-aunt’s death he did not -accept the situation without constant protests, -and the advice which my youth and ignorance -demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You ain’t got no mo’ business in de city dan -I is, Miss Lil,” he said spring after spring, as I -sat on the grass by the flower-beds and watched -his fork go in and out like clock-work, leaving -behind it long rows of fresh-turned earth. -“You done los’ all dem roses you had in yo’ -face at home. Ef Miss Ferginny done lived -she wouldn’ put up wid dis foolishness not er -minute.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But the city is more convenient for Mr. -Bird,” I would explain. “Some day when he -is rich enough he expects to give up business, -and then we will go back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’ll be givin’ up his wife fus’ news you -know,” growled the old man, stopping to thin -the thick border of violets. “An’ he’ll be goin’ -to bury you dar by Miss Ferginny and Miss -’Titia befo’ he goes retirin’ from business ef he -don’ look out. We-all got er plenty ter live on -now—you got er plenty widout his’n; en ef you -ain’t, I kin make er plenty outen dat groun’. -Hit’s de riches’ lan’ in Davis’son county. I -made hit pay befo’, en I kin do hit agin, stidder -was’in’ it on po’ white-trash renters like you all -do. But I ’clare to gracious, Miss Lil, ef you-all -don’ go, I will. I been mixin’ up wid town -niggers till I’m plumb wo’ out wid ’em. Dis -is de las’ spring Milton’ll fix yo’ flowers in dis -mizzable little cramped-up lot.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had said this so often that I regarded it -as one of Nature’s regular spring processes; -and beyond a sudden deeper stirring of my -constant homesickness, his threats passed unnoticed. -But one February morning he came out -and stood by my cot under the trees with a -face at once elated and downcast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you going to begin the spring work today?” -I asked in delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked embarrassed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Hit’s sorter early to rake dem leaves offen -de beds yit,” he said. Then he hesitated. “I -’spec I ain’t gwinter be able ter do de wuk -no mo’.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sick?” I asked anxiously. Then I -saw the new look in his face, and gasped. -“You’re going to the country!” I cried.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yassum, I is. I can’t stan’ it yere no -longer, Miss Lil: I’m er gittin’ too ole fer -town; I des bleeged ter go out whar God made -de worl’ en breathe free en be er man ergin, -befo’ I die.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The years had slipped from him like a cloak. -I looked at him enviously—just as an English -sparrow might look at some bird of stronger -flight, I reflected suddenly, and scowled at one -of my greedy kinsman in the walk, trying to -gobble all the best crumbs at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad for you,” I said honestly. “When -do you go?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When my mont’s out. But I hates ter go, -Miss Lil.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What am I to do here?” I demanded, the -sparrow in me refusing to be quenched altogether.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll do de bes’ I kin,” he said. “I been -lookin’ roun’ fer you all winter. But dese -town niggers is a onery set, fer sho’. When -you-all comes home Milton’s comin’ back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind,” I said; “we’ll manage somehow.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I closed my eyes because they were getting -full of tears. He moved away, and I let the -tears come. I wanted the country, too; and -more and more as my illness grew, and it became -increasingly difficult to take my part in -the busy city life. The more one’s bodily freedom -is restricted by weakness and pain, the -more one longs for the unconfined spaces of -earth and air, for wide horizons and sweeping -winds, and wings that flash far up into the sunshine, -above the shadows where one must lie, -conning the hard lesson of patient idleness. -And I wanted Uncle Milton—the visible link -between me and that dear world of hill and sky -for which I longed. Return to it seemed so -bright a possibility while another heart, even -this old Negro’s, held it as dear as I. If he -went from me he would leave my hope bereft. -I lay with closed eyes, absorbed in longing for -that dear receding vision of delight.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’ you see how bad she wanter go, Marse -John?” said Uncle Milton again, close beside -me. I sprang up in amazement, to find him -and the Peon by my cot. “She ain’t gwine ter -say a word ef she think hit’ll discommerdate -you; but de chile’s e’en erbout breakin’ her -heart fer de country, same as I is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Milton,” I began indignantly; but -the old man brushed my words aside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You en Marse John fight hit out, honey,” -he said. “Mek ’er tell de trufe, Marse John. -Hit’s you en her fer it now; Milton’s done -his bes’.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He turned deliberately and walked out of -the yard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It did not take the Peon long to get the -facts, to answer all my objections as to the inconvenience -to himself, and to settle finally our -immediate return. We would rebuild Cedarhurst -at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no,” I cried, “not Cedarhurst! Let us -build our own home, all sunshine and out-of-doors! -It isn’t the old house that I love; -it was too cold and stately and dark—such an -indoors kind of house. It’s the hills I’m homesick -for, and the sky, and the biggest maple, -and the pasture, and the sycamores down by -the brook.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But we can’t sleep in the maple,” objected -the Peon, “nor eat in the pasture when it rains. -There must be a house.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, of course. But let it be our house—not -Great-aunt Virginia’s. You may really -build it any way you please if only you will -have porches enough, and so many windows -that wherever you sit you can lift your eyes -and look right out, miles and miles and miles. -And I’d like all the rooms to have a southern -exposure, of course, on account of the breeze -and the sun, and east windows for winter mornings, -and west windows for the sunsets. I -don’t care about the rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I insist upon bath-rooms and a kitchen,” -said the Peon; “mere scenery is not a sufficient -sanitary basis for life. But what shall we call -it—Cedarhurst?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, no! Just a plain, every day, home-y -name—something that belongs to us and the -birds. Why, we’re Birds ourselves, Peon, -dear. Let’s be sociable and call it Bird Corners.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But there aren’t any corners,” said the -practical Peon; “the place lies straight along -the pike.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That is a man’s way. He thinks he must -face facts and shape his course accordingly, -poor slave to the visible that he is. But a woman -conquers facts by turning her back upon -them, and playing they are something else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The birds will make the corners,” I explained -patiently. “Before I’ve been putting -out crumbs a month there’ll be bird pikes cutting -through the place at every conceivable -angle, and crossing each other under that seven-trunked -maple where my cot will be. And if -that won’t be bird corners, what will?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So we prepared for our homing flight. Uncle -Milton went out at once to trim the trees and -prune the shrubbery and vines; and the occasional -days he bestowed on us in town were -full of delight for me, filled as they were with -reports of progress at home. For it was home, -before dirt had been broken for the house; the -city dwelling was a mere temporary shelter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“De jonquils out home is showin’ up fine,” -he announced one morning in mid-February; -“hit’s time to sorter stir up dese yere lazy town -flowers. En I’ll trim de trees, too, seein’ I’m -’bout done wid ’em out home. I ’spec de city -folks what’ll live yere atter we-all gone’ll want -what little dab er trees dey got in dis yard.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He looked scornfully at the back yard, generous -in size, after the fashion of our Southern -cities, and shaded with fine old trees. But a -little later, high in the hackberry, his love of all -earth-rooted things swept contempt from his -heart, and his dark old face shone with happiness -as he wielded the hatchet with rhythmic -strokes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That is always the beginning of the spring -work—the severance of death from life, that -life may rise again, even out of death. Where -would life draw this dead matter next? To -darkness first, to growth most surely, and perchance, -some day, to wings. And the dark old -man with the happy face was servitor of life—life -for the dead as for the living; for death is -but the underside of life.</p> - -<hr class='tbk101'/> - -<p class='pindent'>We went home early in May. The house -would not be finished until October; but outdoors -was all ready for us, and we could not -waste the summer for lack of a house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You know,” I argued to the Peon, “we -had a beautiful time in the mountains last summer; -and we slept in a two-roomed cottage with -only weather-boarding between us and the -trees outside. Why can’t we have a shed with -a gasoline stove, and a couple of tents to live -in?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So we had them. The Peon and David drove -in to Chatterton daily and took the train for -business and school; and I fed the birds and -followed Uncle Milton, and drank in the -changing beauties of earth and sky. And all -summer we watched our home grow, from cellar -to roof-tree, till it became a thing complete, -and fitted into the landscape for which -it was designed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We set it on the old home’s hill, which overlooked -the countryside, and faced it toward -the sunrising. The dark lines of cedars which -had bordered the approach to the old house -were left at one side, and the road, curving -from their upper end, swept into full sunshine -and passed under a great beech, which spread -its tiers of leaves above the doorway. It is an -unpretentious house, rambling about pretty -much as it pleases in its efforts to give southern -and eastern and western exposures to all -the rooms. Porches are everywhere, and the -windows either open on them, like doors, or -stop a little above the floor at low, cushioned -seats, which tempt one to sink down and wonder -once again at the beauty of this fair country -of middle Tennessee. There are no curtains -at the windows, nor mats of vines outside. -But up the widely-separated columns of the -porches run clematis and jasmines which cross -the great openings in narrow bands, above -and below. So all summer the fretwork of -green leaves frames the landscape, a perfect, -yet everchanging picture in each of the wide -spaces. The east end of the living-room is of -glass, and my flowers flourish there in winter -time. In my own room the bed stands in a -deep recess formed all of windows on the three -sides. A low seat runs under them within -reach of the bed. All through the dark, sleepless -night I can lie there and watch for the -first paling of the eastern sky, and follow the -level light as it moves softly along the southern -hills, creating the shadows which make the light -so clear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must be confessed that some of the kin at -Chatterton thought my wits astray that first -summer, and the Peon but a soft-headed, poor-spirited -creature for giving way to my whimsies. -Camping out was not as popular then as -it is now; and the older members of the family -did not hesitate to commiserate the Peon and -David. That they professed to enjoy our long -picnic only added to the heinousness of my -folly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Chadwell Grackle and his wife were -among my first callers. Cousin Chad is always -to the front when anything new crops up in the -family. He has cried the sins and shortcomings -of the whole usual order so long that even -he is half bored with them, and the prospect of -something new to criticise whets his social appetite -to the keenest possible edge. Cousin -Jane is his reflection and echo. If she were -not, even her stolid nerves could scarcely have -endured his painful type of piety without disaster.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They drove up one sunshiny morning, after -they had seen the Peon and David pass on -their way to town. I was on the cot under the -biggest maple. Its seven trunks fall apart -like long-stemmed flowers in a vase, spreading -into a great green tent whose leafy curtains -droop in a circle full seventy feet across.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The blackbirds were my principal guests -that morning, a sanctimonious crew in sleek -black coats, solemn, censorious, and self-satisfied -to the last degree. All birds which walk -instead of hopping are awkward-looking; but -none are as preposterous as the blackbirds, because -none of them put on such sanctified airs. -As they moved about this morning, their heads -thrust meekly forward, ducking modestly as -they stepped, they appeared to be meditating -on their neighbors’ sins. But they had their -tribe’s keen eye for the main chance, and it -was a swift bird and a wary one which secured -a big crumb with these feathered Chadbands -in the yard.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked up at the sound of wheels and nearly -choked with swallowing my laughter. Cousin -Chad and Cousin Jane did look so sleek and -proper, that as I rose to meet them I could not -refrain from throwing some extra crumbs on -the grass for possible additions to my breakfasting -guests.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They descended ponderously and looked at -me with the apprehensive scrutiny one might -bestow on a lunatic who is liable to break out -immediately in a fresh place.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How are you, Lyddy?” inquired Cousin -Jane, with sepulchral anxiety. Cousin Chad, -busy with the hitching-post, listened with his -back as well as with his ears. They both know -perfectly that I have always been Lil to everyone -except the great-aunts, and that Lyddy -has been an abomination to the entire family -connection, and especially to me, since they -first invented it in my childhood. That is why -they stick to it. They believe in chastenings, do -my cousins, the Grackles—particularly when -they are the chasteners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m perfectly well,” I answered, with added -emphasis to my usual formula. “Come -and sit down. There’s no need to ask how you -and Cousin Chad are; you look the picture of -health.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Appearances don’t do to go by, Lyddy,” -she answered solemnly, sinking ponderously -on a creaking campstool. “Chadwell’s been -havin’ sciatica, and I’ve stayed awake nights -with him till I’m just about worn out. But -I’ve never made my afflictions an excuse for -shirkin’ my duty. We came over to say that -as you seem to be without a roof over your -heads we’d take you to board till your house is -finished—if it ever is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She glanced contemptuously at the amorphous -piles of building material just beyond -us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can have the second spare bed-room -upstairs,” put in Cousin Chad. “It’s more to -my interest to put you in the front one; but -livin’ comes high any way you take it, and I -want to consider you. I reckon John ain’t able -to spend much, with all this building on hand. -The back room’s small, but you three can make -out in it. If you want the other, of course it -will cost more. You can come over this evening -after John gets home, and he and I can -settle the terms after supper.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I kept my face quite straight, and made a -handsome contribution to current fiction.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s so kind of you. John will appreciate -it as much as I. But we really enjoy camping, -and would not give it up even for those lovely -rooms of yours, Cousin Chad. Thank you so -much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jane’s rubicund complexion assumed -a purplish hue.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you intend to kill that delicate child of -Henry Bird’s, making him sleep out in the -weather all summer?” she demanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” I said, considering; “I don’t intend -to kill him, exactly. And he isn’t at all delicate.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, he will be by the time you get -through with him—if he ain’t dead,” broke in -Cousin Chad. “Lyddy, it’s my duty to speak -plainly, and I’ll not shirk it. Letitia spoiled -you from the time you were born, and John -Bird seems bent on keeping it up. David will -pay the penalty for it. We do a very different -part by the orphan the Lord made it our duty -to take charge of, I can assure you. Caroline -Wrenn’s health is taken care of, with a view -to her future usefulness as a Christian. But -of course you’ll stick to your own ways.—Well, -I’ve warned you: my conscience is clear. Come, -Jane: we’d better be going.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m glad your conscience is clear, Cousin -Chad. I know that’s a comfort to you, if I’m -not. But we can be good friends, can’t we, -even though our ideas are different?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I shall not turn my back upon you if -you’re in trouble, Lyddy, if that’s what you -mean,” he answered. “I hope I know my -duty better than that. But when you want -help again you must ask for it. I don’t intend -to offer it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a bargain, then,” I said; “and we -must both remember it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jane looked at me sharply, but Cousin -Chad was already heaving her into the buggy, -and she turned to get a good grip on the -side. The vehicle creaked as she settled in it, -and groaned when Cousin Chad sank beside -her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good-bye, Lyddy,” she said. “We’ve -done our best. I hope you won’t regret it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This quite upset me, and after the cedars -hid them I lay laughing until the thought of -poor little Caro suddenly sobered me. What -were they doing to Billy’s child? I must -make friends with Cousin Jane, somehow, and -entice the little thing over to Bird Corners as -much as possible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There was no one else whom our erratic manner -of life really scandalized, except Cousin -Jason Blue; and he, as he took occasion to -tell me when he met me out driving one day -with Caro, never made a fool of himself like -Chad Grackle by meddling. If a woman -wanted to follow her nature and behave like -a lunatic, and her husband chose to allow it, -it was none of his business; so he shrugged -his shoulders and passed on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jason and the Grackles are the only -kin I have in all Chatterton whose kinship I -would discount if I could; but there is no denying -they belong in the family. Cousin Chad’s -father was my grandmother’s third half-cousin -on my father’s side; and Cousin Jason’s mother -was Cousin Lysander Hilliard’s step-daughter -by his second marriage: there could -scarcely be anything plainer than that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And if Cousin Jason had his drawbacks, -there are none about his half-sister, Grace, fifteen -years his junior, and, except Ella, the -dearest friend I have. She married George -Wood soon after I married the Peon, and -they have a daughter, Milly, about the age of -Caro Wrenn.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David took kindly to country life, and to -his numerous cousins-by-marriage. There -were plenty of boys among them; and though -at first they resented David’s city ways, their -respect for him grew immensely when they -found how far he could bat a ball; and after -he had whipped Bob White in single combat -he was admitted to Chatterton boydom as a -comrade in full fellowship. There was no -particular reason for his fighting Bob, so far -as we dull grown-ups could discover, except -that Bob was the leader of his set, and a fight -was considered the necessary initiation to membership. -As soon as this was made clear to -him, David had painstakingly trodden on Bob’s -toes, and the preliminaries were arranged at -once. The boys were excellent friends, before -and afterward; and the Peon would not allow -me to discuss the matter with David. They -talked it out in private, and reached some -amicable male conclusion of their own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of the girl cousins David was loftily tolerant, -excepting Caro Wrenn. She was five -years old the spring we came back to the -country, when David was half-past nine. Her -mother had died when she was born, and her -father, Billy Wrenn, had gone to Colorado -three years afterward, to die there of consumption. -He made Cousin Chad Caro’s -guardian before he died, knowing, as we all -did, Cousin Chad’s remarkable ability in reaping -financial harvests from even the smallest -investments; but he left the child herself with -her mother’s sister, Sally Martin, never dreaming -that death would again bereave the little -creature of a mother’s love. Sally died, quite -suddenly, less than a year after Billy; and -Cousin Chad and Cousin Jane, intent, as usual, -on doing their impeccable duty, assumed sole -care of the little heiress, and installed her in -their own childless and virtuous home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A more incongruous setting for her could -scarcely have been found. She was a tiny creature, -with rose-leaf skin, great hazel eyes, a -mop of red-brown curls, and a mouth where -laughter bubbled all day long. Quick and bird-like -in all her movements, she flitted in and -out of the most unexpected recesses in the -twinkling of an eye, with endless flutterings of -hands and skirts and sweet gurglings of suppressed -laughter. Almost from her cradle she -sang—queer little soft croonings which slipped -into tunes before she could speak their words. -Cousin Jane scarcely knew what to make of -her, and was torn between a sincere desire to do -her Spartanly-Christian duty by her, and her -solemn puzzlement over what she considered -the child’s combination of depravity and charm. -Even Cousin Jane could not be very severe -with her; but she had an uneasy sense of spoiling -her every time she forebore the rod, so that -I found her more than willing to turn the child -over to me for the greater part of the time.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This arrangement gave my revered relative -ample warrant for looking closely into my -household affairs and reproving me for everything -she did and didn’t discover; it was her -duty to know all about a place where dear -Caroline spent so much of her time. And when -Caro departed from Cousin Jane’s ideals, as -she did with every movement of body and -mind, it was a great relief to my pious cousin to -be able publicly to disavow all responsibility -for the child’s shortcomings. What, as she -constantly inquired, could one expect of Caroline -when that scatter-brained Lyddy would -persist in encouraging the child in her flightiness? -She published abroad her own powerlessness -to control either Caro or the situation, -and openly washed her hands of the consequences.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro and I bore up as best we could, and the -Peon and David stood by us nobly. David, -indeed, was ready to fight his idol’s battles with -Cousin Jane herself. In fact, he grew up with -a lack of respect for that excellent lady which -tempted her to assume the role of a prophet, -in which capacity she dwelt at large on the -penitentiary as David’s ultimate place of residence. -Caro always responded to these prognostications -that, if Davy went to the penimtentium, -she would go, too, as soon as she was -big enough, and keep house for him, and make -the cook give them ice-cream every day that -came. And so the matter rested.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='inmake'></a>III<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>In Make-Believe</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='sc'>It</span> is four years since I wrote those last -words. Not long after, Caro went away to -school. David went North to college that year, -and was only coming home for the regular -holidays. He still held to his boyhood preference, -and was determined to be a scientific -farmer: and since the Peon and I were to have -him with us always, we wanted him to have a -few years quite away from us in which to make -his own adjustments to life. So they left us -the same week, David with all a boy’s love to -hold him back, and a young man’s eagerness to -urge him away; and Caro in as nearly easterly -weather as her sunny nature ever experienced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was Cousin Jane who first decided on -Caro’s banishment. For the sake of her own -peace of mind she had of late years resigned -the child almost entirely to me; but every now -and then she had what Caro called a “qualm -spell.” During these painful periods Caro resided -with the Grackles, strictly, not even coming -over to take lunch with me. She arose at -five and extinguished her light at nine; and -pinned on the wall beside her bureau, in Cousin -Jane’s firm handwriting, was a schedule of useful -occupations for each of the intervening sixteen -hours.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She had so much time for devotions, so much -for meals, so much for school, for study, for -“domestic occupations,” for “improving and -useful reading,” and for “practical sewing.” -Cousin Jane never allowed precious time -wasted on fancy work; and if she thought it -was all like the awful things she had in her -parlor I don’t in the least blame her for thinking -it wicked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>However, Caro’s time was laid out for her -as exactly as the squares on a checker-board. -She fed the chickens, argued with the old biddies -who wanted to “set” in the wrong place, -and wheedled the arrogant old Buff Orpington, -who ruled the hens and Cousin Jane with -ease and contempt, into doing whatever she -wanted of him. She made butter that drew -near-smiles to Cousin Jane’s stiff lips, and -evolved cakes that called forth lectures to -Cousin Chad on the sin of gluttony. She -sewed, without a murmur, or a particle of trimming, -undergarments of good, reliable, ever-wearing -domestic. She was always foresighted -enough to make ample allowance for -their shrinking when washed; whereby she both -pleased Cousin Jane and insured an excellent -fit for little black Josie when she returned to -us with a halo of virtue above her red-brown -curls. She read history till she could put me -to the blush. She washed the best tea-cups and -the Persian cat. She dusted the parlor daily. -And from her early childhood she made irreproachable -jam.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It really was excellent training for her; -thorough good discipline, as Cousin Jane would -say; especially as it was interspersed with -“spells of Bird-Cornering,” during which she -sojourned with the Peon and me. For the -period of discipline always followed an accustomed -round. It began with a Cousin Jane all -severity, lynx-eyed to drag poor Caro’s delinquencies -to light and overcome them by unsparing -criticism. But Caro has always made -play of everything, finding by the talisman of -her own happy heart the hidden beauty, or -laughter, of the ugliest and solemnest things. -She did all Cousin Jane found for her to -do—which is saying a good deal—not only -cheerfully, but with whole-souled delight, as if -it were her very meat and drink. Doing it -that way, she did it beyond criticism; and -Cousin Jane would begin to relax, unwillingly, -unable to find a flaw, yet with an uneasy feeling -that something must be wrong, or Caro -couldn’t possibly be enjoying herself so much. -When she set herself to mortify Caro’s girlish -vanity the child met her more than half-way. -She did her best to “slick” her curls, and donned -shapeless gingham aprons as joyously as -though they were made of jewels and lace. -Cousin Jane would find herself being mollified -to the point of indulgence in spite of herself; -and about that time Caro would come flying -into the yard at Bird Corners and drop -fluttering beside me, her eyes shining with the -pure joy of living and the love of living things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m back again, Mammy Lil,” she would -laugh, whirling about on one toe. “Cousin -Jane hasn’t scolded me for four days, and yesterday -she almost patted my head; so I knew -she thought I’d had training enough for the -present, and I’d be coming back home in a jiffy. -They’re so good to me in their funny way I’m -most ashamed to be glad to come home to you—but -I am, all the same. Where’s Josie? I’ve -made three new petticoats and a night gown -for her, out of muslin strong enough to climb -trees.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The truth was that when Caro came back to -me it was because Cousin Jane had detected in -her own soul symptoms of the child’s being -made an idol: she had to get rid of her to recover -her own moral poise. But she still intended -to do her full duty by her: so when Caro -was fifteen she was sent to boarding school, -to remain at least five years. By that time -Cousin Jane hoped to have re-established her -own imperturbability without unduly exposing -her charge to the dangerous influences of Bird -Corners.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had a battle royal concerning the school -she should go to, and to this day Cousin Jane -thinks she won. She really has no more idea -about schools than a chinquapin worm, living -fat and contented in its own sufficient little -world; and I knew she’d be for sending the -child to some fifth-rate country “college” -where she’d be taught poor music and worse -French, and be worked to death learning things -the way they aren’t. So I wrote, ostentatiously, -for the catalogue of one of the most exclusive, -nonsensical, and extravagant “finishing -schools”; and privately ordered sent to -Cousin Jane one from the school I wished Caro -to attend. It was a sensible place where she’d -be taken care of, and given a chance to grow -up to the best of herself in body and mind. I -plead for the finishing school, and sniffed diligently -at the other, even advocating the -dreaded “college” as preferable; whereby I -had the comfort of having Caro sent where I -wanted her, with Cousin Jane’s mind so -definitely set on keeping her there that I -knew her education was provided for.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro rebelled against going. For the first -time in her life she did not want to please us.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re not well enough to do without me -and David, too, Mammy Lil,” she insisted; -“it’s just a pretense that you don’t need me; -and I don’t care whether I’m educated or not.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She yielded to the inevitable between tears -and laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Anyway,” she reflected, “there’s Make-Believe -left: you’ll never get rid of me there, -will you? I’ll come there every day of the -world, and David, too: and ten times a day if -you want me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a genuine relief to have her go; it was -becoming most difficult to blind her bright -eyes to my illness. It was much simpler to -keep up appearances with the Peon, who left -home early and returned late, and who was -often called away for days together. If I -sat up as usual when he was in the house it -was becoming necessary to lie quite still all -day.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For weeks after the children left I enjoyed -being alone, and the freedom from effort which -it brought. But as the winter wore on, the loneliness -proved a lure to introspection and self-pity—those -quicksands of despair which encircle -the country of enforced idleness; and as -I lay under my windows or beneath the trees -I began, for pleasure and companionship, to -write the story of our happy life and of the -children’s growing up. But the note-book -proved desperately heavy, and the few pages -I filled took weeks instead of days; until at last -I ceased the effort until I should be stronger, -as I had ceased so many other things in this -journeying into the Land of Idleness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I made a new acquaintance that winter—a -wretched little blue devil to whom I gave the -name of Grumpy, and with whom I battled -from morning till night, and especially from -night till morning. It is not pain that blue -devils thrive on—I had proved that all these -many years; it is idleness that gives them their -chance for mischief—the helpless idleness of utter -exhaustion, when one’s thoughts hang vacant, -and body nor mind can longer force its -way past the wall of pain to move, however -slowly, in the beautiful outside world of human -effort and achievement.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So Grumpy came to Bird Corners. Satan -himself knows no self-respecting devil would -have stayed on the premises after the way I -treated the creature; but blue devils respect -neither themselves nor anybody else. An hour -after I had flung him out by the heels he would -bob up by the sofa in the finest fettle imaginable, -grinning at my exhaustion from our late -encounter. The most I ever could be sure of -doing was keeping him invisible to every one -else; but he made up for that in the nights. -Still, one adjusts one’s self to the inevitable in -time; and blue devils are all in the day’s work, -I suppose, like the dentist or a cold in one’s -head. One gets through with the visitation -somehow, and laughs afterward because, for -the time, at least, it is over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the children came home in the summer -there was trouble, of course. Doctors -came and went, though I had privately done -my full duty by them long before; and I -swallowed a deal of nasty stuff which did absolutely -no good, except that it soothed the feelings -of the family.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By the end of the summer David was insisting -on something radical; and when he went -back to college he took me with him, and deposited -me in a northern sanitarium, where I -was to lie flat on my back three months, and -be made over as good as new.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was not only radical, but revolutionary. -Chatterton had never before furnished an inmate -for a sanitarium. The word, indeed, was -commonly understood as a polite euphemism -for a lunatic asylum. The sentiments of the -kin ranged all the way from Grace Wood’s -anxious hopefulness to Cousin Jane’s frank -curiosity concerning what new kind of craziness -Lyddy had been up to now, to make John -Bird feel like she had to be shut up in a private -mad-house. She took my part, however, so -far as to say, both to my face and behind my -back, that I wasn’t a mite crazier than I’d -been all my life; and if folks could get along -with me this long it did look like a pity they -couldn’t put up with me a while longer, and -save disgracing the family. There was nothing -the matter with me, Cousin Jane opined, beyond -being spoiled to death, and lazy; and, -anyway, it was flying in the face of Providence -to go on living if your time had come -to die.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As to going North, she never did believe in -wasting money on conceited Yankee doctors -when there were so many struggling physicians -at home, to say nothing of the heathen in -foreign lands who were dropping into hell-fire -so many a minute for lack of any kind of doctors, -good or bad, to keep them alive until -the missionaries could get to them.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But it’s no use preachin’ to selfish ears,” -she concluded, drawing her heavy silk wrap -about her ample shoulders and settling her bonnet -strings. “I’ve been wastin’ my breath, of -course.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seemed a pity that she should, whether -from my point of view or her own; so I smiled -as sympathetically as I could, and offered my -cheek for her farewell salute. She bestowed it -impressively.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, good-bye, Lyddy. I suppose I won’t -see you again in this life; an’ in the other one -failin’ wits won’t trouble us, I trust. I want -you to know I don’t hold any of your foolishness -against you, child: I reckon you never did -have sense like the rest of us.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went out with her ponderous, firm tread, -and Caro flitted to my side, her head thrown -up, ruffling like an angry wren.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil, its a shame you made me -promise to be good! Do let me run after her -and——” She caught my eye and broke into -bubbling laughter, dropping her head on my -pillows and snuggling her little nose under my -chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Of course it’s funny,” she admitted presently; -“and if you will laugh, I have to. But -I can’t see how she can be so wooden-headed -and yet be alive.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She isn’t alive very much, poor soul!” I -answered, soberly enough. “I don’t think -anybody really lives except so far as they understand -life—and people. When you think -of it in that way, Cousin Jane has lived in a -closer confinement all her life than I’ll be when -I get to the asylum.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk102'/> - -<p class='pindent'>That was three years ago, and more, and I -am here at the sanitarium yet, though the Peon -is coming to take me home next month. It was -I who set the limit of my stay at three months, -when I came; I was determined to be well by -that time. I even had Caro put my note-book -in my trunk, because I expected to fill it before -I came back. That is why I am writing this -chapter, a few lines at a time, on good days: -I am determined to do something that I planned -doing, before I go back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It would take more note-books than my -trunk could hold to tell the story of the kindness -shown me here; of the patience, skill, and -resourcefulness which have fought for me when -I could no longer fight for myself. And it -is good to be in a place like this for awhile, -to learn what human nature is capable of under -racking, tearing strain. The courage one -finds, the high-hearted endurance of plain, ordinary -people, the brave good cheer of men -and women whose pain-lined faces choke one’s -throat with tears! I have seen these things -so often these last eighteen months—or at least -in so much of them as I could be carried, lying -flat in a wheeled-chair, out on one of the balconies, -where I could catch glimpses of the -struggles that were going on around me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is not all loss, this suffering. Sickness -does bring out hidden ugliness and weakness, -for it searches soul and body to the inmost -core. But there is more good hidden than -there is evil; and in the stress of suffering the -most ordinary people blossom into a loveliness -of soul which reveals them as of the company -of the saints. Life is so narrow and commonplace -to the average experience that it can -only make a narrow and commonplace appeal. -“The trivial round, the common task” has, -for so many, no large connections; and the -depths of their natures are never stirred until -their every-day world lies in ruins about them, -and to live at all they must discover new resources -in</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“—<span class='it'>that true world within the world we see</span>,”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='noindent'>and gain a true perspective and a new horizon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the funny folk in a place like this—they -would fill volumes, too! Of course they -are pitiful; but I never could see the harm of -laughter over pitifulness, if only one doesn’t -laugh unkindly. For some of them never find -new resources. Disaster leads them, not to -discovery, but to an <span class='it'>impasse</span>; and they revenge -themselves on the inexplicable by endless incongruities -of thought and action.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The patient who really helped me most was -a dear old lady who, though forbidden, like -the rest, to talk to me, felt it her heaven-sent -mission to cheer me up. Whenever she saw -me deposited on the porch she flew out, wringing -her hands in sympathy, and exclaiming, -“Oh, <span class='it'>what</span> is life without health!” It really -is a good deal when you come to think of it; -and the old lady’s reiterations elicited a string -of mental replies as long as from western New -York to Bird Corners, and kept me in ammunition -for Grumpy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For Grumpy has been at this sanitarium -for three years and seven weeks. But the -Peon has been here, too, and David—and Cousin -Jane! Caro I have not seen in all these -years: Cousin Jane doesn’t consider it decent -for a young girl to be allowed in a place where -women may be seen in the halls in kimonos, -and men are allowed to sit in wheeled-chairs on -the balconies, shamelessly clad in their bath -robes, with heaven knows what garments, or -lack of garments, underneath. Caro should -not set foot in the place; and no entreaties -could move her. But Caro has written, every -week of the world; and, to make up for my -not having her, Cousin Jane paid me a visit -herself. She felt it her duty, she said, to find -out what kind of a place it was that John Bird -had shut Lyddy up in; and if the rest of the -family wouldn’t look after me, she would. So -she came, suspicious and inquisitorial, and -melted visibly under the tactful suavity of the -physician in charge,—“the Head,” as we called -him. She even began to help him, ministering -to the patients after a fashion all her own. -She had it out with one of them, a metaphysical -lady, a very unorthodox person, and left her -in a state of collapse. In no uncertain tones -she expressed her views on hen-pecking to another, -an elderly lady with a liver and a youthful -husband. I don’t know what would have -happened further if I had not been inspired -to beguile her into going down into the treatment -rooms for a Turkish bath. She came up -purple with wrath, and began to pack her -trunk, declaring that she washed her hands of -the place forever; and if I wanted to stay there -and have my morals corrupted, I could; but for -her part she was going back to her own bathtub, -and the religion she was brought up in. -And go she did, that night.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For myself, these three years must remain -in the silence in which they have been spent. -The pain I wish to forget; today’s pain is -enough. And the helplessness and idleness, so -much worse than the pain—that too, I would -shut from my memory. But the kindness -which has filled these years—that is an eternal -possession. And the loveliness of this little valley -is mine always, cut off as it is in my -thoughts as a place apart from all my real -world and life, shut in and hidden by its beautiful -circling hills. I have called it the Enchanted -Valley, because it seemed sometimes as -if some spell had caught and bound me to it -forever. But now that I am to go free at last -I can forget all that, and remember only the -enchantment of its beauty, and the kindness of -those who dwell in it. The Land of Make-Believe, -too, is as near me as under the trees -at home. I have had beautiful times in Make-Believe, -day and night, and especially at night. -I have seen Caro there, you may be sure! I -made a jingle about it not long ago which tells -the real story of these long years better than -anything else I could write.</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style='page-break-before: always;'> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>          <span class='it'>IN MAKE-BELIEVE</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Oh, beautiful country of Make-Believe,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Where in childhood I learned to play!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>I’m not bound fast to a bed—not I!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Nor racked with pain till I want to cry:</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>I’m over the hills and away!</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Poor body that lies here and cannot sleep,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>I’m sorry to leave you so;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>But the children are calling from far away;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>In Make-Believe, where it’s time to play,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And you can’t walk, you know.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>I fly on the wings of thought, myself,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>While the wind shrieks behind me “Wait!”</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>For he never can fly as fast as thought,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And, he howls because he thinks he ought;—</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>But here I am at the gate.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>No narrow, smothering walls for me,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Nor life shut in from the sky,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>When Make-Believe is all outdoors,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>With beautiful grass instead of floors,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And to reach it one needs but try.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>There is ice back there; but in Make-Believe</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>There’s just what you happen to choose:</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Soft spring-time colors with silver sheen,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Or cool wood-reaches of summer green,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Or the sparkle of autumn dews.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Oh, the woodland rambles in Make-Believe!</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>The fields where daisies grow!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>The level light on the evening hills,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>The wild bird-song that leaps and thrills,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And the rose of the sunset’s glow!</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>How the children chatter in Make-Believe,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Just as at home they do!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>How close they cuddle, with laugh and kiss,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>To tell their secrets, nor ever miss</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Aught else if they have but you!</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>All the people you love are in Make-Believe,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>The living, and those called dead;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And all the people you’d like to know—</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>The wise of the earth, both high and low,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And the heroes of days long fled.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And they know what’s worth while in Make-Believe</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>That to give is the blessed way;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>That courage, and laughter, and love, are wise;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>That the sun shines back of the cloudiest skies;</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>That there’s end to the longest day.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>They talk of high things in Make-Believe,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And they love e’en the tiniest joke</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And they take you sailing o’er land and sea;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And they’d know all the places you’d like to be</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>If never a word you spoke.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>But the sun is up in that wintry world;</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And the nurse will put in her head</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And ask, “Is the pain any better, my dear?</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Did you sleep a little? The doctor’s here.”—</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Well, so am I here——in bed!</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<p class='pindent'>And now it is mid-November, for the weeks -have passed by as I lay here, writing a bit as -I could; and I am to be home Thanksgiving -morning; not home in Make-Believe, but home -in real Bird Corners, down in Tennessee! -David is there, for good, now, running the -farm as he planned, but helping the Peon in -his office, too; and Caro is coming home for -Christmas, and to stay “forever,” she says, in -June; and I am to get well—some day—at -home. I can walk quite a little already—twenty -yards sometimes; and the bad days -are better than they used to be, and farther -apart. Even Grumpy must admit that good -bad days are encouraging!</p> - -<hr class='tbk103'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>All</span> the people you love in Make-Believe? -Not quite all—not Ella. Somehow I can’t look -for her there any more; not since the day the -letter came back unopened. We were together -in Make-Believe always before that. But when -I see her again it will be when Make-Believe -will have disappeared, with the world we see, -and the real world will be plain to sight. But -everybody else was there—even pious, pompous -Cousin Chad, and foolish, kind-hearted, -exasperating Cousin Jane.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now it’s day after tomorrow, and the -Peon is coming in four days!</p> - -<div><h1><a id='dark'></a>IV<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>The Dark O’ the Year</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>November 30th.</span> The deepest joys can -never be put into words; but lying here in my -own dear room, close under the long windows -which form its eastern side, and looking out -across the valley to the familiar hills beyond, I -know there is one spot on the map more beautiful -than anything Make-Believe can show. The -Peon and David left me only an hour ago—the -real ones, I mean; and out on the lawn -Uncle Milton is pretending to rake invisible -leaves, looking towards my windows every -few minutes to assure himself that I am really -here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Near the wall of honeysuckle along the pasture -fence the cardinal and his wife are flitting -about, just as I left them three years ago; and -in the lilac outside my window, where all the -spring-time beauty sleeps safe in the sheltering -buds, a Carolina wren proclaims the triumph -of days to come. His spring song is a -bubbling rhapsody of present love and delight; -but his winter song is vibrant with the joy of -things unseen. He sings as one who carries -spring in his heart always, as vivid a reality in -December as when all the woods are green. To -doubts, questions and hopes he has one answer, -and he gives it joyously under the darkest skies. -Will earth awake again? Will sunshine come? -Will life reign in evident triumph, and winter -and darkness pass? <span class='it'>Sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, -sure!</span> The rich notes thrill with the joy of -assurance, and shake him bodily as he stands -with up-thrown head and pulsing throat, wagging -from beak to tail.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But like many another of the sons of the -prophets, his gift of open vision lies close to -his love of fun. His tail jerks with a wildness -suggestive of broken gearings in his little insides, -as he dashes into his score again <span class='it'>accelerando</span>, -singing it <span class='it'>da capo</span> with a comical exaggeration -of his former style. <span class='it'>Sure-ly, sure-ly, -sure-ly, sure!</span> He cocks his head, flirts his tail, -gives me a sharp look from his sharper eye, and -whisks around the house in a twinkling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And Grace Wood is coming to see me tomorrow! -I have been good and waited until I -am quite rested, and now I am to have my -reward. But I did not know until I came -home that George died two years ago. There -were never two people happier together than -they; and yet she has gone on writing to -me all this time, the same sunshiny, hopeful, -heartening letters she sent me when I first -left home. That was always Grace’s way; -everything that came to her, hurt or pleasure, -went out from her again only as help to somebody -who needed it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I haven’t seen Cousin Jane yet, and David -says she’s been simmering for days and is liable -to boil over any minute. She came an hour -after I reached home, though requested to stay -away until I sent for her; but the Peon caught -her at my door and turned her back. She insisted -she had something of the greatest importance -to explain to me; but the Peon is an -awesome person when he does lay down the law, -and she hasn’t been back since. I can’t help -wondering if it is something about Caro—though -it can’t be, for I’ve been Caro’s “mother-confessor” -too long to be learning anything -about her from Cousin Jane. Besides, Caro -will be here herself in three more weeks—after -all these years and years!</p> - -<hr class='tbk104'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>December 9th.</span> Grace came, her old dear -self, unchanged except that the look of detachment -from herself was deepened in her clear, -sweet eyes, and about her smiling, tender -mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We spoke of George as if he were still with -her—as indeed I think he is—and of Milly, -now quite grown, and sharing with Caro the -honors of Chatterton belledom.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We had a beautiful time together, and chatted -and giggled as we have done these forty -years whenever occasion offered; and she went -away promising to come soon again if I would -keep on getting better. And so I would have -done but for Cousin Jane. She was driving -down the pike and saw Grace, with her own -eyes, coming through the gate. She drove on -down the road a bit till Grace was out of sight, -and then swooped down on me like a blackbird -on a worm. Josie tried to stop her at the front -door; but she had known Josie from her pickaninny -days; and if she hadn’t, it wouldn’t -have mattered, for Cousin Jane is not a person -to be frustrated by darkies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She knocked once, sepulchrally, on my door, -and opened it on the instant. She wore her -best Sunday air, and eyed me like a familiar of -the Holy Office about to put a heretic through -a course of sprouts.</p> - -<hr class='tbk105'/> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, Lyddy,” she began, settling weightily -into Grace’s chair, “so you lived to get back -home, after all. I hope you’re as grateful to -Providence as you ought to be.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her tone made it evident that, though she -might hope it, she certainly didn’t expect it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve gone off mightily in your looks,” -she continued; “not that you weren’t always -sorter peaked an’ skinny-lookin’—‘slender,’ -Letitia used to call it! Do you think your -mind’s gettin’ straight any?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s straight, what there is of it,” I said; -“but I’m tired just now, Cousin Jane; I can’t -talk very well. You see Grace has been -here——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Didn’t I see her?” she demanded indignantly. -“That’s why I came. If you can -see a chatterer like her, I reckon you can -see me. I told John Bird I wanted to see you -about Caroline.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>My tired eyes opened at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Caroline is gettin’ grown-up; she was nineteen -last June. I’ve tried my best to keep -beaux and foolishness away from her, but -everything in town, looks like, was after her -last summer; and the worst of it was, Caroline -liked it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The corners of my mouth took an upward -curve.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You wait till I get through, missy, an’ -you’ll be laughin’ the other side of your mouth. -Caroline is hail-fellow-well-met with every boy -in this town except David Bird; and she knows -perfectly well, for I told her, that Chadwell -and I and you and John Bird intend her to -marry David.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The room swam round, and I closed my eyes. -Speech was impossible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good land, Lyddy! Don’t go to faintin’—I -didn’t know you were such a baby. You -needn’t get so scared, child. Jane Grackle is -pretty safe to get her own way, and long as -your way’s my way you’ll get yours, too. She’ll -marry him yet; young folks haven’t any sense; -they need managin’, and I——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“For heaven’s sake don’t try to manage -Caro,” I gasped. “And as for telling her I -intended her to marry David—go, before you -say something else that will make forgiveness -impossible!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jane turned purple. I saw that as -my eyes closed again. She rose stiffly, with -rustling skirts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If I didn’t know you’d lost what little sense -the Lord gave you, Lyddy Bird, I’d box your -ears for your impudence. I’ll go when I get -ready, miss. I didn’t tell Caroline you <span class='it'>said</span> -you intended her to marry David—I know -you’ve never said a word about it: I just took it -as a matter of course. Chadwell and I feel it -our duty to provide for her—not in money, of -course; she has quite a tidy little fortune of -her own, and of course you and John Bird expect -to leave David all you’ve got; they won’t -need anything from us. But we want to see -her settled: an’ David’s steady an’ reliable an’ -a real good business boy, for all you’ve raised -him so harum-scarum; an’ it stands to reason, -with your keepin’ Caroline all the time like you -did, an’ throwin’ away the good stout clothes I -provided for her to waste your own money in -fol-de-rols, an’ good as adoptin’ her, you might -say, that you’d picked her out for David an’ -meant to leave them your money. Don’t -you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I swept together my floating wits, steadied -them with a supreme effort, and considered for -an instant, while I felt Cousin Jane’s angry -stare battering at my closed lids. I must tell -her something, and nothing.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Caro and David are like our own children,” -I said weakly; “we want their happiness, and -nothing else. If they love one another as -brother and sister, it’s quite to be expected, -don’t you think? Whatever made you think we -wanted a marriage, brought up as they have -been?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you mean you won’t leave them the -money?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I mean money has nothing to do with it. -We expect to do all we can for them, and to let -them be happy in their own ways, not in ours.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, any way suits Caroline that’s not my -way an’ that makes mischief—I can see that -plain enough, an’ I told her so. I scolded her -good. An’ it’s my opinion David’s in love with -her. I caught him lookin’ at her one day when -they were fishin’ down by the mill, an’ I just -happened to go by in the buggy. I couldn’t -get a word out of him when I asked him about -it; an’ when I told him I’d given Caroline a -talkin’-to, an’ I’d set my head on his havin’ her, -he glared at me as if I was tryin’ to murder -him, an’ told me to let Caroline alone, an’ -let her marry whoever she wanted to. He -ain’t been near me since, an’ won’t hardly -speak to me; an’ Caroline behaved like a -spitfire when I went to her about it. But -I believe David’s willin’ if she’d be—but she -ain’t, yet. You may as well know there’s goin’ -to be trouble when she comes home. It ain’t -like it used to be; an’ you’d better get up out -of that bed an’ be gettin’ ready to help -straighten things out.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How much longer she would have stayed -there I don’t know. Her voice, near and strident -as it was, was drifting off into a world -that seemed far away, when the door opened -with soft quickness and David was in the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Before he could speak Cousin Jane was lumbering -away, his eyes driving her like bayonets. -He poured out something and held it to my -lips, and then sat stroking my hand as gently -as Caro could have done. And for days and -nights I lay here in the clutch of the old weakness -and the old pain, and scarcely heeding -either in the blackness of this new fear. I have -been trying for days to write it all down, thinking -maybe I could face it better so, and find -some way of deliverance from Cousin Jane’s -cataclysmic diplomacy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That Caro should marry David! Has there -ever been a time when I didn’t hope for it? -And I have never said it, even to the Peon himself, -for fear the very walls should carry the -secret and make the hope impossible: and now! -If Jane Grackle—but there’s no use railing; -when one’s hopes are in ruins it takes all one’s -strength to face the disaster; if I waste mine -in reproaches I shall turn coward, and then -Grumpy will rule my world.</p> - -<hr class='tbk106'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>December 17th.</span> Gray days, with sullen -skies which will neither shine nor storm. The -mocking-birds have entered their winter silence, -and eye me indifferently as they hop -about under my windows picking up the -crumbs which Josie scatters daily for my -feathered guests. They never come together -at this time of the year. Each goes his own -path in solitude as well as in silence. But the -flickers are more sociable, and the wrens are -always in pairs. The cardinal and his wife -come together every morning, she gently indifferent -as usual, and he the devoted lover -of all the year around.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Over in the pasture the meadow-larks sing -half-heartedly, and a titmouse protests sturdily -against their sentimental pathos. He is -pecking at a magnolia seed tucked under his -toes as he sits in the beech at breakfast. -“<span class='it'>Here! Here! Here! Here!</span>” he exclaims. He -believes in making the best of things, does the -titmouse, and holds his crest as high these dark, -raw days as when he goes courting in a world -that is in gala attire for the occasion.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And if the pain isn’t better yet, the weakness -is; and that is always the worst part of it. -I shall be out in my wheeled-chair yet, by the -time Caro comes. And as to Cousin Jane’s nonsense, -she may make mischief—has made -it, evidently; but if they’re really made for each -other, as I have hoped for so long, surely an -old woman’s foolish tongue can never ruin -their lives. <span class='it'>Sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sure!</span> -Oh, bless the little red-brown seer! He tilts -on the lilac bush a second, winks at me distinctly, -and is off with a whisk of his tail which -says plainly, “Don’t be more of a fool than -you must be, old pal!” and I won’t.</p> - -<hr class='tbk107'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>December 24th.</span> How full of happiness one’s -world can be! Caro is not much bigger than -her feathered namesake out of doors, but the -place overflows with her presence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was afraid Cousin Jane wouldn’t let her -stay here after the late unpleasantness, and -was lying on the south porch the other day, -trying to devise some way to make my peace -with her, when she drove around the house -and over the grass, and stopped her buggy -close to my chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Cousin Jane, I’m so glad to see you!” -I exclaimed. “I’ve been wanting to ask you -to let Caro come straight to me and stay with -us while she’s at home. I haven’t had her for -three years, Cousin Jane; and I can make it -all right with her about David, I’m sure.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you could do something if you -were a mind to try,” she said, with her severest -kiss-of-peace manner, which always -aroused an unreasonable combativeness in my -unregenerate soul. “I am perfectly willing, -Lyddy, to let by-gones be by-gones. I never -bear malice, even against ill-tempered folks. -I came over to say if you’d do what you -could with Caroline, I’d let her stay here. She -always was keen to please you—why, I never -could see; but she is; and I’ll not let my personal -feelin’s stand in the way when it comes -to dischargin’ my duty to that poor motherless -girl. She can come.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Thank you, Cousin Jane,” I said heartily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re welcome, Lyddy, you’re welcome: -I don’t hold anything against you. I want to -set you a Christian example: maybe it’ll have -some effect on you, now you’re all broken down -with havin’ too much of your own way. Looks -like, with all the afflictions the Lord’s sent on -you, an’ old as you are, you might be learnin’ -better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I suppose I am a sinner; but somehow, all -my life, whenever Cousin Jane takes her religion -in both hands and tries to ram it into -me in her best pile-driver manner, my own -scuttles off and dives into the first rat-hole it -can find; and I have a dreadful time dragging -it out again and making it help me behave. So I -took a long look at the blackbirds under the -maple, piously jabbing the English sparrows -to discourage their greediness about crumbs, -before I said soberly:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t believe the Lord sent me any afflictions. -I think He just tries to teach me -how to get the good out of what comes, and to -rise by it. I think that’s one of His special -jobs in this world—trying to turn our afflictions -into wings.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, we all know you’re sorter half-cracked, -Lyddy,” said Cousin Jane, with a -manner intended to be genial. She was evidently -bent on not quarreling. “Just do -your best for Caroline.” She gathered up the -reins.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cousin Jane,” I said quickly, “don’t say -a word more to Caro about—those things. -Please.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll do as I see fit, Lyddy,” she answered -stiffly. “Bein’ willin’ to let you help don’t -mean I can trust you to manage things. Well, -good-bye. Do try to get up an’ take some -exercise; it’ll do you good. I’m a worker, myself, -an’ always was; an’ you see how strong I -am—not but what I could complain if I wanted -to, like some.” She disappeared around the -house, tucking her buggy-robe closely around -her with one hand as she drove.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So yesterday morning I was out on the front -porch, watching the road with my glasses; and -there they came, whirling in from the pike in -the open car, the top being down that I might -see her afar off. Caro was driving, and David -beamed beside her, while the Peon beamed on -the back seat.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The whole place feels her presence, and overflows -with her music, her laughter, her sweet -and tricksy ways. She is off with the young -folks in Chatterton now, helping with the -Christmas tree at the church; but before she left -she wheeled me out to my cot under the maple -tree—or superintended Uncle Milton’s doing -it, while she fluttered about with the pillows, -and scolded us for letting her do all the work. -She scattered crumbs for the birds, just as she -used to, and then cuddled down on the same -little stool where she used to sit, her curly -brown head on my pillows. Not Make-Believe -any more, thank heaven, but Caro, and the real -Bird Corners!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were silent awhile, and then she began -to talk—all the loving nonsense and little intimate -confidences that had always come when -we were alone. But not a word of David, nor -of Cousin Jane. I could not let our first talk -begin a silence between us, so I told her what -had happened. She had flushed a little at first, -but her laughter bubbled as she kissed me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet Mammy, don’t you think I know -Cousin Jane? I knew you never said it, nor -meant it. And I’m sure you’d let me marry -the man in the moon, if I wanted to. I did get -mad with her for talking to David—that rather -passed bounds. But David’s a darling, and as -sensible as can be. We thrashed it all out afterwards, -and we aren’t going to make ourselves -unhappy because Cousin Jane’s a born -donkey and can’t help it. Don’t you bother -about it a minute. We’ll both of us get married -some of these days, and you’ll have four -children to love you instead of two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And there isn’t anybody else yet?” I -asked, my face turning to hers as I lay, and -her clear eyes looking into mine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I don’t think there is with David,” she said, -considering; “but as for me—Mammy Lil, -would you rather be a young man’s darling, or -marry a very old and rich and apoplectic gentleman, -worry him to death fast, and be happy -and independent forever after?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who is the young man?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, anybody; I haven’t decided; but I -suppose I could get one. You know I wrote -you about the boys last summer, and how wild -Cousin Jane was. She was more fun than the -boys. You don’t really want me to marry, do -you? I’m having such a good time.” She sat -up and waved her hand. “There’s Milly, and -I must go. Now, lie here and be good till I -get back, and I’ll never marry anybody you -don’t want me to.” And she ran down to the -gate, pinning her hat on as she went.</p> - -<hr class='tbk108'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>December 30th.</span> Note-books are superfluous -when I can have Caro. It is so good to see one -so pretty, so eager, so joyous, so young in body -and soul. She is the very spirit of youth, with -her swift, outgoing life, her quick response to -it on all sides, her gay resourcefulness in the -little emergencies of her small world. I forget -my body, and all its pain-worn helplessness, -while she dances through the house. It -doesn’t matter so much that I must watch in -idleness while the life I love sweeps by, if -somebody else has my own vivid joy in it—a -joy unhampered by weariness or pain. No -wonder the girls can’t stir without her, nor -resent it that she draws the boys as honey -draws flies.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I can’t see that she cares to draw any one of -them yet, though she dearly loves to draw -them all. She is in that kitten stage which -comes to every girl alive. She wants to play, -and she finds the new game fascinating. What -the boys find it doesn’t concern her yet; she is -exploring the possibilities of the game.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>How David feels toward her is more than I -can tell. He is as frankly fond of her as when -he used to carry her across the muddy places -down by the brook, and tell her fairy tales -while they popped corn by the winter fire. But -as to that look in his eyes whereof Cousin Jane -prated—well, I’ve never seen it; and I rather -doubt if she did either.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet somehow I can’t help the uneasy feeling -that she has hoodooed my secret hopes. She -never had influence enough to counteract anything -other members of the family might elect -to do; but whomever she sided with was a subject -for condolence. She could never be suppressed -when she espoused a cause, and her -well-meant activities were invariably fatal to -the best-laid plans. What have I done that, in -addition to all my other afflictions, Cousin -Jane should thrust herself upon me as an ally? -I had counted so comfortingly upon her opposition. -David was never fond of her, and -it is only of late years that she has ceased to -predict for him a future of State support. It -isn’t that she’s fond of the boy now; it’s because -Cousin Chad found out how he managed -that affair for the Peon last winter, and because -the farm here at Bird Corners is becoming -one of the show places, agriculturally, of -this part of the State. And if a richer suitor -appears she’ll discard David like an old shoe.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I confess I am taking great comfort in the -very apparent devotion of David’s old antagonist, -Robert White. He is older than David, -and is advancing rapidly in one of the largest -banks in the city, of which his father is an important -director. Bob is a nice fellow, little -spoiled by prosperity, and his prospective fortune -quite overshadows David’s—in fact, he is -one of the “catches” of this part of the State. -He has been staying out here at his father’s -ever since Caro came home, and makes no secret -of the reason. If Cousin Jane becomes aware -of him she will espouse his cause, <span class='it'>con amore</span>, -and my own hopes will have a rosier appearance. -Poor Bob! I don’t bear him a bit of -malice; but I must shunt Cousin Jane off on -somebody!</p> - -<hr class='tbk109'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 5th.</span> Caro left us last night, protesting -as she went, and insisting that she would -come home in defiance of everybody if I had -any more backsets. But we all want her to -finish the year under her new singing-master: -her voice is really wonderful, and she ought not -to stop yet. The six months will be gone before -we know it; and then she will come to stay.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For myself, I have stored up delight enough -in these ten days to brighten this dark January -weather for weeks to come. And the -days are already lengthening. Spring is on -the way, in fact—and summer won’t be far -behind.</p> - -<hr class='tbk110'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 10th.</span> What winter colors could -bedeck the world I never knew until today!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>First came the rain—a soft, misty down-dropping -which fell noiselessly on the half-frozen -earth, softening the icy ridges in the -road beyond the porch, till they crunched under -Uncle Milton’s heavy feet and splashed into -the water collecting in their ruts. Long before -sunset they wheeled me back to my room, where -the thickening clouds shut us into a twilight -gloom, through which the north wind’s voice -cut icily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>By morning the clouds were gone, and -with them had vanished the work-a-day earth. -In its place is a world of faery, of glitter, of -fire, of pallid white. Over all the fields -the snow lies thick, down to the very edge of -the brook. But above the snow, from the -smallest weed whose skeleton shakes in the bitter -wind to the topmost twig of the tallest -tree, is silver and fire and ice. The stubble is -all one elfin glitter; and beyond the gate, along -the pike, where dried golden-rod, poke-berry, -mustard, and all earth’s wild outcast beauty -blossomed months before, are billows of frost-wrought -loveliness as pure as pearls and as -delicate as the fronds of ferns.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Overhead the sky is deepest blue, rich foil -and background for the trees, all silver here, -all glitter there, and everywhere starred with -flashing points of red and blue and orange, as -some jagged point of ice catches the sunlight -and tears it into dazzling shreds of color.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Deep blue, overhead; but everywhere along -the horizon a soft, colorless, distant sky, across -which the half-congealed moisture of the air -draw its dimming yet invisible veil. The hills -are pale, aloof; but here and there the low -sun strikes them and smites the glory of their -tree-tops into a halo of pearl and fire about -their brows. And what may be the beauty of -life more abundant when the beauty of life -withdrawn clutches the heart like this?</p> - -<hr class='tbk111'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 13th.</span> There is nobody to fellowship -with today but the blackbirds and the -English sparrows. David is off lecturing at -some farmers’ institutes, and the Peon left this -morning for a week’s trip. Grumpy is here, as -usual, and the pain in my spine; but I am not -of a mind to fellowship with them; they can -sulk together in the corner if they want to.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eh, but when the dark shuts out even the -scandal-mongering sparrows, the room is a bit -empty and lonesome-looking! Grumpy and the -back don’t count; they are both in the skeleton-closet. -But the key seems lost, and they have an -unpleasant way of peeping through the crack -of the door. There’s no sense in staying here -this night, so it’s ho, for Make-Believe for me!</p> - -<hr class='tbk112'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 15th.</span> When one can’t have the big -things one wants, one can at least play with the -little things one has; and in doing so may -learn with growing thankfulness how great a -resource a little thing may become.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are so many playthings in the world—no -need is left unsupplied. When one is too ill -to think and too weak to look, there are fleeting -glimpses, through half-shut lids, of blue sky -beyond one’s windows, of a drifting cloud, a -flash of wings, or the waving of boughs in the -wind; beautiful pictures which return uncalled-for -to float above that sea of pain wherein one -rocks, and to steady one with a half-consciousness -of an upper world of beauty and peace, -real, though beyond one’s reach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And when one can think a little—oh, so -many things! One cannot possibly be cut off -from life if one’s heart be in it. It isn’t the -moving of one’s body that counts, but the -clasping of life with the heart. We really live -to the exact extent we <span class='it'>care</span>, and so find the -interest with which every atom and phase of -life is stored.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>“<span class='it'>He brought an eye for all he saw.</span>”</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>Was ever anything more beautiful said of -any one than that? And that is what I pray -for—the seeing eye; that, whether my body be -well or ill, I may enter in at the open doors -which swing wide on every hand, and see, and -love, and rejoice; understanding where I -may, and happy where I may not to watch, -to learn, to wonder like a child.</p> - -<hr class='tbk113'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 15th.</span> The real freedom of life is -measured not by one’s liberty to do as one -likes, but by the things one can afford to do -without. And there is no poverty in such freedom: -it is through the enrichment of the inner -life that one’s resources grow great enough to -enable one to dispense with the outward things -once so necessary.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='prem'></a>V<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Premonitions</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 21st.</span> This is one of those beautiful, -balmy days which sometimes come, late in -January, to convince the veriest blind pessimist -that spring is on the way. The chickadees -are half mad, flying headlong from tree -to tree, and singing their gay little winter score -with an <span class='it'>abandon</span> unknown before. The titmice -are whistling cheerily; and the jays, -though not a hint of spring sweetness softens -their harsh tones, are dancing a little in the -hackberry as they squawk. The wren is singing -rapturously, as he has done all these sunless -weeks, not because of spring-time and April -air, but because love and life are always present -with him, and nothing else matters.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mocking-bird is still solitary, wrapped -in contemplation, like some prophet of old. -Nor is the cardinal singing yet. But his not -singing is no sign of faint-heartedness. Yesterday -he perched in the tulip-tree and <span class='it'>said</span> -“Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” soberly, decidedly, -as if the sweet reasonableness of good cheer -had grown upon him through the dark January -weather. He will be singing it soon.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There! I’ve been out on the porch, and -written in my note-book on a bad day—the -best bad day I’ve had yet; and when bad days -are best bad days Grumpy may as well take a -back seat.</p> - -<hr class='tbk114'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 28th.</span> Best bad days are all very -well; but a combination of best bad days and -Cousin Jane is more grandeur than my feeble -frame can live up to. It has taken me a week -to catch up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She drove up just as I closed my note-book—quite -in time to catch me in the act.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tsck!” she said in disgust, as she whirled -my chair about with a strong hand and wheeled -me unceremoniously into the house. “I suppose -you want to put your eyes out next, and -have everybody pityin’ your afflictions when -you’ve made yourself blind layin’ flat on your -back an’ scribblin’ nonsense—poetry, like -enough!” Contempt could no further go.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m sure you never heard of my writing -poetry in your life, Cousin Jane,” I protested -meekly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, an’ I don’t want to. I know just the -kind of stuff it ’ud be. But I don’t see what -else you get to write layin’ out there all by -yourself, with nothin’ to see, an’ no sensible -occupation to keep you busy. I never could -abide an idler.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“When did you hear from Caro?” I inquired. -In the interest of peace, a change of -subject seemed advisable.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, Caroline’s careless about writin’—which -of course I might have expected, seein’ -the way you brought her up. But Bob White’s -been up there lately, an’ I saw him when I -went to town yesterday. I met him on the -street, while I was goin’ to get my new glasses, -an’ he took me up to the new hotel to lunch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bridled with pleasure, and I coughed -to strangle my laugh of delight. Bob White -paying court to Cousin Jane, without my meddling -the least little bit!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We had four courses,” she went on in happy -retrospection. “I didn’t know there was -such a nice place in town. I don’t eat much -lunch usually when I go—looks like it ain’t -right to waste the Lord’s money just pamperin’ -the flesh, as you might say; an’ besides, -I’d rather save it. I never did hold by spendin’ -money for foolishness like you an’ John -Bird.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I’m sure the Peon and I haven’t been on the -simplest kind of a lark for years; and when -we went it was usually a picnic in the woods -with the children, and the plainest of home-made -lunches; but I received this snub in silence. -Cousin Jane plunged on with her -news.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bob’s heels over head in love with Caroline—that’s -easy to see. It ’ud be a good match for -her, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you said you wanted David for her,” -I objected in as dolorous a voice as I could -muster.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I ain’t so favorable to David as I was,” -she answered frankly. “He’s got a mighty -ugly temper. He flared up at me downright -impudent that time I spoke to him about Caroline; -an’ he good as turned me out of your -room one day, without opening his mouth. -He’d lead Caroline a hard life. Of course I -didn’t say a word to Bob, but I saw by the way -he went on how it was. A keen business man -like him don’t go a hundred miles out of his -way to visit a girl for nothin’. I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But you thought David cared,” I pleaded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If he does, let him do somethin’ to prove it, -’stead o’ settin’ like a bump on a log. I ain’t -goin’ to help him another mite.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jane’s visits certainly add to one’s -list of mercies. I’ve been telling Grumpy all -the week that nothing can be very bad as long -as she no longer smiles on David, but afflicts -Bob White with her disastrous friendship. -My clouds are silver-lined indeed!</p> - -<hr class='tbk115'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 29.</span> The first spring signs the birds -give us: we must look skyward for them, past -earth altogether. The next spring signs are -hidden deep, in those dark places where sunlight -never comes. For the violets which empurple -the long borders, like the song of the -Carolina wren, are not a sign of spring, but a -constant witness to ever-present life. They -bloom every month of the winter, just as the -bird sings. The spring-time message is brought -by something of a frailer courage than theirs—something -which must needs retrace steps -the violets have never taken.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So today, as the Peon wheeled me out to the -maple, he stopped at one of the jonquil beds -while I climbed down to brush aside the leaves -which protect the bulbs from frost, and to -stir the earth with loving fingers. Not yet. -Life is at work, I know, but too deep down to -be seen as yet. I drew the leaves back again, -my hands shaking a little with the joy of grubbing -in the dirt again—real outdoor dirt, that -runs clear through to blue sky on the other side, -instead of stopping at a saucer six inches from -the top of a pot. How many years! Would -I ever make up for the lost years, I wondered, -and then caught my breath and the Peon’s -hand with a laugh. For the cardinal was singing -again—<span class='it'>Cheer! Cheer! Cheer! A-wet-year! -A-wet-year! Cheer! Cheer!</span></p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was a dull, cloudy day; but vision had -come to him, and what he saw he would live up -to. He sat on the grape arbor, back of the jonquil -bed, and sang, deliberately at first, stout-heartedly, -but with a rising tide of joy—<span class='it'>A-wet-year! Cheer! Cheer!</span> -A wet year seems to be -his idea of heaven and spring-time rolled into -one. Rain—and swelling life! The lost years -will be made good yet. And shall one grudge -the time for rain?</p> - -<hr class='tbk116'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>January 30th.</span> I ventured on the subject of -Caro with David last night, and find myself -wondering many things. The fact that I have -always admitted the children’s full right to reserve -from me any secret they wished to keep -largely accounts, I believe, for the closeness of -their confidence. And I didn’t intend to pry -now—only to open a way in case he chose to -take it, as I used sometimes to make confidences -easy for him as a child.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Bob White is laying siege to Cousin Jane’s -favor, Davy, dear,” I said, using the baby -name he still loves in our private talks. “She -has sold him her good-will for a four-course -lunch.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David laughed a little.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Worst affliction could happen to him, I -should think. What on earth does he want -with it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She thinks he’s in love with Caro.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Probably is. Most of the fellows are; and -Bob’s nobody’s fool.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had cuddled his brown head under my -hand as he sat on a stool by my bed, and I -couldn’t see his face. His voice was so very -natural that it suggested an effort to make it -so.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, I doubt if he displayed any special -wisdom when he tried to win Cousin Jane -over—if he tried,” I said. “When you go -courting, I don’t think you’ll spend much time -on the girl’s guardians.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not much time on anybody, you mean, till -I get things settled.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’d rather I waited with the rest, -dear, wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He lifted his head and sat facing me, stroking -my hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I couldn’t talk about it, little Mammy, -even to you. But I wouldn’t mind your knowing -about it if you could understand without -words. You have always done that when I -couldn’t talk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes met mine fully, his heart unveiled -behind them. That is one of the beautiful -things about David’s reserve—the secret door -he opens into it for one whom he truly loves.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I do understand,” I said slowly. “But, -remember, dear, a woman loves to be loved. -You musn’t have any reserves with her when -the time comes. Let her understand your love -is great enough to justify the demands it makes -upon her. If she hurts you at first, don’t try -to shield her by letting her think it’s a light -matter. Be as honest with her as you are with -yourself. And you’ll win her, dear; I know -you will. And you’ll do it all by yourself, -with no meddling nor helping from anybody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He straightened his broad shoulders.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll do it that way or not at all, little Mammy. -Suppose somebody else—even you—helped -me to win her; it would be up to me -to hold her, wouldn’t it? And how could I -ever be sure of doing it if I hadn’t been enough -for her at the start, by myself? If I’m not -enough—if I can’t make myself enough—I -couldn’t afford to have her at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He rose to his full six feet of height and -stretched his clenched hands above his head.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That stool cramps my legs these days,” he -said. “I remember how proud I was when I -found I could sit on it squarely and get my -toes to the floor. Legs change, don’t they? -But the only way I change is to love more the -folks I love at all. Goodnight, you sweetest -mother a boy ever had.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent down, rubbing his cheek against -mine in the dear caress of his baby days, and -went out. He never was a boy to kiss one; -but he always loved to stroke my hand, and to -touch my cheek with his. He always loved, -too, for me to receive his caresses passively; it -is only when he tucks his close-cropped head -under my hand that petting from me is in -order.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So he loves Caro. Half of my hope has -come true. And here I lie, trembling with -fear. Is there any greater mockery than a hope -wrecked by a half fulfilment? If Caro—Now -isn’t Grumpy a clever imp? I’ve faced him -down and out about the pain for nearly three -weeks, and shut him up in the skeleton-closet -with all the gruesome things I’m determined -not to be nagged about; and so he sneaks out -on an entirely new tack, and flaunts David and -Caro at me instead of my own spinal column, -which is his customary trade-mark! But if I -don’t want him associating with my own anatomy, -which heaven knows is too depraved to be -further contaminated, why should he aspire to -the children’s company? And if David loves -Caro, isn’t that proof I was right in thinking -they were made for each other, and that Caro’s -love will answer his? <span class='it'>Sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, sur-e-ly, -sure!</span> Just hear her bird-double out of -doors: Grumpy as a prophet isn’t in it with the -little red-brown wren!</p> - -<hr class='tbk117'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 7th.</span> Milly came to see me today. -Grace has been for more than a month with -George’s mother, who has been very ill. I was -lying here thinking of her as I watched the -jays outside, and of what Caro said when she -was at home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro never could stand Cousin Jason, and -has called him Cousin Jay ever since the first -summer we came to Bird Corners. I took her -to spend the day at Grace’s, and she went with -Milly and her nurse down to the brook to wade. -The brook divides Cousin Jason’s land from -theirs; and the children, finding some of his -hogs in Grace’s pasture, drove them before -them with much laughter and little clods of -earth. Cousin Jason, hearing his squealing -beasts, came charging down the hill in a fury -and jabbed his petty wrath straight to poor -little Milly’s heart. She was always a timid -creature, like her mother, and, like her mother, -unkindness made her physically ill; so she -wept miserably, poor baby, while her half-uncle -stormed. But Caro flamed into wrath -as fierce as his own. She had been feeding the -birds that morning, and had jumped from the -stool by my cot afterward a dozen times to -scatter the jay-birds, who were out in unusual -force, and bent on pecking off the head -of any other bird who ventured to take a -crumb. She sprang in front of Milly now, -ruffling like an angry wren.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go home, you horrid—jay-bird!” she -shrieked; “you peck, an’ peck, an’ peck, <span class='it'>all</span> -the time! I hate you! Cousin Jay, Cousin -Jay!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He stared at the mite, speechless, with purpling -face. Milly gasped with fright, and old -Aunt Susan, as she afterwards declared, “done -choke herse’f ’mos’ ter death swallerin’ her -laff.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro took Milly by the hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Let’s go home an’ play party,” she proposed -calmly; “we don’t like pigs and jay-birds.” -And back they went.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Jason was immensely impressed. He -told me about it afterwards, himself, and declared -that he wished Milly had a little of -Caro’s “spunk.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He even tried, in his not very happy fashion, -to be friends with the child, and has always -treated her with more consideration than any -one else he knows. But Caro will have none -of him, and to this day calls him Cousin Jay -to his face. He is a man of large bulk, with -a face at once sharp and heavy, as unlike Grace -in body as he is in soul. And I’m afraid he -makes life pretty hard for her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When her husband died, Grace was left -sole mistress of his estate—which included, according -to our beautiful state law, the plantation -she inherited from her father. But her -brother calmly assumed the management of -everything. Cousin Jason is really a Mohammedan -born out of due place. He cannot -conceive of a woman’s having mind or soul -of her own, much less rights; and he proposes, -in all honesty, to do his next-of-kin duty by -the widowed family fool. Grace, I suppose, -was too broken by grief to realize what she -was doing; but in any event she would probably -have given way to him; she spent her -girlhood, as she now spends her widowhood, -trying to keep her half-brother in a good -humor. She yielded to him absolutely, even -to giving him power of attorney over all her -belongings, and to vacating her own pretty -rose-colored bed-room, with its private bath, -on the first floor of her home. Cousin Jay -never liked to sleep upstairs; it was too far -from his work, he said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He has certainly, the Peon says, made everything -pay well; he has Cousin Chad’s own -genius for money-making. But he does not -believe in spending money, nor, of course, in -giving it; nor in being bothered with “idle -gossiping women who ought to be at home -minding their husbands’ affairs.” (He is never -conscious of a woman except as the appendage -of some man.) So Grace controls neither -her own money nor her own home. All her -gracious hospitality, her wise open-handedness -to those in need, is a thing of the past. It is -difficult for Milly even to have ordinary visitors, -except in the afternoons; and if it were -not for the child’s other-worldly beauty, before -which the judgments applied to most girls are -abashed, one would almost call her dresses -shabby. But it is not easy to think of her -dress, the girl herself so charms one.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She has been telling me a little of her troubles, -poor child; they have been hard to manage -in her mother’s absence. Chief among them, -as I infer, mainly from what she did not say, -is the difficulty of being properly courteous to -Robert Lincoln, without calling down Cousin -Jason’s boorish wrath on the young man’s head, -as well as her own.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see it isn’t as if he were one of us, -Cousin Lil,” she said, her soft cheeks flushed, -her eyes large with unshed tears: “he’s a Northerner, -you know, a New Englander. He’s -interested in the interurban lines they’re building -and projecting here in Tennessee, and he -really lives in the city—I mean his headquarters -are there. And when he comes down -here to see us, why, it isn’t real Southern -hospitality not to ask him to a single meal. But -I daren’t. And once Uncle Jason came right -into the parlor and banged the fire-irons -around and glared and kept looking at his -watch. And it was only half-past nine, Cousin -Lil. That was just after Caro went back; -and he really hasn’t been here since. I -do hate for <span class='it'>Northern</span> people to think——” a -tear slid down one cheek; but the slight shrinking -of her pretty hand showed me she could -not bear to be petted just now; she did not -want sympathy, but help. She swallowed -hard and went on.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you know next morning at breakfast -I spoke to him—not to criticise, you know, -nor anger him, of course. I told him not to be -afraid that I would forget his wishes; that I -told every one it kept him awake to have anyone -stirring after ten o’clock at night, and that -Mother and I always closed the house then; -and I said it was only half-past nine last -night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did he say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, he just stormed, like he always does, -you know. He said he wanted to go to bed -early. And he got up without eating his breakfast, -and slammed the door and went out. I -had to run clear to the barn after him and beg -and beg, before he would come back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What on earth did you want him back -for?” I inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, to eat his breakfast. He hadn’t had -his coffee, and he’d have had a headache without -it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Milly Wood!” I gasped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mother always coaxes him back,” said Milly, -with gentle finality; “at least, she always -tries. Sometimes he won’t come, and then she -takes it to him herself. You know he has -terrible headaches sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, dear, if you would only face him -down just once.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, I couldn’t,” said Milly, shrinking. -“And Mother would never get over it. You -don’t know how she feels about Uncle Jason. -She says he’s never had the best of life, because -he never has known the love that can give -its all. She’s sorry for him, and she wants us -to make up to him for what he has missed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, you’ll never do it,” I said. “Nobody -but Jason Blue can ever make good that -loss to him.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sometimes I think Mother ought to require -some things of him,” she said; “but she -won’t; and I know I’ll never make it harder -for her by doing what she doesn’t want. But -I wish he didn’t live at home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She kissed me, smiling rather forlornly, and -went away, while I lay here wondering about -Mr. Lincoln, whom I have never seen. But -David and Caro liked him, which is sufficient -passport to my favor.</p> - -<hr class='tbk118'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 12th.</span> The mocking-birds have a -constant fascination for me—the charm of a -complex nature which touches life on many -sides. One can know a robin by heart in a -single season, and predict with one’s eyes shut -the doings of any one of the tribe; but a mocking-bird -is a different proposition.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His song throbs with the pure joy of living. -It is the song of one in the world and -of it, and rejoicing so to be; yet there is in it -a haunting suggestion of aloofness, of mystery, -of something beyond one’s ken. It is as if his -joy had deeper foundations than sunshine and -plenty; as if he had lived through pain, clear -to the other side of it, and learned that it, too, -is good.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His powers of mimicry, I think, are greatly -exaggerated. He does not really sing other -birds’ songs, as his cousin, the catbird, does; he -merely experiments with their notes—a stave -from a thrasher here, a light-flung oriole measure -there, a thrush note, piercing sweet, a bit -of the wren’s summer trill. It is as if he would -try life on all sides and look at it from every -point of view; his ear is keen for the music -from every throat. But always, through all -this imaginative performance, he clings to the -integrity of his own message. One may hear a -catbird for an hour, and, unless one sees the -blithe gray mime among the leaves, never suspect -his real identity. But all a mocking-bird’s -borrowed notes are woven into the texture of -his own song, which wholly claims him as the -melody rises, sweeping him with it bodily up to -heaven, and carrying the listener’s heart with -him. His is the rapture of open vision, feathered -mystic that he is.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now, a bird like that one would expect to -be a recluse, dwelling apart in cloistered green, -afar from his fellows and from mankind; but -the mocking-bird flatly declines that rôle. He -is a bird of affairs, friendly and neighborly -withal, a haunter of men’s doorways and house-vines, -and a public-spirited citizen who rejoices -to succor the oppressed. For he has a fine, -full-fledged temper of his own, and any amount -of fighting blood. He rarely seeks a quarrel; -but if one be thrust upon him, either by aggressions -attempted upon his own rights or by -the call of another bird in distress, he accepts -the combat with alacrity, and carries it joyously -to a triumphant conclusion. And three -minutes after the enemy is routed his voice -floats down from the highest perch in the vicinity -as if he were singing at heaven’s gate. -He has fought for all he is worth, yet not a -feather of his spirit is ruffled.</p> - -<hr class='tbk119'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 15th.</span> When I can catch Grumpy -and call him to his face by his right name, he -always disappears; but blue devils are so very -clever at disguising themselves, and at concentrating -one’s attention on their instruments -of torture!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This morning, for instance, he hid under the -foot of my bed, and kept poking up all sorts -of things where I couldn’t help seeing them; -the things the Peon and David need me to get -well for; the things I long to do; the idleness -I so desperately hate—for he can make even -an abstraction visible, being a very clever devil -indeed. Then he held up the pain, turning it -round and round, and counting off the time -like a clock—minutes, hours, days, months, -years, and never an end in sight. I had to look -out of the window in self-defense; and there I -saw a kinglet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Except the winter wren and the humming-bird, -the kinglets are the smallest birds we -have. But they make up in energy what they -lack in size; and this one dashed about as if -his very life depended on his getting his breakfast -in ten seconds and catching the seven-thirty -breeze to Somewhere. Grayish-olive, -of course; but was his crown of ruby-red, or of -orange, crimson and black? And why should -a mite of the tree-tops be so inconsiderate as to -carry his trade-mark on the top of his head?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was almost in despair about him—for -when you meet a bird, it is of consuming importance -to know whose acquaintance you have -the pleasure of making—when he took pity on -me of his own sweet will. Perhaps the breeze -was a thought late, and he had a moment to -spare: but he perched on a twig just outside -the window, bowed his tiny head toward me, -thrust one claw up between his wing and his -body, and scratched the back of his neck for -the whole of one second and a half!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Golden-crowned! The cunningest striped -pate, red in the middle, with a yellow band on -each side, a black band next the yellow, and a -white line over his eye. Then he flung up his -head as boldly as though it were mountain-high, -jerked his wee tail-feathers frantically, and -squeaked in the finest and most wiry of voices, -the astonishing information that it was only -Grumpy under the bed, at his old tricks—a -creature for nobody to pay attention to. And -as soon as he found himself discovered, my blue -devil took himself off.</p> - -<hr class='tbk120'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 20th.</span> If I can’t go outdoors, outdoors -can come to me! The windows are all -open this morning, and my bed so close under -them that I can lie here and stretch my hand -into the outside world, where the lilac is rapidly -leafing and the elms and maples are all abloom. -A moment ago Uncle Milton stepped into -view, one hand holding his hat and the other -filled with jonquils.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Is you gittin’ er little better, honey?” he -inquired. “Hit’s gittin’ spring-time now, en -Milton wants ter see you ridin’ roun’ in dat -ar cheer you got. Ef we-all puts er mattress -in it, don’ you reckon we kin git you down ter -de holler by de gate? Des see what come f’um -down dat er way dis mawnin’—dem holler jonquils -allus did beat dese yere up on de hill.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He reached the flowers through the window -and laid them upon the bed—the first -flowers of the awakening year; for the violets -are ageless, belonging neither to the new year -nor to the old. I caught up the golden beauty -with a gasp of joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, thank you, Uncle Milton! I knew -spring was coming true before long! And I’ll -be walking down there when they bloom again: -don’t think I’m going to live in beds and -wheeled-chairs forever.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His brown old face beamed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dat’s de talk!” he exclaimed gleefully. -“Ef dat ain’t de Forest sperrit my name ain’t -Milton, sho’! You look like yo’ pa endurin’ -er de war. You keep talkin’ dat erway, honey, -en feelin’ dat erway, too. Hit’s sperrit en -spunk what cyores folks a sight mo’ dan doctors -en physicin, I lay my little Missy gwinter -be runnin’ roun’ yere yet, makin’ ole Milton -hop.” He walked off, chuckling to himself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josie brought me a vase, and I set the flowers -in it as flowers should be set, lovingly, and -one by one. It has been years since I have been -down in that hollow, just this side of where the -road turns out into the pike; but I can see it -as if I were there this minute—the maples -blooming overhead, the meadow-larks flashing -the white of their tail-feathers as they fly, singing, -on the hill beyond; the twigs in the strip -of woodland down the road, shining yellow, -tan, and red with the rising sap. The blue-grass -is under foot, soft and thick, and all -through it rise the spears of the jonquil leaves, -and the swinging, golden bells. Along the -fence runs the broad band of iris, matted close, -the pointed leaves already taller than the jonquils. -Cardinals and mocking-birds are calling -all up the hillside; and down under the willows -and sycamores at the water’s edge the myrtle -warblers are swarming, and thinking of donning -their gay spring suits. Oh, I can see it -all, all! A little wind is dancing along the hillside, -and the branches touch one another softly, -the dry, scraping, winter sound all gone. -The wren’s spring song is in full blast, the -bluebirds are twittering, and even the jays’ -voices are turning sweet. The breath of life -is everywhere, and the joy of it. I can feel the -wind in my hair, and the grass under my flying -feet—<span class='it'>My flying feet</span>! For a moment I -had forgotten. But here are the four close -walls, the narrow bed, the endless, wrenching -pain. And I could not walk even to my sofa -today, though the Peon’s life were my reward.—Eh, -well, and what of that? Did I not run -in Make-Believe? And shall I shut my eyes -to joy and beauty because my locomotive -apparatus is laid up for a few repairs? I may -be walking clear out to the hall again before -the week is out, and be out in my chair on the -porch tomorrow. Love and sunshine really -are enough, no matter what Grumpy says—even -love without the sunshine: and here are -both, and flowers besides, and the spring-time -everywhere out of doors.</p> - -<hr class='tbk121'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 25th.</span> Grace was here yesterday. -She has a way of dropping in when she is most -wanted and leaving a trail of sunshine behind -her. She is a quiet little body, never hurried -or fretted, and she has a genius for discovering, -in the most unlikely places, virtues invisible -to the naked eye. She sees the wrong and -mean things, too—she’s not at all a goody-goody -person; but she keeps the wrong and -the wrong-doers so entirely distinct and separate -that you wonder how you were ever so -stupid as to confuse them. She’s really devoted -to that cranky old half-brother of hers. She -is always commiserating him because he did -not have her mother, and his own died when -he was born. She’ll explain and expound him -till you think he really is noble, only he never -had a chance to learn how to do noble things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is certainly a pity, however, that his education -is in such a backward stage. Robert -Lincoln and Milly are becoming much more -than friends; and Cousin Jason’s infantile ignorance -of other people’s rights is anything -but conductive to comfort under the circumstances. -But Grace’s one idea, as usual, is that -dear brother Jason must not be crossed. He -takes it so hard, poor fellow, when things don’t -go as he wishes. And if Mr. Lincoln is as seriously -fond of Milly as he professes to be, he -may as well make up his mind to be satisfied -with winning her, if he can succeed in doing it, -and not be too exacting with her relatives.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor Grace! As if I don’t know the kind -of young-ladyhood she believes in Milly’s having, -and is simply aching to give her! But evidently -Cousin Jason’s will is to be law.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The truth is, as I told Grace, Cousin Jason -is just like Cousin Chad—though they’d -both foam at the mouth to hear me say it. But -they’ve neither of them any sense of proportion. -That’s why they have no sense of -humor, nor power to get their own personalities -in proper perspective with other people -and their rights. But why, asks Grace calmly, -shouldn’t we be as sorry for a person born with -no sense of proportion as for a person born -with only one eye? Of course the lack of a -sense of humor is harder on the kin than the -lack of an eye would be—Grace admitted that -handsomely; but in neither case was the afflicted -party to blame. And didn’t one really -deserve more sympathy when his affliction -necessitated his also being a bore?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We fell to giggling as we discussed this -knotty point; and I was so far converted to -Grace’s charitable views that I had Uncle -Milton get a basket of double jonquils for her -to take to Cousin Jane. Cousin Jane always -did admire my double jonquils, and somehow -her own never succeed. I like the single ones -much better myself; the others, like my revered -relative, are too clumsy and fat. I told -Grace to say I sent them to her on the principle -of sweets to the sweet. And now I’ll be -having another visitation, for my sins!</p> - -<hr class='tbk122'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>February 27th.</span> Pitch dark when I woke -this morning; and pain to make one clench -one’s teeth. Grumpy is not hilarious company -at such times, but occasionally he helps by -overdoing things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This morning, for instance, he began about -the unendingness of things—sickness, and the -long night, and all that—till it struck me all -at once it really was morning that second, and -only looked like night. Besides, the pain is -like this, often, when I don’t feel blue a bit: -so it isn’t the pain that makes me miserable—it’s -my own mood about the pain; and if a -seasoned old party like me can’t manage her -own moods, what’s the world coming to?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Only, sometimes I can’t manage them, and -I don’t know why. They sweep over me like -the waves of the sea, and trample me like wild -horses. It isn’t often like that; but when it is, -I know I’m in for it—and also that I’m dead -sure to get out of it after a while. I’m lying -here—this racketty old body, with a piece of -me, myself, inside it, just about as miserable -as such a combination can get to be. And the -rest of me is hanging around outside, looking -on, and saying, “Just lie low and keep quiet, -old lady. It’s tough, but it won’t last. Lay your -nose to the wind and let it howl. If it blows -you even on both sides, you’ll get out of it -without being crank-sided, and that’s the best -you can do.” So I lie here; and after awhile -the comfort of knowing it’s just a mood -soaks in till I can feel it and get the good of -it—and then the storm is past. I come out of -it, too, with my self-respect unimpaired; because, -no matter how it raged inside, I did -keep quiet on the outside till it blew over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So it blew over this time also. And after -awhile even Grumpy was forced to admit that -it was morning, for all the world was drenched -with light. The long, level beams slipped -across the hills as the sun rose, and touched the -tree-tops, one by one; and behold, life had -risen—in the night. Every twig of the -tulip-tree was tipped with green where the -great terminal buds had burst their sheaths; -and down by the brook a fairy mist of color -clung tenuously about the willows. The -mocking-bird was in a rapture of prophecy in -the maple; and the English sparrows were -actually housebuilding in a beautiful hole in -the scarlet oak.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nobody else thinks of nest building yet; -but among the birds, as among humans, the increase -of population is most rapid where one -would fain find it least. These sparrows will -be rearing half a dozen families before the -year is out—good, large families, too; and it -behooves them to select their apartment early -in the season. That hole belongs to the wrens, -but that’s of no consequence to the sparrows, -who have the pleasant habit of taking whatever -they want.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It must be owned they are a hardworking -tribe, even though their works be evil. If -the fathers left their wives to do all the work, -after the bluebirds’ fashion, some of the broods -would surely starve; the mothers would succumb -to nervous prostration before all the -mouths could be filled. But the head of the -family rolls up his feathers and pitches right -in, from nest building days until frost. Nuisances -though they be, there isn’t a shirker -among them; and they will drop their petty -personal squabbles instantly, to make common -cause against any bird, big or little, not of -sparrow feather. But they shall not have the -wren’s hole for all that—not while Uncle -Milton can climb a tree for me.</p> - -<hr class='tbk123'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>March 6th.</span> The blackbirds are falling in -love. Even sensible, lovely creatures are a -bit comical when hard hit by the tender passion. -In its first inflammatory stages it so -utterly destroys the patient’s sense of proportion -that one smiles even when one’s heart is -aglow with sympathy. But a blackbird lover, -a sleek, slick gentleman, oppressed with more -dignity than an archbishop could carry gracefully, -trying to unlimber enough to convince -his <span class='it'>inamorata</span> that he desires her favor when -he merely wishes to air his perfections for her -dazzlement!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One flies to a branch in plain sight of the -greedy black gang, gobbling crumbs below, -and meditates. Shall he condescend, or shall -he not? Well, maybe she is worth it; and -it will display his feathers to an admiring -world. He ducks a little, spreads wings and -tail, rises a-tiptoe, and says something through -his nose to call attention to his noble self, -though a compliment may be tacked on in the -last note. I know that’s just the way Cousin -Chad did it when he courted Cousin Jane. And -think of the laughterless depths of Cousin -Jane’s soul that she found it a performance -to take seriously! Things are pretty much -evened up in this life, after all. It is true -Cousin Jane has no back; but think of a blackbird -husband—and of me with the Peon!</p> - -<hr class='tbk124'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>March 10th.</span> Rain, rain, rain. I’ve been -examining my mercies this morning to see -which of them can stand the strain of a three-days’ -cold down-pour, a week of almost utter -sleeplessness, and a spine that is conducive -to profanity. The mercies look badly frazzled; -but they were all right the other day, and -couldn’t possibly wear out as fast as this. I -suppose it’s the same old trouble—my eyes are -moth-eaten, and need to be done up in camphor -at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Anyway, it’s a piece of a mercy that if I had -to get so much worse I did it in weather when -I couldn’t go outdoors if I were able. It is -awfully cold. Grumpy says it will frost when -it clears off, and all the peaches will be killed. -Cheerful, isn’t it, when David’s pet peach-orchard -experiment is in full bloom for the -first time? But the peach trees are like us -humans: they never can tell what is ahead of -them. They have to go on in the dark with -such capital of good-will and ignorance as they -possess, and take the consequences without -kicking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I think the titmice might be counted as -mercies today. The other birds have disappeared, -but the titmice are as jaunty as possible -in their trim gray rain coats, whistling like -boys calling dogs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And pray, if a titmouse can keep his crest -starched in this down-pour, why should the -spirit of mortal be limp?</p> - -<hr class='tbk125'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>March 12th.</span> If one be born a coward, one -cannot help that; and what one cannot help is -no disgrace, but a burden to be carried in -patience to the end of life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But in my childhood it came to me that -though one be born a coward beyond escape, it -is never necessary to behave like one. That has -been my comfort a thousand times, and it is -my comfort tonight—a comfort great enough -to hold me steady in the iron grip of pain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Coward I am, and will be, to the end of -life. But I have not behaved like a coward -this day! And now the day is ended—lived -through forever. And I can remember it unashamed.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='before'></a>VI<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Before the Dawn</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>March 18th.</span> If the outward pressure of -necessity for self-control be great enough to -balance the inward pressure of pain, one can -keep fairly steady. But a week after the Peon -left on one of those long western trips something -came up that made it necessary for -David to drop everything and go to Atlanta. -He was detained there beyond his expectations, -and then wrote me he must go to New -York before returning home. He begged me -again, as when he first left, to send for Grace; -but I did not want her. At first it was a relief -to be alone, with no need for effort or -concealment. Afterwards, I did not want her -because her sympathy would have been more -than I could bear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It wasn’t just the day’s pain, or the night’s—one -can usually manage that somehow. -What Grumpy did was to set today’s pain by -that of yesterday, and the day before that; -to add last week’s to last year’s, to the pain of -ten years, twenty years, back. He applied his -recollections like a mustard plaster, and rubbed -them in like a liniment. Then he took tomorrow, -and next year, and the year after -that, and built them all into one long <span class='it'>via dolorosa</span>—a -life-time path of pain. I might have -stood that; I have before. But beside the pain -he set the idleness—this horrible, useless idleness. -That is the killing part! He set it all -before me, as plain in the black and sleepless -nights as in the day: and while I cowered, he -gibed and threatened till I feared to look -ahead and dared not hope. And when I tried -to run away to Make-Believe, for the first time -in all my life I could not find the way! That -finished everything.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>So I lay still and silent one age-long night, -shut fast in my body at last, the slow tears -dripping on my pillow on either side. Suddenly, -in the dawning, a purpose leaped -within me; Ella should come to me—here, in -this very room, from which I could no longer -escape. If Make-Believe were closed to me, -I would command her here. I would tell her -everything: I could not bear it in silence any -more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Since we first went to the city I had loved -her. And after Great-aunt Letitia died, until -she went North to live, she had been constantly -in my home. And after that—oh, we -knew the way to Make-Believe, we two! Never -a day but we met there, for many a year. She -knew all about the pain, though we never spoke -of it. It wasn’t merely that words were unnecessary, -but that pain, in her presence, -seemed so small a part of life. Nothing really -mattered but love and kindness and happy -human laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet she had never had a real home, nor -even a care-free childhood. Her life had been -one long sacrifice for those who took her bounty -as their right. But the laughing blue eyes, -the heart of kindness, the sturdy, sensible, -joyous spirit of her, blended of love and humor -and common sense! The children in the streets -ran after her, and tired faces brightened as -she passed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For three years and a half now I had not -seen her, even in Make-Believe, where I met -every one else I love, both living and dead. -Somehow I could not pretend about her any -more, after that strange day when my letter -came back unopened—the happy letter I had -written to tell her I was going to a sanitarium -to be made over new, so that I could come -and pay her a “really truly” visit on my way -home. She never saw the letter. They sent -it back unopened; and I could not play about -her any more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But now, if I must stay shut in my body, -she must come. She should never leave me. -I would tell her every day just how hard life -was. And she would be sorry for me; she -would understand. I reached out with all the -life left in me to draw her out of Make-Believe, -now shut against me, and bring her to share -my prison, and to hear my complaints.</p> - -<hr class='tbk126'/> - -<p class='pindent'>I turned my head upon the pillow and lifted -my heavy lids. She was coming toward the -bed. I raised my arms feebly, and her own -were round me. My head fell on her breast, -and I lay there, drawing long, sobbing breaths, -while she stroked my hair with firm and gentle -fingers. There was no need for speech: her -touch was always plainer than other people’s -words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But presently I was aware of a difference -in her touch, a something new and strange. I -whispered weakly, without opening my eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What is it dear? What troubles you? -Why don’t you speak to me?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Silence. Only that tender, pitying touch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew you’d be sorry for me,” I whispered -on; “and oh, I want you to be! I -wouldn’t have called you if it were real, you -know—I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. -But nothing can hurt you now. Isn’t Love -so plain to you, and the end of things, and -the reasons why they must be—isn’t all that -so shining clear to you that even my being -like this can’t hurt? Tell me about it. I -want to know it is clear to somebody—I’m -so far gone in the dark.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still no answer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then be sorry for me,” I went on, dashing -my desperate pleading against that strange, -disquieting silence. “I’ve borne so much. I -must tell somebody, and it isn’t fair to talk -about it to them here at home. I’ve never -talked to anybody before, even to you. I’ve -never even cried, never once, except all by -myself in the dark. And I’m such a coward -about everything, and specially about pain; -I’ve been so afraid of it all my life. And it -never stops. It’s been years, Ella, years and -years. And oh, I can’t bear it any more! You -don’t know what it’s like just to be still and -suffer when you can’t <span class='it'>do</span> anything. It wasn’t -so bad when I could keep going; I could -fight. But now I can’t fight any more. I -want to die. I think God ought to let me die.—I’ve -tried; I’ve tried my best so long. And -I can’t try any more.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The words were scarcely breathed, and I -stopped in exhaustion, the slow tears dropping -on her breast.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still she did not speak. Deeper and deeper -sank her silence, pressed in by that strange, -tender touch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly I shivered, and my eyes flew wide. -Her own were full of love and sorrow—a sorrow -that looked past all my complaints to -something deeper and more vital. I shrank -away from her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t any more; I -can’t.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Behind the sorrow in her eyes a light -was kindled; but it only frightened me the -more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have tried,” I protested. “I’ve done -nothing else the most of my life. Is there -no pity, even in you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Still she gazed; and something in her look -called to something dead in me. I shook my -head feebly and closed my eyes; but through -the shut lids her gaze commanded.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I have come to the end,” I persisted; -“and if you do not understand, there is nothing -left. I can’t try any more, and I won’t. Go -away.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I gasped as I said it, and opened my eyes -again. Her look pierced and held me like the -point of a sword. I turned my head from -side to side, shivering, but there was no escape. -The dead thing in me stirred to life and dragged -itself up to look truth in the face once -more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes,” I said, “It is true. I can’t because -I won’t. I thought I wouldn’t because I -couldn’t, but that is a lie. I can endure if I -will—and if I can, I must. But will it never -end?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She lifted her head a little. Her eyes shone, -and a smile curved the sweet corners of her -mouth. It was not the old, brave, happy -laughter, but something wiser and more compelling—the -overflow of an exhaustless joy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You <span class='it'>know</span>,” I whispered. “You learned -it even in your life down here. And to keep -on trying is to conquer, isn’t it?—even though -one fails with every breath. And the only -irreparable calamity is to turn coward and -quit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face was heavenly sweet.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I must never send for you again?” I asked, -like a child. “Not to say things are hard, or -to cry?—But if I play, in the real Make-Believe, -will you talk to me there as you used? -If I see you there I won’t need you this way -again. Good-bye.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her fingers brushed my hair once more as -I lay back on the pillow; and then I knew -she was gone.—O bravest friend! Not even -in my own coward thoughts could your -courage be bent to the service of fear; to think -of you was to find strength, even against my -will!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For a long time I lay there, while the slow -day passed and twilight deepened again into -night. All her life passed before me—its selflessness, -its courage, its joy. No creature -that knew her went unblessed of her. What -gifts pain brought, what power of helpfulness, -what fullness of life and love!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Suddenly, there in the deep stillness, it was -as if the night were drawn away like a veil; -and I saw out to the very edges of the world, -and back into far-off ages, and on into days -that are yet to be; and everywhere was light. -And the light came from countless faces; and -I knew that to each one pain had come—pain -of body or pain of soul—and because of the -pain they had found the light. And down, -under the light, looking up to it, drawn by -it, stumbling forward by it, were those to -whom the vision had not come. And I—was I -offered such a fellowship only to run away in -fear?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The veil of night fell dark again, but a -song was in my heart. When daylight came -I wrote it down—the song my friend had -given me. It is called</p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>       <span class='it'>THE INITIATES</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Wide as the world their company,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Many the paths they tread;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Here may a toil-worn peasant be,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Yonder a crownèd head.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Famed or unknown, each one must fare</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Forth on a bidden way;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>That which awaits no man may share,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lonely ’mid throngs are they.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Yet comrades all they come to be:</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Far-sundered, yet one line,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>They march in this great company,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Deep in their souls its sign.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>How shall ye know them? Some there be</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>So wasted and worn and weak,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>So anguished in body, ye all may see</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>They bear the sign ye seek.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>But some in this brotherhood there be</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Who in such secret wise</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Meet suffering, no man may see</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Wherein their sorrow lies.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Their laughter rings out true and free,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Ye look for the sign in vain,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Nor guess they are of this company,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Marked with the mark of pain.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Thus shall ye know them: On their eyes</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Falls the light of things unseen;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Their pain-cleared vision sweeps the skies</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And the hearts of men, I ween;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>The things that pass, and the things that remain,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Lie open to their sight,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And that which they learn as they dwell with pain</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Gives strength to the world, and light.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Patient, and wise, and glad they be,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Rich with love’s own increase—</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>They of this world-wide company</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Who suffer, and find peace.</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Freed as by fire? Yet the fire shall pass,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>And the freedom shall stand for aye;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And what would be the hope for the mass</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>If these should shrink in dismay?</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>So may I cast aside all fear;</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>So may my soul aspire;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>So may I climb pain’s pathway drear</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>To heights of my soul’s desire.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And there, with heart grown wise to see,</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Counting nor loss nor gain.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>May I serve with this brave company</span></p> -<p class='line0'>  <span class='it'>Who bear the mark of pain!</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<div><h1><a id='spring'></a>VII<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Spring Magic</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 2nd.</span> The Peon came home ten days -ago, and David a day later. They looked as -solemn as owls, and developed a tendency to -neglect their business and sit in my room which -was fast getting on my nerves. So I rose -up and put a stop to it. You simply can’t -lie still in peace when your eyes won’t stay -open, if you have any consciousness that -somebody is watching you while he’s pretending -to read a book. And I don’t need a -doctor. I’ve been like this, and worse, a thousand -times, and the Head said when I came -home I was bound to get well crab-fashion—going -backward lots of the time. So I laid -down the law that if my eyes were shut and -I didn’t speak when they opened the door, my -family was to be sensible and go away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>That was why I didn’t look when the door -opened one day last week. I was thinking -of all the Head had said about backsets, and -how, when they ended, I would come out of -them more and more quickly, and they’d be -farther and farther apart; and I was wondering -how fast I’d go, once I had finished with -this one. When the door opened I hadn’t the -energy to spare for talking—I needed it for -my cheerful speculations. But, instead of -going away, my visitor came quietly in. Then -I heard a little gasp, a soft rustle beside me, -and little warm hands caught mine—Caro’s -hands! She was there on her knees, her face -hidden in the bedclothes, and crying as if her -heart would break! Caro crying was a sight -to galvanize a graven image: I sat up straight -in the bed and drew her to me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, what is it?” I implored. “Tell me -quick: I’ll fix it!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bubbled with laughter as she caught me -in her arms and eased me back on the pillow, -dropping a tear and a kiss on my nose.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You darling! If you were at your own -funeral and heard one of us crying, you’d hop -right up and straighten things out for us, -wouldn’t you? There’s not a thing the matter -with me except I’ve been so homesick for you -all winter I couldn’t stand it any longer: and -now I’m crying because I’m so glad I’m home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But Caro——”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t ‘Caro’ me and don’t ‘but’ me, for -I’ve come to stay. Mammy Lil, you’re an -accomplished liar; but when your writing kept -looking like chicken-tracks, I knew better than -to believe a word of your sprawly, rickety -tales that trailed all over the sheet. And I -<span class='it'>hate</span> music. And besides, I can drive the family -to drink with what I know already.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But Daddy Jack, dear, and Cousin Jane.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro laughed again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Daddy Jack says he wrote for me yesterday—after -I’d started, all by my smart self. -And I’ll tell Cousin Jane after a while. She’ll -have something brand-new to lecture us about -for the next twenty-five years. I feel like -Carnegie and Rockefeller rolled into one: it -isn’t often she gets the benefaction of an enormity -like this, is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It had been a cloudy morning, dark, and -wet with the night’s rain; but now the sunlight -swept across the hills and up from the -branch, and struck through the soft colors -shimmering about the trees like rainbows in -a mist. The Peon and David tiptoed in, beaming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’d better let us go by and break the -news to them at Cousin Chad’s,” said David; -“you’ll get a shock over the ’phone if they -aren’t prepared.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m going over there this afternoon,” said -Caro calmly. “I’m going all by myself and -engineer Cousin Jane through the boiling-over -process; she’ll be all right when she settles -down to a simmer. Now get out, both of you: -Mammy Lil and I want to rest.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She slipped into her kimono and stretched -herself beside me, holding my arm across her -breast and stroking it with a light touch which -expressed everything without words. Once in -awhile she talked a little in her own sweet, -whimsical way, and then lapsed again into the -silence of utter content.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I turned my head to speak to her presently, -and found her gone. The shadows, which had -been dancing up toward the house when the -sun came out, had lengthened all down the -lawn to the valley, and across it to the hills -on the other side. I lay watching them with -that long-lost sense of refreshment which follows -unbroken sleep. Down by the gate David -was letting in Caro’s pony-cart and climbing -to a seat beside her. Presently their laughter -floated through the windows, and then she -was in the room again, perched on the window-seat -by the bed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m trying not to be proud, Mammy Lil,” -she observed in a chastened voice; “but Cousin -Jane is done to a turn, and almost cool enough -to set away in the cellar. She’s pleased with -me, too; she said if she just could have kept -Lyddy from meddlin’ she believed she could -have raised me up to be a real comfort to her. -Why didn’t you let her? She gave me some -outing cloth to make into petticoats for a missionary -box that’s to go west. Who but Aunt -Jane would bestow fuzzy petticoats on missionaries -in the spring? But she bought the -stuff at a bargain sale for four cents a yard, -and feels that it’s providential; and we can -put in plenty ourselves to make up for it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And she won’t fuss about your staying -here?” I asked anxiously.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, of course she’ll fuss; how could she -get any fun out of it if she didn’t? But she’s -fussed all she’s going to right now; and next -time I’ll make some more petticoats, or cut -down her fifth-best winter coat for one of the -little missionaries to wear on the Fourth of -July. ——Don’t look so horrified, Mammy -Lil; you know I’ll never let it get in the box! -Now lie still like a good child till I fix your -supper. I’m going to feed you myself,” and -she fluttered away, singing under her breath.</p> - -<hr class='tbk127'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 5th.</span> Caro is in the window-seat, -feather-stitching the missionary petticoats, -with one eye on the birds in the yard. The -jays have always roused her special ire; and -yesterday one flew to the hackberry, in plain -sight, with a little naked nestling dead in his -wicked bill, tucked it coolly under his toes -against the bark, and devoured it before our -eyes. This morning, in the intervals of courtship, -they have diverted themselves with -crumb-snatching. They sit on a limb above -the scattered morsels where a dozen or more -birds are feasting. There is bread in abundance -for all, but the jays love hectoring even -better than eating. One will watch till some -bird picks up a crumb, and then drop like lead -upon his astonished victim. The unfortunate -drops the crumb, of course; and before he -collects his scattered wits the jay is back aloft -with the morsel safe under his toes, picking -leisurely. Caro sat laughing and scolding till -a little red-brown wren flew down and was -pounced upon in a twinkling. The wren dropped -his crumb, but turned upon the bully with -lightning quickness and a volcanic explosion -of wrath utterly out of proportion to his size. -The big bird, amazed at the onset, flew up to -his perch in a panic, and Caro clapped her -hands.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, grand! grand!” she cried; “don’t I -wish Milly Wood were here to see! I told -her yesterday if she’d lay Cousin Jason out -she could manage him: and just look at that -blessed wren.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Milly isn’t a wren, though,” I said: “she -hasn’t a glimmering of the wren’s gift of -speaking his mind. Look at the wood-thrush, -dear; you see the difference? When the wood-thrush -turns on a jay, I’ll have hopes of Grace -and Milly—and not before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The two wood-thrushes have been in the -yard for days, the shyest, gentlest of creatures, -ready to fly off at the flutter of a leaf. They -have not touched the crumbs yet, but hop -nearer every day. The jay watched one of -them extract a worm from the soil, however, -and lit upon him plummet-fashion. The wood-thrush -dropped his half-swallowed morsel and -fled in a panic to the black ash, where my -glasses revealed him, his breast feathers bristling -with terror, a mere puff-ball of fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s Milly,” I said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Mammy Lil, anything can run a jay -if it will only stand up to him,” persisted Caro; -“I don’t see why Milly submits to it. She -can’t ask Mr. Lincoln to a single meal. When -he comes out in the afternoon he has to motor -all the way to Chatterton for his supper and -then go back; and Cousin Jay goes in the -parlor when he does come, and glares at him -and looks at his watch, and yawns—he’s simply -insufferable. I’ve asked them both over here; -Milly can stay all night, you know. But she -says she won’t dare to come often, or Uncle -Jason won’t like it. Not like it, indeed! I -wish he belonged to me—I’d ‘uncle’ him!—There, -that petticoat’s all ready to proclaim -Cousin Jane’s thriftiness in clothing our dear -missionaries on the frontier. I’ll make them -for the sake of family peace: but I’m blessed -if I’ll take them to church to be packed: she -can escort her offering herself.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk128'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 8th.</span></p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>        <span class='it'>COMPANIONSHIP</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Afar in heaven is Love? Ah, no!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Follow the path where wild-flowers blow;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Store in thy heart the songs which swell</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>From wayside hedgerow, wood and fell;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Mark where the young year’s opening leaf</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Answers the wail of doubt and grief,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And where, fresh burgeoning after rain,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Life learns the inner heart of pain.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Let care and passion sink to rest,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Calmed ’neath wide skies on earth’s green breast;</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And hearken while the steadfast hills</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Breathe strength to fainting human wills.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>And through this changing, fair disguise</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Know thou Love’s voice, and meet Love’s eyes!</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<hr class='tbk129'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 10th.</span> Out on the porch again, in the -warm, sweet air, with all birddom for company. -Caro has gone driving with Bob White, after -wheeling me here for my own pleasure and -for the Peon’s astonishment when he comes -home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The robins have a secret in the seven-trunked -maple. The leaves are so thick no -one could guess it except by their vigilance -in guarding the tree. They have made a law -that no jay, of any age, sex, or size, shall -alight in it, nor poke his bill among its -branches, nor brush it with his wings in flight; -and the law they have promulgated they are -ready to enforce. Dark and bloody tales are -told of jays—tales of cast-out eggs, of murdered -babies, and stolen nests; wherefore no -jay shall frequent that maple, “then, since -nor henceforward.” Hence, wild curiosity -among the jays, agitated caucuses in the pasture -oak, and unanimous decision to visit that -maple at all hazards, singly, and in groups. -They watch till the robins are at some distance, -and fly up to the tree on the far side, three -or four strong, while the robins, their backs -to their threatened castle, drag forth reluctant -worms by the middle. They seem absorbed in -their hunt, but they know! In the twinkling -of an eye they are at the maple, and no jay -may abide their coming.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Nor will the robins, after these aggressions, -tolerate the jays elsewhere. They may be -pecking at the foot of a tree when a jay alights -noiselessly in its topmost branch. They see, -apparently, through the top of their skulls; -and one jay or six, it is all the same to them. -They dash up with the <span class='it'>élan</span> of a picked regiment, -and again the jays shriek and fly. Not -a jay has pecked on this lawn this whole afternoon, -nor roosted while the robins pecked. -Time and again they have sallied in from the -pasture, and as often they have dashed -squawking back. It is a strenuous life for -the blue-coats: but it certainly keeps things -peaceful for the rest. The wood-thrushes have -ventured near today, and a pair of chippies -have come up on the porch, almost to my -chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yesterday evening a dozen mocking-birds -were here on the lawn, singing singly, answering -one another, and joining again and -again in choruses that whelmed the grove in -melody.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I lay in the growing twilight listening to -them and thinking once more of all that passes, -and of all that can never pass, when suddenly -through the closing dark came the wild, sweet -song of the wood-thrush, the first I had heard -this year: <span class='it'>U-o-lee! U-o-lee!</span> The three notes -form a perfect minor chord; and at their end -a sudden spray of rapid tinkling notes, and -the song again repeated, and again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>They say the thrushes have two sets of -vocal chords, long and short, and the double -vibration accounts for the splendid richness -of their tones. But when those wild, appealing -notes call through the gathering darkness -one thinks, not of anatomy, but of the <span class='it'>Sursum -Corda</span> in a church, and of all the souls who -shrink before some cup of suffering and yet -accept it, not merely with courage, but with -clear vision of the joy beyond.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Up from the brook the song came, and far -out on the road it was answered: <span class='it'>U-o-lee! -U-o-lee!</span> What magic fills the haunting notes -with subtle suggestions of human weakness, -of trembling courage, of faith no suffering -can slay? And when they ceased, the mocking-birds -took up the theme and carried it, far -into the moonlit night, to its inevitable and -triumphant conclusion—the song of the victor -on the heights who has conquered in the lowest -depths.</p> - -<hr class='tbk130'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 19th.</span> Cousin Jane insisted on Caro’s -going to town with her yesterday, ostensibly -to do some shopping, but really, I think, to -give Bob White a chance to take them both to -lunch. Bob comes out pretty often, and is as -assiduous in his attentions as Caro will permit. -I cannot see that she especially favors either -him or David. She goes more with David, -but her attitude toward him is so frankly -affectionate that it is not as encouraging as -it might be. He meets her quite on her own -ground, and appears entirely satisfied. Everybody, -in fact, seems contented except Bob -White and Cousin Jane, to whom Bob pays -strenuous court. Caro went with her to town -with her usual light-hearted acquiescence in any -plan proposed. She takes life as it comes, -and makes a joyful occasion of the most commonplace -happenings. But before she would -agree to go she made Milly promise to come -and spend the day with me: and this morning -the two of them, with the Peon’s and David’s -assistance, escorted me out to the maple tree -in a triumphal procession, and established me -on a cot in the real outdoors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly scattered the crumbs for me, and sat -by my cot with her embroidery. I thought -the others were off for the station when Caro -came flying back, pinning her hat on as she -ran.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil, Milly needs some lessons in -ornithology. Prod some of the birds till they -chase the jay: and be sure you tell her what -turncoats the rice-birds are.” Her eyes danced.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“The rice-birds?” I inquired stupidly. -“Why should I tell her about them? They’re -not here anyway.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“One of them’s here,” she said gravely; -“I’ve seen him.</p> - -<div class='blockquote'> - -<p class='pindent'>‘<span class='it'>Robert of Lincoln is gaily dressed</span>’—</p> - -</div> - -<p class='pindent'>“Beware of bobolinks, Milly: they’re worse -than jabberwoks;” and she dabbed a little kiss -on the end of my nose and was off.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly flushed to the roots of her hair, looking -at me shyly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He and Caro are great friends,” she said; -“you know she’d never joke about him if she -didn’t like him. She calls him Reedbird, Rice-bird, -and Bobolink, and says that so many -<span class='it'>aliases</span> are sure proof of villainy. Sometimes -when she begins to discourse on birds before -Uncle Jason she scares me out of my wits. -But luckily he doesn’t know one bird from another, -except the ones that bother his crops. -To think how he has lived in the country, all -his life, and never seen anything in earth or -sky except crops and money! I do feel sorry -for him, Cousin Lil; but I can’t feel as sorry -as mother does, because I get so angry with -him. He’s—he’s insufferable sometimes.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you make him behave?” I -asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her face paled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Make him?” she repeated wonderingly. -“How on earth could anybody make Uncle -Jason do anything? Caro calls him jay-bird, -and that’s just what he is.—Look there!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thrushes were actually breaking bread -with me this morning; and as Milly spoke a -jay dropped from his hiding-place overhead, -and managed to light on both of them at once -as they pecked peacefully side by side. They -dashed madly away and dropped under the -beech, panting, their breast-feathers bristling -with fear.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly was quite white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That is what he is like, even when you’re -trying so hard to please him,” she said. “I -can’t imagine what would happen if you opposed -him.” Her underlip quivered a little, -and her eyes filled with tears.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’ll show you what would happen if that -jay will just hang around here till a catbird -comes,” I said. “There are plenty of them -about, and a catbird stands no nonsense from -anybody.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The jay elected to remain. He chased -the cardinal, and tormented the thrushes till -they flew away to the brook. Then he perched -overhead, preened his feathers, and surveyed -the world with an air of impeccable virtue,—tyrant -and Pharisee in one. Presently, after -the fashion of his kind, he began to peer and -pry, leaning forward and thrusting his bill out -with an evident intention to stick it into the -business of the first neighbor who happened -in reach.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was just then that the catbird came for -his lunch. The jay perked his head eagerly, -thrust out his meddlesome beak, dropped to -the innocent’s back, and lit there with vicious -pecks. The catbird, panic-stricken, scrambled -out and dashed to the hackberry, while the -jay gobbled in true jay fashion, and I lay -feeling that Providence had slapped me in -the face—an overhasty conclusion, as our criticisms -of Providence frequently are. The catbird, -after due meditation, came back to the -maple, and delivered his opinion of the jay -in vitriolic language. The jay, scornfully unheeding, -flew to a neighboring limb, tucked -a big crumb under his toes, and proceeded to -eat it. The catbird returned to his lunch; -and when the jay dropped again, he hopped -sideways, turned, and faced his tormentor. He -spread out his wings and tail and began dancing -furiously up and down, as if he were set -on springs, not moving an inch from his place, -and uttering discordant cries. The jay gave -back amazedly. The catbird hopped a hop -nearer, resumed his dance, and repeated his -former remarks. The jay backed; the catbird -hopped nearer, and danced. The jay -dashed up against the maple trunk, where he -clung to the bark like a woodpecker, looking -down apprehensively, while the catbird continued -his dance and his deliverance on jay -manners. It was more than the bully’s nerves -could stand. In another moment he was off -to the pasture, and the catbird’s ruffled plumage -lay sleek again as he turned back to the -crumbs.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly was pale with excitement, her eyes -wide.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you think—” she breathed, and -paused, afraid of her own question.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know it,” I said confidently. “Just try -it awhile.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But mother,” objected Milly; “you know -he’d take it out on her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t your mother going to stay with your -grandmother some time next month, while your -uncle and aunt take that trip North they’re -planning? Do it then.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The child was absolutely white.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I—oh, I couldn’t, Cousin Lil! If I began, -I’d be afraid to go on. He’d make me give in.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your mother won’t go for several weeks,” -I said easily; “don’t look so frightened. -There’s nothing to be done today.—What a -pretty pattern that is you’re working; let me -see.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We sheered away from Cousin Jason, and -took up the subject of Robert Lincoln’s perfections, -which proved numerous. Then we had -lunch under the maple; and when the Peon -came home Milly went back.</p> - -<hr class='tbk131'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 21st.</span> Caro telephoned me she would -stay all night at Cousin Jane’s, and did not -come home till yesterday noon. I was out -under the maple again, and watched her -through my glasses, as she drove in from the -pike in Cousin Jane’s buggy, with a small -darkey beside her to take the horse back. -The buggy was loaded with bundles, which -she toppled out on the grass beside me before -jumping after them herself. She sat on the -edge of the cot, and plunged into her tale -and her packages together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you know what took Cousin Jane up -to town, Mammy Lil? She’d seen an advertisement -of one of those cheap stores down on -Union Street about a sale of all-linen handkerchiefs -for three-and-a-half cents, only twelve -to a customer. And she traipsed all the way -to town to invest forty-two cents in handkerchiefs -for the missionary box—two for the mama -missionary and two each for the five kids. -Wouldn’t you just love, if you were a little -kid missionary, to have two whole three-and-a-half-cent -handkerchiefs of your very own—a -fresh one every week of the world? Mammy -Lil, sometimes I’m real fond of Cousin -Jane, cranky as she is, and sometimes I want -to slap her. But I didn’t: I just bought -some decent handkerchiefs, so they can use -Cousin Jane’s for window screens—they’re -coarse enough. Then Bob White turned up -and we went to lunch. They both pretended -it was an accident, but I don’t believe it; and -Cousin Jane frisked like a rhinocerous, and was -so pleased ‘over our little tête-a-tête,’ as she was -pleased to call our triangular lunch, that I -nearly died. And Bob was—no, it wasn’t -Bob; it was I. I was just cross. So I wasn’t -a bit nice—you know I really can be horrid, -Mammy Lil, when I put my mind to it. I’m -sorry; I’ll make it up to Bob next time I -see him; but Cousin Jane is such a donkey! -Goodness knows, though, I paid for that in -full!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She broke into rippling laughter.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did you do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, she was just huffy—awfully. She’d -hardly speak to me; and I was in such a good -humor again! We’d gone back to the stores, -and I’d bought some lovely lawns—one for -you, and one for me, and one for Mrs. Missionary. -Let me show you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She jerked a bundle out of the pile and displayed -her purchases, her head cocked meditatively -on one side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yours is lavender and mine pale green. -They’ll have lots of lace on them, and we’ll -both look ravishing. I got Mrs. Missionary -a blue. My instinct is that she’s sallow and -red-headed; so I resisted the blandishments -of a pink one that was two cents a yard -cheaper, and bought this. Cousin Jane says it -will fade. But that was after I pacified her: -she wouldn’t speak before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“How did you manage it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, I told her I was sorry I was cross—I -really was—and I said I’d go home with her -and make Cousin Chad one of those frozen -puddings. I didn’t dare offer to make it for -her, but she eats as much of it as he does, -which is saying a good deal. She softened -visibly; so we hurried for the first train, and -I worked like a black slave to get it done in -time. They ate like anything, and I let them -both give me good advice till bedtime; and -this morning I made the butter for her, and -we parted like twins.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I laughed and patted her hand. She raised -one eyebrow and looked thoughtful.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Cousin Jane and Cousin Chad think it’s -time I was married,” she observed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To whom?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s a secondary consideration, though -important. But Cousin Jane was married at -sixteen. I’m already an old maid of twenty—or -will be next month; and if I go off in my -looks, I won’t find it so easy to go off matrimonially. -Besides, I’m flighty and bad tempered, -and a husband will be good discipline. -And Bob White is a very nice young man -who would probably put up with my temper -more than most. And he’s rich. And Cousin -Jane thinks if I try hard enough maybe I can -get him. What do you think of it, Mammy -Lil?” She pursed her mouth and frowned -judicially.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think Jane Grackle’s a goose—and -you’re another,” I said, laughing. “There -comes David. Call him to wheel me back to -the porch.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk132'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>April 29th.</span> Summer is coming everywhere. -The pasture fence is a long wall of bloom, and -the odor of honeysuckle fills the air. A wonderful -place for bird-babies that will be soon! -For ten days the roses have been blossoming, -and Uncle Milton’s flower-beds are beautiful -to see. And I—the earth isn’t the only dead -thing that rises into life! There’s another -miracle coming to pass: for I am getting -well!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>All this month I’ve held my breath like a -coward, and turned my head, afraid to look -joy in the face. It has come near so often -before; and each time the pain has snatched -me back and bound me hand and foot. So -I said I would never inflict on myself the -agony of disappointment again. But I just -can’t live up to that foolishness, and I’m so -glad I can’t. If this isn’t the ending, but just -a blossoming oasis in a desert way, shall I -miss the joy of that? It’s nearer the end than -the last one was, anyway, and better and -brighter and bigger. If it isn’t fulfillment, it is -prophecy, and that’s the next best thing. Some -day it will come—the Head said so. I am -to be part of life again—I! I! Some day I -shall go in and out again among my kind, with -power enough of living in me to make hours -atone for days, and months for years. Nothing -shall pass me that is mine! It is human -life I want, not birds and trees and flowers: -they’re beautiful, but they aren’t enough—I -can afford to let myself say it now, because -the other is so near, so near! I used to be -part of life here, long, long after I was sick: -there was nothing I couldn’t help about, nobody -who didn’t smile at me as I passed: in -every face I saw a memory of kindness given -and received. And I’m going back to it, to -my real life.—Ah, soon or late, what matter? -<span class='it'>I’m going back!</span> Though a thousand downfalls -be in the way, I’ll make it yet: and be -this fulfilment, or only prophecy, I open my -heart to joy!</p> - -<div><h1><a id='bbird'></a>VIII<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Blackbird Diplomacy</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 9th.</span> Something is dreadfully wrong -with Caro, and for once she does not give me -her confidence. She went to Milly’s night -before last quite her own bright self, and came -back to lunch yesterday another creature. A -shower came up just after lunch, so I lay on -my porch sofa until it passed, with David and -Caro for company. I imagine things had gone -wrong at the table. I saw, by Caro’s bright -color and the high way she carried her pretty -head when she came home, that trouble was -brewing for somebody, and she probably found -David’s sunny and unsuspicious good humor -the negative complement of her own surcharged -spirit. There had been at least a minor -explosion; for when they came out to me they -were both making an effort to appear quite like -themselves. But Caro’s eyes were danger-signals; -and, though David smiled and his voice -had its usual deep evenness, his eyes kept a furtive -and brooding watch on hers. She seemed in -the gayest of spirits, yet there was some jangle -in the mirth which had always rung sweet and -true before.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The thunder was rattling overhead, and the -wind-blown curtains of the rain shut out the -hills beyond. David walked to the end of the -porch and studied the clouds for a little before -he came back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I was afraid this storm would spoil the -drive you promised me yesterday,—” he began.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro’s eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You need not resort to the weather as -an excuse,” she said, “I don’t want to go -at all.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David stared, and a slow color burned under -his tanned skin. Then he looked half-amused.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Caro must have been having some kind -of an extra tilt with Cousin Jason, Mammy -Lil,” he said, “and she thinks I’m an old jay, -too, and keeps ruffling her feathers at me.—I -was about to say that the sun would be out -inside of an hour, and by five o’clock the roads -will be in the pink of condition. I’ll show -you what Peggy can really do in the way of -speed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I told you I don’t want to go,” said Caro, -angrily.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I beg pardon,” said David easily; “you -told me you would go. I couldn’t possibly be -mistaken.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was looking at Caro in open-eyed amazement. -She had never spoken to David that -way in her life—nor to any one since she had -ceased to be a child. She caught my look, -and colored deeply. Then she cuddled her -face against mine so that neither David nor I -could see it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear Mammy Lil, don’t look as if you -didn’t know me,” she said, with a sudden little -catch in her voice; “I’ve always told you I’m -hateful, and you won’t believe it; when I convince -you, don’t quit loving me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You silly child,” I answered, patting the -red-brown coil of curls; “I’ll never quit loving -you, whether I’m dead or alive. But I was -afraid you weren’t well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laughed and pecked my cheek.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’m well as ever was.—Have Peggy ready, -David: I’d like to go sixty miles an hour.—Oh, -dear, I’m losing all my hairpins!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She wasn’t at all. But she caught her hair -with both hands, and vanished through one of -the long windows. David looked after her -with the set look which I had learned to know -when he was little more than a baby. Then -he, too, kissed me, and walked away, after putting -the stand with my bell and a plate of -biscuits on it close beside me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I lay there puzzled and troubled. The rain -stopped presently, and I crumbled the biscuits -and flung them out on the grass, watching the -birds idly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Promptly at five David drove round with -Peggy, his favorite mare, her beautiful head -held as high as Caro’s own, and as free from -torments of check-rein and blinders. She shone -like satin, and stepped with a proud consciousness -of her own worth and her master’s confidence -in her. David sat chatting with me during -the ten minutes Caro kept him waiting. She -had on the pale green lawn when she came out, -and a most fetching hat which she had herself -concocted to go with it. I beheld her adornment -with dismay. The lawn was more lace -than lawn, and I knew she had planned it for -what she called a “partyfied” dress. She -usually went driving with David bareheaded, -and in whatever garments she happened to have -on. Her finery boded him no good; and I -realized with a sinking heart that if I had had -the wit to keep my astonishment out of my face -she would have stuck to her first refusal, and -the drive would have been postponed to a more -auspicious day. David was riding to disaster—and -I had opened the way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was almost dark when they came home, -and I had been back in bed for some time. -Caro came in looking distractingly pretty, and -sweeter than a naughty child should. I knew -by the lavish bounty of her caresses that she -had treated David very badly indeed, and -was torn between a desire to take her in my -arms and get the whole story out of her, and -a wish to set her in the corner till she should -return to her normal state of mind. But I -remembered what I had promised David -months ago, and repressed my itch to meddle. -She had always confided in me before, and unless -she did now I must be dumb.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David, I did not see until morning. He -had brought Caro home and had returned at -once to Chatterton, sending me word he had -an engagement and would not be at home until -after I was asleep. It was after midnight when -I heard him come in. This morning he came -to my room as usual, but his eyes looked as -if he had not slept. I pretended to see nothing, -because he wished it.—But what had happened -to Caro? If she had been at Cousin -Jane’s I might have suspected some mischief-making; -but she went only to Grace’s. Whatever -caused the change, it goes deep. She has -been in her own room all day, and I have -not even heard her sing.</p> - -<hr class='tbk133'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 12th.</span> Caro has left us and gone to -Cousin Jane’s—gone there to live. She went -day before yesterday, and I have felt too stunned -to think.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stayed in her room all day, except at -lunch time, and came out late in the afternoon, -looking white and tired, but with that same -danger signal in her eyes. I was under the -maple, and she sat on the stool beside my cot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil,” she began, with a forced -lightness, as though she spoke only of trifles, -“I’ve been packing my traps today. You’re -so much better now, you don’t really need me -all the time, and I think I ought to go to -Cousin Jane. Cousin Chad’s my real guardian, -you know; and they’ve been awfully good -about lending me to you when you were so -sick.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I felt blinded at first by the blow. “Lending” -me Caro—when she had never stayed a -whole month together away from me since she -was seven years old, except for the years at -boarding school! My head swam, and there -was such a roaring in my ears I couldn’t hear -all she said. She wasn’t looking at me, but -her voice went on with the foolish words, till -I pulled myself together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Has Cousin Jane been trying to make you -think it’s your duty to go and wait on her, -Caro, after you’ve grown up in this, your real -home? She doesn’t need you, child; there’s -no call for such a sacrifice.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She hasn’t said a word about needing me,” -protested Caro. “I just think I ought to go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Are you sure—forgive me, dearie—but -do you really think she wants you there to -live—for always?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I telephoned her this morning. I’m sure -she’s delighted. She does love me,—only it’s -in her queer way.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Caro—” I said, and stopped. We had -lived in her and for her so many years. I -could not suggest that she owed us anything. -The tears came to my eyes, but I held them -back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear,” I went on, “I’ve never tried to -force your confidence, and I can’t now. Something -is wrong, I know—some trifle, probably, -that a little honest frankness would set right. -But I know when we are young we come to a -place where we must manage our own affairs, -no matter how we bungle them or how -many hearts we break; it’s the way we all learn -at times. But darling, remember that my love -waits to help you, if you ever want its service. -And, whatever you do, Caro, don’t do it in -anger like a child. It is the mark of a woman -to walk in love, and to serve love only, even -where she must give the deepest hurt.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat looking across the hills, only her -profile toward me, but I saw her lip quiver. -She dropped her head on my shoulder and -snuggled her face under my chin.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re the sweetest mammy! You know -I love you—more than ever I did in my life. -And I’m coming to see you so often you’ll -think I’m living here. But I’m sure I ought to -go. There’s the buggy now; Cousin Jane said -she’d send it over. My trunk is all ready; she’ll -send for that, too. I thought I’d rather you’d -tell Daddy Jack and David good-bye for me. -Won’t you let me take you back to the house -first?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” I said; “David will help me, and -your Daddy Jack. It isn’t time yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She caught her breath a little, kissed me -with a sorry effort at playfulness, and went -towards the buggy. I watched it driving -out the gate to the pike.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Neither David nor the Peon came, and after -awhile Josie came out to say that “Mr. John” -had telephoned he would have to spend the -night in the city. She wheeled me to the -porch, and I was back in bed before David -came in. I was thankful for once that the -Peon was away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David went to his solitary dinner, and then -sat by me in the twilight, stroking my hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What struck Caro to go off again?” he -asked, in a tone he tried hard to make casual. -“Josie says she told her she was off for a -visit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She went to Cousin Jane’s—went to stay, -I mean. She’ll change her mind in a few days, -I suppose. She has been upset for a day or -two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“To Cousin Jane’s—to stay?” he repeated -in bewilderment. “And left you here—like -this?” he added in indignant unbelief.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, something drove her. She’s unhappy -about something—there’s some mistake: -and the need to keep it to herself is on -her. It makes me feel—oh, Davy, boy, I’ve -always thought I was a real mother to you -children; but I’m only the best substitute for -a mother you’ve known. If I were truly -Caro’s mother—if I had done all I thought -I was doing—the child would have told me. -You are both suffering for nothing—because -I failed.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He bent his cheek to mine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ve never failed in anything, sweetest -mother in the world. And Caro loves you -just as I do—I’d swear it. Sometimes you -can’t help hurting the people you love best. -I—I’m hurting you myself; and I can’t help -it. I’d give my right hand to help it; but I -can’t—yet.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“There’s no need, Davy, dear,” I said -steadily, glad that the dark had fallen to curtain -my eyes. “Don’t try to be anything -with me, or to say anything, but what is natural -and right to you. The one thing I couldn’t -get over, dear, would be your playing a part -with me. I understand; and I can wait—a -life-time, if you wish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He kissed my hand, and sat there till the -moon rose over the eastern hills and strewed -the lawn with shadows. A mocking-bird stirred -in his sleep and sang softly to himself. I -could not speak. I lay straining my eyes -through the dark to see his face, but it was -all in the shadow. He rose to go at last, and, -before I knew it, unbidden words had risen -from some subconscious depth and uttered -themselves through my lips.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“David,” I said, with a sudden, foolish up-lift -of my heart, “I’m going to be walking -all about by Thanksgiving; and before the -year is out I will help with my own hands to -decorate this house for your and Caro’s wedding. -I don’t know how I know it; but I do!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Amen,” said David solemnly. “Mammy -Lil, you’re a corker when it comes to prophesying. -Keep up the habit; it’s sure comforting; -and you always could see further -through a stone wall than anybody else.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had—or feigned—more faith in my -prophecy than I had myself. I felt like a -fool who has published his folly to the world. -And as I lay there, tearless and sleepless the -long night through, I had no hope for David, -and only a dull anguish at thought of the -girl I had called my daughter so long.</p> - -<hr class='tbk134'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 13th.</span> The world is all in a mist this -morning as the sky blossoms above the eastern -hills. The wren sings first, bringing the tears -for which my lids have burned all night. A -cardinal calls somewhere—<span class='it'>Cheer! Cheer!</span>—no, -it is a mocking-bird, for his own notes bubble -out after his cardinal call, before he wanders -into a thrasher’s song, repeating his notes as -carefully as “the wise thrush” himself. There -he is, on the topmost twig of that mist-dimmed -oak. He has tuned his voice to the oriole’s -carol now, but again his own notes bubble -through. Now he scolds like an angry -wren, following the tirade with harsh cries -and the blackbird’s censorious <span class='it'>tsck!</span> Then he -slips into a catbird melody—a jumble of music, -jeering, and captious squawks. Gradually -the music overflows all else. Clearer and -sweeter grow the notes, slow, soft, and wondrous -pure. His head is thrown up in rapture -while the flood of melody rises and swells till -it sweeps him bodily into air. He opens his -mist-gray wings and tail, spreading to the light -the gleaming white of the in-folded feathers, -and rises through the vapors to clearer air, -singing as one to whom all mists are crystal -clearness, all darkness as the light. He trembles -at the height an instant, poised above -the vapor-shrouded earth, while his song floats -upward to the heaven of which it speaks,—a -blending of calm and rapture, of aspiration and -peace. Back to his perch he falls, still singing, -content with earth as with heaven, and rises -once again, to poise an instant, to fall, to rise, -again and yet again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It is the Song of the Open Vision. Haunting, -appealing, alluring, the rapturous notes -search the listener’s heart to draw response -from every memory of mist-drenched darkness -dissolved in growing light.</p> - -<hr class='tbk135'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 14th.</span> The Peon is the comfort of my -life. I dreaded telling him about Caro, and -behold, he knew all about it!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Cousin Chad had been in town and came out -on the same train with him yesterday afternoon. -He couldn’t refrain from crowing a -little about Caro and his dear Jane—so capable -and sensible, so equal to every emergency. -And it was her doing, after all: I know she -never intended for me to know it. But she -met Caro in the road on her way back from -Grace’s that day, and made the child go by -home with her. Then she—to quote Cousin -Chad—“was able to make her see the indelicacy -of her establishing herself in the same -house with a young man whom gossips were -accusing her of trying to capture!” The Peon -at this point expressed polite dissent from -Cousin Chad’s approval of his wife’s tactful -performance; and my pious relative waxed -righteously indignant, and assumed the air of -a protector of the defenceless orphan. Whereupon -the Peon took refuge in his paper and -Cousin Chad simmered in that condemnatory -silence of his which always seemed to me worse -than any possible swear-words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the Peon doesn’t feel at all upset about -Caro and David; the only thing that troubles -him is that I should be left alone again during -the day. So far as David is concerned, the -Peon thinks Caro would never have gone if -she hadn’t cared for him, to some extent, at -least, in the way Cousin Jane accused her of -doing—which is certainly reasonable enough. -And as to her loving David and yet treating -him as I’m sure she did, the Peon begs -me to remember some rather cold-blooded -performances of my own in our courting -days.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Do you remember the night after Jessie -Martin’s wedding?” he demanded. “After -that night, and your marrying me six -months later, I lost my faith in a girl’s ‘no.’ -If I had it to go over again, I’d not lose a -night’s sleep on account of it, my lady: and so -I told David as he drove me home from the -station.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you told him, then?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I did. And I told him to give Caro plenty -of rope, and your Cousin Jane would soon -hang herself with it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did he say?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Not much of anything. He seems to think -Mrs. Grackle only furnished the occasion for -Caro’s real feeling toward him to come to the -front. He’s pretty sore, I imagine. But don’t -you worry your dear head. Lovers would miss -half the fun of the game if they couldn’t be -drowned in misery now and then. Just let -them alone and let them get all that’s coming -to them. They’ll work through it somehow, and -straighten it out to their perfect satisfaction -when they get ready—and not before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You didn’t let it alone,” I said reproachfully.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No,” he said; “that’s why I’m so well -posted about the course to pursue. I’ve done -all that’s necessary myself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>His eyes laughed a little, and I laughed -back. Maybe I was a true prophet after all. -Anyway, I musn’t look like a graveyard just -because we’re all lonesome, and David is so -quiet as he comes and goes. And if I’m not -to look like a graveyard, the best way is not -to feel like one.</p> - -<hr class='tbk136'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 17th.</span> Things are happening so fast -they make my head swim. David is gone, too; -and I feel like an old hen who has raised a -pair of wild geese and seen them go flying -out of sight in opposite directions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He fixed it all with the Peon before he said -a word to me. Then he sat by my cot, with -those coaxing ways of his—I knew some kind -of a wrench was coming. He wanted to go -out to Washington and take charge of the -Peon’s apple orchard there and finish planting -the land. He’d been thinking of it for some -time. The only reason he hesitated about going -was the leaving me alone: but I needed Caro -more than I needed him; and if he went—.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But oh, my dear, I don’t!” I cried. “You -are my first, my best of children! And as -for having Caro—I’ll have her when the time -comes of which I told you the other night. I -don’t want her before.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you’d rather I wouldn’t go?” he -asked, trying to keep the disappointment out -of his voice. “You’ve had such an awful pull, -little mother, and been so brave about it: and -I know Caro and I helped to drain the life -out of you before you went away. I’ll stay -if you want me to.” He bent his head above -my hand, and I saw his mouth was set.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I’d not hold you a minute, boy,” I said; -“distance can’t separate us. I’ve never been -separated from you yet, and never will be -while you love me. It isn’t your being near -me that I want: it’s your emancipation, -through life, into freedom of life. The more -living you do, the closer we’ll come together, -though the living be done on the other side -of the globe. When would you like to start?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tonight?” he said, inquiringly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tonight,” I answered. “And the farm -here?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Milton knows what to do. And -I’ve made Uncle Jack a schedule to follow. -It will be all right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And you’re going for how long?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Forever and a day. Tell Caro so.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Very well,” I said, “I’ll tell Caro forever -and a day. But what shall I tell this -old lady who loves you so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Tell her I’ll come at the drop of a hat -or the click of a telegraph, day or night, whenever -she wants me—forever and a day. And -Mammy Lil—what’s the use of talking? You -understand.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He pushed his head up under my hand as -a signal that one of the rare pettings was in -order: and presently he picked me up in his -strong arms and carried me to his room, where -I lay on the bed and watched him pack his -trunk in utter defiance of all known principles -of the art.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He found some comfort in doing it, too. -His face shows care and lack of sleep, but -he whistled a bit as he dropped his shooting -boots on the bosom of a shirt, and made a -soft place for the butt of his gun with a felt -hat. He isn’t entirely hopeless about the outcome, -no matter how miserable he is: it is -poor little Caro who will get the heaviest end -of the mischief Cousin Jane’s meddling has -produced. And that thick-headed, thick-skinned -old Pharisee will go scot free herself. Oh, -dear! I’d like to be good! But it is such a -strenuous undertaking with Cousin Jane in the -family: St. John himself couldn’t manage it; -and I never was cut out for a saint.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='proof'></a>IX<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>The Proof of Courage</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 20th.</span> Caro did not come back until -yesterday, though she called the Peon up daily -to ask how I was and to send her love. She -did not allude to David, and the Peon volunteered -no information. But yesterday she -dashed in at the gate, driving like a young -Jehu, flung the reins to Uncle Milton, who -was at work among the roses at the other end -of the house, and came flying across the lawn -to my cot.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mammy Lil, are you all alone? Has -David really gone—to stay, I mean?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told her his plans.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat on the edge of the cot, her head -held high, her eyes sparkling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s a shame!” she exclaimed indignantly; -“how could he have the heart to leave you -so?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I looked at her quizzically. I had been -feeling rather forlorn; but suddenly the comical -side of my woes presented itself, as it so -kindly and so often does, and I wanted to -laugh.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Who ran first?” I inquired.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She flushed to the roots of her curly hair -and slipped to the grass beside me, her pretty -head on my shoulder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’re pigs, both of us,” she averred contritely. -“But, Mammy Lil, David is the worst -pig. He really could have stayed: and I—couldn’t. -Anyway, I’m glad he’s gone; it’s -just about the decentest thing he’s done.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You are a consistent child,” I observed, -stroking her hair; “but, Caro dear, I’m not -accustomed to hearing David criticized from -the standpoint of decency, and we won’t begin -now. And I wanted him to go very much.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Well, anyway, I can come back. I’ll never -leave you here by yourself. I’ll go back and -pack up this evening, and come home first -thing in the morning.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I shook my head. I had been thinking -about it all these long, lonesome days. They -are both my children, but David has the first -right to our home; and with Caro installed -here he will not come back to it. Besides, it -isn’t fair. And if they will fight at cross-purposes -we must all take the consequences together. -I know I am rather a dishevelled shuttle-cock -to do duty between their clashing -wills; but they will have to have it out, now -that they have begun it. And if that hard-hearted -little sinner came back here, she’d convince -herself in no time that David is the sinner -and she is the one and only saint. It never did -take long for staying at Cousin Jane’s to pall -on Caro; and she’ll probably see things from -various points of view before she concludes her -experiment.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Poor little soul, she cried dreadfully. She -even tried to work on my sympathies by telling -me how Cousin Jane serves up Bob White’s -perfections morning, noon, and night. This -was welcome news to me, and helped me to -disguise the very fluid condition of my supposedly -hard heart. I must confess we both -cried before she went back: but Caro owned it -was fair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I feel like a yellow dog, of course. One -always does when one stands for a painful -justice—it’s part of the job. I felt the same -shame when she was a little thing and I let her -bite the red pepper she snatched in the garden -the minute I told her not to touch it. It burns -my own mouth to this day. But Caro never -snatched against orders again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there’s no sense in listening to -Grumpy’s prophecies. Where is the pleasure -of growing old if one can’t learn to distil from -one’s experiences the essential oil of hope? -When the Peon and I fell out, hopelessly, -desperately, eternally, about six months before -we were married, I was just a young thing, -and quite pardonable in my belief that my -life was ruined forever by the cataclysm. But -from the vantage-ground of twenty-odd years -of additional living I should be able to detect -the flimsiness of the average impenetrable barrier. -I don’t think Caro cares for any one -else, at least; and if they’re not meddled with -they’ll work it out their own way, which must -be the best way for the Peon and me. And -if he and I can’t enjoy ourselves very much -just now, why, we don’t want to when the -children are miserable; so that’s all right, of -course.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As to their misery, I have at least come -far enough in life myself to know that it has—or -will have—its mitigations. I never yet -have been in a hole—and heaven knows life -has been a procession of holes these last years—that -I didn’t get out of it with some added -capacity of living that made being in holes -worth while. Why should I begrudge the -children their own hole-adventures and discoveries, -their own enrichment of life?</p> - -<hr class='tbk137'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 22nd.</span> The Peon comes home early -these days and takes me out for a ride. I -can sit in my chair or lie down at will; and -he wheels me over the soft grass to all the -places I’ve been longing to see and have only -beheld in Make-Believe. We go down to the -brook nearly every day about sunset and watch -the birds quenching their thirst before bedtime. -There are many song sparrows down there; -and the killdeers haunt the banks at all time, -whirring up when startled with wild cries, their -breasts and lifted wings flashing snow-white -beneath, and the rich salmon of the lower back -gleaming as they rise from the valley into the -level sunlight along the brow of the hill. The -Peon flattens my chair to a couch, and throws -himself on the grass or sits on the roots of a -sycamore, while we talk of all the years that -the children have been growing up with us, -and of what the future is to bring. We are -both very strenuously cheerful. And indeed, -in our hearts, we do hope honestly to have them -both at home again some day. Only it seems -rather a long way off sometimes; and the -house is so very quiet when we go back.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Sometimes we go back to the spot we picked -out years ago as the one where we thought -David might like to build his home some day; -for though we always hoped to have him with -us, we never wanted to rob him of a home of -his own. We had never said to one another -that we hoped for Caro to make the home for -him—to put it into words seemed to infringe -on their right to settle that great matter, each -to their own heart’s wish: but we had hoped -it without words. We go there now, and hope -for it openly, bridging our separation with -happy dreams, and comforting one another -with assurances it is not always easy to feel.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David has not been long enough at his -journey’s end for a letter mailed there to reach -us; but it seems as if he had been gone for -months. And poor little Caro looks so wistful -when she starts back to Cousin Jane’s -that I feel as though I have been turning -her out of doors for the most of my life. It -is really not to be borne very much longer. -The Peon’s sister wants us to go to her next -month, at her summer home in the mountains -of Pennsylvania; and Caro will have to come -home in time to get me ready. We can spend -the summer together, at least.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But before I go I want to see plainer sailing -for Milly and Bobolink, as Caro disrespectfully -styles Mr. Lincoln. Grace was here for -a little while today to tell me good-bye. She -is off to stay with George’s mother while the -old lady’s daughter takes a trip. Milly was -with her, and promised to come back soon. She -said she wanted to talk to me, and from the -anxious air with which she said it, I’m hoping -she is seriously thinking of turning on that -jay-bird uncle of hers and teaching him a few -of the things he needs to learn.</p> - -<hr class='tbk138'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 25th.</span> A golden day, after a night of -drenching rain. The sky is like October, and -under it the winds are at play. And why, -when sunshine fills the world, should one suffer -one’s eyes to be blinded to it by any mote of -pain or trouble held close enough to shut out -all the light? I will keep mine at arm’s length, -if I die for it, and see around it and over it, -yes, and through it, into this beautiful, wonderful -world! If one’s feet can’t travel, aren’t -one’s eyes an open road of escape?</p> - -<hr class='tbk139'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 27th.</span> Three sleepless nights, a dead -weight of weariness, loneliness to the heart’s -core, and pain that wrings the flesh—these -are among Grumpy’s stock-in-trade this morning, -and he flaunts them and a dozen other -things, wherever I turn my thoughts. He -has heaped up, mountain high, the things I -want and can’t have; and there he sits, grinning -at the void they leave in my idle, useless -life. I must fill that hole, or go under. What -have I left?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>First, the Peon’s love, and the children’s, -and that of my friends. Love: and the Love -from which love came. By the time all that is -stowed away in the void, it has rather a “gone” -look about it—for a void. And Grumpy’s -grin has a tuck in it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Then a sense of humor—the most blessed -thing, save love itself, ever given to human -kind. It keeps one sane and balanced where -without it one would go mad. A source of -justice it is, a bond of sympathy, a destroyer -of egotism, a solace in suffering, a staff to -courage, an open door of escape from all that -is unbearable in life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Next, the power to hold my tongue when -things hurt, and to keep the whine out of my -voice when I’m nothing but whine inside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>There are love, laughter, and silence; and as -void-fillers they go a long way. But there are -other things for the chinks. For I can read -a little and write a little, and think a little, -as against the black idleness of those three -years. And beauty—wind in the tree-tops, the -arching blue, the flicker of light and shade—beauty -everywhere, in fact; and back of beauty -the Thought that designed both it and the -eyes to see it. Oh, it is a beautiful world! -And though one’s body lies idle, one’s thoughts -may go everywhere, and are everywhere at -home. And may not endurance itself, however -passive, yet rise to the point of achievement, -if only one endure in the right way? -And if liberty be measured by one’s capacity -to do without—oh, how can any walls of suffering -shut one in when the way up is always -open—up, to the presence of God?</p> - -<hr class='tbk140'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 28th.</span> Whenever I think I’ve overcome -a temptation, and can afford to rest, -something else comes pouncing and catches me -napping. This time it was Cousin Jane. I’m -not a bit sorry I sent her home—it was high -time for her to go. But I needn’t have been -so blazing mad when I did it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She hasn’t been near me for ages, but she -came at last, exactly when she very specially -should have kept away. So as I lay there on -the porch sofa—for I couldn’t get out in the -yard this week—I heard the familiar pile-driver -tread, and opened my eyes to behold her -at the corner of the porch, personified virtue, -somewhat overheated by the afternoon sun, -and looking rather limp about the collar. But -there was nothing limp about her stolid mouth, -nor in her hard black eyes. She had come for -a purpose, and was not displeased to think I -wouldn’t enjoy it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I’ve been afraid of Cousin Jane all my life. -I used to run at the sound of her voice when -I was a child at Cedarhurst. More than once -I have been gently, but firmly, extracted from -a closet by Great-aunt Letitia, and led to her -presence to perform the rites required by politeness -to even the most unpleasant kin. Somehow -it all came back to me—the childish, unreasoning -fear. I was so weak, the pain so -biting sharp; I could not bear unkindness, too. -I turned my head toward the long windows -with a wild thought of escape; but when my -heart is like this, I can scarcely walk, and I -could never have reached my room. Besides, -she would come after me: so I made a virtue -of necessity and lifted my hand. She saved -me the trouble of speaking.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good land alive, Lyddy! Are you mopin’ -around yet, makin’ out like you’re half dead? -I wonder John Bird doesn’t go crazy! I heard -you were rompin’ all over the place, throwin’ -the birds enough biscuit to feed all the poor -folks in town, if you only had religion enough -to think about them instead of your own silly -whims.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came close and settled herself heavily -in the Peon’s chair, waving her fan vigorously. -She reached across me to the stand on the -other side, and rang my bell sharply. Josie -appeared at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Go draw me some fresh water, straight -out of the well,” she commanded. It was -one of her hobbies to ignore the Peon’s water -system, and to assume that we depended on -a well and a windlass, as she boasted that she -still did herself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Wouldn’t you rather have a glass of lemonade?” -I inquired. “And bring some wafers, -Josie.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Josie’s mother makes wonderful old-time -wafers, as thin as paper and as crisp as frosty -air. They are beautifully rolled, and melt in -one’s mouth: no other cook in the county can -achieve them. Cousin Jane ate the entire -plateful, and her manner, as she turned to me -once more, was a shade less like that of a -regiment charging a redoubt.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did David go off for?” she demanded. -“Have you and John Bird turned -him loose? I can’t get a thing out of Caroline, -and I know something’s wrong somewhere. -What is it?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He went to look after some business,” I -said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, you can tell that to the neighbors that -ain’t kin,” she said scornfully. “I want to -know what’s wrong. He’s done somethin’, I -know, an’ Caroline’s ashamed of it. I can’t -get a thing out of her, but she’s a changed -girl. An’ more than that, she’s standin’ in -her own light. She’s that flighty an’ cross -Bob White looks like he don’t know what to -make of it. Men ain’t goin’ to stand too -much foolishness, an’ first news you know, -Caroline can’t get him if she wants him. I’m -talkin’ plain, but it’s time.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why don’t you talk to Caro?” I suggested.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Good land, Lyddy, do you reckon I ain’t? -But it’s like water on a duck’s back—in one -ear and out the other. An’ besides”—with a -sudden deep craft in her beady eyes—“you -have to be careful with girls—at least, a person -with tact does. I don’t come right out with -things to Caroline, like you would. But I -just thought I’d get together all the things -David’s been doin’ an’ lay ’em before her. I -don’t suppose you let her know the half of it, -whatever it was. Was it somethin’ about -money, or has he been getting into fast ways, -drinkin’, or playin’ cards, or—worse? I always -knew he would get into mischief sooner or -later—he pretends to be so steady: I’ve just -been waitin’ for it to come. Why, what’s -the matter, Lyddy? What do you want?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I sat straight up and rang the bell. Josie -ran out.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Get me my chair, Josie, quick,” I said. -She whirled it to my side, and I stepped in -unaided.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Take me to my room,” I told her, “and -leave me there while you tell Uncle Milton -to get Mrs. Grackle’s buggy and to open the -gate for her. She is going home at once. -Then come back and help me to bed. Do -not come back until I send for you, Cousin -Jane: I am not well.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She stared at me, speechless and apoplectic, -and as Josie arranged my pillows I saw -her driving between the cedars. And above -all my anger about David and my consciousness -that Great-aunt Letitia would be ashamed -of me, above the weakness, and above the tearing, -throbbing pain, is the exhilaration of -knowing that for once in my life I wasn’t -afraid of Cousin Jane. I never will be afraid -of her again!</p> - -<hr class='tbk141'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>May 31st.</span> Trying all one’s life to see things -from other peoples’ point of view has this advantage -in sickness: it helps one to stand apart -from the suffering and to look at it from -without, even when whelmed in it, and almost -overwhelmed. One sees it as if it were someone -else’s sickness, taking the long view of it, -as a doctor does. He is sorry for the pain, of -course; he knows it is bad. But he expects -it. And he expects the backsets, and the blues, -and the can-I-ever-get-wells, and all the rest -of it. Those things are part of the process of -recovery, and do not affect the final outcome. -Once past a certain point, the road leads -inevitably to one sure goal; the windings in -and out don’t count, nor the ups and downs; -one is advancing all the time. Now, if a doctor, -who doesn’t need it, can get that comfort out -of my aches and pains, why shouldn’t I get -it, who need it so much?</p> - -<hr class='tbk142'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 1st.</span> Out under the maple again today, -and the stars in their courses fighting for me! -And why, when a miracle like this happens -for Milly and Bobolink, should I despair of -David and Caro?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly came to see me to have that long -talk she spoke about. She had been telephoning -every day to know when she could come, -so I had Josie call her the moment I found -I could go out. And just suppose I had been -well enough yesterday—what a misfortune -that would have been!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She scattered the crumbs for me, and settled -beside me to pour out what Caro calls -“her uncle-ish woes;” and while she was doing -it, the wood-thrush flew down, only to be -shouldered away from the feast by a mannerless -jay. Somehow it made me feel perfectly -hopeless about Milly, poor little soft, sweet -thing, and my eyes filled up with tears; but -when I had winked them dry, the thrush went -back. The jay pecked at him savagely, and -he dashed half-way round the hydrangeas in -terror. Milly saw him and caught her breath.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Uncle Jason <span class='it'>is</span> like that,” she said, with -a little catch in her voice; “and I can’t stand -against him—I can’t! Don’t you see how helpless -the thrush is, Cousin Lil?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But the thrush had stopped in mid-flight. -His breast was puffed out like a tiny balloon, -the trembling of his legs plain to be seen; -he quivered from head to foot. But he turned -slowly, his legs shaking under him, and hopped -deliberately toward his tormentor, his head -high, his swollen breast making a ruff of feathers -visible on either side of his back. He went -close to the jay and pecked toward him in -the air. The jay, startled, gave back an inch. -The thrush, still trembling, hopped nearer and -pecked, as steadily as if his legs were in their -normal condition. The bully backed again. -The thrush hopped and pecked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly had leaned forward, her hand on mine. -Her face was white and she was breathing -quickly.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The jay continued to back. The wood-thrush -followed him, inch by inch, unyielding, -yet in mortal fear. At last the big coward -could stand it no longer. He spread his wings -and vanished across the brook. The thrush -stood trembling a moment, his feathers slowly -flattening along his sides, and then returned -quietly to his lunch. Milly rose, a new light -in her soft eyes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“If he can, I can,” she said steadily. “I -don’t need to talk any more, Cousin Lil: I’m -going home and <span class='it'>do</span>.”</p> - -<div><h1><a id='rout'></a>X<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>The Routing of Uncle Jason</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 2nd.</span> I’m afraid I haven’t inherited -the family grace of hospitality; for the further -I get from Cousin Jane’s visit the more glad -I am that I sent her home. And it isn’t all on -David’s account either, though I could never -have done it but for what she said of him. Yet -since it is done I remember her life-time disregard -of the small courtesies of life. I wonder -if it were not more cowardice in me than -kindness that for so long I meekly allowed -it, and thereby encouraged her, so far as lay -in my power, to ride rough-shod over all the -rules of politeness.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I do believe that decent manners, even to -one’s junior kinfolks, are an essential part of -decent morals; one can commit as dastardly -crimes with an ill-tempered tongue as with -a lying one. And what right has she to plume -herself on her frankness, as if that were a -justification for such ill manners as cut the -joy and fellowship of life at the root? I think -our ideas of morals need standardizing, at -least to the point where we can no longer, by -bad temper and worse behavior, inflict misery -at will on those about us, sowing on every -side the seeds of anger or contempt, and yet -remain a highly respected member of society -and a shining light in the church.—Yet, after -all, I’m making a deal of a pother about trifles. -It is what we do ourselves that counts, not -what is done to us. In the face of the void, -at the land’s end, the hurts one has suffered -will disappear; it is the hurts one has inflicted -that will be lions in the way. And if I have -really hurt Cousin Jane—well, when I’m a -little stronger I’ll try my best to get straight -with her. For the present, I am here in bed -again, with the birds outside for company—and -a visit from Caro to look forward to. She -telephoned a while ago that she had been -spending the night with Milly and would be -over before lunch. So Cousin Jason hasn’t -annihilated the child, at least.</p> - -<hr class='tbk143'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 3rd.</span> Milly really did go home and -begin. She went by for Caro yesterday afternoon -on her way home, and they found Cousin -Jason in a thunderous mood. Milly was quietly -determined. He had left the breakfast -table that morning in a temper, after his -frequent fashion: and Milly, in her brand-new -fashion, had refrained from running after -him and imploring him to have pity on his -poor head, and drink his coffee. He had fumed -around on the porches for some time, waiting -for her to take her cue, and had finally disappeared. -He came back at eleven with a -headache, slamming all the doors, notwithstanding, -and demanded hot coffee at once. -Milly, however, had forseen this contingency -and prepared for it. The cook’s daughter was -ill, and she had allowed her to go down there -as soon as breakfast was over and stay until -time to cook dinner. It was the housemaid’s -regular day off, and she had already departed, -not to return until the late afternoon. As -Uncle Jason had ordered cold lunches for the -summer, the girl had fixed everything for him, -and left it in the refrigerator. Joe, the house -man, would serve it. Milly herself, who was -just leaving the house as her uncle came in, -had an engagement in Chatterton for lunch -and must hurry; but if he wanted coffee Joe -could make a fire for him, though he could -not brew any drinkable beverage. But Uncle -Jason had always said he could make better -coffee than her mother’s cooks, and it would -take only a few minutes. It was too bad -about the headache; he should have taken his -coffee at breakfast. And Milly drove off, a -vision of gentle serenity, and left him gasping -in the hall.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro went back with her in time for dinner. -Milly had passed the pale stage and was in -unwonted and most becoming excitement. -Caro, of course, was enraptured with the whole -situation. She is the only soul alive who ever -held Cousin Jason in check; and now she infuriated -him with her innocent remarks, and -made him laugh the next moment in spite of -himself, which made him more furious still. -After dinner they retired to Milly’s room and -discussed Bobolink’s perfections—and David’s, -I wonder?—until the latest of late bedtimes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>At breakfast Cousin Jason was more than -crabbed; but he drank the last of his coffee, -and made quite a hearty meal before pronouncing -the very excellent waffles unfit for -human consumption and slamming the dining-room -door after him as he went out. Caro -had then seen Milly off to the city, where she -was to do a little shopping and “take a bobolink -lunch,” and would go back to spend the -night with her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro will stay there all the time Grace is -away. She is in the highest of spirits over -the prospect, not only because a battle with -Cousin Jason has been one of her life-long -desires; but because she is more than weary -of Cousin Jane, and her blunderbuss manner -of forcing conversation anent Bob White. -Caro won’t say much about it—for fear, I -devoutly hope, that I may draw inferences -in David’s favor; but she is unconcealably -bored with Bob, and his money, and his pedigree -and connections, clear back to Noah. I -doubt if the boy ever had a chance with her; -but if he had—or would have had without -Cousin Jane’s disastrous approval of him—it -is only a might-have-been henceforth. I -feel a little sorry for him, but not much. He -was crazy about Olive Wilson last year, and -will be crazy about somebody else before long. -He’s one of those fellows who find a pretty -girl a necessary adjunct to life, and if one can’t -be had, he will cheerfully and whole-heartedly -look for another. When he gets her, he -will settle down with her contentedly, and make -a devoted and exemplary spouse.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Of course I keep David posted. And of -course he wants me to. But he never alludes -to Caro in his letters, which are long and interesting, -and determinedly cheerful. The -little sinner asks for them unblushingly every -time she comes over, and is delighted that -“dear David” is enjoying himself so, and is -so in love with the West. She is ostentatiously -fond of him, in a lofty, elder-sisterly manner, -and makes frequent inquiries about his health, -which appears to be unromantically robust. -I cannot see the slightest change in her, except -for a wistfulness in her pretty eyes, when she -has to say good-bye and go away; and sometimes -a fleeting quiver in her smile when she -finds me back in bed, as she has done so often -of late. I am glad we are to leave together -soon, for I can scarcely bear this continual -sending her away. I don’t think she can mind -going, busy and active as she is, as I mind -having her go. I really am a very old lady -to be so upset with youthful love affairs: I’m -positively decrepit. But if one will have the -fun of having children, I suppose one must -pay the piper sometimes.</p> - -<hr class='tbk144'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 6th.</span> I think I am learning the art -of living; and isn’t that worth a bit of pain? -It is to discover the best in the present moment, -though it be no larger than a needle in a -haystack, and getting the good of it while one -has it. One can relax one’s mind by force -of will, and hold it open to small pleasures -and tiny interests; and such little things may -become one’s salvation in desperate straits! -I think that is one of life’s greatest needs, -especially as one grows older, or if one is -ill—that one should guard and cherish the -capacity for enjoyment of trifles. It is to -the soul what elasticity of the arteries is to -the body; for through it the currents of our -thoughts and feelings run in swift and wholesome -tides, to the upbuilding of the inner life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And there’s always something. Though the -children have run away, I have the birds.</p> - -<hr class='tbk145'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 7th.</span> Milly has crossed her Rubicon, -sure enough. I was propped up in bed yesterday -evening, with my tray before me, and -the Peon was eating his dinner from a flower-garnished -table beside me, when there came a -sudden gust of laughter in the hall, and a -moment later she and Caro came in the room.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Oh, Mammy Lil, won’t you please give -us something to eat?” Caro besought. “Just -a bite of your fried chicken, Daddy Jack, for -two beautiful damsels in distress; and a pinch -of oats or something for a poor little pin-feathered -bird we’ve got in the hall that’s most mad -enough to chew nails—or would be if he were -not a saint.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mr. Lincoln is in the parlor, Cousin -John,” said Milly. “We don’t want any -dinner, of course—he’s going back to town -in a few minutes; he just drove us over from -home. We want to stay all night—Caro and -I.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Peon was already in the hall. Milly -looked wonderfully pretty, with that light in -her eyes, and a soft color in her cheeks, like -fire behind a pearl.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Indeed we do want dinner!” exclaimed -Caro. “Come along and help me forage. -There’s no use in Bobolink’s going back. He -can stay at the hotel in Chatterton tonight, -and get back in plenty of time for his business -in the morning.—Poor Mammy Lil! We’re -not telling you a thing; but I’ll come back in -a minute with the whole tale, as soon as I get -dinner started.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She dropped a kiss on the end of my nose—her -favorite spot for such attentions—and -went out, drawing Milly after her. I heard -them in the dining-room with the servants, -and then Caro’s gay voice in the parlor a -moment; and then she came back to me. She -picked a drumstick from the Peon’s dish, and -sat on my bed gnawing it, joyfully reminiscent -of her recent adventures.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil,” she began impressively, -“jay-baiting is the grandest sport ever invented. -Milly doesn’t appreciate the fun of -it as much as she might, but she’s dead game; -and I’ve been having the time of my life.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s too bad that Mr. Lincoln couldn’t -have been kept free from it, dear. How did -that happen?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Why, that wasn’t our fault at all. He -often comes out in the afternoon and takes -Milly out in his car. Then he goes to the hotel -in Chatterton for supper, and comes back -for the evening. He hardly ever sees Cousin -Jay, and when he does, there’s never been any -trouble since that time Milly told you about; -she’s made him leave at half-past nine ever -since.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“They came back early from their drive because -I was to be there, and he stopped for a -little visit before dinner. He doesn’t stop -usually—they stay out till the last minute; -and Cousin Jay just jumped to the conclusion -Milly had asked him to dinner. We -have been teaching Cousin Jay to eat all the -breakfast he wants before he leaves the table, -and one or two other things, too. If he’s too -horrid at dinner we go to our room afterward, -and leave him all the evening with nobody to -quarrel at. And I suppose he just meant to -get even. He came out and told Milly and -me to go in the house and get ready for dinner, -for he was tired of waiting for us. And -then he turned around to Mr. Lincoln—he -hadn’t spoken to him at all—and said, ‘It’s -time for you to be going, young man, and you -needn’t come back after supper. I’m tired of -your hanging around here.’ And then he turned -on his heel and walked to the house. Oh, -I was so mad I could hear my hair crackle! -Just feel how crisped-up and woolly it is.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She bent forward on the bed and pushed -her soft curls under my hand, burrowing her -nose in the covers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What did Mr. Lincoln do?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Just behaved like an angel. He didn’t -have a thought but for Milly. He forgot all -about me, and spoke to her as if they were -alone. Mammy Lil, that man’s sweet. He’ll -do for Milly, and I told him so afterwards. -But Milly was a perfect joy. She gave Bobolink -one adoring look. It went to my very -toes, so I don’t know what it did to him; and -then she said, in the quietest way:</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Won’t you stay here for a few minutes -and wait for me? I’m coming back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And he said he’d wait till doomsday, of -course! and she took my hand without a word, -and into the house we went. It wasn’t nearly -dinner time. We went by the back way, and -she stopped in the kitchen long enough to tell -Jule she wouldn’t be home for several days, -and what to do for Cousin Jason. Then we -went upstairs and packed a couple of suitcases, -and I called Joe to take them down -stairs. We all went down the front way, and -there he was in the hall.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘What the deuce are you doing?’ he snapped.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I’m going out of this house,’ said Milly, -as quietly as if she’d said she were going out -on the porch; ‘and I’m not coming back till -you learn your place in it.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“ ‘I reckon you’ll learn some sense when -your mother comes home,’ he sneered. ‘Go -play the fool if you want to.’</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Milly didn’t seem to hear him; and somehow -that still, deep anger of hers made me -ashamed to sputter, so I never said a word. -He slammed the door behind us, and we all -got in Bobolink’s car and came over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Milly told him what she had said to Cousin -Jay, and they fixed everything in two minutes. -Milly won’t write a word to Cousin -Grace, because she’s just obliged to stay with -old Mrs. Wood till her daughter gets back, -and there’s no use in worrying her. I know -you’ll let Milly stay here; and when Cousin -Grace comes back, if she’ll make Cousin Jay -behave, or go away, Milly will go home and -wait to be married till her mother wishes. But -if Cousin Grace won’t stop him, Milly’s going -to marry Bobolink right off, in church, -with just the clothes she has. And I think -she’s exactly right.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s right to come here and wait for -Grace to settle it,” I said; “and Grace will -settle it right, I know.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But I was half afraid, even as I said it. -Cousin Jason has bent Grace like a reed from -her babyhood, and almost—perhaps not quite—broken -her. Could she stand against him, -even if she would?</p> - -<hr class='tbk146'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 9th.</span> Could she indeed? As if love -couldn’t set the gentlest face like a flint!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We were all in here this morning, Milly -and Caro both busy with a lace-y frock for -the bride-to-be—“just in case she has to be -a bride next week”—when I saw Grace driving -up. I did not tell them she was coming, -and her arms were around Milly before the -child knew she was there.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You darling!” said Grace; “you’ll have -to forgive me dear, as Robert has done. He’s -coming out this afternoon to take dinner and -spend the night.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Milly gave a little gasp, and then dropped -her head on her mother’s shoulder and began -to cry. Caro snatched up the filmy stuff they -were working on, threw it over Milly like a -bridal veil, and pirouetted around the two, -crooning the dolefulest tune imaginable, her -eyes dancing with fun. Grace looked up.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Don’t stop petting Milly a minute,” Caro -exhorted; “she’s a perfect heroine, and Bobolink’s -a dear. I’m just singing a requiem for -my jay-bird kin.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But, Mother,” asked Milly, sitting up, -“how ever did you hear about it? And how -did you happen to come home so soon? And -when did you see—Robert?” She blushed -beautifully as she called his name.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Your uncle telephoned me night before -last. I knew he had everything wrong, of -course; but I was sure that enough was the -matter for me to come home and see about it. -It was all right to leave Mother, for Annie -promised to stay, and Mary is coming the last -of the week. So I telephoned Robert to meet -me in town yesterday at twelve o’clock. I -stayed there last night because there were several -things to do in taking business affairs into -my own hands again; and before I saw Brother -Jason I had to think out clearly what I wished -to say.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Have you seen him?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Yes, I went there first this morning.” She -hesitated, a troubled look in her eyes. Milly -drew her closer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Poor mother!” she said.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It is your uncle who needs sympathy, dear, -though he will not have it. And I know it is -partly my fault, and partly the whole family’s, -as well as his. We have all given up to him all -our lives, under color of being kind and patient -and magnanimous, and all that, when at the -bottom we were just afraid to oppose him; and -he—suffers.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“O, Mother, I’m sorry!” cried Milly. “I’ll -give up!”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Now, Cousin Grace, I call that a shame,” -broke in Caro. “No matter what you and Milly -do, you make a fault and a penance out of -it to shield him and hurt yourselves. It isn’t -fair. He knows he’s outrageous, and he doesn’t -care; and I just think he ought to be hurt, to -find out what he’s been doing to other people. -If he’s gone, do let Milly enjoy herself, for -once. But is he gone, really?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He’s going,” said Grace. “I wanted him -to stay, as my guest, and not as the master of -the house. But he—he was very angry. He is -to leave this morning, while I am here. He’s -going back to his own house and live there all -alone.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And a mighty good thing for him,” declared -Caro. “When I used to indulge in -tantrums like his, Mammy Lil always made me -go stay by myself till I was what she called -a social creature. I think I’ll go over and see -Cousin Jason and tell him about it. I could -always come back the second I was willing to -be polite, and so can he. Think of Cousin Jason’s -emerging a social creature! Butterflies -and caterpillars won’t be in it. But if Milly -isn’t to be married next week, when do we begin -on the trousseau?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The talk passed into a discussion of clothes, -and drifted about that interesting topic till -time for them to go home. They found their -house empty, except for the servants. Cousin -Jason had gone, as he said, without eating -again beneath his sister’s roof.</p> - -<hr class='tbk147'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 16th.</span> I suppose the excitement of -Cousin Jason’s deposition was a little too much -for me: I’ve been curled up dead-’possum-fashion -for a week. Now I’m uncurling again, -and showing that, like the ’possum, I’m not so -dead as I look. Caro came back, whether or no, -and took charge of me. It is a great comfort -to have her.</p> - -<hr class='tbk148'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 19th.</span> A slow pull and a hard one. But -I make it, inch by inch.</p> - -<hr class='tbk149'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 21st.</span> Courage, patience and laughter—life -would be impossible without them. Yet -the first necessity, and the last, is love. If -one only loves enough, one can fight anything, -and fight always, while breath and consciousness -last.</p> - -<hr class='tbk150'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>June 24th.</span></p> - - - <div class='poetry-container' style=''> - <div class='lgp'> <!-- rend=';' --> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'>        <span class='it'>WHEN WINGS GO BY</span></p> -<p class='line'> </p> -</div> -<div class='stanza-outer'> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>A flash of wings across my window-pane!</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Fallen these narrow walls; and sky-arched plain,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Fern-haunted pool, white foam of summer seas,</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Blue, dawn-steeped mountains, dusk of forest trees—</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>All things free wings may seek, or near or far—</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>Sweep round this bed, where pain and stillness are.</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>A prisoned life? When any moment brings</span></p> -<p class='line0'><span class='it'>A far horizon, and the sense of wings?</span></p> -</div> -</div></div> <!-- end poetry block --><!-- end rend --> - -<div><h1><a id='where'></a>XI<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>Where the Battle was Fought</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 7th.</span> I have seen the woods in summer -time again! It was winter when I left home for -those three years, and winter when I went back; -and, though one does not think of the country -passed in a winter journey as dead—for the -winter’s story of life reserved is as vivid as the -summer one of life out-poured—yet one longs -to see, far out-spread in breeze and sunshine, -the close-shut life of the winter buds.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As soon as the doctor would allow it, the -Peon and Caro brought me here. We came -through the mountains nearly all the way—one -long splendor of rhododendrons, wild phlox, -azaleas, laurel, and briar rose, all in glorious -bloom; and above them the green billows of the -trees, with great masses of chestnut blooms -for foam. And everywhere the mountains -themselves, green and dark near at hand, and -blue and faint in the distance; and between -them the valleys, heaped with beauty and over-flowing -with life.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Boss and the Madam met us in Baltimore, -and brought us to this heavenly place. -My room is downstairs, with windows on three -sides, and wide doors opening on a quiet end -of the wide piazza, which nearly encircles the -house. I can be wheeled there, straight from -the bed, to a couch-like hammock, where a -cranky back may be as comfortable as its own -bad temper will allow; and my bed is under a -long row of windows, just as it is at home. I -can look out across the small plateau, occupied -by the cottage grounds, to mountains, near -and far, and to the glory of the sunset skies. -And again, from the porch, on mountains, and -slopes where the summer cottagers have set -their beautiful homes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I was ashamed to come here in this battered -condition; when the Madam wrote for us I expected -to be walking all about by the time I -came. But they would have me, and the Peon -and Caro were of the same mind. For myself, -I can scarcely imagine a lovelier place to get -well in; the loving-kindness indoors is as fine -a tonic as the mountain air outside.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I have not seen any of the Peon’s family in -all these years of my invalidism, but I find -them in spirit just where I left them—and in -body, too, for that matter; for health and love -and happiness are a combination to defy time, -and the heads of the household are still a bridal -pair. Their youthful names for one another, -long since adopted by the rest of us, suit their -sunny middle-age as well as ever; so the “Boss” -and the “Madam” they remain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>One of the daughters is married, and will -make but a brief visit this summer. The other, -known as Hazel-eyes, is the light of the big -house; a quiet little body, wonderfully pretty, -her mother’s shadow and her father’s adorer.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Peon stayed only a couple of days, and -went back to our empty nest. He is to go -West before long, and will come here on his -return to tell me all about David.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro is restless and unusually silent, not -doing herself justice among strangers. The -child has been severely taxed in the last few -weeks, and shows it plainly. The roses are all -gone, and her eyes are tired and sad. She -seems like a new Caro whom I must learn to -know. I know I was ill for awhile, though not -as ill as they thought; and she never saw me -suffer that way before. But it isn’t that which -clouds her bright eyes—it can’t be, no matter -what she says, now that I am past the worst of -it. I wonder will she ever open her heart to -me about David. She used to tell me everything. -I always said the test of my success in -mothering her would come with her falling in -love; if she came to me with that, I would know -I had done my work aright. And now I see -that I have failed. If I had been her real mother -I would have known better how to reach her. -It is a real motherhood to me, of course, but not -to Caro—and perhaps not even to David. So -I must lie here and wait, like any other outsider, -till everybody knows how it turns out.</p> - -<hr class='tbk151'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 9th.</span> Yesterday Caro wheeled me out -to the line of locusts, which cuts this plateau in -half and divides the Boss’s grounds from his -neighbor’s. A song sparrow came to call at -once, a dear little fellow, all streaks and music. -They sing here all day long—they and -the winter wrens.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A flicker has a clamorous brood in the tallest -locust; they cry every moment, except when -their wail is gagged by a worm. Their parents -toil incessantly, but I should think their -nerves would be on edge. The bluebird mothers, -too, are hard at work, for there are dozens -of bluebird babies to feed, and bluebird fathers -never turn a wing or lend a bill to their upbringing. -The babies are cunning, speckled -things, their big round eyes ringed with white, -giving them an expression of child-like wonder.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This afternoon I am out on my end of the -porch, in the hammock. Caro has gone with -Hazel-eyes and a party of young folks on an -expedition to Bare Rock—a great shelf of -granite which juts out near the top of the -mountain to the north of us, and from which -there is a wonderful view. The Madam is -entertaining visitors on the other side of the -porch, and I am finding the solitude I need a -constant temptation to Grumpyish thoughts.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When one wants to bog down, there are always -such unassailable reasons for doing it! -I have faced Grumpy down and out about the -pain. And I’ve done fairly well about the idleness; -that isn’t a losing fight, at least. But I’m -just bowled over about the children. And it -isn’t altogether that they’re suffering, though -that hurts. It’s because they’re suffering away -from me, and I can’t do anything until they -choose to take me into their confidence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I’ve been lying here thinking how Grumpy -must be enjoying my back-sliding till I’ve -made up my mind to fight him to a finish on this -also. They have a right to their secrets and to -their own lives; it’s the right and natural way. -I never repaid Great-aunt Letitia’s love to her, -any more than she repaid her mother’s. You -don’t pay love back; you pay it forward. The -great-aunts paid their love-debt, not to their -mother, but to me; and I’ve paid what I owed -them to David and Caro; and Caro and David -won’t pay to me—they can’t; they’ll pay it to -children yet unborn. Why can’t I accept the -law, and be glad? It’s trying to grab what -isn’t one’s share that makes all the trouble in -life, anyway. I’ve always said the most secure -possession was the one carried in an open handle -and free to fly at a breath: I’ll carry the children -that way now. And for amusement, there -are still the birds.</p> - -<hr class='tbk152'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 10th.</span> As I lay on the porch this afternoon, -facing the great mountain to the north, -the long fingers of the westering light touched -the foamy white tops of the chestnut trees, -still crowned with their mist of bloom. The -light slid across the hollows of the mountain-side, -filling the long curves with dark green -shadows, a soft, deep background for the maples -of the nearer lawns, all golden green in -the full sunlight, and for the silver of the wind-ruffled -poplars. Locust trees are on every -side, a survival of the native forests. Where -the light is reflected from their leaves, they are -a dark bluish green; but where the sun strikes -through them, each leaflet is shining gold, and -the long leaves sway at the end of every branch -like giant fronds gleaming under some Midas -touch.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But even the locusts are far away, across the -many-acred lawn. The trees near the house -are too young and small to shelter birds; and -if I go out to the locusts their foliage is too -light and too high to shade my eyes from the -glare: so I have been missing the birds. If I -could stay with the others it wouldn’t matter; -but I must lie alone, and in silence, resting between -lines when I write; and Grumpy is boring -company. So I’ve been casting envious -looks at a place across the road. A long hedge -of blossoming privet hides everything but the -tree-tops, but there are dozens of them; and -wings flash in and out. It is a large place, -larger than this; I know there’s a corner in it -there I wouldn’t be in the way. The sense of -something near and unknown, yet knowable, -draws me daily. The Garden of Delight I call -it, and listen for the songs which float from it, -and long for its shade and sunshine.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When the Madam came to sit with me I -confessed my daft condition to her, and she -went across the road to the Garden’s owners—two -ladies who are friends of hers—and returned -presently with the freedom of the Garden -for me and my chair. I am to go tomorrow.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I wonder sometimes if people dream of the -pleasure they can give through little things. -To these ladies I suppose their bit of hospitality -is a trifle soon forgotten; but to me it is pure -delight. It will hearten me for my fight a -thousand times, and lift me clear above the -pain a thousand more. It is hard to keep -steady when one is so happy. The long, filmy -curves of wind-swept silver in the evening sky -grow suddenly dim; and when they wheel me -back to bed I am “fair lifted,” as the Scotch -say, and wait joyfully in the darkness for such -sleep as night may bring.</p> - -<hr class='tbk153'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 11th.</span> The Garden of Delight! A -close-shaven sward from which the tiniest bird -stands up distinctly; and trees, and trees, and -trees! Shrubs and vines, rose-beds, azaleas, -tall altheas, clumps of iris, masses of old-fashioned -lilies, tangles of honeysuckles on the -fences, beds of early phlox, ragged robins, -larkspur, and ferns—all things cool and quiet -and sweet. In the dense shade of tall shrubs -they have left me, the feathery locusts waving -overhead, and before me a hitherto unsuspected -vista of beauty—the long, long valley which -leads to Gettysburg, with the mountains -guarding it on either side.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Beyond the greensward lies a beautiful bit -of wilderness—ferns and wild flowers under -thick-set trees; beyond that, close-shaven grass -again, then a bit of clover, and a tangle out of -the very heart of the woods. And everywhere -are birds. And I, who have longed for the -woods for years, and who have never dreamed -of finding them outside of the land of Make-Believe, -I am here, far off, a thousand miles -from everywhere, alone with the sky and the -winds and the wild mountains, in a silence of -upper air! One can bear one’s body in a place -like this: it doesn’t matter that it cannot run, -nor walk. One’s mind can run, and fly, and -rise so high that the pain lies far below, lost, -vanished, like a pebble in the valley when one -looks from a free mountain peak against the -sky. For one glorious hour I have run away -from it—this pain that wrenches and grips; -I have been free, free! And so my hope -grows bold, and I reach out to touch that -happy future when I shall be free in body as -well as in mind: it will come—some day!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And oh, foolish one, remember, and learn! -For the Garden of Delight was close at hand -all the time, only I hadn’t the wit to reach it -till my body was carried thither. But there -is always a Garden, if one can find it—a -Garden of Delight, hidden behind the hedge!</p> - -<hr class='tbk154'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 15th.</span> The birds are not kind today, -even here in the Garden. It is a grey evening, -for one thing, and the light is bad for spying -out secrets among the leaves. The weather -is misty and damp, promising the rain we -need; but everything is dry from recent heat, -and the insects may be less juicy than usual, -and not very tempting eating. Anyway, the -birds are not here.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The mist, with the dim light of the evening -sun upon it, spreads a film of silver over the -blues and greens of the mountains. Down -in the valley it deepens till all the colors are -faint and soft, from the pale stubble of the -nearer wheatfields all up the long valley between -the mountains, to where the dim blue -of the great battlefield melts into the dim -blue of the sky above it.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was down this Valley, over the road at -my feet, that the men of the Southern army -tramped after the battle was lost. My own -kinsmen were there, following their great -leader with the rest, as he passed through the -Valley of Defeat. How much seemed lost to -them, who can say? But to us of a later -generation how plain it is that nothing was -lost at Gettysburg which it were well to keep. -The really priceless thing they brought away -unharmed—the courage which could accept -defeat, and turn, without a murmur, in the -wreck of the old order, to the upbuilding of -a new world. That was a struggle which the -world even now knows little of, though it was -as wide as the South and as long as a generation’s -life-time. It was fought singly, and -in silence, in each individual life. Each soul -bled inwardly, and only God saw the wounds. -But I have sprung from men who fought -that fight. Let me look at the Valley, and -learn.</p> - -<hr class='tbk155'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 18th.</span> The wind is at play in the -mountains today, and sweeps up the Valley -with a sound as of rushing waters, bending -the trees before it. The long shadows -under the swaying branches know not a -moment’s rest; and the racing clouds shift -the shafts of sunlight so rapidly from place -to place that the very earth seems moving, -like the lightest leaf. Few birds are abroad, -save the robins, which battle against the unseen -powers of the air, only to be blown like -autumn leaves. A thrasher, dashed suddenly -in front of me, began at once a philosophic -hunt for worms—one place was as good as -another, no doubt; but a young robin, the black -of his crown still separated from the dark -ear-coverts by bands of gray, crouches frightened -where he falls. His half-drooped wings -show a power which explains his venturing -abroad; he is full grown, though not yet in -full robin dress. He is learning the old lesson -of the young: that there are things in life which -not even grown-ups can do; and that his liberty -is merely a liberty to adjust himself to -forces which he cannot hope to control. No -wonder he looks a bit dazed!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Mistress of the Garden comes out presently -to look after her flowers. Her face is -good to see, and her voice to listen to. Her -eyes have the look of one who dwells in that -place of peace where happiness and sorrow -are fused into one, and are known as equal -essentials of the highest joy. She is a lover -of Nature, too. One inevitably comes to be, -I think, as one travels the long road to serenity -of soul. One may observe Nature in -youth, no doubt, and love it, too, somewhat; -but the real sense of kinship with it is a matter -of living, and of growth.</p> - -<hr class='tbk156'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 25th.</span> Blessed be trees and sunshine, -the open sky, and the free winds which fill -it! And blessed be the freshness and promise -of the new day, coming alike to the light-hearted -and to those pain-weary and discouraged.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And the promise never fails. For, whether -the new day brings escape or courage, relief -or a growing power of patience, whether it -means joy or peace, it brings good, and only -good; and so through all the soul its <span class='it'>sursum -corda</span> rings with sweetness and command.</p> - -<hr class='tbk157'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>July 28th.</span> After wheeling me over to the -Garden yesterday afternoon, Caro left me, to -join in an expedition to Bare Rock. When -she had gone, I discovered to my horror that -I had been deposited beneath the branch of -a poplar tree on which some hundreds of -caterpillars had just been hatched out. They -were so thick that heads, tails and sides touched -everywhere, as they lay on leaves and stems; -not one could move a hair’s breadth without -knocking off the others or climbing over them. -What they thought of my proximity I had no -means of finding out; but for me it was not -a joyful occasion. I could move neither my -chair nor myself; so I lay there, gazing up at -the wretched things till I began turning into -a caterpillar myself, and felt fuzz and wriggles -sprouting all over me. But before the -transformation was too far advanced to be -checked, I heard Caro’s voice behind me.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil, I don’t want to go walking. -May I stay and talk to you?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I had been feeling specially lonesome of -late. I kept telling myself I was getting morbid -from long illness and solitude; but it -seemed to me that Caro almost avoided me. -She waited on me most thoughtfully; but her -errands done, she disappeared. There was -no more of that dear companionship, when she -used to sit near me, reading, or embroidering, -while she sang dreamily to herself, or cuddled -her head against mine on the pillows in a fellowship -which needed no words. Children can’t -possibly understand how bereft one feels, shut -out. I knew she loved me too well to hurt -me; yet I had missed her, under the same -roof with her, more than I had missed David -far away: the boy had never shut me out like -that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But her voice was different as she asked -her question now. I remembered how, years -ago, she used to come out of her periods of -seclusion in the parlor “nice and social,” as -she would sweetly announce, and confess her -little soul inside out, clear to her very toes. -Before I saw her face I knew the barrier was -gone, and I was to have her confidence at -last.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But, first of all, I craved deliverance from -the caterpillars. Some of them had hunched -themselves up ominously, as if they were about -to jump down and float across my nose on -silken threads. I was very unhappy indeed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro squealed in horror when she saw my -plight, and snatched me back from my impending -doom. She wheeled me across the -shaven grass to the edge of the wood-tangle, -and sat on a rock beside me, facing the long -Valley once filled with marching men—men -who marched from the disaster of outward -defeat to the victory of inner conquest.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Mammy Lil,” she inquired presently, “do -you love me any more at all?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I turned my face to her without speaking. -Her eyes filled with sudden tears, and she -laid her cheek against my hand.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’re the darlingest mother! If you -weren’t, I’d be ashamed to tell you. Mammy -Lil, I’ve wished sometimes I could murder -myself, this last year; I’ve been so cross. It -began last summer while I was home on vacation. -Everybody in Chatterton made love -to Milly or me last summer, except David. He -was just as he always was—sweet to both of -us, but specially careful of me because he was -my brother. And I didn’t feel the same to him -at all. I—Mammy Lil, I was as foolish about -David as those boys were about us two girls: -I was in love with him, over head and ears.” -She paused while I stroked her hair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You can’t think how ashamed I was. And -of course I treated him like a yellow dog. -And he behaved <span class='it'>perfectly</span>. I was sure, though, -that he didn’t suspect—he, nor any one else. -And then, at the end of the summer, Cousin -Jane told me that David and I were to marry. -I didn’t believe you’d ever talked to her about -it, of course; but I saw in a flash what it -would mean to you—and that David might -do it to please you. And I was afraid Cousin -Jane suspected what a fool I was. And she -went to David, too, and told me that, and -told him she’d told me. I did want to wring -Cousin Jane’s neck; and I think yet she deserved -it!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“David and I had a talk. She just butted -our heads together till we had to. He said -he’d always cared; but he had made up his -mind to wait till I was through school and you -were at home again: it wasn’t fair not to. -He was lovely. But he was so quiet—and so -confident, it seemed to me. I tried to lay him -out; I was mad. And he wouldn’t blame me -a bit for being mad; but he said he hadn’t -asked for any answer yet, and wouldn’t take -one till he did ask for it; and that we mustn’t -worry you with Cousin Jane’s nonsense, and -all that.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Things rocked along at Christmas, except -that I cared more than ever. But when I -came back last spring to stay, as soon as you -were really better, David began to show me -that he—you know, Mammy Lil, how much -little things can be made to mean. And I -began to see he did care just as I did. We -were so happy in April! Only, I kept staving -the end of it off. I didn’t want to be pinned -down too soon. But David—he understood.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then Cousin Jane had to take a hand -again. She’d found out Bob White wanted -to marry me—or thought he did; and Bob is -what she calls a ‘catch.’ She nabbed me that -day, as I was coming home from Milly’s, and -said the hatefullest things you ever heard in -your life—that everybody said I was ‘setting -my cap’ for David and pretending to be taking -care of you when I was just running after -him; and that David had given her to understand -he felt very badly about it, because he -knew you and I wanted it so much!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I knew as well as I knew my name that -was a lie out of whole cloth; but I was just -as angry as if it were true. I never had been -reconciled to caring about him before he spoke, -anyway. So I went to Cousin Jane’s, as she -told me to, and listened to Bob White’s praises -till I was sick of everything under the sun. -And when David and I went out that afternoon—Mammy -Lil, can’t you understand?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear, I did it myself, once; I ought to -understand. But I paid for it afterwards, as -you have done. When you’re an old lady -like me you’ll know better.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I know better now,” she said, with a sudden -quiver in her voice. “I—I killed David’s -respect for me that afternoon.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Nonsense, child,” I exclaimed, “he knows -you—and loves you—too well for that.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He doesn’t love me at all; he can’t. I -let him think—I pretended—I’d just been flirting -with him; to lead Bob on.” Her voice -died in a shamed silence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>This was serious news, considering David’s -nature. If he believed she really cared for -some one else, I knew it would take a long time -for the notion to work out of his head; and -while it was in there he wouldn’t stir. And -I had promised not to interfere. I stroked -her soft hair in silence for a minute.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“David will never change in his love for -you, dear,” I said; “it’s too truly a part of -him for that. And when people really love -one another, they come together, somehow, -soon or late; your Daddy Jack and I were -hopelessly separated for weeks.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ve been separated nearly three -months,” said Caro, dolefully; “eleven weeks -and four days today. But I’m not going to -talk about David any more. What hurts me -most of all is the way I’ve treated you. You -ought to hate me if you don’t. I—”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I laid my hand over her mouth.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“What’s the use of being older than you -if I can’t understand, child? And I’ve travelled -every step of the way before. Everything -that isn’t right will come right between -you and David; but with you and me everything -is right already. Just drop your troubles -under the trees, dearie, as I do, and open -your heart to the hills and the sky. Isn’t -today worth yesterday’s storm?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She sat up and looked across the Valley. -The mountains stood out in the afternoon sunlight -all the clearer for the long shadows already -gathering in the hollows; each leaf and -grass blade was shining fresh after the rain, -and everywhere was a flutter and stir of wings. -A nuthatch crept down a locust trunk before -us, a yellow-billed cuckoo slipped by overhead; -and all down the hillside the swallows -swept in long, beautiful curves, their bright -breasts shining against the sun.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Dear,” I said presently, “don’t you see, -out of doors here, how wise it is to take the -long look at life? The mountains make me -ashamed of my fretting. And life is working -toward this beauty all the time; the winters -in the way don’t matter; they pass. And yet -before they pass they teach us to love life -better when it re-appears. When your happiness -is safe in your hands once more, you -won’t hurt it again for a child’s anger or a -fool’s speech. I know; for I learned it, too.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She laid her cheek against my hand in -silence, and we watched together while the -sun went down. The blue shadows overflowed -the hollows of the mountains and met across -the green ridges on their sides. Against that -shadowed background the poplars of the Garden, -smitten by the last rays of sunlight, shone -like silver, and the locusts like fronds of gold.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Far below, in the Valley, lay the peace of -the coming twilight, and all about us were -the soft murmuring of birdlings settling down -to rest, and of mothers crooning over them -as they slept. And at last the gardener came -over from the Madam’s, and wheeled me back, -with Caro by my side.</p> - -<hr class='tbk158'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 2nd.</span> The Peon is with David now, -and I shall soon be having news. He did not -start as early as he hoped, and was detained -on the way; but being there at last, he will -soon be able to tell me something definite -about David’s coming home. I haven’t meddled -a meddle: not that I’ve earned any frill -to my halo thereby; it’s just that I know by -my own past Caro would catch up with me -if I tried it, even if I hadn’t promised David. -So I’m pinning my hopes to the Peon: he -has been so very non-committal that he must -have something on his mind. But I can’t -share these hopes with Caro, and they wouldn’t -help her if I could: she is in that stage of -penitence where it is against her principles for -her to accept consolation, so far as David is -concerned. Her misery, poor little soul, is the -only comfort she can allow herself; and if her -happiness is to have a thorough recovery, the -process cannot be hurried.</p> - -<hr class='tbk159'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 5th.</span> I woke at half-past four this -morning to find a fat white cloud sitting on -the lawn outside, as if he owned the premises. -Not a mountain visible; and beneath the locusts’ -misty arches the trees on the neighboring -lawn gleam pale and uncertain, mere grey-green -ghosts of living things.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The cloud isn’t altogether outside. My -books on the stand beside me are arching their -covers with the dampness, and my field-glasses -are moist to the touch; the room feels dank -and uncanny, and the heavy air is hard to -breathe. One needs a mental rain-coat on a -day like this—especially when no letters come -from a sky-larking Peon!</p> - -<hr class='tbk160'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 8th.</span> Days of rain on the parched -earth. Gray days, with soft mists heaped -against the mountains, blending earth and sky -in one. Days when one’s horizon is lost—not -gone, but withdrawn from sight; days when -the mountains have vanished and the valleys -melted away, and nothing is very clear to consciousness -but this small bed and the pain which -lies upon it. If mists crept as close about one’s -inner vision, doubt would seem normal on days -like this, and despair the quintessence of common -sense. Yet under the veiling vapors the -brown grass is growing green again, the hard -earth soft, instinct with power, and prodigal -of gifts once more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Now comes a distant roll of thunder, a wind -that sweeps the vapors from the grass as tears -are wiped from sodden eyes, a flash of blinding -light, a bending and tossing of leaf-laden -boughs; and over the mountain the storm-cloud -rises, black against the pale gray of the sky. -Then up the valley comes the wall of water; -and behind it the world is new.</p> - -<hr class='tbk161'/> - -<p class='pindent'>A special delivery letter from the Peon! -Caro stood by while I opened it, asking nothing, -but her color coming and going. It was -only a few lines; but it said he would be here -on the tenth. He has written not a word since -he has been out there about the things nearest -to all our hearts; but at least we shall know -something in two days more.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='gard'></a>XII<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>In the Garden of Delight</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 10th.</span> They are having a picnic -supper on Bare Rock this evening, from which -nobody in the house is excused but myself. -I am glad they are all gone, for I need a -little solitude, in this sudden whirlwind of happiness, -to catch my breath and take a twist -on my emotions.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For the Peon, who is so literally truthful -that nobody dares to suspect him of juggling -with words, deliberately stole a march on us -and walked in twenty-four hours ahead of -time—with David! Caro and I were over in -the Garden. I was just where I am now, -between the altheas and the locusts; but Caro, -who had been wandering restlessly about, had -gone down the hillside, out of sight, following -an unknown bird-note. I was looking at the -poplar branch where the caterpillars had clustered. -They had left it stripped of everything -but the leaf-stalks, which stood out now -from the bare twigs at every angle, like drunken -pins in a cushion. But the birds had days -ago avenged both the branch and me, for not -a crawler was visible on the tree. I was looking -at it idly when the Peon and David suddenly -stood under it, coming round the big -bed of hydrangeas between it and the gate!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I scarcely saw the Peon for looking at -David; but David was looking for somebody -else.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Where’s Caro?” he demanded, as he kissed -me. “They said at the house she was -over here with you.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“She’s beyond that little corner of woods,” -I said; “go around there and you’ll see her.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As he went I fell upon the Peon, and extracted -the hitherto suppressed information -that Bob White’s engagement to some visitor -from Kentucky had been announced last -month. The Peon had forgotten her name; -but he carried the news to David, who decided -it was time for him to see Caro at once. And -the mischief of a time he was taking about -it, too, the Peon observed impatiently; didn’t -they intend to take us into the secret before -midnight?</p> - -<p class='pindent'>As it was still half an hour to sunset, I -reproved him properly; but I was myself beginning -to fear something had gone wrong -when they appeared at last. The dusk had -fallen, and I could not see their faces clearly; -but I heard a soft, happy laugh from Caro -before they came around the corner of the -woods, and I knew everything was all -right.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David had certainly not wasted his time. -They were already considering the house that -must be built on the knoll the Peon and I -had selected years ago. It seems he had picked -it out himself, and Caro had agreed to it, in -her mud-pie days. Now, having waited so -long, and finding Caro in a mood of undreamed-of -submissiveness, he had taken matters -into his own hands, and decided that he -would go home as soon as they could settle -on the plans, and begin the house at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“We’ll need it, even so, before we can possibly -get into it,” he observed to me. “Do -you remember what you said to me that night -about our wedding? I told Caro about it -this afternoon, and she couldn’t deny that we -ought not to start out in life by disgracing -you as a prophet. So it’s to be before Christmas—in -September, I think.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I think you’ve lost your wits,” replied -Caro. “It won’t be Christmas if Mammy Lil -isn’t walking about everywhere by Thanksgiving. -She needn’t expect us to live up to -her prophecies if she won’t do it herself.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“But I will,” I replied cheerfully; “I feel -it in my bones.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s surely time,” said David, turning my -chair to the gate. The Peon and Caro walked -on ahead, and the boy bent down and rubbed -my cheek with his.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Sweet Mammy, I know I’ve been hard -on you these months; but we’ll both make it -up to you now. Forgive us this time, and let -us help to make you well at last.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk162'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 22nd.</span> What beautiful, happy days -we have had! I showed the Peon all the wonders -of the Garden; and David and Caro -strayed in and out, sometimes with the Madam -and her other guests, and sometimes in that -dual solitude lovers crave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I told the Peon about Grumpy one day. -I never had mentioned him before, because -I never had been quite sure, if I did, that it -wouldn’t break the spell I had woven, and -allow him to appear to others as well as to -me. But I’m not afraid of him any more.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Peon is so satisfactory! He never -thought of laughing at me, but took in the -situation at once. He said the best way to -make sure of getting rid of the wretch was -for him to carry Grumpy away when he went. -He could put him in his suit-case—for Grumpy -really is the tiniest creature imaginable to make -all the trouble he does; and he could throw -him out of the car window as they were crossing -some deep gorge in the mountains where -no human habitation had ever been. A blue -devil can’t possibly live where there are no -people; so there’d be an end of his mischief -forever.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Wasn’t that the cleverest scheme? We -caught him together yesterday afternoon, and -rammed him into the suit-case, good and tight. -And I told the Peon, before he went, that if -he did many more stunts like that, he’d be a -very satisfactory playmate for me when the -children are grown up and in their own house.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And that is the end of Grumpy.</p> - -<hr class='tbk163'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 23rd.</span> They have gone back, taking -the plans for the house with them. Caro and -David sketched them together, and he will -have them worked out at home.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I think Caro half envies him the pleasure -of beginning the nest building, and wants to -be there to see; but nobody is willing for me -to go back before the first of October; and -the child has a deal of shopping to do. I -will wait here; and Caro will go to New York -and visit Edith Mason, while she selects her -bridal plumage.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I find the birds most joyful company these -days, and am planning to cultivate their acquaintance -in a less formal manner; for I -intend to get out of this chair.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A wheeled-chair is really an exasperating -place to study birds from: I wonder I never -realized it before. This very day the trees -are full of them—new birds, many of them, -gathering for the fall migration. They have -been playing hide-and-seek with me all the -afternoon—a charming game if one can do -one’s own part of it, and go seeking when the -other hides; but if you can’t, it’s not so hilarious. -They poke unknown heads through the -leaves, and survey me coolly. They whisk tails -I can’t even guess at from behind a limb, -and are gone. They sing high overhead, with -only a bit of their under feathers visible, or -flirt a half-seen wing behind an opening in -the leaves. Sorting heads, tails, and middles -is a hopeless job when you haven’t an idea -which belongs to which. If it were only a -Chinese puzzle, you’d know when it was -solved; but a tail with any other head would -look as sweet! I’ve thought all summer that -if a hyper-developed sense of touch can serve -the blind for eyes, surely time and patience -could do the work of feet for me; but I’m -thinking patience may cease to be a virtue -soon!</p> - -<hr class='tbk164'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 26th.</span> We have had two days of -storm. They mark both a beginning and an -end; for a subtle change has passed over the -mountains and lingers, though wind and rain -be gone. A tinge of brown, merely suspected -before, has deepened and spread until it challenges -and commands the eye. Some of the -nearer trees look seared, and the poplars, -especially, look withered and old. But there -is a beauty of soul deeper than that of the -flesh and of youth: and the depth and power -of Nature’s charm, like the freedom of our -own souls, can be best measured by the number -and splendor of the things which can be laid -aside. All the glamour of the young spring, -the splendid lavishness of summer days, the -riot of color and sunshine—these things, which -yearly draw us with new fascination and delight, -are but the broidered outer curtain of -the temple. They lure us past them, into -the inner court, to a strength which knows no -defeat, to an abundance which can afford to -be stripped; to Law which cannot be thwarted -nor checked; and beyond Law to a Power -which reason can neither explain nor explain -away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>For myself, I have my message; the hills -have spoken it. And the pain which wrenches -is back where it belongs, in the second place—or -the twentieth. Moreover, it will pass—tomorrow, -or next year, or in a life-time: it -is not of the things which remain.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>And now the clouds are breaking for a sunset -glory, and the porch where I lie, and -the lawn beyond it, even the shadowed mountains—all, -all, are flooded with splendid -light.</p> - -<hr class='tbk165'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 29th.</span> A letter from Cousin Jane -at last! Caro and I both wrote to her while -David was here, but she had not vouchsafed -a reply. David had a satisfactory interview -with Cousin Chad, after his return, but reported -Cousin Jane’s reception of him as one -befitting an unrepentant prodigal who had -brought his swine home with him. So we -have been looking forward to the reception -of a letter from her as a very solemn occasion -indeed. She seems inclined, however, to temper -her disapproval to Caro. She doesn’t expect -her to be happy long, she says; and she handsomely -offers not to disturb her present dreams, -but to wait until Caro is disillusioned, when -she hopes her “I told you so” will do some -good. She does not intend, however, to cause -any breach in the family, her principles forbidding -her to quarrel even with me; and she -is perfectly willing to continue her efforts to -set me a proper example.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I suppose, on the whole, that’s doing pretty -well for Cousin Jane. I don’t intend to have -any breach in the family, myself, especially -over the children’s wedding; and Caro and I -will find some way to appease her when we go -home.</p> - -<hr class='tbk166'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>August 30th.</span> What bird is that? He is -in the locust yonder, only his breast visible. -It is a vivid yellow, with four irregular scarlet -spots—three on one side and one on the other—and -across his breast a long zig-zag line -of scarlet like a jagged wound. There isn’t -any bird like that: I know it; and if he doesn’t, -he ought to. Yet there he sits, as calm as -if he were in all the books and had as much -right in the Garden as I. I have watched him, -and recorded him, yet he doesn’t move.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Well, I’ll just make him: I’m not tied to -this chair!</p> - -<p class='pindent'>A scarlet tanager, moulting! No wonder -I never saw that before. He is always scarlet-and-black -when he goes through Tennessee in -the spring, and yellow and olive when he goes -back in the fall. He looks like the clown in -a circus now, and I don’t wonder that he seeks -the seclusion of the mountains to change his -clothes. He is gone, of course, before I can -apologize for my intrusion; and I suppose his -opinion of me is scarcely fit to print.</p> - -<hr class='tbk167'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>September 18th.</span> Caro is back from New -York, and we leave a week from today. We -have decided to shave a few days off the limit -set by the Peon: if we don’t hurry, David -will have that house half finished before we -get there, and we want to see it go up from -the beginning ourselves. Besides, Caro wants -a little time with Milly. Her wedding is set -for the last of October, and Caro’s is to be -six weeks later. I’m afraid it will take strenuous -work to get Cousin Jane where we want -her by that time; but if we go home and start -on her at once, the thing may be done.</p> - -<hr class='tbk168'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>September 24th.</span> The last day in the Garden! -The Mistress has been out, and I have -been trying, in rather a bungling way, to make -her understand what she has done for me. -Neither she nor the Madam can know the -whole of it, and I hope they never will; for -they would have to live in the same prison-house -to understand what a door of escape -means.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Eh, but the summer is over, and I count -my stay by hours!—Yes; but the summer will -never end. Even when the prison is lost sight -of, the door of escape will remain a delight. -The things that hurt pass, and are forgotten; -things not understood change and grow clear: -but joy does not change, not kindness, nor -anything that makes life worth while. And -so, good-bye to the Garden.</p> - -<div><h1><a id='nest'></a>XIII<br/> <span class='sub-head'><span class='sc'>While the Nest was Building</span></span></h1></div> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>September 30th.</span> We reached home three -days ago, having forestalled the possibility of -orders not to come by concealing our plans -until we were on the way.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The house is no house at all yet, of course. -Caro calls it the Perchery at present, and -says she will give it a name when we can all -sit in it, instead of roosting on stones outside -and staring at the place where it is going to -be. But the cellar is finished, anyway, and -is of ample proportions, as a country cellar -should be; and until we get something else to -admire, we find it an absorbing subject of contemplation. -Even Cousin Jane was delighted -with it, and still more with Caro’s promise -to go home with her and stay until after the -wedding.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro went over there as soon as I was settled -in bed for a rest, and came back glowing -with triumph. Cousin Jane was coming in -the morning to spend the day, and to take -the child back home with her in the evening.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“And oh, Mammy Lil, she’s perfectly -charmed with David, and quite certain she -picked him out for me! The shock of it nearly -bowled me over for a minute. You know that -big New York bank that failed a week or two -ago? Everybody thought Bob’s father’s bank -was mixed up in it, and there was a regular -run on it. David and Daddy Jack were too -full of the Perchery to mention it; but it converted -Cousin Jane straight through. The -bank’s all right—I asked David about it, driving -home—but you can’t make Cousin Jane -believe it. She thinks a bank should be above -suspicion by anybody, and if it isn’t, it’s a -whited sepulchre forevermore. So she’s delighted -that she had the good sense to pass -over a fellow like Bob, who comes from a -family of speculators, and choose for me a -good, steady, kind, reliable business man like -David Bird, instead. I wish you could hear -her, Mammy Lil; she’s downright edifying. -And she fairly beamed on David, though he -hadn’t been near her for weeks. Everything’s -all right, if only the hot weather doesn’t make -you sick. If they’d told us how hot it was, -I wouldn’t have brought you home.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The heat was extraordinary for the time -of the year, and still continues so; but it didn’t -keep Cousin Jane at home, though usually -she won’t budge unless it’s cool.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She was in high good humor, and evidenced -it by a peck on my cheek and the remark that -I must be getting better, for I really didn’t -look so very many years older than I was. -She approved of the plans for the house, especially -when she found it was to be our -wedding gift to Caro; and she went out “to -perch,” at Caro’s invitation, and admired every -stone in the foundations. Then she came in -and settled seriously down to the subject of -clothes.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It seems that Grace is lavishing on Milly’s -outfit all the pretty things Cousin Jason prevented -her from giving the child in her girlhood; -and Cousin Jane’s family pride has risen -in a most desirable and unexpected manner -to demand that Caro shall be as well provided -for as her cousin; so Caro can prepare in -peace. Cousin Jane even proposes to help -her, tooth and nail. Caro and I are a little -daunted by this excess of zeal, Cousin Jane’s -taste—or lack of it—being a byword in the -family. But Caro will find a way to manage -her; and we have already settled the question -of the dress she is to wear at the wedding. I -had Caro buy it for me in New York—a soft, -rich, silken fabric—and it is to be made by -the best dressmaker in the city. If we left it -to Cousin Jane, she would get old black Sally -to make it, at seventy-five cents a day; she says -it’s sinful to waste money on town dress-makers.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>But she doesn’t mind my wasting it for her. -If there was a corner of her heart still congealed -it melted when she took the silk between -her finger and thumb, and fully tested -its quality.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“It’s an elegant present, Lyddy,” she declared -graciously, “an’ I don’t mind taking -it from you one mite. I’ve always said you -meant well; an’ it ain’t your fault if you’re -foolish.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Could I ask for a handsomer coat of white-wash -than that?</p> - -<hr class='tbk169'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 2nd.</span> Last night was sticky, hot, -and still, with the stars flaming overhead, as -though they were trying to burn the heavens. -I fell asleep at last, to be wakened suddenly -by a sound as if the wind were ripping the sky -off the earth, and ten million tons of water were -sluicing through the hole. The world was all -one glare of light, with sudden, momentary -breaks of darkness, while a roar as of a thousand -batteries surged up from every quarter -of the heavens, and filled to bursting the -black void above our heads. I sprang up -to close the windows, my ankles brushed by -quick, ghostly touches, as loose papers skittered -over the floor.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Peon and David came in, in hastily donned -attire, for the storm was altogether out of -the ordinary. The house trembled like a living -thing, and in the air about us we could feel the -crackle of the blinding light. Then came a -crash that split the earth. A moment later, -through the surging billows of water hurled -through the wind-rent air, we saw a sudden, -leaping light, red in the white electric glare. -A huddled company of straw-stacks had been -struck by the descending bolt, and not even -that flood of water could quench the flames. -The heavy clouds, weighted almost to earth, -caught the sullen glow beneath them, and as -they were flung onward and upward by the -screaming wind, carried the lurid colors of destruction -far into the blackness overhead. One -moment a world of blinding white, as the lightning -blotted out everything but its own wild -glare. The next, a red and lowering world, sullen, -portentous, with the evil color spreading, -climbing, licking out on all sides in an orgy of -ruin and waste whose greed defied the cataracts -of water, and made the wild wind its -minister and slave.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The air rocked with the thunderous down-pour -under the crashing clouds. One of the -maples fell prone in the lightning’s glare; -and from every side came the sound of rending -wood as branches were wrenched and split and -hurled across the lawn. The house shook, -while around us and above us the Titans -fought. In the presence of that unveiled power -one’s own small life dwindled to nothingness. -One marveled that human feebleness yet held -a place in a world so charged with forces, -the least of which could wipe out all human -effort and leave the earth as bare as a new-sponged -slate.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yet the fury passed. The Titans screamed -and fought, but their power waned. The wind -wavered and sank, sobbing like a beaten child; -the rain splashed dully, dripping from porches -and eaves; the thunder died on distant hills, -and the lightnings grew fitful and weak. Even -the storm-born flames were spent, until only -a hot coal of light glowed under the breaking -clouds. A star shone here and there, mirrored -in the rain-pools of the drenched fields.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David opened the windows, and we drank -in the freshness of the storm-cleansed air. The -new-washed leaves, still green with summer -time, whispered in the quietness, and here and -there a cricket chirped, or a night-bird called -to its mate. Power was veiled again, withdrawn; -and life that had trembled in the balance -resumed its wonted course.</p> - -<hr class='tbk170'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 9th.</span> I asked Grace today about -Cousin Jason. I knew she was worrying over -something. Milly might be happy, but she -wasn’t. So I asked her how he did.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He won’t speak to me, Lil, at all. I have -been there two or three times; but he wouldn’t -see me.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Isn’t he coming to the wedding?” I asked.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I wrote to ask him that—to show him we -really wanted him; but he sent the letter back.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Her eyes filled with unwonted tears, and I -had a sudden desire to jerk my jay-bird cousin’s -feathers out by the roots.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You’ll just have to train your thoughts to -keep away from him, Grace,” I said. “I know -you can, for I’ve steered my own clear of a lot -of things I simply don’t dare to fool with. -Don’t shake your head at me, madam! Do you -think Milly doesn’t see that look in your eyes -when you sit and think about Cousin Jason? -Are you going to let him hurt her?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“No, I’m not,” she said firmly. “I’ll make -my eyes behave.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Then you’ll have to make your thoughts -behave behind your eyes. You let Cousin Jason -alone. If you’ll quit paying attention to -him long enough, he’ll come round; but as long -as you give him a chance to rebuff you, he’ll -amuse himself doing it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grace laughed.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Shall I follow your advice or your example—you -door-mat for Cousin Jane?”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I laughed myself.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Never mind. We can find out how to do -a thing perfectly, many a time, just by doing -it the way it shouldn’t be done. And I did -send Cousin Jane home once. I know the -recording angel put that down to my credit.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>We fell to talking of her plans. Milly and -her husband are to live with her, he going in to -his business daily, like the Peon. But Grace -wants them to have this first winter alone together. -So as soon as they get back from their -wedding trip, and Caro is married, she expects -to go away with George’s niece, and -spend the winter travelling.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The Peon and I will stay at Bird Corners. -The children will be gone for five or six weeks, -and by the time they come home the Perchery -will almost be ready for them to begin -feathering their nest—And to think it’s the -real Bird Corners, and not Make-Believe at -all!</p> - -<hr class='tbk171'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 16th.</span> The young mocking-birds are -learning to sing, and their efforts are altogether -charming. They sit apart, crooning, -each to himself, trying their score over and -over, thoughtfully, with pauses in which they -seem to search their memories for forgotten -notes. It is as if melody had come with them -from the land of dreams, and they were trying -to catch and hold the elusive sweetness, and -teach it to come at their command. The soft, -dreamy music floats through the October sunshine, -at once a memory and a hope. It is a -song of the garnered years, an inheritance -from old days of love and aspiration, and it -presages days of love and aspiration yet to be. -But more than both of these, it voices the peace -of autumn days, when the earth has finished the -long year’s toil, and turns to its hard-won rest -in the quiet of the misty sunshine.</p> - -<hr class='tbk172'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 20th.</span> I don’t need my note-book -these days. When one can do so much living -with people the birds are no longer a necessity. -I hear their songs and calls, and know them -for the voices of my friends—real friends for -life. But Caro comes over nearly every day, -and always there is so much to talk about. -And often Cousin Jane comes too; and it’s -positively exhilarating to see the way Caro and -I are corrupting her morals. That old lady is -getting as worldly-minded as if there were not -a blackbird saint in existence.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>The dressmaker made her get a modern -corset to be fitted in, and she’s so pleased -with herself in it that she wears it all the time. -She really looks like another person, for Caro -has coaxed her into curl-papers o’ nights, and -the soft gray fluff around her face is amazingly -different from the wide part with the flat -straight bands plastered over her temples and -ears. The old Buff Orpington doesn’t know -her any more, and Caro says he shrieks and -runs at the sight of her.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Everybody in Chatterton notices the change, -and tells her she looks years younger—as she -does; and the other evening Cousin Chad took -up the tale, and grew positively sentimental, -right before Caro. Cousin Jane blushed and -bridled as she must have done over forty years -ago, and next day she bought the prettiest -stuff for a house dress, and carried it to the -wedding-gown dressmaker to make! She says -it’s every woman’s Christian duty to be attractive -in her own home, and that if Chadwell -will be a boy and like frippery, she’ll have to -give in to him; the Lord didn’t give men much -sense anyway, and you just have to humor -them along, like children.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I feel rather ashamed of myself, I must -confess. I’ve been laughing at her all these -years, like all the rest of the family, and been -cross with her inside, often. And what she -needed most was for somebody to see the simple -human need for praise and petting under -all her strident aggressiveness; for as soon as -she got it she blossomed out like this! I said -as much to Caro today, and she cocked her -head suddenly to one side as if she heard someone -calling her. Then she jumped up, laughing, -spun around on one toe, and caught me in -her arms. She said I’d given her such a big -idea I’d taken her breath away. She wouldn’t -tell me what it was, but ran off to the buggy -and drove singing down to the gate.</p> - -<hr class='tbk173'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 24th.</span> Caro has given me the shock -of my life. I’ve seen she had some kind of bee -in her bonnet for three or four days, but she -was bent on being mysterious, so I didn’t -tease.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Yesterday, as I sat on the side porch, whipping -lace, I saw her buggy coming out from -between the cedars, and Cousin Jason was in -it! Caro was beaming, as usual, and Cousin -Jason looked as if he were having a good time, -and embarrassed to know what to do with it. -I went to meet them as they drove toward the -Perchery.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He greeted me awkwardly, and explained -that Caro wanted him to see her house, and -that he’d had no more sense than to give in to -her and come. Caro dashed at him at once.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You mean you had sense enough to come,” -she corrected. “Cousin Jason really has lots -of sense, Mammy Lil, only he thought it was -nonsense and tried his best to hide it. We’re -going up to town together tomorrow on a -lark—just we two.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“I haven’t promised yet,” he growled.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You needn’t promise,” said Caro sweetly. -“I told you it wasn’t necessary. All you need -to do is to go.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She made him admire the house and the -plans; and when he objected to her numerous -closets she assured him that his ideas were all -wrong, and that the lack of closets in his own -house was the root of most of his troubles; he -needed them to pack his skeletons in, instead of -entertaining them in public. They went off -together presently; but Caro promised to come -back this evening and spend the night. I knew -I should have the tale then.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She came, and the three of us had dinner -together, the Peon being in town. And now -that she and David are at the piano in the next -room, I must finish the story.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>She went straight from here the other day -to Cousin Jason’s, and told him she wanted -him to come to Milly’s wedding and give the -bride away. He was too amazed to be angry -at first; and when he did get angry, Caro stood -her ground, kept her temper, and gave him -what she called a preachment—a mixture of -fun, coaxing, and straight-from-the-shoulder -talking. She made no impression, apparently, -so when she was ready to go she left, assuring -him cheerfully that she would be back in the -morning and take the matter up with him -again.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>He had always liked Caro, and her sheer audacity -pleased him. She took her work the next -morning and spent the day. When Cousin Jason -grew weary of argument, he went out on -the farm; but Caro was there when he came -back. She had carried over various good things -to eat, and gave him a lunch such as he hadn’t -enjoyed since he left Grace’s. She argued, -coaxed, ridiculed, and scolded. And by the time -David, who was sworn to secrecy, came by to -take her driving, Cousin Jason had promised -to think the matter over.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>I don’t believe it was what the child said -that impressed his stubborn nature; he simply -found Caro herself irresistible.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When she left him that day, his anger with -Grace, she said, was really a crumbling ruin; -but he didn’t realize it; so she went back next -morning to topple it to its fall. By the middle -of the afternoon he had said that if he could -be convinced Grace really wanted him, he -would go. Caro immediately challenged him to -go there with her to dinner that night, take -Grace by surprise, and see for himself. When -he refused she taunted him with backing out of -his own test, and dared him to the scratch. -She telephoned Grace finally that she wanted -to bring a friend to dinner, and they drove -over together.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“Milly and Bobolink were out in his car,” -she said; “and Cousin Grace didn’t see us -coming. We walked right in on her in the -living-room before she knew he was there.” -Caro paused to wipe her eyes. “I’ll cry for -six months whenever I think about it. I don’t -see how Cousin Grace can care so much—he’s -been so hateful to her. I thought she was going -to faint at first. Then she stood there speechless, -her hands stretched out, and her face the -most beautiful thing I ever saw. He called -her name and went toward her, and she just -slipped into his arms with one long sob, as if -her heart were breaking. And I went out and -shut the door.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>When Milly came in she was plainly overjoyed, -for her mother’s sake, if not for his; -and Bobolink, Caro declared, behaved like an -archangel. She inconsistently elucidated this -remark by explaining that he had been brought -up on a farm and was as crazy about the -country as I am myself; and he has always -kept up his knowledge of agriculture and his -interest in it. Cousin Jason, who had taken -him for what he politely terms a city fool, -thawed visibly toward him during the evening. -And before he left he had promised to give the -bride away.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro, who believes in striking while the iron -is hot, offered to go to town with him the next -day to order his dress-suit for the occasion. As -the wedding is to be on the twenty-ninth, -there is certainly no time to lose. But Cousin -Jason, who has scorned conventionality all his -life, balked instantly, and declared that if he -had to make a fool of himself to do it he -wouldn’t come to the wedding at all.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grace agreed at once to his wearing anything -he chose; but Caro was resolved to carry -her point.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“You see, Mammy Lil, he was just in retreat, -and I had to rout him. If I had let -him make a stand about the clothes he’d wear -I’d have been throwing away my victory. So -I told him he had to have a dress-suit. He’d -need it for my wedding as well as Milly’s. I -didn’t tell him before Cousin Grace; I waited -till he drove me back to Cousin Jane’s. And -next day I went over again to sit up with him -about it.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“He ought to have admired your persistence.”</p> - -<p class='pindent'>“That’s just what I told him. He began -to weaken a little, so I brought him over and -showed him the Perchery as a reward. And he -went this very day. The tailor said he couldn’t -make it in time, and Cousin Jason crowed and -said he’d told me so. But I explained to the -tailor that he could make it, and that he had -it to do. So he agreed. We bought gloves, -and a tie, and everything; and I made him get -his hair cut, and he’s going to look scrumptious. -You really haven’t an idea what can be -done with an old relation till you begin to furbish -him up.”</p> - -<hr class='tbk174'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>October 30th.</span> Milly was married in church, -and she and Cousin Jason and Grace stopped -by here on their way to the wedding for me to -see them. Milly was beautiful, and no bride -but Caro could be sweeter; and Grace, all in -silvery gray, with that deep light in her eyes, -was like nothing but the Moonlight Sonata. -As to Cousin Jason, he was furbished -almost past recognition; and my admiration -pleased him like a boy.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Caro fluttered about them, radiant in her -bridesmaid’s dress, and followed by David’s -adoring eyes. The Peon escorted Grace; and -after awhile I watched the carriages coming -back. Before they left for the station Caro -telephoned me, and Uncle Milton wheeled me -down to the gate, where I waved my handkerchief -and cast my handful of rice as they drove -by, Milly’s exquisite face alight with a look -her husband may well carry in his heart always.</p> - -<hr class='tbk175'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>November 29th.</span> How fast the days slip -by! Milly came home early in the week, and -yesterday was the Thanksgiving I prophesied -about to David last spring.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Certainly I am going all about the house; -and to emphasize my success as a seer we had -a family gathering at Thanksgiving dinner. -The bride and groom were here, of course, and -Grace, who leaves as soon as Caro is married, -and Cousin Jason—resplendent, by the way, -in his dress-suit, which he considered a capital -joke on Caro. Cousin Jane looked not a day -over fifty, and Cousin Chad had done some -furbishing himself to keep her company.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>To think of a dinner party at Bird Corners -again, after all these years! The Peon and I -beamed at one another from the ends of the -table; and in the centre, the bride and groom -faced the bride-and-groom-to-be, with the -older people tucked in at the corners. And -it was all so good to see and hear—such a fairy -tale come true—that, as I lie here today resting, -I am just too happy for words.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>David and Caro are to be married next -Wednesday—married here, at Bird Corners. -I dare not risk going to the church yet, and -Cousin Jane’s is quite as far away. Besides, -both the children want it here, and it is and -always has been Caro’s home as well as David’s. -Cousin Jane has really been sweet -about it; and it is all settled that she and Caro -are to come over in time for me to help dress -the bride. Grace is coming tomorrow, and will -stay with me until it is all over and she goes -away herself.</p> - -<hr class='tbk176'/> - -<p class='pindent'><span class='it'>December 9th.</span> The wedding day was perfect—cloudless -blue, and the little red wren -singing his matins in the lilac almost before it -was light. I am glad the child is a winter -bride. She can afford to ignore the seasons, -for she carries spring-time in her heart, like -her namesake out of doors.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>It was all beautiful, and I with my own -hands helped to make it so. But nothing -about it is very clear to me except the look -in the children’s eyes—<span class='it'>our</span> children, both of -them, at last. Caro’s joy had sobered her, so -that she walked the earth in radiance, instead -of fluttering, light-winged, above it; but David’s -joy had set him on the heights. Oh, my -son, my son, child of my soul always! I could -not have borne the look upon his face if I had -not known Caro through and through. But -now I am not afraid.</p> - -<p class='pindent'>Grace went the day after the wedding, and -left me in a world where real and Make-Believe -are blended into one. The Peon comes -home early, and together we walk across the -grass to the Perchery, and talk of how he -wheeled me there in those sorrowful days last -spring, when it seemed the knoll would never -know the nest we longed to see there. And in -the evening we sit in the firelight together, and -hear the childish voices of long ago in the room, -and childish feet in the hall. And we laugh -over the good old days, and smile over the new -days, which are better. And before I go to -bed we go to the window and look at the children’s -house, standing clear against the stars. -And they come and stand beside us there, their -tiny hands in ours—the dear, long-ago little -children, who will be with us always, though -the big children, dearer still, come and go -across the grass between their home and ours.</p> - -<p class='line' style='text-align:center;margin-top:1.5em;'>THE END</p> - -<hr class='tbk177'/> - -<p class='line' style='margin-top:2em;font-size:1.1em;font-weight:bold;'>Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class='noindent'> Punctuation and obvious typesetting errors -have been corrected without note. When variation in spelling or hyphenation -occurred, majority use has been employed.</p> - -<p class='line'> </p> - -<p class='noindent'>[End of <span class='it'>In the Garden of Delight</span>, by Lily Hardy Hammond]</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's In the Garden of Delight, by Lily Hardy Hammond - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE GARDEN OF DELIGHT *** - -***** This file should be named 63729-h.htm or 63729-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/2/63729/ - -Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed -Proofreaders Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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